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Mysterion: Rediscovering the Mysteries of the Christian Faith
An anthology of speculative fiction engaging with Christianity.
The Christian faith is filled with mystery, from the Trinity and the Incarnation to the smaller mysteries found in some of the strange and unexplained passages of the Bible: Behemoth and Leviathan, nephilim and seraphim, heroes and giants and more. There is no reason for fiction engaging with Christianity to be more tidy and theologically precise than the faith itself.
Here you will find challenging fantasy, science fiction, and horror stories that wrestle with tough questions and refuse to provide easy answers or censored depictions of a broken world, characters whose deeds are as obscene as their words and people who meet bad ends—sometimes deserved and sometimes not. But there are also hope, grace, and redemption, though even they can burn like fire.
The Christian faith is filled with mystery, from the Trinity and the Incarnation to the smaller mysteries found in some of the strange and unexplained passages of the Bible: Behemoth and Leviathan, nephilim and seraphim, heroes and giants and more. There is no reason for fiction engaging with Christianity to be more tidy and theologically precise than the faith itself.
Here you will find challenging fantasy, science fiction, and horror stories that wrestle with tough questions and refuse to provide easy answers or censored depictions of a broken world, characters whose deeds are as obscene as their words and people who meet bad ends—sometimes deserved and sometimes not. But there are also hope, grace, and redemption, though even they can burn like fire.
299 pages, Paperback
First published August 31, 2016
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October 21, 2017We humans being the tangle of inconsistencies that we are, it doesn't surprise me that many fellow readers of speculative fiction hail the concept of diversity and yet when Christianity or Christian fiction is mentioned, sneer dismissively.
Well, there is a lot of bad Christian fiction out there. And the editors of this anthology admit that right up front.
Crankshaw and Janz—both trained in the sciences, one with a PhD in Electrical Engineering, the other with a degree in Organic Chemistry—have encountered plenty of anti-Christian rhetoric in our supposedly open and acceptance-embracing SFnal world, and they’ve read plenty of the bad stuff.
In talking about the theme of this anthology, Crankshaw says:
Mysteries frighten us. We prefer certainty, simple explanations, and neat categories. Even when we praise ambiguity in fiction, in real life we often try to cram every fact, every event, and every person into the clear narrative of our worldview. But life is full of mysteries. . .”
And so their goal was to seek stories that made room for the mysterious, that “asked questions even though they didn’t know the answers, that examined the clues even when they were contradictory and nonsensical.”
They wanted stories that were as untidy and as theologically imprecise as the Bible itself.
Janz, in her introduction, admits that not everyone they are publishing identifies as Christian. She acknowledges that many Christians prefer to read stories that contain no swear words and certainly no sex, that clearly promote Christian beliefs and values (however they define that last one). While there is no graphic sex in any of these stories, a few stories do contain strong language, appropriate to the situation.
She states that they wanted thought-provoking stories, ones that resonated with them even those that made them uncomfortable.
She says:
Authenticity was key. Christians may roll their eyes at the latest story about an evil minister or an oppressive patriarchal monotheistic fantasy kingdom, populated by one-dimensional religious characters bearing no resemblance to the people we actually encounter at church.
But traditional Christian fiction doesn’t always do better in the realism department, with its strawman atheists argued into awed silence by smart Christians, or its happily-ever-after conversion narratives.
Mysterion is about Christianity. But we’re not sure it is Christian.
Having read such provocative introductory remarks, I really looked forward to diving into this anthology, which was provided by the publisher. I promised I would write up my reactions as I went along—though I warned them that my usual policy is, if I really dislike a work, I don’t post a review.
Well, as you can see below, that turned out not to be an issue. Here are my notes, written up after I read a story each evening before turning out the light.
“The Monastic” Daniel Southwell. When I read this story, I was reminded of Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea—except that I think the characterization here is better. Yes, Hemingway is a classic, but he tended to view characters from a detached distance, and Southwell gets right inside Father Kyle, who is coming to this island on Lake Superior to live alone and pray, after a really rough experience early in his priesthood. Southwell does a terrific job of evoking nature’s mysteries, with a breathtaking irruption of . . . otherness, let’s call it, that has quite an impact.
“When I was Dead” by Stephen Case. There is a strong feel of Lewis’s The Great Divorce resonating through this restless, angry story about a man who knows he is dead, and how deals with it.
“Forlorn” by Bret Carter. I have to admit I am not one for horror. This story begins with a difficult structure that Carter pulls off beautifully, and builds a steady tension. But the payoff is . . . horror. To me that is anti-inspiration. But I know that is idiosyncratic; meanwhile this vivid, emotionally wrenching story ought to stand as proof that a Christian anthology is not all easy-niceness.
“Too Poor to Sin” by H.L. Fullerton. Fascinatingly odd story whose setting is unclear; our first person narrator is trying hard to be good, to earn enough pardons to win Heaven for a parent. The constrained atmosphere, full of anxious laws and customs, centered around those pardons (for the family is too poor to pay for entrance to heaven), is watched over by angels. These angels might or might not be aliens, they might or might not be sacred, though one of them appears to understand mercy and perceives the shining soul of a narrator who does nothing wrong. It’s a story about faith in spite of the barnacling of human error over what should be divine message, and perhaps about the ineffable gleaming through anyway.
“Golgotha” by David Tallerman. Halfway through I noted that I was aware of the resonance of thunder when I glanced up at the title, and I bethought myself, “This is not going to be a light and easy one, nosiree.” I finished feeling . . . ambivalent? The voice is terrific, and the way character is delineated through that voice is deft, but when I reached the last page of the story I wanted to see why.
I’ve been reading these late at night, before bedtime. I had to stay up longer and read something fluffy after "A Lack of Charity," by James Beamon. To me, at least, this chilling story of one man’s eternity evokes the brimstone days of cautionary rather than consolatory tales.
“Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit” by Robert B Finegold, MD. If you can command the wherewithal to maybe attain immortal life through an untested procedure and your only child has days to live, what would you do? A sensorily vivid, emotionally charged story that weaves between urgency and the power of memory, intensified by a yearning for the numinous, this story was nearly perfect. At least for me, I needed another paragraph, even a few lines, but others may think it profoundly effective as is.
“A Good Hoard” by Pauline J. Alama is the first other world fantasy in the anthology, somewhere between a fairy tale and a parable, told with a sly wit, opening into compassion, wisdom, and poignancy. One of my favorites so far.
With “Yuri Gagarin Sees God,” by J.S. Bangs, I’ve hit three in a row that I found highly effective. Here we have three versions of a story about Yuri Gagarin, first cosmonaut. Taut, no words wasted, this story’s impact is all the stronger in the quiet control of its ending.
“Confinement,” by Kenneth Schneyer, is a parable about consequences, and hits hard as the central character keeps running from a strange figure, until she can run no longer from memory—truth—and the chance of atonement.
“The Angel Hunters,” by Christian Leithart, begins with the unlikeliest of characters: a jeep full of illegal big game hunters, hired for a . . . research project? With a priest along for the ride? And a driver who wears a tinfoil hat and blabs about aliens? This is a vivid, hard-hitting story that is impossible to predict, coming to a powerful end that is even more effective for its quietness.
“Cutio” by F.R. Michaels. In a cleverly written exchange of e-mails that deftly conveys character and motivation, we learn slowly about something that . . . performs all the motions of faith but cannot know the true spirit of faith. It understands sin, but not forgiveness. It understands punishment, but not mercy. It understands damnation, but not redemption. Isn’t that true horror?
A humble artifact is central to “St. Roomba’s Gospel,” by Rachael K. Jones, demonstrating vividly that the sacred can lie anywhere, and not necessarily in the most familiar ritual.
S.Q Eries’s “Yuki and the Seven Oni” is a sweet middle-grade tale about a Japanese girl named Yuki who lived during the shogunate period, whose father decides to remarry. Yuki takes an immediate dislike to her new stepmother, who turns out to be a Christian. A nice blend of faith, magic, and Japanese myth would make an exciting story to read aloud to fourth graders and above.
“A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows,” by Beth Cato, is more of a tale for young adults. Set somewhere in the South, it centers around Ruth, a small town girl whose mother has a magical touch with her baking. People feel good when they eat her pies—and Mother loves to bake, her happiness somehow getting into the pie. But Mother can get angry, as when Mr. Yates, a filthy town drunk who is often in jail, comes to demand a pie, then insults and threatens her. Mother is very angry, which is dangerous when she bakes . . . A lovely tale that goes to thoughtful places. This would be a perfect story for a classroom full of young teens to read and discuss.
“This Far Gethsemane,” by G. Scott Huggins, is one of my favorites of the anthology so far. There are only three characters: Human Shoshanna, living precariously on an alien planet as she studies its life, Caansu and Aiilerra, who both know they are going to have to perform the matingdeath soon, from which only one will emerge to transform into a Mother. Shoshanna, as a modern scientist, despises religion—and Caansu is a Christian who refuses to fight Aiilerra, so knows that she/he (gender is problematical here) will die so that Aiilerra might live. Shoshanna, who is close to Caansu, rages against her friend, and tries to take matters into her own hands. Caansu’s version of Christianity reminds me of the Heliand version of the Bible—details altered for cultural resonance, but the message still comes through. It’s a strong story, using aliens to examine some of the big questions that cause us humans so much anguish about our natures, and the nature of our world.
That would be a difficult story to follow, I think. The editors wisely chose Laurel Amberdine’s “Ascension” as the next story, the only connection between the two being central characters who are unbelievers. Marina is a young woman who had been close to her grandmother. A trip to the Holy Land had been planned and paid for by Marina’s Grandma, who unfortunately became ill and died. Marina goes in her place, and is miserable. Israel is strange, tense with the constant awareness of bomb threats, full of tourists who all seem to have faith that only alienates Marina more—until she blunders into one of the tombs supposedly where Jesus was buried, and finds something odd. It’s a lovely story, written with a sympathetic eye and a light touch, exactly right in its contrast to the harrowing previous piece.
