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Monday Motivation

Posted on 23/12/201921/12/2019 by Ndrw

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Every Tuesday, I post a new edition of Spotlight: a short post which shines a proverbial spotlight on a published novel or collection of short fiction. If you would like to have your book considered for a future edition of Spotlight, drop us an e-mail including a short synopsis of your book and a link to where we can buy it. Better yet, send me a copy of your book and I can include a mini-review.

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Monday Motivation

Posted on 16/12/201914/12/2019 by Ndrw

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Writing Religious Fiction: An Introduction

Posted on 15/12/201914/12/2019 by Ndrw

To talk about ‘religious fiction’ is to discuss a very broad category of fiction. There are so many different religions and so many different sub-genres of religious fiction within each belief system that it is difficult to encapsulate them all in a single discussion (I was actually planning a series on the subject initially and I may yet come back and write that series in the new year). To be clear, I am not going to focus on any particular religious beliefs in this post, nor am I going to use this platform to propound my own beliefs, important as they are to me. My goal, as always on this website, is to focus on how to write a good story with a religious theme, whatever that religion may be (including atheism, if we can define it that way) and to be as sensitive as possible to the multivarious beliefs out there. That being said, I do have particular beliefs of my own, so I hope you’ll bear with me while I try to navigate these tricky waters.

The first and best tip I can give for writing religious fiction is this: don’t set out to write religious fiction. Most books I’ve read under the heading ‘religious fiction’ tend to be woefully awful stories (except for Ben-Hur; there’s a reason it’s endured all these years and been made into a movie more than once). Write a good story while remaining true to what you believe in. As with any other theme, if your goal from the beginning is to write a Christian romance or an Islamic spy thriller, you’ll end up writing a story simply to prove a particular point. There are two glaring problems with this approach:

This won’t yield a very good story. It will yield, at best, a thinly disguised sermon. More on that here.
A work of fiction can’t really prove anything, since you can make anything happen in your story just the way you want it to. You can make hardened Darwinist characters become creationists or born again Christian characters become hardened Atheists. Heck, you could make a homosexual Muslim couple convert to Christianity and start a side business in fortune telling after they have a vision of Krishna. It’s all just fiction. The fact you can make it up does not prove it to be true or laudable and readers of any religious persuasion will not be fooled if you contrive a fictional situation to prove a particular doctrine.

The first and best tip I can give for writing religious fiction is this: don’t set out to write religious fiction.

If we’re being honest, writing fiction with a religious theme is a far more simple matter than we imagine. The usual rules apply: start with your characters. Give them strengths and give them weaknesses. Give them motives, give them goals and give them a stinking great problem to overcome.

If you want religion to be a central theme, you can always make religion part of the conflict (e.g.: crises of faith, suffering persecution, etc) but for goodness sake, don’t just make it the solution to the central conflict (e.g. Bob fancies Lucy so he prays about it and they get married). There is, however, an even better approach than this.

Take Ben-Hur, for instance. Ben-Hur is, for the most part, a story of a Jewish man trying to avenge himself against his Roman enemies and trying to find out the fate of his mother and sister, whom he had believed to be dead. It is only in the course of this that occasional encounters with Jesus nudge him, little by little, towards a faith which he fully embraces in the concluding pages of the book after the main conflict has been resolved. So let the theme emerge naturally and develop it exactly as you would for any other type of fiction. The truth as you see it will shine through in anything you write.

I would also be very, very, very cautious about including God, or whatever other power you may believe in, as an active character in your story. The only exception I would make would be if you were lifting a particular theophany directly from an established religious canon (e.g. you might have Moses meeting God on Sinai or Saul’s encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus). There are a few reasons for this, but there are two biggies I can think of:

As before, it becomes very easy to ‘prove’ any point you want simply by having God appear in your story and affirm it to be so. However, your readers aren’t stupid. God didn’t write your novel. You wrote it, and you aren’t God. Putting words into a deity’s mouth will only patronise and annoy your readers. If you make God do or say something which he hasn’t done or said in the established canon of your religion, then it is a made up thing. You have left religious fiction behind and have started writing a crude fantasy.
If God or gods should appear in your story you are in severe danger of the dreaded deus ex machina, where a story’s conflict is not resolved as much as it is simply set aside with a simple miracle.

On the subject of deus ex machina, beware of miracles. Miracles might be something you believe in, but they don’t work well in fiction. If your characters simply pray and their problems get fixed, you’ve still created a deus ex machina ending and that’s bad writing in any genre.

Also one more thing: remember to be objective and respectful. Don’t create unfair caricatures of other belief systems, nor unjustly exalt practitioners of your own religion above others. Show the real world in all its ugly truthfulness or else you run the risk of writing hollow propaganda, which will fool no one.

I realise this has been a bit of a whistle-stop tour of how to write religious fiction and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface today. Maybe I will write that series in the near future. We shall see! Until next time… !

