1. Excellent article!
    I find stories that explore, in fantastical form, the consequences of hard-hearted choices to be among the most fascinating. The real-world examples are all too easy to discern. It’s a reminder to all of us – or should be – to leave providential arrangements of events to the only One who really controls our destiny.

  2. notleia says:

    Now let’s poke at this with a stick. How does this compare to things like Orpheus and Eurydice, or indeed, the Harrowing of Hell, a la the Catholics? What of Lazarus?
    What are the motivations behind the necromantic curiosity? Behind even the selfish motivations are interesting and relatable feelings. Take our classic emotionally stunted emo sadboy Anakin Skywalker (like, in The Clone Wars because the movies don’t take the time to make this interesting). He has a list of psychological issues as long as my arm, but the Jedi Order pretty much set him up to fail because they expected him to repress everything. That’s some good stuff that gets you in the feelings, even if he loses all sympathy later by turning into an effin fascist.

    What if your necro-curious character wants to take on the suffering of the deceased in order to bring them back to life? Isn’t that Jesus-like in that case?

    But it’s a mental trip to realize that desperate people still went to the effort of making deals with Satan or the Fae, because even if they were gonna do something horrible to you, they had the reputation of at least delivering on what they promised, even if only to the letter and not the intent? It’s something about the irony of Satan/the Fae being seen as more dependable than God, even if slantwise. I’m 80% sure that there’s a folktale or operetta or something about some poor virtuous dweeb effectively tricking Satan out of a soul because their request on behalf of someone else was so unselfish that God could not allow them to go to hell?

  3. The more I think about it, the more it seems that God calls is to journey in so many ways. The journey of the relationships with others, the journey through love, through grief (as discussed here), the journey to and through his will for us. From such truths come the disciplines of pilgrimage, of celebration, of repentance. Perhaps fantasy helps us see how that journey might work for us. The hero’s journey is uncomfortably close the journey we must all take.

What say you?