The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I recently ran across the following line in a novel I've been reading (Nineteen Minutes, by Jodi Picoult), and it struck me that it's worth a close look by writers of fiction--perhaps especially by writers of fiction from a Christian worldview:  "But then again, maybe bad things happen because it's the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like."

Like that? I've been thinking about it over the past two or three days and wanted to share it with you, especially with those of you who aspire to write "realistic" fiction, but of a kind that doesn't try to hit your readers over the head with graphic ugliness or crudeness. Along the same line is a similar thought with which you're probably familiar, that it's impossible to show redemption without also depicting depravity.

Unfortunately, the approach to writing stories that ring true and relate to the above thoughts is often limited to the narrow mindset that, to be "authentic," one needs to depict the seamiest side of life possible, embellished with all manner of profanity,  ugliness, and graphic violence and sex that leave little if anything to the imagination--resulting in unrealistic fiction. The omission of good things, of goodness itself--leads to a dishonest, misleading sort of fiction.

Not that there's anything wrong or misleading with the above statements about bad and good, redemption and depravity. The point is well-made. The problem comes when the approach to fiction is too limited, too literal, and we start listening to the voices that call for total "freedom" in fiction and give in to the misplaced insistence that art can't be true art unless all barriers are removed. If we begin to believe that to show the "bad things," we need to ignore all restrictions and instead include--and elaborate on--all the details of those "bad things," no matter how disgusting or revolting or appalling they might be, we are, in effect, merely caving into a different set of restrictions: ones that insist on ignoring good taste, decency, morality, and goodness.

In replying to an upcoming question at Charis Connection (to be posted at our next "Ask the Author" session), I mention that some of the laziest writing I've seen has to do with the practice of peppering the text with profanity or clinical sexual descriptions or graphic violence. Why "lazy?" Because it's no real challenge to find a workaround for profanity and violence and sexual situations.  The lazier approach is anything but creative: it's immature and deceptive. It's also an insult to the reader.

Readers aren't stupid--they get the picture just fine without it being layered in gore and trash-talk. Is it really less comprehensible or less vivid to a reader to see in print "he swore," or "he uttered an oath," than to give them a full course of four-letter words? To close the bedroom door at the appropriate moment? To depict a murder without wading through the gore and subsequent autopsy step by step? To develop a rape scene without enough horror and graphic violence to bruise a reader's spirit or sicken her soul? Can't we credit our readers with fully developed brains, with enough intelligence to get the picture and the point without a full frontal assault?

That said, I do think the novelist needs to take very seriously the kind of statement Picoult makes about bad things happening so we can remember the good. And as writers, we definitely need to write about bad things, and write with honesty and sincerity and realism. Tragedy, ugliness, immorality, depravity--these shouldn't be forbidden issues to the Christian novelist. But we can tackle the bad things, the darkness, and the depravity with common sense--and sensibilities.

Let's keep in mind that most readers, at least, don't pick up a novel to have their own sense of decency attacked or their stomach turned. For the few who do--well, should we really make that our problem? For the readers who want filth or violence in their fiction, there's enough of it out there to go around. But let's not make the mistake of somehow feeling that we're failing our readers--or our "art"--by not contributing to the mire. We can instead offer reality and truth and life as it is without forcing our readers to sludge through the gutters all along the way.

Have I written ... do I write ... about bad things? Probably in just about every book with my name on it. But I definitely want my readers to remember what good is supposed to look like, too. I don't want those bad things engraved upon their memories at the expense of decency. Hurling a quick, lazy, one-dimensional attack on their senses isn't likely to help them remember anything but the insult to their intelligence--and the lack of mine.

As writers, don't we need to keep in mind that it's just as important to write about the "good things" if we really want our readers to recognize those good things and remember them? Too often we concentrate on making our stories "realistic" and "authentic" and true. But goodness is a vital part of that realism, and to focus on the bad things, the hard things, the ugliness in life--as much as it abounds--to the exclusion of grace and goodness isn't realistic; it's deceptive. We needn't apologize for including the "good things" in our work along with the "bad;" for showing the mercy--and the power--of God as well as the existence of evil; for offering hope as well as an honest look at hopelessness.

If we want to always leave our readers with more than the recognition and remembrance of the brutal and the ugly in life, we need to offer a clear vision and the reality of goodness, the reality of beauty and grace and mercy and love. If we intend to be true to our art and craft realistic fiction, then we need to write honest fiction. That kind of fiction will include the good things as well as the bad, light as well as darkness, hope as well as despair.

BJ

Comments

[Richard Mabry]

As always, BJ, you handled the subject with grace and common sense. Thanks for helping put the subject into perspective.
So good to see you back in the blog-o-sphere.

[Brooke]

BJ, I really appreciated your balanced take on beauty vs. ugliness, good vs. evil, truth vs. depravity. A challenge to all of us who want our writing to reflect reality with a message of hope.