“Cracked Reflections,” by Joanna Michal Hoyt, takes place in the tenements of Boston at the end of World War I. Kassandra is a teenage dishwasher, relieved not to have to work in the mills with their greater danger and lower pay, as she reflects about germs and the replacement of their Pastor. We learn as we weave back and forth in time about Kass’s grandmother’s mental illness, which Kass knows she has inherited. She not only strives for sanity, but for a sense of right as war fear is followed by Red fear, and her German church is torn apart by these fears. The structure underscores her striving for sanity in this vivid, effective story crying out for peace and understanding, truth and forgiveness.
“The Physics of Faith,” by Mike Barretta, is a sharply written, grim tale of a very grim future, as Dave—denied college by two points—scavenges dead bodies to scrape together a living for himself and his girlfriend, along with his buddy, until everything is taken away. Or almost everything. The punch (hinted at by the title) is delivered with merciless—merciful?—precision.
The last story, “Horologium,” by Sarah Ellen Rogers, is set a few years after the beginning of the plague years, in Europe. It is the story of a girl named Annys who at eighteen willingly was bricked in to become an anchorite, her grave dug into the middle of the floor, the doorway bricked in. She receives food through her barred windows. The story concerns her struggle to accept her life, and to contemplate the next as her faith wavers. Though she’s shut in, Rogers skillfully sketches in the cell, the world outside it, and the people in Annys’s life—including those with the spark of the holy within them, though they live in a dangerous world; Annys slowly gains the wisdom and mercy to see it.
It’s a fitting end to a fascinating anthology that I began enjoying, and gradually began looking forward to as each day came to a close and I knew I had another story waiting.
Well, there is a lot of bad Christian fiction out there. And the editors of this anthology admit that right up front.
Crankshaw and Janz—both trained in the sciences, one with a PhD in Electrical Engineering, the other with a degree in Organic Chemistry—have encountered plenty of anti-Christian rhetoric in our supposedly open and acceptance-embracing SFnal world, and they’ve read plenty of the bad stuff.
In talking about the theme of this anthology, Crankshaw says:
Mysteries frighten us. We prefer certainty, simple explanations, and neat categories. Even when we praise ambiguity in fiction, in real life we often try to cram every fact, every event, and every person into the clear narrative of our worldview. But life is full of mysteries. . .”
And so their goal was to seek stories that made room for the mysterious, that “asked questions even though they didn’t know the answers, that examined the clues even when they were contradictory and nonsensical.”
They wanted stories that were as untidy and as theologically imprecise as the Bible itself.
Janz, in her introduction, admits that not everyone they are publishing identifies as Christian. She acknowledges that many Christians prefer to read stories that contain no swear words and certainly no sex, that clearly promote Christian beliefs and values (however they define that last one). While there is no graphic sex in any of these stories, a few stories do contain strong language, appropriate to the situation.
She states that they wanted thought-provoking stories, ones that resonated with them even those that made them uncomfortable.
She says:
Authenticity was key. Christians may roll their eyes at the latest story about an evil minister or an oppressive patriarchal monotheistic fantasy kingdom, populated by one-dimensional religious characters bearing no resemblance to the people we actually encounter at church.
But traditional Christian fiction doesn’t always do better in the realism department, with its strawman atheists argued into awed silence by smart Christians, or its happily-ever-after conversion narratives.
Mysterion is about Christianity. But we’re not sure it is Christian.
Having read such provocative introductory remarks, I really looked forward to diving into this anthology, which was provided by the publisher. I promised I would write up my reactions as I went along—though I warned them that my usual policy is, if I really dislike a work, I don’t post a review.
Well, as you can see below, that turned out not to be an issue. Here are my notes, written up after I read a story each evening before turning out the light.
“The Monastic” Daniel Southwell. When I read this story, I was reminded of Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea—except that I think the characterization here is better. Yes, Hemingway is a classic, but he tended to view characters from a detached distance, and Southwell gets right inside Father Kyle, who is coming to this island on Lake Superior to live alone and pray, after a really rough experience early in his priesthood. Southwell does a terrific job of evoking nature’s mysteries, with a breathtaking irruption of . . . otherness, let’s call it, that has quite an impact.
“When I was Dead” by Stephen Case. There is a strong feel of Lewis’s The Great Divorce resonating through this restless, angry story about a man who knows he is dead, and how deals with it.
“Forlorn” by Bret Carter. I have to admit I am not one for horror. This story begins with a difficult structure that Carter pulls off beautifully, and builds a steady tension. But the payoff is . . . horror. To me that is anti-inspiration. But I know that is idiosyncratic; meanwhile this vivid, emotionally wrenching story ought to stand as proof that a Christian anthology is not all easy-niceness.
“Too Poor to Sin” by H.L. Fullerton. Fascinatingly odd story whose setting is unclear; our first person narrator is trying hard to be good, to earn enough pardons to win Heaven for a parent. The constrained atmosphere, full of anxious laws and customs, centered around those pardons (for the family is too poor to pay for entrance to heaven), is watched over by angels. These angels might or might not be aliens, they might or might not be sacred, though one of them appears to understand mercy and perceives the shining soul of a narrator who does nothing wrong. It’s a story about faith in spite of the barnacling of human error over what should be divine message, and perhaps about the ineffable gleaming through anyway.
“Golgotha” by David Tallerman. Halfway through I noted that I was aware of the resonance of thunder when I glanced up at the title, and I bethought myself, “This is not going to be a light and easy one, nosiree.” I finished feeling . . . ambivalent? The voice is terrific, and the way character is delineated through that voice is deft, but when I reached the last page of the story I wanted to see why.
I’ve been reading these late at night, before bedtime. I had to stay up longer and read something fluffy after "A Lack of Charity," by James Beamon. To me, at least, this chilling story of one man’s eternity evokes the brimstone days of cautionary rather than consolatory tales.
“Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit” by Robert B Finegold, MD. If you can command the wherewithal to maybe attain immortal life through an untested procedure and your only child has days to live, what would you do? A sensorily vivid, emotionally charged story that weaves between urgency and the power of memory, intensified by a yearning for the numinous, this story was nearly perfect. At least for me, I needed another paragraph, even a few lines, but others may think it profoundly effective as is.
“A Good Hoard” by Pauline J. Alama is the first other world fantasy in the anthology, somewhere between a fairy tale and a parable, told with a sly wit, opening into compassion, wisdom, and poignancy. One of my favorites so far.
With “Yuri Gagarin Sees God,” by J.S. Bangs, I’ve hit three in a row that I found highly effective. Here we have three versions of a story about Yuri Gagarin, first cosmonaut. Taut, no words wasted, this story’s impact is all the stronger in the quiet control of its ending.
“Confinement,” by Kenneth Schneyer, is a parable about consequences, and hits hard as the central character keeps running from a strange figure, until she can run no longer from memory—truth—and the chance of atonement.
“The Angel Hunters,” by Christian Leithart, begins with the unlikeliest of characters: a jeep full of illegal big game hunters, hired for a . . . research project? With a priest along for the ride? And a driver who wears a tinfoil hat and blabs about aliens? This is a vivid, hard-hitting story that is impossible to predict, coming to a powerful end that is even more effective for its quietness.
“Cutio” by F.R. Michaels. In a cleverly written exchange of e-mails that deftly conveys character and motivation, we learn slowly about something that . . . performs all the motions of faith but cannot know the true spirit of faith. It understands sin, but not forgiveness. It understands punishment, but not mercy. It understands damnation, but not redemption. Isn’t that true horror?
A humble artifact is central to “St. Roomba’s Gospel,” by Rachael K. Jones, demonstrating vividly that the sacred can lie anywhere, and not necessarily in the most familiar ritual.
S.Q Eries’s “Yuki and the Seven Oni” is a sweet middle-grade tale about a Japanese girl named Yuki who lived during the shogunate period, whose father decides to remarry. Yuki takes an immediate dislike to her new stepmother, who turns out to be a Christian. A nice blend of faith, magic, and Japanese myth would make an exciting story to read aloud to fourth graders and above.
“A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows,” by Beth Cato, is more of a tale for young adults. Set somewhere in the South, it centers around Ruth, a small town girl whose mother has a magical touch with her baking. People feel good when they eat her pies—and Mother loves to bake, her happiness somehow getting into the pie. But Mother can get angry, as when Mr. Yates, a filthy town drunk who is often in jail, comes to demand a pie, then insults and threatens her. Mother is very angry, which is dangerous when she bakes . . . A lovely tale that goes to thoughtful places. This would be a perfect story for a classroom full of young teens to read and discuss.
“This Far Gethsemane,” by G. Scott Huggins, is one of my favorites of the anthology so far. There are only three characters: Human Shoshanna, living precariously on an alien planet as she studies its life, Caansu and Aiilerra, who both know they are going to have to perform the matingdeath soon, from which only one will emerge to transform into a Mother. Shoshanna, as a modern scientist, despises religion—and Caansu is a Christian who refuses to fight Aiilerra, so knows that she/he (gender is problematical here) will die so that Aiilerra might live. Shoshanna, who is close to Caansu, rages against her friend, and tries to take matters into her own hands. Caansu’s version of Christianity reminds me of the Heliand version of the Bible—details altered for cultural resonance, but the message still comes through. It’s a strong story, using aliens to examine some of the big questions that cause us humans so much anguish about our natures, and the nature of our world.