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Monday Motivation

Posted on 09/12/201907/12/2019 by Ndrw

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Monday Motivation

Posted on 02/12/201916/11/2019 by Ndrw

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Throwback Thursday: The Well of Ascension: A Review

Posted on 28/11/201916/11/2019 by Ndrw

SPOILER ALERT

While every effort has been made to avoid spoilers in this post, anyone who has not read The Final Empire or The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson is hereby advised that this post may contain a few unavoidable spoilers.

Some of you might have fallen into the trap of thinking I only ever do really short reviews because I do them so darn often [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]. But I vowed at the start of this year that Penstricken was going to feature more reviews and that’s just what I intend to do. So, here we have it: my full scale review of The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson; the second book in the high fantasy Mistborn series. As ever, this review reflects only my own personal opinions and impressions.

Before I begin, I just want to say one thing about the series as a whole. It features two of the most complex but beautifully constructed systems of magic I have ever come across: Allomancy and Feruchemy. I love these magic systems. I don’t have nearly enough time to explain in any detail how these work so for those of you who haven’t read the books, here’s a link to the Mistborn wiki’s articles on Allomancy and Feruchemy.

Now, down to business.

In the previous book (The Final Empire), the street urchin Vin discovered herself to be a powerful Allomancer and joined a crew of thieves who led a successful rebellion against the “god-like” Lord Ruler of the gloomy Final Empire. Now that the Lord Ruler is dead, the Empire is fractured. Various lords come against the capital city (Luthadel) amid rumours that it contains a wealth of atium: one of the most valuable Allomantic metals there is. Vin, her crew and her boyfriend-turned-king quickly find themselves living in a city under siege by forces they cannot possibly overcome.

Did I like this book? Yeah, I did. Sanderson set himself an incredibly high standard in the first book, The Final Empire and while I don’t think The Well of Ascension quite lives up to that standard, it’s still a pretty strong sequel.

As well as an excellent magic system, this book also boasts a strong cast of characters. I often find the characters in some high fantasies to be a bit samey and it can be difficult to remember who’s who. Not so in The Well of Ascension. It’s easy to see each character clearly in my minds eye as I’m reading; their backstories are well researched and they all have recognisable motives and goals. If I’m being critical, I would say that some characters — particularly Vin — have perhaps changed a little too dramatically since the last story but not in a way which seriously ruins things. While I agree it’s important for characters to grow and change, I do think she has taken a little too naturally to being the king’s consort, while in the previous novel she was a cowering street urchin, still haunted by the memory of her abusive brother. She does have inner demons in this instalment, but they seem more largely focused on her destiny and whether or not she deserves Elend’s affections. On the other hand, I did enjoy how Elend himself developed from a scholarly and naive king to someone who, though technically deposed, nevertheless takes charge of himself and shows himself to be a true king in every way that matters. Through adversity he learns and becomes a better man, which is what you want in any good guy’s character arc.

The dialogue is not bad, though could do with a polish. The individual character’s voices are not terribly distinctive, making it sometimes difficult to remember who is speaking (with the possible exception of Tindwyl and, to a lesser extent, Clubs). In a similar way the narrative itself is decidedly alright. Sanderson’s use of language is accessible without being infantile, allowing the reader to easily step into the misty grey Empire with its red sun and constant ash-fall. However, the pacing did sometimes drag a little bit. My main beef in this regard was with the fight scenes. There’s a lot of them, they’re often very long and tend to focus a little too heavily on the details of who’s burning what metal and what they’re pushing or pulling against. More than anything, these are the scenes which caused me to switch off because — irony of ironies — they often caused the narrative to drag more than the intentionally ‘slow’ scenes.

The plot itself excellent, with several complicated and important social, political and religious themes weaved throughout in a way which is not too in-your-face. I don’t want to give anything away but it essentially involves a struggle for power after the demise of the Lord Ruler, a few prophetic mutterings hinting at a much larger picture and a surprising twist at the end which will have you eagerly reaching for the third book. There is much more emphasis on the personal needs and feelings of the individual characters, most of whom were once fairly anonymous individuals who now find themselves at the centre of their Empire’s political turmoil. The romantic subplots could perhaps have done with a little bit more unpacking but they were there in the form of a love-triangle (of sorts) between Vin, Elend and Zane and a short-lived (but far better written) relationship between the two Keepers, both of whom were previous victims of the Lord Ruler’s controlled breeding program.

All in all, a strong sequel. And I don’t normally like sequels. Not as good as the first, but still pretty darn excellent.

My rating: 🌟🌟🌟🌟

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Monday Motivation

Posted on 25/11/201916/11/2019 by Ndrw

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Monday Motivation

Posted on 18/11/201902/11/2019 by Ndrw

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Throwback Thursday: The Malice Restored My Faith In Sci-Fi/Fantasy Trilogies

Posted on 14/11/201909/11/2019 by Ndrw

First published 05/03/2017

SPOILER ALERT

While every effort has been taken to avoid spoilers, anyone who has not read The Malice or The Vagrant by Peter Newman is hereby advised that this post may contain a few unavoidable spoilers.

