Have novels replaced religion?

In the most recent Australian Literary Review, Delia Falconer suggests the decline of God as a source of meaning in the West has occurred side by side with the rise of the novel.

She makes the observation as the opening statement in her review of literary critic James Wood’s book “How Fiction Works”.

It’s an especially relevant comment, given Wood believes fiction has taken over as the measure of authenticity and power of the sacred. He says although fiction requires a different kind of belief to religion, it creates a parallel sense of “the real”.

It’s true that society today looks to narrative to understand and find meaning in the world. We turn to television, film, poetry and theatre to explore and analyse issues and ideas. In this context, the novel is as powerful as ever.

And this raises interesting questions about the place of narrative in religion, and why religion longer has the power it once had in the West.

Falconer says that for Wood, the best novels seem to create an approximate reality so intense and morally driven, that they may temporarily mend the world as a godless "broken estate". (And obviously, Wood is picking his reading material from the literary section, although I have no doubt there are religious experiences to be had in chick lit…)

Franciscan priest and author Richard Rohr (who I’ve mentioned before on this blog), believes the decline of popularity of Christianity in particular has been the result of perverting the religion’s original narrative.

He notes that while Eastern nations are – generally – deeply proud and protective of their religious heritage (be it Islamic, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist), Christian nations in the West tend not to be.

Rohr believes the reason is that the narrative at the heart of Christianity has been turned into a bad novel: the good guys win, the bad guys lose. When instead, he says the narrative of the New Testament is about sacrifice, suffering, transformation, and redemption. It’s not about “us” and “them”. It’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s not even about getting it right. Quite the opposite.

I agree with Wood that effective narrative has the power to move people in ways that are essentially spiritual.

It’s a shame so many of our spiritual leaders have forgotten that lesson, and turned Christianity into a narrative devoid of its original revelation and power.

(Image: Daniel Marsula/Post-Gazette)

The patron saint of eels

Regular readers of this blog may remember a book recommendation from Jacqui late last year - The patron saint of eels by Gregory Day.

It was one of the books I took away on a recent trip, and most definitely added to my holiday experience. Jacqui, you were right - what an incredibly unique and beautiful book. I absolutely loved it.

The patron saint of eels is gentle, evocative and deeply Australian. Set in a coastal Victorian town, it's the story of Noel and Nanette, two life-long friends saddened by the changes occurring in their town, and the loss of their community's connection to the landscape around it. They long for a time when life was less complex, when the miraculous was commonplace.

When spring rains flood a nearby swamp, hundreds of eels are washed downstream and become trapped in a ditch near Noel's home. Coming to their rescue is Fra Ionio, a Franciscan monk who has travelled a long way to save the eels - and remind Noel and Nanette about the important things in their lives.

I love the concepts in this book (in no particular order):
- the knowledge of our finite existence creates the intensity of our senses, driving desire, taste, lust etc;
- life is full of "gaps", between those experiencing great joy and great suffering (who are often oblivious each can be of each other, even when the physical distances between them are not great);
- that we have a connection to nature, and any truly theistic view of the world understands that God exists in all things;
- that there are miracles in nature everyday, we just don't stand still long enough to see them; and
- a truly religious journey means being real in the midst of life, not hiding away.

The novel offers a profoundly contemplative look at life and spirituality. Interestingly, although the concepts may at first seem very eastern, they reflect an important (and so far relatively isolated) shift in Judeo-Christian theology: that life and death, joy and grief, success and failure all have equal value in a life of meaning.

Reading The patron saint of eels, I was reminded, time and again, of the writings of Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest in the US who writes about contemplative prayer, the power of simply "being" rather than "doing", and the equal validity of pain and suffering in the spiritual journey.

His book Everything Belongs (non-fiction) is one of the most profound pieces of writing I've ever read. I've re-read it many times over the years (and still struggled to hang on to its lessons for more than a few days at a time). I'm now reading another of his books, Simplicity: The freedom of letting go, which continues the contemplative theme.

I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts on books that have changed the way they look at the world (fiction or non-fiction), or if anyone else has read The patron saint of eels ... or anything else you might like to talk about as it relates to great stories.