Glass Cathedral: A Novel that Faces Deep Religious Questions, with Humor, part two

Two of the main characters in Stan Rice’s Glass Cathedral are Dan and Misty. Dan is the atheist and Misty is the Christian, only of course it is not that simple. They are real people who are working through big questions, not like the stifling two-dimensional characters of Pilgrim’s Progress.

By the time God appears in the sky—or not—outside the California desert town of Susurrus, Dan is already an atheist. So what he sees is an unexplained natural phenomenon. But he does not arrive at his atheism thoughtlessly. His whole view of the natural world began when, as a kid, he saw a horsehair worm several inches long protruding from the anus of a cockroach. Nature, he realized, was an arena of struggle and parasitism. (He thus earned the name of Buttworm Boy.)

He did not have a comfortable atheism. He meets, is fascinated by, and is then attracted to a Mormon girl named Margaret. Dan never alters his strong opinion that Mormonism is the stupidest piece of illogical thinking he had ever encountered. But Margaret is not stupid. And as they slip into a physical relationship closer than either had expected, Dan finds himself wanting to believe as Margaret does. But he cannot. Dan’s background story is truly funny. He and Margaret end their contact as he goes to the University of California at Santa Barbara.

Misty, also at UCSB, begins as a dreamily idealistic Christian who lived for her weekly Bible studies and for her fiancé Dwayne. Dan meets Misty just long enough to fall in love with her. Misty and Dwayne plan a mission trip to Ecuador, to convert Catholics to evangelical Protestantism, something of which the Catholics were not fond. Neither were the communist terrorists, who kidnap Dwayne. Just as they release him back into Misty’s loving arms, the communist terrorists shoot him dead, splattering Misty with fragments of the man who was her life.

It’s not supposed to happen this way, Misty thinks. Long after Dwayne’s death was no longer in the national news, Misty visits her old UCSB Bible study. She has changed; they have not; and she realizes how they all had such easy answers to the big questions. She grabs a Bible from one of them and reads from the book of Job, in which God Himself tells Job, you think you have all the answers, don’t you? Well, you don’t. That was her message to her former compatriots as she stomps out.

Misty encounters Dan and they have, despite their religious differences, a truly meaningful conversation. They end up working at the same newspaper out in the desert, where God appears—or not—in the sky. This event seems to wipe all doubt away from Misty’s heart. Or does it? Does it need to? That’s what the rest of the book is about.

Glass Cathedral: A Novel that Faces Deep Religious Questions with Humor, part one.

Usually, books that address such questions as Why does God allow suffering and Why does God hide Himself are preachy and heavy. See, you are already bored with it, right? This is true whether the books are Christian (or Jewish or Muslim), or atheistic, such as the books by Richard Dawkins or Sam Harris. These books all have their place.

But in the recently published novel Glass Cathedral, Stan Rice uses humor to explore these questions. It takes the form of a three-way banter among an evangelical Christian (Emilio), an atheist (Dan), and a Christian who has recently had her faith severely shaken (Misty). They more or less agree that the problems would be solved if God would just appear in the sky and explain Himself.

Or not. Would this make any difference?

This is the author’s summary from Amazon:

The newspaper staff writers of a small desert town assume the strange light in the sky is merely sunlight refracted by ice crystals: atheist Dan Hardy; the spiritually-searching Misty Barbour; and even the confirmed Christian editor Emilio Villanueva. Then the light turns out to be God—maybe. This is enough to make Misty leave her doubts behind and marry Emilio. Dan, who was hoping to win Misty’s affection, is skeptical, especially since God showed up on no photographic images, and everyone in town saw God differently. The government authorities declare the light was a mass hallucination.

Emilio and Misty raise money to build a glass cathedral in the desert, near the place they think God appeared. When thousands of people come for the inaugural celebration, a storm pulls the glasshouse into the sky. Misty gets trampled. At the end, Emilio and Misty, who is now disabled, conclude that God’s work is to help people, not to build a cathedral, and even Dan agrees.

