Does The Devil Lurk Under Bonnets?
Paranormal novelist Mike Duran says on Twitter what many of us have long suspected:
If the devil appears as an “angel of light” (II Cor. 11:14), there’s more chance he’s lurking under a bonnet than in a coffin.
— Mike Duran (@cerebralgrump) January 26, 2014
At Novel Rocket in 2009, Duran expanded on the thought.
In all fairness, I’ve never read any Amish fiction and am sure that much of it is well-written and inspirational. My problem is not with the genre itself but with the degree to which evangelical women are “attracted by a simpler time,” curious about “cloistered communities,” and admire “the strong, traditional faith of the Amish.” Talk about escapism! I’m not sure what’s worse, imagining the redemption of revenants or pining for strapping young men in suspenders to whisk one away to a world of gentle breezes and white steeples, with nary an atheist in sight.
Face it, Amish fiction can be just as escapist, unrealistic, and unhealthy as vampire fiction.
If you are — or to use your imagination, were — an Amish fiction fan, especially if you believe this genre is better (or more Christian) than “vampire fiction,” how would you respond?
I’m guessing the Amish fiction readers say the same things about us. Our escapism might be a little harder to achieve, considering it usually occurs on other worlds or in the future, but why else do we dress up and attend conventions together? Do Amish novel readers quilt and bake all their own food? I feel like they would describe themselves as more in touch with reality than sci-fi fans.
One of my concerns with Amish novels is, I have friends who were formerly Amish, and their description of their community was one of twisted beliefs and discrimination against anyone who believed differently. This people group may not be the best role models.
I would say the point’s a bit of a red herring.
The argument against Vampire fiction (Christian or otherwise) is that it’s evil in and of itself because it focuses on darkness and evil. Duran’s argument is that Amish fiction could be evil based on what some members of the target audience use it.
Many things could be that are perfectly fine in small doses from fishing and hunting to using cosmetics become evil when done to excess or used in the wrong way. Thus I think if I were fans of Amish fiction, I would consider the whole comparison to be over the top.
One idea would be for people of both “fandoms” to actually read books from the other and then judge.
Seriously, I clicked on this expecting an actual article, with some actual informed points, not a five year old quote from someone who admits to never having even read one of the books he’s denouncing.
How would I respond? The same way I already do to people who would judge the stuff I AM into: “Try it before you judge it based on stereotypes.”
“Your stories are the devil’s handiwork!”
“No, YOUR stories are the devil’s handiwork!”
Please, just…stop.
Amen, Fred.
Yet I think Mike doesn’t intent to say “your stories are the devil’s handiwork” in return. (I see few people saying this about spec stories anyway; more often they ask the far more benign, and difficult to answer, what’s the point?) His main point seems to be that no genre is so “comfortable” or wholesome that it is untouchable by sin.
Perhaps he doesn’t, but he went there first with the rhetorical declaration, buttressed with a proof text so we all know what the right answer is–an inflammatory message, directed at an easy target, with, in my opinion, discount ammunition. There are better ways to open a conversation. As you note, there hasn’t been similar incoming fire from the Amish constituency. Where’s the beef?
I’m having trouble identifying any moral or spiritual failings there. Reference Tolkien on the meaninglessness of “escapism” in any literary conversation.
The question you offer, on the other hand, is constructive and leads to a substantial, reasoned discussion. It’s a question every writer and reader should be asking.
Lewis again, from “On three ways of writing for children.”
Being attracted by a simpler time if not careful can lead to feeding the ego in the same way the posh novels can flatter it. To be the proud, pure Amish maiden who wins the heart of her love through faithful service is kind of an ego trip, but for submission. “If only I lived then or there, I’d be such a great Christian wife!”
