Proclaimer Blog
A tale of two books
I’ve just finished reading two fiction books I saw reviewed positively in the weekend papers. The first is The Good Girl by Fiona Neill, a rather sordid tale about a headteacher who discovers her teenage daughter has made a sex tape and it is going around her school. Hardly proper reading for a Christian, you might think and, at one level, I’m inclined to agree. However, though the tale is sordid, the book is not explicit and it is well written. That is still not to say that it is suitable reading material for Christians, except that I think we have absolutely no idea how the world thinks about sex and how, especially, teenagers, are sexualised. I find reading books like this the least objectionable way to discover some of those truths – and, at one level, discover them we must if we are to connect with a broken world which desperately needs to hear the healing and redeeming news of Jesus.
Here’s what I learnt.
First, I think most of us have absolutely no idea the extent to which the school and teenage environment is saturated with sex. Part of the plot line is about a teenager who is addicted to porn, and if the press at the weekend is right, this is hardly rare. That addiction is hugely damaging in so many ways and we are naïve if we think these issues are not in the church. We must also hold out a gospel which both brings forgiveness of sin and healing to broken lives.
Second, people sometimes do bad things for good reasons. This is a plot spoiler – but it becomes clear as the book progresses that the sex tape is not all it seems to be (or you assume it to be). In Christians terms, it is still a wrong thing, but in ways that are too complex to explain, it was done with good motives. Incredible for us to grasp. We can be very black and white about sin. But the Bible is not (read Numbers 15). Even for God’s people there are intentional and unintentional sins. They are still sins note – I am not going soft on sin. But as we reach out to a world, we must realise that some people get themselves into a mess with God and with each other through good motives. It makes understanding those who walk through our doors even more important.
Third, there is a growing therapy culture which is all about blame shifting. In the book, the family in question is pretty messed up. No one is squeaky clean. And the insights and asides we get about therapists are all about passing the buck. If someone other than the sinner can be blamed then that is always a good result. This also qualifies my previous point. Something bad done for a good reason is just about OK in the book. Not so with God. And ultimately, sin is only dealt with when we’re prepared to point the finger at ourselves.
Fourthly, the internet is a game changer. When I was at school, porn was something a couple of bad boys sneaked into the hall balcony at lunchtime in the form of a magazine. Now, it’s completely privatised, more graphic, more extreme. Things that get onto the internet stay for life. In the book the teenage girl recognises this and says everytime she meets someone new, for the rest of her life, she will always be wondering, “have they seen the video.” Yet, sin is unchanged by all of this. The God who forgives sin in the 1950s is the same God who forgives today. Sin has deeper and uglier consequences perhaps (though it has always been deep and ugly), but the gospel is unchanged and absolutely able to deal with all sin.
It’s a book of course, so only fiction. But the author seems to know her stuff and I have no reason to doubt the picture, even if it is an extreme. The most depressing thing about this book is that it is absolutely and utterly Christless. There are no Christians in it, no church, no Bible, nothing. And that is why it ultimately left me feeling depressed, even though it was a made up story. Our world without the gospel is desperate and it’s why what you do and what I do really, really counts.
The second book was quite different. The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain is translated from the French and is gentle, lovely and undemanding. It’s predictable and touching – just what I needed after Good Girl. It’s still explicitly Christ-less, but it’s redemptive and simple. In modern terms it’s completely un-taxing and really un-thought-provoking. Common grace at its best. And sometimes it’s really good to read books like that. I loved it.