If I have given you delight
By aught that I have done,
Let me lie quiet in that night
Which shall be yours anon:
And for the little, little, span
The dead are borne in mind,
Seek not to question other than
The books I leave behind.
-Rudyard Kipling
Recently, an interesting topic was broached in a writers’ circle. A member of the group stated that, in fiction, there are no rules: one can do pretty much just as one pleases. For instance, we know that in the real world every choice we make has consequences which are good or bad depending on whether the choice is good or bad. In fiction however a writer is able to make a character make a choice resulting in either good or bad consequences or, if he chose, without any consequences at all. Literature is a world with no laws, civil, moral, or otherwise.
He was quite right. Writing is one of the freest of professions. Even the laws of grammar may be broken in the name of art. There are almost no rules of the trade that a writer cannot break with impunity. Today there are far fewer restrictions placed on writers than was once the case. This is because many countries place a high value on freedom of speaking and writing since it allows new and useful ideas to spread.
Freedom is a very good thing, but just as we are “made free from sin” and become “the servants of righteousness”, so it is (with other things besides) that when there are no rules there is instead something far greater—a responsibility.
“For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required:” This is true in writing perhaps more than in any other art or profession. The power of an author is greater than that of kings, because his power lies in his ideas. When an idea is preserved in written form it will last (generally) far longer than the author himself; it will spread as copies are made of it, and will go to more places than the author could have gone in one lifetime; and it will carry more weight and more readily convince people than the author would have been able to in person.
This is because, as the spider said in Charlotte’s Web, “people will believe almost anything they see in print,” and when the author’s ideas are presented in the appealing form of poetry or fiction, the reader will not tend to stop to consider the idea itself, but swallow the whole business like a spoonful of jam with a pill in the middle. This is a very useful strategy for the author, of course, provided that the pill is a good one. That is the author’s obligation—to put a good pill in.
The reason fiction has so much more sway over a reader’s beliefs and opinions is because, while a lecture or treatise appeals to the intellects of the audience, fiction bypasses that and appeals directly to their emotions. If the author can get the reader to sympathise with one of his characters, it generally follows that the reader will sympathise with the character’s beliefs and values. The author also has the power to engineer the fictional situations in order to support his case. He has the ability to make his audience feel excited or indifferent, defeated or exultant, pleased or indignant, just as he pleases by what he makes the characters in the story do, say, think, and feel. He can leave the reader satisfied or discontent by the way the story ends. His powers are almost limitless and, when used correctly, can change the reader’s opinion or make him feel strongly about a subject he felt indifferent about before.
For instance, an author might write a novel about war with the intent of turning his readers into pacifists. He might go about to gain this end by showing how sad and wasteful war is, how scores of innocent people are hurt by it, or how evil or stupid the statesmen who start wars are. He probably would not say that sometimes it is necessary to fight in order to gain peace or justice, or that some nations go to war in order to protect the weak and helpless, and the reader would be left with only one side of the argument. The author, if he knew what he was about, would also probably not make one of his characters make a speech denouncing war; he is more likely to convince his audience if he instead were to make a character with whom the readers sympathised be killed in war. Thus, he plays on their emotions and allows the emotions to influence the intellect.
This is a very subtle device and often the reader is unaware that his opinions are changing. Sometimes he realises it, but since only one side (the author’s favourite) of the argument is presented, naturally it seems the most plausible. Almost every book will present at least one of the author’s views of life, whether it be right or wrong, and that is the way it should be. If a book did not present any idea at all it would be very dull and useless.
The point of the book, therefore, is probably the most important part. However, it is possible to write a book that attempts to present good ideas, but in a bad way. Unfortunately, this is the case with many alleged Christian books today. Many Christian writers have fallen for the fallacy that a book will be more likely to influence unbelievers if it makes no pretence at being a good book. It must interest an unsaved person; therefore it must have in it all the sorts of things that such a person finds interesting. Some even feel that if a book lacks the “spicier” elements it is somehow lacking in artistic value. Life, they feel, must be presented exactly how it is, with all of its—shall I say—less than edifying particulars.
I firmly feel that such content is not only unnecessary, but downright wrong and hurtful. It may be possible to present the Gospel through a story of a wicked and licentious person, but it cannot be beneficial to anybody to fill his mind with such material. It may be a way to induce unbelievers to read the story, but the effect would be the same as that of a spoonful of poison with a vitamin in the middle: the poison will have more bad consequences than the vitamin will have good ones.
Psalm 12 could be titled The Writer’s Psalm. Some of its verses sound oddly similar to arguments heard in writing circles today. “They speak vanity every one with his neighbour: with flattering lips and a double heart do they speak. The Lord shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things: Who have said, With our tongue will we prevail: our lips are our own: who is lord over us?” (vs. 2-4)
It is a very solemn thing then to put our thoughts, feelings, ideas, values, beliefs, &c. in print for the perusal of the world and future ages. If we are to be judged by every idle word, how much more by the words we used with the intent to influence others? Verse 6 of Psalm 12 sums up the whole of our responsibility and the Definitive Standard of all writing.