 

The setting is that a bright light appears in the sky in the eastern California desert near the town of Susurrus. Dan assumes it is a natural phenomenon. Misty doesn’t care. Even Emilio does not suspect the light is, in fact, God appearing in the sky. God appears only in Susurrus, appears differently to each observer, and refuses to answer questions. But Emilio considers it a vindication of his faith, and Misty is convinced and marries Emilio. Dan, and all the civil and military authorities, consider every possible physical explanation. Meanwhile, Emilio and Misty decide to start a ministry to tell the world that God appeared in the sky in the desert.

As part one of the novel (The Susurrus Event) ends, Emilio and Misty have to confront the fact that their message is not, in fact, a fundamentalist Christian one. There is a part of the gospels in which Jesus says, if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. You can find this in Matthew 5: 29-30. Emilio and Misty flee from a fundamentalist church that does precisely this: plucking out their eyes and chopping off their hands.

There is hardly a page without humor. For example, a heavenly chord fills the sky when God appears. But it is not what humans would consider a beautiful chord. As a matter of fact, it sounds “as if a cosmic butt had seated itself upon the celestial organ keyboard and unstopped every note.”

These discussions and events do not take place on blank slates. Both Dan and Misty have life experiences that strongly determine their reactions to these events, and to one another. That is what my next essay will be about.

The Ecology of Fiction Publication, part four. Eternity

There are some other advantages to self-publishing, both of which surpass anything available to species in the wild.

First, you can make changes in your book even after it is published. I haven’t tried this, but I assume what you would have to do is to take down your original book from Kindle, and replace it with files with the appropriate changes. Or updates. Your book would therefore never go out of date. In nature, once seeds have been dispersed, they cannot be called back. A tree might be able to make slight alterations in the structure of the seeds from one year to the next, but not much.

Second, your book will never go out of print so long as there are at least a couple of people buying it. Amazon has always provided this service to the community of readers. If a used copy of a book can be found anywhere, you can find it on Amazon, which links to the book stores or individuals who have these rare items. In nature, seeds eventually die.

My books, including the Kindle books that do not exist in print form, are my legacy to the future, aside from a little bit of money and a lot of love for my kids. After I have died, the only thing anyone in the world will know about me, apart from increasingly faded memories, will be my books. Somebody who does not know me might buy a copy of Rima and find out what I have learned about rain forests, for example. My legacy will also include my website, which, if the host gets paid, does not itself know whether I am alive or not.

Alas, Kindle books cannot be exactly what the author would want them to be. You have to be careful with non-standard text. I read T. C. Boyle’s Tortilla Curtain, in which he inserted some lines in Spanish. Spanish questions end with a question mark, but also begin with an inverted question mark. Boyle correctly included the inverted question mark. But Kindle always inserted a nothing-symbol (a zero with a slash through it) just before the inverted question mark.

In particular, illustrations tend to be extremely messed up in Kindle books. Every kindle book I have read, by other authors, have incomprehensible illustrations. My four Kindle novels have only one image in the book itself (not counting the cover, which is usually pretty good) and that is my author photo. No matter what I do, Kindle inserts it sideways. I can just pretend that it is because I am an avant-garde tradition-breaker.

But even with these faults, a website or a Kindle book (or any other book) is a better remnant to leave for future generations than a gravestone which can be fancy even for the meanest sons-of-bitches who ever lived. A good book, however, cannot be faked.

I will mention for the readers of this religion blog that, alas, this is the only kind of eternity that a person can expect. 

The Ecology of Fiction Publication, part three: Quality

You cannot just put your books on Amazon and expect people to find them, even if they would have enjoyed reading them. An author is not only competing with thousands of human authors but with computers that can generate AI garbage a hundred times a second.

An intelligent customer might want to verify that the author of a book is not an AI bot by searching the web for an author website. AI bots generally do not have author websites, though I could be wrong about this. But the author has to make it easy for the customer, who is usually busy and tired when looking for a book.