I was rather reluctant to write a post reviewing Peter Newman’s The Malice (the second book in Newman’s The Vagrant trilogy) for the simple reason that I seem to be constantly bigging up Peter Newman on this site, as well as on Twitter. Frankly, if I keep this up, there’s a very real danger of Penstricken turning into The Peter Newman Appreciation Society (I may have raved about The Vagrant once, twice, or thrice before).

However, a few days ago someone very kindly (but not entirely accurately) referred to Penstricken as a ‘writing tips blog’ when really I intended this site to be for both story writers and their audiences. So, I decided it was time to write a post for those of you who have put up with me rambling about writing week in and week out when all you really want is a book recommendation. And since I have recently finished The Malice, it seemed a logical choice to review it on this week’s post.

Naturally I will try to give a fair, balanced and critical review but you know…

The Vagrant trilogy **is arguably the best sci-fi/fantasy series I’ve come across in a long time!* It has made me believe in sci-fi/fantasy trilogies again! I wish the third book would just hurry up and COME OUT already!**

… and relax.

Okay, now that I’ve got that out of my system, let’s get down to business.

The Malice is the second book in the Vagrant trilogy, based several years after the events of The Vagrant. When I read the first book a year or so ago, I did so believing that it was a stand-alone novel. You see, over the years, I have grown cautious about reading novel series (especially sci-fi/fantasy) from authors I don’t know because I have often found myself getting bored with them by the second or third book. As we know, some series just go on and on and on and on and on forever. Therefore, since there’s nothing worse than abandoning a story halfway through, I tend to think long and hard before picking up a new series. As much as I loved the originality, the poetic language and the vivid world-building I found in The Vagrant, when I learned that it was part of a trilogy I was a little anxious that it might go the way of so many other series I’ve started but never finished.

I was wrong. I devoured The Malice with as much proverbial** relish as I did The Vagrant. I think the reason it works so well as a sequel is because Newman has managed to strike that difficult balance between continuity with the first book and not rehashing the same story all over again. For example, there is a definite continuity in the style of story-telling. Newman’s distinctive voice has carried on into the sequel and draws us easily back into the same vivid and original world he has created. However, the characters are, as always, where Newman really works his magic.

As with the previous book, we have the protagonist who leads the adventure; the protagonist’s companion who supports and defends her and a capra aegagrus hircus (in this case, a kid), who serves in a comedy relief kind of capacity. However, Newman hasn’t relied on reusing the same (or virtually identical) group of heroes as before. The protagonist, Vesper, for example, is a young girl; chatty, a little unsure of herself, optimistic to the point of naivety and with an iron core of purity and unhindered free-thinking that suits her age and background. This is quite the opposite of her father and protagonist from the previous book: the strong and silent Vagrant who pushed his way relentlessly through whatever adversity he encountered.

Her companion, Duet, brings a similarly refreshing spin on the familiar role she plays. She is a Harmonised; an single entity made up of two joined individuals (as far as I could tell). Having been forced to kill her other self in the early chapters of the book, Duet grows increasingly bitter and cynical throughout the story as her health begins to fail her. Again, this contrasts sharply with the companion from the previous book, who served mainly as a very positive influence to encourage the Vagrant on his journey.

It was also good to get something more of the origins and inner-politics (if you can call it that) of the infernals who feature heavily in both books.

This book (both of them, in fact) also beautifully accomplishes something which very few other sci-fi novels do. It draws the reader into a dark and dangerous dystopian world while yet retaining a sense of optimism and even fun; exploring important themes of friendship, compassion (especially in the character of Vesper, who often resolves to help and heal others even at great risk to herself and her mission) and duty. For me, this sets it apart from many other sci-fi stories which are often either unremittingly depressing from the get-go or else are a little too fun to have any realism or tension about them (not that I’m knocking that. I like fun). This gives it a sense of believably, even though it is set in a world that is so completely different from our own.

If I must criticise something about this book (and I really would rather not), it would be that the pacing of the last few chapters could possibly have benefited from a little tightening up. I don’t want to give away what happens, but it did feel a little bit like having dramatically saved the day, Vesper then goes back home via the long and not-terribly-thrilling route which left me thinking ‘I hope something good happens to justify all this excess narrative that’s been stuck on the end’. Well, I don’t want to give away what it is but trust me: something good does happen. It is definitely worth reading on, especially if you’ve got any plans (as I do) to read the third instalment, The Seven, when it comes out in April.

All in all, The Malice was every bit as excellent a story as its predecessor; perhaps even better. While it remains firmly rooted in its predecessor, it carries the story forward in great strides, opening up the possibilities for the next instalment and leaving the reader feeling both fully satisfied and eager for the next one. Go get it!

*Having said that, I have just started The Mistborn series. It’s off to a promising start too.

**Don’t put literal relish on your book. It leaves a stain. LFMF.