That would be a difficult story to follow, I think. The editors wisely chose Laurel Amberdine’s “Ascension” as the next story, the only connection between the two being central characters who are unbelievers. Marina is a young woman who had been close to her grandmother. A trip to the Holy Land had been planned and paid for by Marina’s Grandma, who unfortunately became ill and died. Marina goes in her place, and is miserable. Israel is strange, tense with the constant awareness of bomb threats, full of tourists who all seem to have faith that only alienates Marina more—until she blunders into one of the tombs supposedly where Jesus was buried, and finds something odd. It’s a lovely story, written with a sympathetic eye and a light touch, exactly right in its contrast to the harrowing previous piece.
“Cracked Reflections,” by Joanna Michal Hoyt, takes place in the tenements of Boston at the end of World War I. Kassandra is a teenage dishwasher, relieved not to have to work in the mills with their greater danger and lower pay, as she reflects about germs and the replacement of their Pastor. We learn as we weave back and forth in time about Kass’s grandmother’s mental illness, which Kass knows she has inherited. She not only strives for sanity, but for a sense of right as war fear is followed by Red fear, and her German church is torn apart by these fears. The structure underscores her striving for sanity in this vivid, effective story crying out for peace and understanding, truth and forgiveness.
“The Physics of Faith,” by Mike Barretta, is a sharply written, grim tale of a very grim future, as Dave—denied college by two points—scavenges dead bodies to scrape together a living for himself and his girlfriend, along with his buddy, until everything is taken away. Or almost everything. The punch (hinted at by the title) is delivered with merciless—merciful?—precision.
The last story, “Horologium,” by Sarah Ellen Rogers, is set a few years after the beginning of the plague years, in Europe. It is the story of a girl named Annys who at eighteen willingly was bricked in to become an anchorite, her grave dug into the middle of the floor, the doorway bricked in. She receives food through her barred windows. The story concerns her struggle to accept her life, and to contemplate the next as her faith wavers. Though she’s shut in, Rogers skillfully sketches in the cell, the world outside it, and the people in Annys’s life—including those with the spark of the holy within them, though they live in a dangerous world; Annys slowly gains the wisdom and mercy to see it.
It’s a fitting end to a fascinating anthology that I began enjoying, and gradually began looking forward to as each day came to a close and I knew I had another story waiting.
September 4, 2016
I explained this book briefly to a friend as follows: "Aslan is not a tame lion."
I'm a Christian, but I don't usually read Christian fiction. This is largely because I expect it to be trite, shallow, neat, and preachy. The stories in this book are none of these things; in fact, some of them are very disturbing, all of them are thought-provoking, and all of them are well written. A number of the authors have impressive publication credentials in the fantasy and science fiction field.
I hope nobody is put off by the conventional tone of the acknowledgements from reading through to the introduction, which lays out the project: an anthology of good-quality fiction which deals with the mysteries, uncertainties, and difficult questions of the Christian faith, featuring Christian characters and themes in an authentic (and not necessarily comfortable, tidy, or doctrinally "pure") manner. Some Christians won't like it at all. Some non-Christians will find it, I think, approachable and interesting. And, of course, vice versa.
Let's go story by story.
"The Monastic," Daniel Southwell: an Irish-American priest who has taken up a hermitage on an island in Lake Superior must figure out how to relate to the mythical creatures he encounters there. Beautifully described and deeply characterised.
"When I Was Dead," Stephen Case: reminding me of C.S. Lewis's The Great Divorce , a story of something between Heaven and Purgatory, but with some interesting twists in terms of what it's like to speak to someone who went on before you.
"Forlorn," Bret Carter: a horror story, with beautifully handled suspense.
"Too Poor to Sin," H. L. Fullerton: a dystopia run by merciless angels, where sin and forgiveness are a kind of currency, used to manipulate humans into serving in the angels' war.
"Golgotha," David Tallerman: a disturbing encounter for a missionary to the South Seas, told by a sailor who witnessed it. Has a touch of Mythos about it, but just a touch.
"A Lack of Charity," James Beamon: another horror story, set either in a nightmare trans-dimensional landscape or in a real world horribly transformed by being seen through the lens of insanity. Disturbing themes of murder, serial murder, and rape, alongside forgiveness or the lack thereof, revenge, and the demonic.
"Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit," Robert B Finegold, MD: post-cyberpunk science fiction, addressing the age-old questions of mind, soul, and their relationship with the physical form. I didn't feel that it brought anything really new to the idea, and I found the premise unconvincing, though the protagonist's motivation (love for his son) was well portrayed. The lady-or-the-tiger ending was, I think, justified, for purposes of provoking thought in the reader; though this can easily be a gimmick or a way of avoiding writing the ending, I didn't think it was in this case.
"A Good Hoard," Pauline J. Alama: fantasy humour, well executed and with a clear, but not heavy-handed message about materialism.
"Yuri Gagarin Sees God," J. S. Bangs: one of those stories that plays with urban legend and questions it, in this case effectively.
"Confinement," Kenneth Schneyer: angels seem to be where a lot of people go when they think "Christian speculative fiction," and this is one of a number of stories in this book which use the idea. Each of them treats it differently, though, and this one (the angel bringing a woman to face something about herself) is well done. May be politically distasteful to some readers.
"The Angel Hunters," Christian Leithart: another, completely different take on angels as interdimensional aliens, drawing on the visions of Ezekiel, but through the POV of a tough female mercenary with a troubled past.
"Cutio," F. R. Michaels: told in a series of emails, an encounter with an automaton from an earlier century, and another exploration of the idea of soulless machines and judgement without mercy.
"St. Roomba's Gospel," Rachael K. Jones: a whimsical, lyrical story about a cleaning robot that does, apparently, possess both a soul and faith.
"Yuki and the Seven Oni," S. Q. Eries: an unusually thorough rewriting of "Snow White," not only in a different setting - Japan under the Shogunate - but with a very different plotline, though most of the classic non-plot elements are there (notably excluding the prince, unless Christ is implied to fill this role). It works well, and the Christian character shows great compassion and courage.
"A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows," Beth Cato: a nice bit of Southern American weird fiction, with a satisfying theme of revenge versus forgiveness.
"This Far Gethsemane," G. Scott Huggins: sets up a situation of a human unbeliever dealing with a missionary-converted alien on a remote planet - so, putting a science-fictional gloss over a classic storyline, but here using it to address ideas of violence, nonviolence, and friendship. I didn't find its resolution entirely satisfactory, but I think it was supposed to be messy rather than neat.
"Ascension," Laurel Amberdine: a story of finding faith through a miracle, but I liked how the character chose to deal with the miraculous object and the symbolism of it.
"Cracked Reflections," Joanna Michal Hoyt: a difficult story of the historical immigrant experience in America around the time of World War I, with resonances for our own time in the nativist propaganda and fear of the Other. The fantastic elements are slight; it's more of a gritty real-world historical, dealing with pacifism and the cooption of faith to patriotism (here, out of fear of being othered).
"The Physics of Faith," Mike Barretta: post-apocalyptic, dark and disturbing (in other words, not to my personal taste), with a strange fantastical element that I assume is some kind of reference to the idea of the Rapture.
"Horologium," Sarah Ellen Rogers: deeply researched, deeply felt, but for me the plot wasn't strong enough, and it came closest of any of the stories in the book to preaching. The fourteenth-century mystics are interesting to me, and I did enjoy the story, but I felt it needed more development and some editing down.
In summary, a wide variety of stories, both in terms of belonging to many different fantasy and science fiction subgenres and in terms of what kind of Christian elements they choose and how they develop them and use them in the stories. Angels and demons feature in more of the stories than any other single element, perhaps unsurprisingly, though there are also a couple of stories involving missionaries, a couple involving pacifism, several about coming to faith in one way or another, and several about forgiveness. Three stories deal with the question of machines and souls, two concluding that they can't have souls and one that they can.
While the dark and gritty tone of some of the stories was beyond the level I personally prefer, it also thoroughly dispels the stereotype of Christian fiction as happy fluffiness. There's some deep emotional, spiritual and philosophical territory being explored here. I don't know that any of the stories really attempt to explore theology, as such, though, apart from perhaps the last one. They take Christian ideas and themes as a starting point and take them in interesting story directions, without necessarily asserting that this is how the cosmos actually is, even metaphorically.
The book misses out on my "well-edited" tag primarily because it uses "ok" rather than "OK" or "okay" (resulting in the odd-looking "Ok" at the start of a sentence), and because it uses "alright" rather than "all right," a usage that a few publishing houses now permit, though the major style guides don't (and nor do I, when I'm editing). There are a few minor glitches, as well, which I'll pass on to the editor for future correction (Hebrew is read right to left, not left to right, for example). On the whole, though, the quality both of writing and of editing is excellent.
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book for purposes of review from one of the editors, who is a fellow member of a writers' forum I belong to (along with several of the contributors).
I'm a Christian, but I don't usually read Christian fiction. This is largely because I expect it to be trite, shallow, neat, and preachy. The stories in this book are none of these things; in fact, some of them are very disturbing, all of them are thought-provoking, and all of them are well written. A number of the authors have impressive publication credentials in the fantasy and science fiction field.
I hope nobody is put off by the conventional tone of the acknowledgements from reading through to the introduction, which lays out the project: an anthology of good-quality fiction which deals with the mysteries, uncertainties, and difficult questions of the Christian faith, featuring Christian characters and themes in an authentic (and not necessarily comfortable, tidy, or doctrinally "pure") manner. Some Christians won't like it at all. Some non-Christians will find it, I think, approachable and interesting. And, of course, vice versa.
Let's go story by story.
"The Monastic," Daniel Southwell: an Irish-American priest who has taken up a hermitage on an island in Lake Superior must figure out how to relate to the mythical creatures he encounters there. Beautifully described and deeply characterised.