You have to promote your book. This means several things.

First, you need a platform. My platform consists of a brand new website designed by my son in law which, thus far, has only my non-fiction books on it; two blogs, which have collectively had over a million views; a YouTube channel, in which I pretend to be Charles Darwin; and Facebook. This does not mean I can just scatter announcements all over my platform. People read my blogs and watch my videos because they can learn something, usually about science, from them. If they suspect I am dumping cheap advertising on them, they will stop visiting. I have to make the announcements of my fiction books relevant to the platform. In my case this might be easy, since much of my fiction focuses on science (particularly, Darwin and evolution) which is exactly what my science blog is about, and faces a lot of religious questions, which is exactly what my religion blog) is about. This is exactly the same situation as a tree faces out in nature: it has to have fruits and seeds that match the animals it is expecting to patronize them, rather than just random seeds.

Second, you need to catch their eyes in a pleasurable way. I will do this by having really attractive covers and short summaries.

The covers will be colorful and eye-catching and often create just enough cognitive dissonance that they will wonder what the book is about. I am fortunate that I have literally five decades of photographs from which to choose. I could never have guessed I would use them as book covers. It is also important to adjust the photos, not just with cropping, contrast, and coloration, but with special effects, which are now easily available on PowerPoint.

The short summaries must excite the reader and make them want to read the book. Here is an example of the first sentence of a summary, from a novel I wrote about Charles Darwin being a vampire: “You just thought you had seen the last of Charles Darwin.” The summary does not have to have everything in it. The summary of my novel The Confessions of Conseil take a swipe at the exalted image of Pierre Arronax, narrator of Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea. In Conseil’s voice, I call him Arronax the Arrogant who thinks his servant Conseil cannot possibly have a brain or a life of his own. Now this might create cognitive dissonance, therefore interest, among the thousands of readers who grew up (as I did) loving Jules Verne. I also portray Captain Nemo as a Marxist revolutionary.

Third, you have to deliver the goods. It has to be a good book—a good plot, good characters, good everything. I have to make readers feel good, even when unpleasant things are happening in the book. I have to remember I am writing for my readers, not for myself. I have to remove anything that is interesting only to myself, e.g., lists of plants. Only then will a reader—maybe, just maybe—remember my name and look for another book by me. I include a lot of humor, not gratuitous but as part of the plot and dialogue. I also frequently have sex, not pornographic but as part of genuine human encounters, and very rarely the full sex act. The sex is never degrading. And never gratuitous—it has to have a reason to be there. The Bible is my guide in this respect. There is a lot of sex in the Bible, but there is always a reason for it. Fiction should never have any gratuitous anything.

Will this fiction publishing venture work? I have made a conservative estimate that I will earn at least $75,000 for thirty books, which is $75,000 more than I would earn with my track record with commercial publishers. If it works, it will not be because of my business acumen but because I took my inspiration from the evolutionary success stories of the trees.

Deru Kugi: A Novel about an Alternate Japan

The novel Deru Kugi, by Stan Rice, has recently been published on Amazon Kindle.

This is the author’s summary from Amazon:

 “Hanao Takemoto was a deru kugi—a nail that sticks out. He was strange in Japanese society because he stayed away from the work-hard-play-harder Japanese business culture. Morey Rice was an American friend who lived with the Takemoto family as an exchange student. Morey fell in love with Hanao’s sister Sumiko and never quite recovered from it. Sumiko later married a Japanese man and terminated her friendship with Morey.

 “Japan had long reposed under American military protection. But when America begins to alienate its allies, Japan looks to a strong, brilliant business leader, who designs sophisticated ninja drones, to build up its military forces: Minoru Heike, Hanao’s brother in law, Sumiko’s husband. War almost breaks out, with Heike’s hard-liners facing Donald Trump’s loyalists. War is narrowly averted as Heike and the American Secretary of War both commit ritual suicide. Sumiko, as Heike’s widow, feels obligated to kill herself by jumping from a cliff. Morey and Hanao see her and rush to stop her. Will they reach her in time?”