J.R.R. Tolkien, “On Fairy Stories”
For all the popularity of Amish fiction, we don’t see a mass exodus of folks into the Amish community (though the Amish would likely shake their heads wearily and send them all home). I think that readers find the Amish world admirable and fascinating, but I expect if you asked them, they’d tell you there’s no way they could ever live like that, and they’re quite aware of the downsides of Amish life and its problems in practice. They’re no more likely to trade in their car for a horse and buggy than they are to board a rocket to Mars or fly away on a winged unicorn. For all intents and purposes, it’s fantasy.
And as Tolkien explains, fantasy is one way we can employ our imagination to break out of the various prisons society or we ourselves have constructed to confine us. Or, to employ a different metaphor, it’s a respite from the battle of our daily lives—a three-day pass in the rear area, far from the sound of the guns. It’s the cigarette between artillery barrages. It’s the letter from home. It’s the cup of hot coffee during the midnight watch. It’s not desertion from real life, it’s a break that refreshes the spirit and makes it easier to resume your post and soldier on.
Though we might disagree about its literary and real-life merits or deficits, I can’t be too upset about someone wanting to imagine themselves in a place where prayer, family, and hard work are honored, where expectations are clearly spelled out, where the pace of life is slower and more predictable, where everyone has a valued role, and where faith in God and Christian values are taken seriously. If we’re looking for spiritual deathtraps masquerading as wholesome entertainment, or villains to blame for our frustrations with the Christian Fiction market, there are plenty of better candidates than Amish romance.
By the way, today Rebecca Miller addresses the very topic of genre snobbishness.
In general, I think reading Amish fiction would be a lot less damaging than reading vampire fiction. Vampire fiction tends to promote an extremely unhealthy view of sexuality, extreme selfishness, occult themes, alcohol abuse, and a host of other bad stuff. Personally I find Amish fiction boring and would gravitate towards more ‘interesting’ fiction but I try to be careful about what I read. Most vampire fiction is not something you want to invite in.
Women are pretty much damned if we do, damned if we don’t. And hell’s bells, we’re the ones who’ve been wearing bonnets for hundreds of years (until recently, except in specific cultures). I’m not surprised that something as traditionally and innocently feminine as a bonnet could be construed as somehow hiding a lurking devil. Because female. Because female material, base, and evil. Because men spiritual, intelligent, and glorious. Rise, oh Greek God, and crush the bonnets by which Medusa hides herself!
Hmm. I’m not sure how accusations of sexism relate.
“Bonnet” here is only used as a symbol, a shorthand, for “wholesome” Amish fiction. I’m not entirely in agreement with Duran’s conclusion, but it’s not about sexism.
I think I do understand the accusation of sexism, but I also believe there are equivalent cases of discrimination among Evangelicals against male interests.
Here, stuff women like to read about is considered light and vain and illegitimate. Amish stories are shallow romantic kitsch that contain empty platitudes; vampire stories are shallow romantic kitsch that contain gratuitous sin. Presumably, men’s reading interests have at least a greater likelihood at being deep and significant and worthy of being taken seriously.
In other arenas, men are the ones whom Evangelicals consider to be evil by default. Try being a junior high boy at a private Christian school. The teachers make you feel guilty about the very idea of sexuality, even though you don’t even have much of a mental conception of what sex is. I was made to feel guilty about all the sins that men have ever committed against women, about feelings that I didn’t even understand. Boys’ male traits are discriminated against as they grow up; they get yelled at for burping or for wrestling, taught implicitly that being genuinely male is morally wrong while also being taught that the stereotypical alpha male is the adult ideal that they must strive for.
So, let’s stop making each other feel worthless and petty. Here, the relevant fact is that women’s interests are not less deep or less serious than men’s interests.
Everyone deserves to be taken seriously at all times. To do otherwise is a serious wrong.
Women burp too 🙂
Right… the example itself is a cliche, intended to demonstrate the point.
How about Christian Amish Vampire fiction? http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9775490-forsaken
It appears there are several series in this genre, amazingly. http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13018514-the-hallowed-ones