"When I Was Dead," Stephen Case: reminding me of C.S. Lewis's The Great Divorce , a story of something between Heaven and Purgatory, but with some interesting twists in terms of what it's like to speak to someone who went on before you.
"Forlorn," Bret Carter: a horror story, with beautifully handled suspense.
"Too Poor to Sin," H. L. Fullerton: a dystopia run by merciless angels, where sin and forgiveness are a kind of currency, used to manipulate humans into serving in the angels' war.
"Golgotha," David Tallerman: a disturbing encounter for a missionary to the South Seas, told by a sailor who witnessed it. Has a touch of Mythos about it, but just a touch.
"A Lack of Charity," James Beamon: another horror story, set either in a nightmare trans-dimensional landscape or in a real world horribly transformed by being seen through the lens of insanity. Disturbing themes of murder, serial murder, and rape, alongside forgiveness or the lack thereof, revenge, and the demonic.
"Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit," Robert B Finegold, MD: post-cyberpunk science fiction, addressing the age-old questions of mind, soul, and their relationship with the physical form. I didn't feel that it brought anything really new to the idea, and I found the premise unconvincing, though the protagonist's motivation (love for his son) was well portrayed. The lady-or-the-tiger ending was, I think, justified, for purposes of provoking thought in the reader; though this can easily be a gimmick or a way of avoiding writing the ending, I didn't think it was in this case.
"A Good Hoard," Pauline J. Alama: fantasy humour, well executed and with a clear, but not heavy-handed message about materialism.
"Yuri Gagarin Sees God," J. S. Bangs: one of those stories that plays with urban legend and questions it, in this case effectively.
"Confinement," Kenneth Schneyer: angels seem to be where a lot of people go when they think "Christian speculative fiction," and this is one of a number of stories in this book which use the idea. Each of them treats it differently, though, and this one (the angel bringing a woman to face something about herself) is well done. May be politically distasteful to some readers.
"The Angel Hunters," Christian Leithart: another, completely different take on angels as interdimensional aliens, drawing on the visions of Ezekiel, but through the POV of a tough female mercenary with a troubled past.
"Cutio," F. R. Michaels: told in a series of emails, an encounter with an automaton from an earlier century, and another exploration of the idea of soulless machines and judgement without mercy.
"St. Roomba's Gospel," Rachael K. Jones: a whimsical, lyrical story about a cleaning robot that does, apparently, possess both a soul and faith.
"Yuki and the Seven Oni," S. Q. Eries: an unusually thorough rewriting of "Snow White," not only in a different setting - Japan under the Shogunate - but with a very different plotline, though most of the classic non-plot elements are there (notably excluding the prince, unless Christ is implied to fill this role). It works well, and the Christian character shows great compassion and courage.
"A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows," Beth Cato: a nice bit of Southern American weird fiction, with a satisfying theme of revenge versus forgiveness.
"This Far Gethsemane," G. Scott Huggins: sets up a situation of a human unbeliever dealing with a missionary-converted alien on a remote planet - so, putting a science-fictional gloss over a classic storyline, but here using it to address ideas of violence, nonviolence, and friendship. I didn't find its resolution entirely satisfactory, but I think it was supposed to be messy rather than neat.
"Ascension," Laurel Amberdine: a story of finding faith through a miracle, but I liked how the character chose to deal with the miraculous object and the symbolism of it.
"Cracked Reflections," Joanna Michal Hoyt: a difficult story of the historical immigrant experience in America around the time of World War I, with resonances for our own time in the nativist propaganda and fear of the Other. The fantastic elements are slight; it's more of a gritty real-world historical, dealing with pacifism and the cooption of faith to patriotism (here, out of fear of being othered).
"The Physics of Faith," Mike Barretta: post-apocalyptic, dark and disturbing (in other words, not to my personal taste), with a strange fantastical element that I assume is some kind of reference to the idea of the Rapture.
"Horologium," Sarah Ellen Rogers: deeply researched, deeply felt, but for me the plot wasn't strong enough, and it came closest of any of the stories in the book to preaching. The fourteenth-century mystics are interesting to me, and I did enjoy the story, but I felt it needed more development and some editing down.
In summary, a wide variety of stories, both in terms of belonging to many different fantasy and science fiction subgenres and in terms of what kind of Christian elements they choose and how they develop them and use them in the stories. Angels and demons feature in more of the stories than any other single element, perhaps unsurprisingly, though there are also a couple of stories involving missionaries, a couple involving pacifism, several about coming to faith in one way or another, and several about forgiveness. Three stories deal with the question of machines and souls, two concluding that they can't have souls and one that they can.
While the dark and gritty tone of some of the stories was beyond the level I personally prefer, it also thoroughly dispels the stereotype of Christian fiction as happy fluffiness. There's some deep emotional, spiritual and philosophical territory being explored here. I don't know that any of the stories really attempt to explore theology, as such, though, apart from perhaps the last one. They take Christian ideas and themes as a starting point and take them in interesting story directions, without necessarily asserting that this is how the cosmos actually is, even metaphorically.
The book misses out on my "well-edited" tag primarily because it uses "ok" rather than "OK" or "okay" (resulting in the odd-looking "Ok" at the start of a sentence), and because it uses "alright" rather than "all right," a usage that a few publishing houses now permit, though the major style guides don't (and nor do I, when I'm editing). There are a few minor glitches, as well, which I'll pass on to the editor for future correction (Hebrew is read right to left, not left to right, for example). On the whole, though, the quality both of writing and of editing is excellent.
Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book for purposes of review from one of the editors, who is a fellow member of a writers' forum I belong to (along with several of the contributors).
August 24, 2016
Excellent. Full review coming soon on Cemetery Dance Online.
October 1, 2016
It’s always at least a little hard to review an anthology, because it’s the work of so many different people, and you can love some of the stories and really hate others. But despite that, every anthology has its own flavor, thanks to the hand of the editor(s), and Mysterion, edited by Donald S. Crankshaw and Kristin Janz, is no different.
So, I’m going to start this review with my impressions of Mysterion as a whole, and then go on to talk a bit about the stories I really disliked, the ones that intrigued me but maybe didn’t quite work for me, and then the ones I really enjoyed (happily, the last two categories are MUCH larger than the first).
General Impressions
Like many anthologies, Mysterion is centered around a theme. Like very few other anthologies, Mysterion’s theme is “speculative fiction that interacts somehow with Christianity”. What makes Mysterion even more unique is that the authors of its stories were not forced to make any concession to the usual CBA content guidelines that limit profanity, sexual content, theological orthodoxy, etc.
As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, I just love that this anthology exists. I’m not a reader who goes for extreme content for the sake of extreme content (as you'll see in my review), but I do think that when you’re a Christian author writing about a fallen world, artificial limitations about content can really make your story ring false. And so I deeply appreciate the editors’ aims here.
But did it work for me? The answer is…mostly. It was more heterodox than I would have liked, and there was at least one story I regret reading because of the extreme ugliness of its images. But I also found, in this anthology's pages, Christian science fiction that actually felt like legitimate science fiction—there were worlds in this book that were as fascinating and enthralling as the worlds I’ve found in books edited by the best secular presses. I loved that.
The Stories That Didn’t Work for Me
While there were several stories that just weren’t my thing, or that I had trifling disagreements with, there were only two I heartily disliked.
Let me stop here and say: I know that sounds harsh. But two important points:
1. That’s a MUCH smaller percentage than I usually find in sci-fi anthologies.
2. I received this book for free from the publisher in exchange for an honest review, and so honest is what I’m going to be!
Well, and—okay, I guess I have one more point:
3. Since I’m a writer myself, I always want to cringe away from negative reviews. In fact, I rarely post them—I don’t lie, but I just avoid reviewing the book if I didn’t like it. But since I can’t do that in this case, I do want to say that my criticism is criticism of the stories, and not of the authors as people. Also, I want to say: I could be wrong. I could be totally missing the value of these stories. So please, dear authors of the stories I didn’t like, feel free to ignore my review. Don’t hate me. Thanks.
Right, the two stories I really disliked were “A Lack of Charity” and “Golgotha”. The first was simply ugly. It was horror that was very, very horrific. It gave me images in my head that I sincerely don’t want there. However, if the author wanted to give a great picture of total depravity, I congratulate him, because it worked as that.
“Golgotha”, on the other hand, was horrific in a much less visceral way (though it had a bit of that, too). Instead, what I disliked here was…well, the conclusion felt like blasphemy, to be frank. HOWEVER (see, I’m really terrible at negative reviews), that conclusion came in the mouth of a character who you might have reason to disbelieve. So…again, this might be one that was just not for me. If it meant what I think it did, I hate it. If I missed the point completely…well, I still don’t like it, but it might be a much better story than I realized.
The Stories that Really Worked for Me
Yes, I’m skipping all the stories that were somewhere in the middle. There were many (the majority!) that I enjoyed while I was reading them, but that weren’t (for me!) those unique jewels that you read anthologies to find. But there were a few that were just joys.
Here are the ones that really stuck with me:
-"The Monastic”, by Daniel Southwell. This one had something to its atmosphere that reminded me, in a good way, of Lars Walker’s writing. And this exchange, where our priest protagonist is trying much too hard to be culturally sensitive to the Ojibwe man who is helping him, made me laugh out loud:
Father Kyle looked the little stone hermitage up and down, looked the ragged hillside up and down, and suddenly decided that he was happy. He liked this silent, ludicrous little church house.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. But he didn’t want to offend his only human contact, so he added, “I’m sure your places of worship are beautiful, too.”
John shrugged. “I’m a Methodist.”
Gotta watch those assumptions!