The subtitle says this is a novel about an alternate Japan. That is, history the way it did not and cannot happen. There are many such novels. There are even a few of them about Japan, such as Daikon, by Samuel Hawley. In Hawley’s novel there were not just two but three atomic bombs pointed at Japan. The first two, of course, were for Hiroshima and Nagasaki as in history. The third, fictional one was on a plane that crashed and the bomb was recovered by Japanese forces, who prepared to use it against America. Now that is a clever plot! I will not tell you more about it.

The title Deru Kugi comes from the Japanese saying, Deru kugi wa utareru: the nail that sticks out will be hammered down. This refers to the overwhelming sense of conformity in Japanese society, as opposed to American individualism, in which the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Rice’s novel is not quite as clever as Hawley’s, but it still gets us to think about how likely it could be that America and Japan, which have so long been close allies, would go to war against one another a second time. It would seem unlikely, except that America, under Trump, is alienating long-time allies. Recently, Japan eliminated the famous Article Nine from its constitution, the article that prohibited building an army that could launch aggression against another country. In real life, Japan is now building its military capacity. They no longer trust America to protect them (despite heavy American investments) from China and North Korea.

This novel, as with Rice’s other novels, face up to serious issues. One that most readers have not heard about is the continued prejudice against the descendants of burakumin, the outcasts of traditional Japanese society. They now officially have full rights as citizens, but this doesn’t mean everyone likes them. Hanao’s wife is burakumin.

It is quite clear to the reader that Rice has had very long and intimate contact with Japan. There are many Japanese sentences in the novel, which the author must have written from his own personal knowledge of Japanese conversation, rather than the use of Google artificial intelligence. For example, if a Japanese person says (the sentence used in every introductory Japanese class) Kore wa hon desu, it is pronounced Kore wa hon des’. An author just picking things up from Google Translate would not know this. Also, the main plot (the narrator and a Japanese woman) is conveyed with a tenderness that must have come from actual experience.

This novel, even though it takes us to the brink of war, is riddled with humor, starting with the first sentence: “Hanao’s business associate, Chiramisu Yamaguchi, had gold coming out of his ass. Literally.” And the author invented a lot of artificial-intelligence drones that are like ninja weapons. Rice also includes four embedded short stories, including “The multi-colored shakuhachi player of Hamarin Village,” based obviously on the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

Readers of this blog will enjoy Deru Kugi, a novel from which you will learn a lot.

The Princess of Kashgar: A Historical Romance about a Neglected People

Historical romances are often set in exotic locations, but not too exotic. One group of people that gets overlooked in fiction, and non-fiction, in the English-speaking world is the Uyghurs of central Asia. Central Asia itself, a land of dusty hills and sheep, gets overlooked except in fiction about Marco Polo. And right now the Uyghurs desperately need our attention and respect. They live primarily in the extreme northwest of China, where the Chinese government is trying to force them to abandon their culture and assimilate into the dominant Han culture. About a decade ago, they were in the news because China had begun re-education camps to this end.

But Stan Rice’s novel The Princess of Kashgar takes place within this neglected Asian culture.

This is the author’s summary of the novel from the Amazon website:

“Arzu is a beautiful young artist from a Uyghur village near Kashgar, on the Silk Road. She is accustomed to being admired, especially by Muhemmet, who leads a revolt against the ruling Mongol Empire. The Mongol warriors kidnap Arzu, planning to take her to Xanadu for Kublai Khan. But she and her mandarin lover Tao escape to a secret paradise in the Altai Mountains, the Valley of the Peach Blossoms. They unintentionally corrupt this paradise. Expelled, they go to Xanadu, where Arzu becomes not only Kublai’s favorite woman but also his close confidante. Only Arzu can keep the Mongols from destroying Kashgar. The Khan then wants Arzu to go back to Kashgar and assassinate Muhemmet. Still unsure if she wishes to join Muhemmet’s rebellion or obey the Khan, she finds Muhemmet and takes a dagger with her into his bedroom. Her assassination attempt fails, and the Mongols slaughter her people. When the Khan dies, Arzu and Tao flee back to the mountain paradise that may or may not accept them.”

