What is Theological Fiction?
The genre I’m writing in isn’t that well-defined. You won’t find, say, a category on Amazon or a shelf at Barnes and Noble called “Theological Fiction.” So what is it?
First, what is it not? It’s not Christian Fiction, which tends toward the saccarine and nostalgic, and caters to a particular sort of conservative audicence.
It’s also not the same as another loosely defined genre that I would call “ecclesiastical fiction.” Susan Howatch, Andrew Greeley. These are fun: pulpy pot boilers that take place in and around churches and seminaries. They often touch on theolgoical themes, but the heartbeat of the story is the body in the vestry. Or the scandal in the rectory.
As I define it, Theological Fiction is an attempt to test out complex aspects of the Chrstian faith by putting them in a story and letting the plot and characters do as they will. Just as a novel can explore race, gender, or poverty, it can also explore theology. The theology isn’t asserted, but it’s also not window dressing. It’s precisely what is up for questioning.
These books are often edgy, a bit radical, and strange. They put their characters in harsh worlds and challenge them. Often the conclusions are murky, because life, even a life of profound faith, maybe even especially a life of profound faith, is murky. There is no preaching to the choir, and very little preaching of any sort. (Unless you’re Marilynne Robinson, with the gift for creating characters certain of what they beleive and also honest about pain and doubt.)
Sometimes the frontier between “Christian” and “Anti-Christian” is porous in these books. Sinclair Lewis’s Elmer Gantry reads like a full on attack on church-going American, until you come to one character who causes you to be skeptical about the author’s committment to skepticism.
It’s a brave space, this. Not entirely safe for atheist or believe alike. In my next post I’ll rank what I consider the 10 best authors of thoelogical fiction, and their books, of all time.