-"A Good Hoard”, by Pauline J. Alama. Very much a fairy-tale sort of a story. Predictable, yes, but that’s fine, because it was told well and that’s really the important part. It did strike me as more of a children’s story than anything else, but it seemed like a children’s story I’d enjoy reading to my own kids, and so that’s a plus in my book.
-"Cutio”, by F. R. Michaels. This was another predictable one, but again, it was well-told. It was a creepy story, but creepy in a really fun way, if that makes sense. A professor discovers an ancient automaton, but doesn’t pay enough attention to the signs that it might be a bad idea to make it functional again…this one was also told entirely through emails and text messages, and that structure really worked well with this particular plot.
-"This Far Gethsemane”, by G. Scott Huggins. This story was the one in the anthology that most made me think, This is just good sci-fi, period. I’ll be honest: I’m still not sure you can extrapolate Christianity out onto alien worlds and alien races with any kind of theological integrity. But if you can, then it’s going to look like this. Also? Just a good setting, a compelling narrative driven by interpersonal conflict, and aliens that felt really, truly alien. I liked it.
-"Ascension”, by Laurel Amberdine. This one had just a slim, slightly-supernatural thread (both literally and figuratively, actually). I really liked Amberdine’s light touch in this story. She doesn’t have her main character go overboard on speculation, but instead keeps the whole miraculous element subtle and unexplained…and interesting. A lovely little story.
In all, I recommend picking up a copy of Mysterion (but, honestly, skipping “A Lack of Charity”, because you truly don’t want those pictures in your head). Some of the stories have questionable theology, some are better than others, but the mix on the whole is quite good, and it has that sharp, strange, interesting energy that, real life has, and I really appreciate finding Christian fiction where that is true. It's good stuff.
And that’s my review! I want to thank the publisher of Mysterion for providing me with a review copy. All opinions here are my own. And I’ll be watching with interest to see what Enigmatic Mirror Press does next!
So, I’m going to start this review with my impressions of Mysterion as a whole, and then go on to talk a bit about the stories I really disliked, the ones that intrigued me but maybe didn’t quite work for me, and then the ones I really enjoyed (happily, the last two categories are MUCH larger than the first).
General Impressions
Like many anthologies, Mysterion is centered around a theme. Like very few other anthologies, Mysterion’s theme is “speculative fiction that interacts somehow with Christianity”. What makes Mysterion even more unique is that the authors of its stories were not forced to make any concession to the usual CBA content guidelines that limit profanity, sexual content, theological orthodoxy, etc.
As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, I just love that this anthology exists. I’m not a reader who goes for extreme content for the sake of extreme content (as you'll see in my review), but I do think that when you’re a Christian author writing about a fallen world, artificial limitations about content can really make your story ring false. And so I deeply appreciate the editors’ aims here.
But did it work for me? The answer is…mostly. It was more heterodox than I would have liked, and there was at least one story I regret reading because of the extreme ugliness of its images. But I also found, in this anthology's pages, Christian science fiction that actually felt like legitimate science fiction—there were worlds in this book that were as fascinating and enthralling as the worlds I’ve found in books edited by the best secular presses. I loved that.
The Stories That Didn’t Work for Me
While there were several stories that just weren’t my thing, or that I had trifling disagreements with, there were only two I heartily disliked.
Let me stop here and say: I know that sounds harsh. But two important points:
1. That’s a MUCH smaller percentage than I usually find in sci-fi anthologies.
2. I received this book for free from the publisher in exchange for an honest review, and so honest is what I’m going to be!
Well, and—okay, I guess I have one more point:
3. Since I’m a writer myself, I always want to cringe away from negative reviews. In fact, I rarely post them—I don’t lie, but I just avoid reviewing the book if I didn’t like it. But since I can’t do that in this case, I do want to say that my criticism is criticism of the stories, and not of the authors as people. Also, I want to say: I could be wrong. I could be totally missing the value of these stories. So please, dear authors of the stories I didn’t like, feel free to ignore my review. Don’t hate me. Thanks.
Right, the two stories I really disliked were “A Lack of Charity” and “Golgotha”. The first was simply ugly. It was horror that was very, very horrific. It gave me images in my head that I sincerely don’t want there. However, if the author wanted to give a great picture of total depravity, I congratulate him, because it worked as that.
“Golgotha”, on the other hand, was horrific in a much less visceral way (though it had a bit of that, too). Instead, what I disliked here was…well, the conclusion felt like blasphemy, to be frank. HOWEVER (see, I’m really terrible at negative reviews), that conclusion came in the mouth of a character who you might have reason to disbelieve. So…again, this might be one that was just not for me. If it meant what I think it did, I hate it. If I missed the point completely…well, I still don’t like it, but it might be a much better story than I realized.
The Stories that Really Worked for Me
Yes, I’m skipping all the stories that were somewhere in the middle. There were many (the majority!) that I enjoyed while I was reading them, but that weren’t (for me!) those unique jewels that you read anthologies to find. But there were a few that were just joys.
Here are the ones that really stuck with me:
-"The Monastic”, by Daniel Southwell. This one had something to its atmosphere that reminded me, in a good way, of Lars Walker’s writing. And this exchange, where our priest protagonist is trying much too hard to be culturally sensitive to the Ojibwe man who is helping him, made me laugh out loud:
Father Kyle looked the little stone hermitage up and down, looked the ragged hillside up and down, and suddenly decided that he was happy. He liked this silent, ludicrous little church house.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. But he didn’t want to offend his only human contact, so he added, “I’m sure your places of worship are beautiful, too.”
John shrugged. “I’m a Methodist.”
Gotta watch those assumptions!
-"A Good Hoard”, by Pauline J. Alama. Very much a fairy-tale sort of a story. Predictable, yes, but that’s fine, because it was told well and that’s really the important part. It did strike me as more of a children’s story than anything else, but it seemed like a children’s story I’d enjoy reading to my own kids, and so that’s a plus in my book.
-"Cutio”, by F. R. Michaels. This was another predictable one, but again, it was well-told. It was a creepy story, but creepy in a really fun way, if that makes sense. A professor discovers an ancient automaton, but doesn’t pay enough attention to the signs that it might be a bad idea to make it functional again…this one was also told entirely through emails and text messages, and that structure really worked well with this particular plot.
-"This Far Gethsemane”, by G. Scott Huggins. This story was the one in the anthology that most made me think, This is just good sci-fi, period. I’ll be honest: I’m still not sure you can extrapolate Christianity out onto alien worlds and alien races with any kind of theological integrity. But if you can, then it’s going to look like this. Also? Just a good setting, a compelling narrative driven by interpersonal conflict, and aliens that felt really, truly alien. I liked it.
-"Ascension”, by Laurel Amberdine. This one had just a slim, slightly-supernatural thread (both literally and figuratively, actually). I really liked Amberdine’s light touch in this story. She doesn’t have her main character go overboard on speculation, but instead keeps the whole miraculous element subtle and unexplained…and interesting. A lovely little story.
In all, I recommend picking up a copy of Mysterion (but, honestly, skipping “A Lack of Charity”, because you truly don’t want those pictures in your head). Some of the stories have questionable theology, some are better than others, but the mix on the whole is quite good, and it has that sharp, strange, interesting energy that, real life has, and I really appreciate finding Christian fiction where that is true. It's good stuff.
And that’s my review! I want to thank the publisher of Mysterion for providing me with a review copy. All opinions here are my own. And I’ll be watching with interest to see what Enigmatic Mirror Press does next!
October 1, 2016
I supported the creation of this book on Patreon for a couple of reasons. I agree with the editors on a few things:
- The 'thin' way in which Christian (and other religious) characters are portrayed in (speculative) fiction. They simply don't feel real from the inside, and the reduction of every conflict into a crisis of faith;
- The 'thin' way in which inspirational fiction portrays Christians. They are almost indistinguishable 'goodie-two-shoes' regardless of the setting of the story;
- The lack of engagement with the complexities of Christian mysteries.
So, I was very much looking forward to reading this volume, and it did not disappoint! The stories turned out to be very varied and didn't shy away from difficult spaces. There was quite a bit of horror, which is not my favourite genre of speculative fiction.
If I had to pick an absolute favourite, it would tricky but I would probably pick "Cracked Reflections".
Perfect for me
"Yuki and the Seven Oni" by S.Q. Eries - A Japanese take on the traditional "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs".
"This Far Gethsemane" by G. Scott Huggins - A science fiction story of an alien who chooses a human faith and a human who doesn't share it. This is a complex and beautiful tale.
"Cracked Reflections" by Joanna Michal Hoyt - A historical inter-war peace about hatred, mental health and humanity. I wasn't sure about this one at first, but it came together so exquisitely that the ending sent chills down my spine.
Enjoyable, worked for me
"The Monastic" by Daniel Southwell - Father Murphy travels to an isolated island to take up the life of a monastic. Eerie atmosphere, that didn't shy away from complexity.
"When I was Dead" by Stephen Case - A portrayal of man lost in heaven. Also very atmospheric.
"Too Poor to Sin" by H.L. Fullerton - The first secondary-world fantasy in the collection, set in a world where angels trade in favours and service. Interesting juxtaposition of god and angels.
"Golgotha" by David Tallerman - Very much in the style of stories of men of the cloth leaving Europe to discover mysteries in the colonies. Skirted right up against the edges of cliché but managed to avoid falling in.
(*) "Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit" by Robert B. Finegold - A son is dying and a father must decide how far he will go in pursuit of a technological solution.
(*) "A Good Hoard" by Pauline J. Alama - A blend of comedy and secondary-world fantasy about what it takes to banish dragons.
(**) "Yuri Gagarin Sees God" by J.S. Bangs - Delightful set of alternative retellings of the first man in space.