“The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.”
He was quite right. Writing is one of the freest of professions. Even the laws of grammar may be broken in the name of art. There are almost no rules of the trade that a writer cannot break with impunity. Today there are far fewer restrictions placed on writers than was once the case. This is because many countries place a high value on freedom of speaking and writing since it allows new and useful ideas to spread.
Freedom is a very good thing, but just as we are “made free from sin” and become “the servants of righteousness”, so it is (with other things besides) that when there are no rules there is instead something far greater—a responsibility.
“For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required:” This is true in writing perhaps more than in any other art or profession. The power of an author is greater than that of kings, because his power lies in his ideas. When an idea is preserved in written form it will last (generally) far longer than the author himself; it will spread as copies are made of it, and will go to more places than the author could have gone in one lifetime; and it will carry more weight and more readily convince people than the author would have been able to in person.
This is because, as the spider said in Charlotte’s Web, “people will believe almost anything they see in print,” and when the author’s ideas are presented in the appealing form of poetry or fiction, the reader will not tend to stop to consider the idea itself, but swallow the whole business like a spoonful of jam with a pill in the middle. This is a very useful strategy for the author, of course, provided that the pill is a good one. That is the author’s obligation—to put a good pill in.
The reason fiction has so much more sway over a reader’s beliefs and opinions is because, while a lecture or treatise appeals to the intellects of the audience, fiction bypasses that and appeals directly to their emotions. If the author can get the reader to sympathise with one of his characters, it generally follows that the reader will sympathise with the character’s beliefs and values. The author also has the power to engineer the fictional situations in order to support his case. He has the ability to make his audience feel excited or indifferent, defeated or exultant, pleased or indignant, just as he pleases by what he makes the characters in the story do, say, think, and feel. He can leave the reader satisfied or discontent by the way the story ends. His powers are almost limitless and, when used correctly, can change the reader’s opinion or make him feel strongly about a subject he felt indifferent about before.
For instance, an author might write a novel about war with the intent of turning his readers into pacifists. He might go about to gain this end by showing how sad and wasteful war is, how scores of innocent people are hurt by it, or how evil or stupid the statesmen who start wars are. He probably would not say that sometimes it is necessary to fight in order to gain peace or justice, or that some nations go to war in order to protect the weak and helpless, and the reader would be left with only one side of the argument. The author, if he knew what he was about, would also probably not make one of his characters make a speech denouncing war; he is more likely to convince his audience if he instead were to make a character with whom the readers sympathised be killed in war. Thus, he plays on their emotions and allows the emotions to influence the intellect.
This is a very subtle device and often the reader is unaware that his opinions are changing. Sometimes he realises it, but since only one side (the author’s favourite) of the argument is presented, naturally it seems the most plausible. Almost every book will present at least one of the author’s views of life, whether it be right or wrong, and that is the way it should be. If a book did not present any idea at all it would be very dull and useless.
The point of the book, therefore, is probably the most important part. However, it is possible to write a book that attempts to present good ideas, but in a bad way. Unfortunately, this is the case with many alleged Christian books today. Many Christian writers have fallen for the fallacy that a book will be more likely to influence unbelievers if it makes no pretence at being a good book. It must interest an unsaved person; therefore it must have in it all the sorts of things that such a person finds interesting. Some even feel that if a book lacks the “spicier” elements it is somehow lacking in artistic value. Life, they feel, must be presented exactly how it is, with all of its—shall I say—less than edifying particulars.
I firmly feel that such content is not only unnecessary, but downright wrong and hurtful. It may be possible to present the Gospel through a story of a wicked and licentious person, but it cannot be beneficial to anybody to fill his mind with such material. It may be a way to induce unbelievers to read the story, but the effect would be the same as that of a spoonful of poison with a vitamin in the middle: the poison will have more bad consequences than the vitamin will have good ones.
Psalm 12 could be titled The Writer’s Psalm. Some of its verses sound oddly similar to arguments heard in writing circles today. “They speak vanity every one with his neighbour: with flattering lips and a double heart do they speak. The Lord shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things: Who have said, With our tongue will we prevail: our lips are our own: who is lord over us?” (vs. 2-4)
It is a very solemn thing then to put our thoughts, feelings, ideas, values, beliefs, &c. in print for the perusal of the world and future ages. If we are to be judged by every idle word, how much more by the words we used with the intent to influence others? Verse 6 of Psalm 12 sums up the whole of our responsibility and the Definitive Standard of all writing.
“The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.”
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