 

 

The author has taken on a very difficult literary trope: a paradise hidden in the mountains of Asia. It is almost a cliché, which sounds like the Shangri-La of James Hilton’s Lost Horizon. The Shangri-La trope is itself enough reason for some people to put down the novel without even looking at it. But wait. It all depends on how the author handles it. Hilton’s novel was not actually about the people living in Shangri-La; it was about the Europeans who fly into it in an airplane and meet a wise old man, who turns out to himself be European. The native Asian people themselves play no part in Hilton’s novel except they raise the food and provide sex. Hilton’s Lost Horizon therefore falls into the same racist category as H. Rider Haggard’s She and William Henry Hudson’s Green Mansions: a true lost paradise, whether in Hudson’s South America or Haggard’s Africa or Hilton’s Himalayas, must have begun as an outpost of white civilization. It is time for this racist trope to end. The author of Princess of Kashgar has given us an indigenous Asian paradise, based upon Chinese legend.

The novel The Princess of Kashgar has filled an overlooked spot in the map of historical romance.

Meet Me in Strasbourg: A Romance Novel that Faces the Big Religious Questions

Normally, to say that a novel, especially a romance novel, is about religion and the meaning of life is an invitation to failure. But if you dislike discussions about religion and the meaning of life, you wouldn’t be reading this blog. I want to tell you about a romance novel that is anything but formulaic: Meet Me in Strasbourg, a novel by Stan Rice.

Here is the author’s summary, taken from the Amazon site:

“When the university-bound Native American science student Tony encounters the brilliant and painfully shy French humanities student Aimée in California, he has no idea that their love would drag him halfway around the world.

Tony and Aimée discover their shared passion for music, particularly the love-lieder of Schubert, and then for one another. Tony quickly leaves the social circle that scorned Aimée for her plainness and quietness and becomes her defender and protector. And does she need protection—from the poverty and malnutrition of living alone with her unlucky father, and from her father’s unscrupulous associates in the shadowy world of smuggling. Aimée (French for beloved) finally discovers what it is like to be loved. Just when her joy seems inevitable, she and her father disappear. Tony alters the entire course of his life to go look for her in France.”

This novel includes a lot of experience with music, as I explain in the next essay. One of the pieces of music that is central to the plot is a band performance (both of the protagonists are musicians) of the medieval hymn Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence, which you may know as a Christmas song. The climax line is, “And the powers of Hell shall vanish, as the darkness fades away.”

My question, which the author does not and cannot answer, is, is this true? Will it ever be true? Is it possible for the powers of Hell to vanish away? In an evolved world, bad things are not caused by an evil Satan but are the by-products of amoral natural selection. Unlike the fantasies of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, evolution has no Christ-centered goal. You could summarize evolution as, Shit happens, and then you die; if you are lucky, you become an ancestor.

Rather than to say more, I will simply tell you to read the novel and keep this question in mind.

Another example is that, from a sidewalk after a rain, Aimée rescues a dying earthworm. Tony points out that St. Francis of Assisi did the very same thing. But there is no point in it; the worm has no soul, or consciousness, and the death of one more worm will mean nothing to the overall pattern of evolution. Tony wonders if Aimée did it because of love for the worm. She explains that she did not do it for God, or for St. Francis, but for herself. She was the kind of person who would do something like that—to rescue a worm, not caring what anyone else might think.

If you think religious questions are important, whether you accept a religious answer or reject it, you will enjoy reading this novel. If you don’t think these questions are important, then why are you reading this blog?