(*) "The Angel Hunters" by Christian Leithart - The story of a group hunting mysteries with arcane machinery. Loved the fact that the main character was a South African mercenary.
(*) "Cutio" by F.R. Michaels - An epistolary tale told in emails of a man whose dream comes true when a historical (and potentially cursed) automaton comes into his possession. Interesting blend of horror and steampunk.
(**) "St. Roomba's Gospel" by Rachael K. Jones - A short, sweet take on the potential faith of intelligent machines.
"A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows" by Beth Cato - A woman with the ability to bake feelings into her pies faces a difficult choice.
"Horologium" by Sarah Ellen Rogers - An interesting historical piece about women who chose to be prematurely entombed in order to pray.
Fine, but didn't speak to me
"Forlorn" by Bret Carter - A story that shifts substantially in the telling. Definitely sitting on the horror end of the spectrum.
"A Lack of Charity" by James Beamon - A bleeding compass, a tale of revenge and deals with the devil. Quite dark.
"Confinement" by Kenneth Schneyer - A woman is forced to revisit her past mistakes.
"Ascension" by Laurel Amberdine - A journey to the Holy Land and a chance to mourn. I can sort of see where this was headed, but it just didn't connect with me.
"The Physics of Faith" by Mike Barretta - An ambulance driver who collects drug addicts confronts the mysteries and temptations to escape life. Interesting, but didn't quite come together for me.
Not my cup of tea
- The 'thin' way in which Christian (and other religious) characters are portrayed in (speculative) fiction. They simply don't feel real from the inside, and the reduction of every conflict into a crisis of faith;
- The 'thin' way in which inspirational fiction portrays Christians. They are almost indistinguishable 'goodie-two-shoes' regardless of the setting of the story;
- The lack of engagement with the complexities of Christian mysteries.
So, I was very much looking forward to reading this volume, and it did not disappoint! The stories turned out to be very varied and didn't shy away from difficult spaces. There was quite a bit of horror, which is not my favourite genre of speculative fiction.
If I had to pick an absolute favourite, it would tricky but I would probably pick "Cracked Reflections".
Perfect for me
"Yuki and the Seven Oni" by S.Q. Eries - A Japanese take on the traditional "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs".
"This Far Gethsemane" by G. Scott Huggins - A science fiction story of an alien who chooses a human faith and a human who doesn't share it. This is a complex and beautiful tale.
"Cracked Reflections" by Joanna Michal Hoyt - A historical inter-war peace about hatred, mental health and humanity. I wasn't sure about this one at first, but it came together so exquisitely that the ending sent chills down my spine.
Enjoyable, worked for me
"The Monastic" by Daniel Southwell - Father Murphy travels to an isolated island to take up the life of a monastic. Eerie atmosphere, that didn't shy away from complexity.
"When I was Dead" by Stephen Case - A portrayal of man lost in heaven. Also very atmospheric.
"Too Poor to Sin" by H.L. Fullerton - The first secondary-world fantasy in the collection, set in a world where angels trade in favours and service. Interesting juxtaposition of god and angels.
"Golgotha" by David Tallerman - Very much in the style of stories of men of the cloth leaving Europe to discover mysteries in the colonies. Skirted right up against the edges of cliché but managed to avoid falling in.
(*) "Of Thine Impenetrable Spirit" by Robert B. Finegold - A son is dying and a father must decide how far he will go in pursuit of a technological solution.
(*) "A Good Hoard" by Pauline J. Alama - A blend of comedy and secondary-world fantasy about what it takes to banish dragons.
(**) "Yuri Gagarin Sees God" by J.S. Bangs - Delightful set of alternative retellings of the first man in space.
(*) "The Angel Hunters" by Christian Leithart - The story of a group hunting mysteries with arcane machinery. Loved the fact that the main character was a South African mercenary.
(*) "Cutio" by F.R. Michaels - An epistolary tale told in emails of a man whose dream comes true when a historical (and potentially cursed) automaton comes into his possession. Interesting blend of horror and steampunk.
(**) "St. Roomba's Gospel" by Rachael K. Jones - A short, sweet take on the potential faith of intelligent machines.
"A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows" by Beth Cato - A woman with the ability to bake feelings into her pies faces a difficult choice.
"Horologium" by Sarah Ellen Rogers - An interesting historical piece about women who chose to be prematurely entombed in order to pray.
Fine, but didn't speak to me
"Forlorn" by Bret Carter - A story that shifts substantially in the telling. Definitely sitting on the horror end of the spectrum.
"A Lack of Charity" by James Beamon - A bleeding compass, a tale of revenge and deals with the devil. Quite dark.
"Confinement" by Kenneth Schneyer - A woman is forced to revisit her past mistakes.
"Ascension" by Laurel Amberdine - A journey to the Holy Land and a chance to mourn. I can sort of see where this was headed, but it just didn't connect with me.
"The Physics of Faith" by Mike Barretta - An ambulance driver who collects drug addicts confronts the mysteries and temptations to escape life. Interesting, but didn't quite come together for me.
Not my cup of tea
Read
May 12, 2017Not a review. Includes a reprint of my story "A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows."
September 29, 2016
When I was interviewing for a place in the graduate program for the history and philosophy of science at the University of Notre Dame, there was a dinner attended by prospective students and a few professors. We had all gone through the interviews and met several of the faculty, and one of the senior professors at the meal that night asked if we had any remaining questions. I had one: I wanted to know about the relationship between the program and the university’s Catholic identity. “What does it mean,” I asked, “that this program is at a Catholic school?”
The professor seemed to appreciate the question. He paused for a minute, and then he gave what I thought was a profound response. He said something like, “It means that we take religion seriously. It means we don’t discount it as a significant factor in history.” It did not mean that everyone I took a class from would be a Catholic or a Christian, and it did not mean that Christianity would be the dominant theme in every lecture. (Though it did mean there would be a crucifix hiding somewhere in every room.) But I appreciated his answer, and I thought it largely accurate.
Mysterion is a new anthology of science fiction and fantasy (featuring one of my stories) that takes a similar approach to Christianity. It is not a collection of stories by Christian authors, nor is it a collection of what I would consider “Christian fiction” (fiction written from a Christian worldview with the intention of inspiring or instructing or converting). Rather, Mysterion is a collection of stories that take religion seriously as a feature of the world in which the fiction lives. The editors, as they explain in their introduction, recognize that Christianity is a big, messy, dynamic, fruitful thing, and one that, as the title of the anthology suggests, still harbors a multitude of mysteries. Rather than tidy, systematic modes of thought or practice, this anthology suggests (and I think the editors were trying to show) that Christianity—like any living, ancient tradition—can be a starting point for good fiction, and likewise good fiction can be an effective lens for examining and even questioning such a tradition.
If the common thread in each of these stories is some form of serious engagement with Christianity, this still leaves for an incredibly broad sweep of approaches, from the brutal (James Beamon’s “A Lack of Charity”) and the grim (Mike Baretta’s “The Physics of Faith”) to the straightforwardly inspirational (Laurel Amberdine’s “Ascension”) or the subtly powerful and historical grounded (Sarah Ellen Rogers’ “Horologium”). The pieces in here represent everything from hard science fiction to humorous fantasy to surrealist and (I’m excluding my own) are for the most part strong and stirring, asking deep questions and sounding some interesting depths. Whether or not your own background or perspective is informed by the Christian faith, if you’re a fan of the likes of Lewis and Tolkien, some of these themes will be familiar. If you’ve ventured in the waters of Swanwick, Wolfe, or Lafferty, you may have a few additional signposts for this voyage. But the stories stand on their own, regardless of the context of faith. None of them need a grounding in Christianity to work, in other words. For these stories, with the exception of one or two, the faith angle is not their only angle.
The anthology is lovely as a book as well. The volume is solid, weighty, and impeccably edited. I didn’t catch a single typo on my read-through. There’s a helpful short bio for each author in case you’re interested in searching out more of their work, as well as a thoughtful introduction by the editors. The cover art doesn’t seem to correlate with any specific story but rather with an overall aspect of the theme: narrow is the doorway and rough is the path that leads Elsewhere. (Look closely at the rune on the top of that doorway.)
I won’t go through each of the stories, as that would obviously spoil some of the fun of diving into them yourself, but I will offer some highlights. The volume opens with a strong piece by Daniel Southwell entitled “The Monastic,” about a religious hermit on an island in the midst of Lake Superior and of some of the ancient things that still linger there. “Forlorn,” by Bret Carter is a great ghost story with a unique telling that builds toward a satisfying twist. “Golgotha” by David Tallerman, along with “This Far Gethsemane” by G. Scott Huggins, may have been my two favorite pieces in the volume. “Golgotha” tells the story of an earnest missionary’s encounter with a pagan deity who is more than witchcraft and rumors. It is told in the language of the day with a voice of a sympathetic narrator who provides an excellent balance between the puritanical rigidity of the missionary and the stark reality of what he encounters. And it asks an interesting question about the cost of proselytizing, about what things are lost and what are gained with Christianity and civilization, but from a perspective other than simple post-colonialism. Rather, what if it’s the old god himself asking these questions?
“This Far Gethsemane” was excellent as well and reminded me the most of any story in this volume of the golden-age science fiction trope of introducing a new species and then using it to explore interesting questions about our own. In this case, the trope is pulled off expertly as Huggins tells the story of a human grad student horrified to find that missionaries have already arrived at the planet where she is doing her studies and moreover that some of the local lifeforms have accepted this religion. Even worse, some of the inhabitants are willing to take the tenants of Christianity to their logical conclusion, even when it flies in the face of their own biology.
There were several fantastic pieces here, and I could easily add to this list F. R. Michaels’ whimsically disturbing “Cutio,” Rachael K. Jones’ haunting “St. Roomba’s Gospel” (a reprint of a story first published in Diabolical Plots), Joanna Michal Hoyt’s timely historical piece “Cracked Reflections” and two I’ve already mentioned, the grimly apocalyptic (and effective) “The Physics of Faith” by Mike Barretta, which would have left a dusty taste in the mouth of one finishing the volume if it weren’t the lovely “Horologium” by Sarah Ellen Rodgers, which was an excellent piece to finish on, leaving one pondering the mystical and historical roots of devotion as well as its costs.
Mysterion is a collection of stories that take Christianity seriously, and as such explores the implications (and not simply the positive implications) of the faith. Whether or not that aspect of the anthology is compelling to you, the stories succeed in showcasing a variety of voices and offering a satisfying read. Do yourself a favor and pick up a copy, one for your local library, one for your pastor, and one for all your friends.
The professor seemed to appreciate the question. He paused for a minute, and then he gave what I thought was a profound response. He said something like, “It means that we take religion seriously. It means we don’t discount it as a significant factor in history.” It did not mean that everyone I took a class from would be a Catholic or a Christian, and it did not mean that Christianity would be the dominant theme in every lecture. (Though it did mean there would be a crucifix hiding somewhere in every room.) But I appreciated his answer, and I thought it largely accurate.
Mysterion is a new anthology of science fiction and fantasy (featuring one of my stories) that takes a similar approach to Christianity. It is not a collection of stories by Christian authors, nor is it a collection of what I would consider “Christian fiction” (fiction written from a Christian worldview with the intention of inspiring or instructing or converting). Rather, Mysterion is a collection of stories that take religion seriously as a feature of the world in which the fiction lives. The editors, as they explain in their introduction, recognize that Christianity is a big, messy, dynamic, fruitful thing, and one that, as the title of the anthology suggests, still harbors a multitude of mysteries. Rather than tidy, systematic modes of thought or practice, this anthology suggests (and I think the editors were trying to show) that Christianity—like any living, ancient tradition—can be a starting point for good fiction, and likewise good fiction can be an effective lens for examining and even questioning such a tradition.
If the common thread in each of these stories is some form of serious engagement with Christianity, this still leaves for an incredibly broad sweep of approaches, from the brutal (James Beamon’s “A Lack of Charity”) and the grim (Mike Baretta’s “The Physics of Faith”) to the straightforwardly inspirational (Laurel Amberdine’s “Ascension”) or the subtly powerful and historical grounded (Sarah Ellen Rogers’ “Horologium”). The pieces in here represent everything from hard science fiction to humorous fantasy to surrealist and (I’m excluding my own) are for the most part strong and stirring, asking deep questions and sounding some interesting depths. Whether or not your own background or perspective is informed by the Christian faith, if you’re a fan of the likes of Lewis and Tolkien, some of these themes will be familiar. If you’ve ventured in the waters of Swanwick, Wolfe, or Lafferty, you may have a few additional signposts for this voyage. But the stories stand on their own, regardless of the context of faith. None of them need a grounding in Christianity to work, in other words. For these stories, with the exception of one or two, the faith angle is not their only angle.
The anthology is lovely as a book as well. The volume is solid, weighty, and impeccably edited. I didn’t catch a single typo on my read-through. There’s a helpful short bio for each author in case you’re interested in searching out more of their work, as well as a thoughtful introduction by the editors. The cover art doesn’t seem to correlate with any specific story but rather with an overall aspect of the theme: narrow is the doorway and rough is the path that leads Elsewhere. (Look closely at the rune on the top of that doorway.)
I won’t go through each of the stories, as that would obviously spoil some of the fun of diving into them yourself, but I will offer some highlights. The volume opens with a strong piece by Daniel Southwell entitled “The Monastic,” about a religious hermit on an island in the midst of Lake Superior and of some of the ancient things that still linger there. “Forlorn,” by Bret Carter is a great ghost story with a unique telling that builds toward a satisfying twist. “Golgotha” by David Tallerman, along with “This Far Gethsemane” by G. Scott Huggins, may have been my two favorite pieces in the volume. “Golgotha” tells the story of an earnest missionary’s encounter with a pagan deity who is more than witchcraft and rumors. It is told in the language of the day with a voice of a sympathetic narrator who provides an excellent balance between the puritanical rigidity of the missionary and the stark reality of what he encounters. And it asks an interesting question about the cost of proselytizing, about what things are lost and what are gained with Christianity and civilization, but from a perspective other than simple post-colonialism. Rather, what if it’s the old god himself asking these questions?
“This Far Gethsemane” was excellent as well and reminded me the most of any story in this volume of the golden-age science fiction trope of introducing a new species and then using it to explore interesting questions about our own. In this case, the trope is pulled off expertly as Huggins tells the story of a human grad student horrified to find that missionaries have already arrived at the planet where she is doing her studies and moreover that some of the local lifeforms have accepted this religion. Even worse, some of the inhabitants are willing to take the tenants of Christianity to their logical conclusion, even when it flies in the face of their own biology.
There were several fantastic pieces here, and I could easily add to this list F. R. Michaels’ whimsically disturbing “Cutio,” Rachael K. Jones’ haunting “St. Roomba’s Gospel” (a reprint of a story first published in Diabolical Plots), Joanna Michal Hoyt’s timely historical piece “Cracked Reflections” and two I’ve already mentioned, the grimly apocalyptic (and effective) “The Physics of Faith” by Mike Barretta, which would have left a dusty taste in the mouth of one finishing the volume if it weren’t the lovely “Horologium” by Sarah Ellen Rodgers, which was an excellent piece to finish on, leaving one pondering the mystical and historical roots of devotion as well as its costs.
Mysterion is a collection of stories that take Christianity seriously, and as such explores the implications (and not simply the positive implications) of the faith. Whether or not that aspect of the anthology is compelling to you, the stories succeed in showcasing a variety of voices and offering a satisfying read. Do yourself a favor and pick up a copy, one for your local library, one for your pastor, and one for all your friends.
April 9, 2017
Mysterion is an eclectic collection of speculative fiction that explores an eclectic collection of Christian doctrines. My particular favorites are the stories that look, not at a mortal’s relationship with God (or other immortals), but humans relating to humans or their avatars.
“The Monastic” (Daniel Southwell) challenges the individual’s entitled and wearied spirit to recall the supernatural and one’s place in it. From a more youthful, less exhausted position, “Forlorn” (Bret Carter) recalls the same, evoking a fully realized, but nevertheless human, loyalty and courage.
In “Golgotha,” David Tallerman points out the frequent failure of Christian self-suspicion when it comes to the difference between culture and Christ. It’s hardly speculative. “This Far Gethsemane” (G. Scott Huggins) poses the same question as Tallerman, but from the other direction and in a science fantasy container. Like Tallerman, “Cracked Reflections” (Joanna Michal Hoyt) uses, at most, magical realism to bring the struggle home to our very American shores. As a missionary kid, I appreciated these crossing-culture stories, the way I appreciated The Poisonwood Bible.
James Beamon’s “A Lack of Charity” is perhaps the sharpest, and so, most horrible rendering of our mortal world, twisted into eternal hell. I feel it delivers some of the best-crafted speculative fiction in the book. In terms of both spec fic and the invisible line between justice and mercy, “A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows” (Beth Cato) meanders in an equal and opposite direction from Beamon. Together Beamon and Cato offer the clear and demanding choice of the gospel: Every knee shall bow. Bend the knee of your own accord or obey the laws written into the universe by force.
The other tales were also engaging, some of them well-defined, some of them mysterious. I’ll mention three more that captured my fantasy/scifi/speculator attention. “A Good Hoard” (Pauline J. Alma) delivers the dragons and greed pill in a humorous spoonful of sugar. “Cutio” (F. R. Michaels) sneaks in a sermon on forgiveness by wrapping it in X-Files weird. “The Physics of Faith” (Mike Barretta) takes advantage of the short-story form to beatify suicide, the one option that “survive the apocalypse/dystopia” stories avoid, for obvious reasons.
The editors' selection and structure of these shorts is subtle. There are no real zombies or vampires and so, no real examinations of Christianity’s “eat my flesh, drink my blood” idea. They pack their greatest punch in the middle, answering the “what if?” question in a build from the enigmatic to the specific and then releasing the reader swim around again.
“The mysteries of Christian faith” is a massive topic in which to ground a collection. I wonder which of the many mysteries within Christianity (or which other religion) they’ll choose to center the next anthology.
Dawn Duncan Harrell/DC Harrell
#thrillyoursoul
“The Monastic” (Daniel Southwell) challenges the individual’s entitled and wearied spirit to recall the supernatural and one’s place in it. From a more youthful, less exhausted position, “Forlorn” (Bret Carter) recalls the same, evoking a fully realized, but nevertheless human, loyalty and courage.
In “Golgotha,” David Tallerman points out the frequent failure of Christian self-suspicion when it comes to the difference between culture and Christ. It’s hardly speculative. “This Far Gethsemane” (G. Scott Huggins) poses the same question as Tallerman, but from the other direction and in a science fantasy container. Like Tallerman, “Cracked Reflections” (Joanna Michal Hoyt) uses, at most, magical realism to bring the struggle home to our very American shores. As a missionary kid, I appreciated these crossing-culture stories, the way I appreciated The Poisonwood Bible.
James Beamon’s “A Lack of Charity” is perhaps the sharpest, and so, most horrible rendering of our mortal world, twisted into eternal hell. I feel it delivers some of the best-crafted speculative fiction in the book. In terms of both spec fic and the invisible line between justice and mercy, “A Recipe for Rain and Rainbows” (Beth Cato) meanders in an equal and opposite direction from Beamon. Together Beamon and Cato offer the clear and demanding choice of the gospel: Every knee shall bow. Bend the knee of your own accord or obey the laws written into the universe by force.
The other tales were also engaging, some of them well-defined, some of them mysterious. I’ll mention three more that captured my fantasy/scifi/speculator attention. “A Good Hoard” (Pauline J. Alma) delivers the dragons and greed pill in a humorous spoonful of sugar. “Cutio” (F. R. Michaels) sneaks in a sermon on forgiveness by wrapping it in X-Files weird. “The Physics of Faith” (Mike Barretta) takes advantage of the short-story form to beatify suicide, the one option that “survive the apocalypse/dystopia” stories avoid, for obvious reasons.
The editors' selection and structure of these shorts is subtle. There are no real zombies or vampires and so, no real examinations of Christianity’s “eat my flesh, drink my blood” idea. They pack their greatest punch in the middle, answering the “what if?” question in a build from the enigmatic to the specific and then releasing the reader swim around again.
“The mysteries of Christian faith” is a massive topic in which to ground a collection. I wonder which of the many mysteries within Christianity (or which other religion) they’ll choose to center the next anthology.
Dawn Duncan Harrell/DC Harrell
#thrillyoursoul
October 30, 2016
While I still am not a fan of the short story, I loved reading these and considering what they grappled with. I inhaled this book over 36 hours. Praise God for written endeavors that explore faith issues without being turned into a frail and anemic text with a cross stuck to it.
July 28, 2024
Might just be the best collection of short fiction I’ve come across. The editors’ introduction was worth the cover price alone, to read their thoughts on how inclusive fiction based on faith and faith questions can be. And should be.
In fact some tales deal with (doubt, with disbelief, with the apparent unwillingness of a creator god to intervene. None of them tout anything approaching orthodoxy. All are very very human…with some incredible creative visions underpinning them.
While a couple fell flat for me (including sadly the first, which was strangely placed in this book), there are some blindingly good stories here…
Story 2 is a wonderfully paced slow and creepy reveal. Story 3 beautifully blends innocence and horror, illustrating the bleakness of theocracy and systems built on rigid judgmentalism. Story 4 shaped up as a scathingly accurate examination of any kind of proselytisation, as well as the broad human tendency toward darkness in all its forms.
Tallerman’s story (and what a writer I’m discovering him to be) examines the loss of ancient cultures. And the question of whether they give way to the gods of Progress and “Civilization” OR whether ancient gods give way to the “Christ god”. Fascinating.
Beacon’s tale explores (as he says) the taking power of hatred and how it stands in polar opposition to the giving power of love. I’m so glad these editors didn’t censor the harshness from this story. Very VERY good horror.
A Good Hoard: genuinely funny 👍
The story ANGEL HUNT is phenomenally good. The kind and quality of scifi you’d read in Asimov’s or Lightspeed.
The final story I almost didn’t read because of its use of ye olde English. So glad I did. Wonderful way to conclude the anthology. Gut wrenchingly bleak but with a core of kindness and the reassurance come of finding purpose in drudgery, and finding hope in eternity.
But the standout for me was THIS FAR GETHSEMANE. Such incredibly rich worldbuilding that I’m hoping for a novel set here some day. But it examines the agony of love and duty, the costs of change, the dangers and upsides of proselytism… and all within one of the most interesting scifi ecosystems (and the culture deriving from it) I’ve read.
This collection has left me hungry for of the same. It’s one I’ll reread at some point.
In fact some tales deal with (doubt, with disbelief, with the apparent unwillingness of a creator god to intervene. None of them tout anything approaching orthodoxy. All are very very human…with some incredible creative visions underpinning them.
While a couple fell flat for me (including sadly the first, which was strangely placed in this book), there are some blindingly good stories here…
Story 2 is a wonderfully paced slow and creepy reveal. Story 3 beautifully blends innocence and horror, illustrating the bleakness of theocracy and systems built on rigid judgmentalism. Story 4 shaped up as a scathingly accurate examination of any kind of proselytisation, as well as the broad human tendency toward darkness in all its forms.
Tallerman’s story (and what a writer I’m discovering him to be) examines the loss of ancient cultures. And the question of whether they give way to the gods of Progress and “Civilization” OR whether ancient gods give way to the “Christ god”. Fascinating.
Beacon’s tale explores (as he says) the taking power of hatred and how it stands in polar opposition to the giving power of love. I’m so glad these editors didn’t censor the harshness from this story. Very VERY good horror.
A Good Hoard: genuinely funny 👍
The story ANGEL HUNT is phenomenally good. The kind and quality of scifi you’d read in Asimov’s or Lightspeed.
The final story I almost didn’t read because of its use of ye olde English. So glad I did. Wonderful way to conclude the anthology. Gut wrenchingly bleak but with a core of kindness and the reassurance come of finding purpose in drudgery, and finding hope in eternity.
But the standout for me was THIS FAR GETHSEMANE. Such incredibly rich worldbuilding that I’m hoping for a novel set here some day. But it examines the agony of love and duty, the costs of change, the dangers and upsides of proselytism… and all within one of the most interesting scifi ecosystems (and the culture deriving from it) I’ve read.
This collection has left me hungry for of the same. It’s one I’ll reread at some point.
April 2, 2023
Excellent anthology
While the title may be a bit misleading (the mysteries of the Christian faith are found more in the Trinity, the Eucharistic sacrifice, and our salvation through Christ’s sacrifice upon the Cross), these are stories involving mysteries related to the faith.
They are short stories of fantasy and of science fiction, and some are clearly Christian (or in one case, Jewish) while others are less obviously so.
And some of them are very good indeed. Pauline J. Alama ‘s “A Good Hoard” is, on the face of it, a comic fantasy in which a rich lord’s castle in infested by… dragons. He tries everything to rid himself of them, until, well, read the story.
Kenneth Schneyer’s “Confinement” is darker, more disturbing. It also requires you to google a 14th Century painting to get the full impact of the tale.
“Horologium”, by Sarah Ellen Rogers, is one of the most overtly Catholic of the stories, as it’s a story about a medieval anchoress. It’s also a story about the meaning of time, and how it’s measured.
There are no bad stories here,and other people will have different favorites. The anthology is worth reading, and non-Christians will enjoy it as much as those who believe.
Recommended.
While the title may be a bit misleading (the mysteries of the Christian faith are found more in the Trinity, the Eucharistic sacrifice, and our salvation through Christ’s sacrifice upon the Cross), these are stories involving mysteries related to the faith.
They are short stories of fantasy and of science fiction, and some are clearly Christian (or in one case, Jewish) while others are less obviously so.
And some of them are very good indeed. Pauline J. Alama ‘s “A Good Hoard” is, on the face of it, a comic fantasy in which a rich lord’s castle in infested by… dragons. He tries everything to rid himself of them, until, well, read the story.
Kenneth Schneyer’s “Confinement” is darker, more disturbing. It also requires you to google a 14th Century painting to get the full impact of the tale.
“Horologium”, by Sarah Ellen Rogers, is one of the most overtly Catholic of the stories, as it’s a story about a medieval anchoress. It’s also a story about the meaning of time, and how it’s measured.
There are no bad stories here,and other people will have different favorites. The anthology is worth reading, and non-Christians will enjoy it as much as those who believe.
Recommended.
March 2, 2018
Full disclosure: I wrote one of the stories in this book, "A Good Hoard." But setting aside my fondness for my own story, I must say I was overawed by the variety of strong work the editors compiled. Two particularly memorable ones explore the idea of a non-human intelligence interpreting Christianity. "This Far Gethsemane," by G. Scott Huggins, uses the point of view of a nonreligious human narrator who is pained to see the seemingly self-destructive decisions of her alien friend, a convert to Christianity on a planet where reproduction requires an act of cannibalism. Even setting aside the religious dimension, the story would be noteworthy for exploring the mindset of a radically different species; by adding to the mix a religious imperative for pacifism, the author creates a harrowing moral dilemma for his characters. So many issues in the story resist easy answers; it touches on the moral ambivalence of intercultural relations, assimilation, appropriation, imperialism, intersectionality, respect for both societal and individual differences, the possibility or impossibility of understanding the "other." Because all the characters are female (the alien species has no permanent males--all right, it's complicated, read the story), it passes the Bechdel test and then some. It's also a story about friendship, misunderstandings between friends, and how far a friend will go to bridge those gaps in understanding. It features female heroes who are admirable but not perfect. Just read it! The other nonhuman intelligence story that especially impressed me, Rachael K. Jones' "St. Roomba's Gospel," uses a nonhuman p.o.v. for a touch of bittersweet humor: and yes, it's the point of view of a Roomba robot vacuum. These are by no means the only worthy stories in the anthology; all are well written. The mix of genres leans toward contemporary fantasy/horror, with some SF, although there's also an interesting fairy-tale retelling ("Yuki and the Seven Oni") and a couple of stories grounded in specific periods of history, with my own dragon story as the closest approach to "high" fantasy. All in all, a rich collection of different styles and views that avoids the sameness that can be the besetting sin (so to speak) of theme anthologies. Not a single one reads like a church tract. Even if you're not Christian, give it a try.
March 3, 2022
Mysterion is a new sci-fi-fantasy periodical to me. I read this the first of their anthologies to get a sense of the types of writing they publish. It was all quite interesting. No shoving Christian dogma down the reader's throat. It was an amazing range of stories some that actually dealt with Christianity, others that barely grazed it.
There is a one highly inventive story about capturing an angel, described as a fourth dimensional being. Nothing at all like a Biblical story.
Very soon, I'll be on to the anthology that followed this one.
There is a one highly inventive story about capturing an angel, described as a fourth dimensional being. Nothing at all like a Biblical story.
Very soon, I'll be on to the anthology that followed this one.
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