We can even lull our consciences by repeating these false stories.” Moore writes, “We tell ourselves stories to justify our actions, and often we convince ourselves of false stories. And stories do shape our moral imaginations. In a recent article, Russell Moore argued that stories are essential to ethics. In that sense, the fantastical stories Smith produces are truer than many history books that strive to shape the reader’s perception in a way inconsistent with reality. He creates stories that shape the imagination, clearly showing what is wrong in the world while pointing to the need for redemption and restoration. In his responses Smith reveals his deep engagement with the world as a culture maker. My stories aren’t tracts, aren’t sneaky vehicles for conveying particular truths (about vocation, salvation, or even the kingdom). They are faithful to reality and honest, not misleading.
By truthful, I don’t mean, ‘actually happened,’ but that the stories don’t lie about the world as God made it.
I want my stories to be a delightful, truthful experience that takes readers through darkness, but shows them light. Smith came back to the question of the truthfulness of his fantastic world later in the interview, when I asked him about what he felt was the overarching message of his stories. I don’t want readers to constantly be taken out of the adventure to think about their “real lives.” I do think it’s sweet when the “spillover” that comes in the aftermath, or in reflection, harmonizes with the real hope of the real world, which is a far more fantastic tale than any every invented. I doubt any honest critic would say it is an element that doesn’t fit organically in the world of the stories. It is not, however, an allegory, or anything so dominating as that. It bubbled up (naturally) from my own heart’s longings for the coming kingdom of Christ wherein the world will be put right. It was uncovered as I wrote and wasn’t something I intended in the writing. That is the accidental heart of the story. The characters recite a repeated refrain, “It will not be so in the mended wood.” I asked Smith about the significance of this eschatological phrase and how it became so important in the storyline. I was privileged to interview Smith about his writing and his forthcoming book.Īmong the more beautiful aspects in his fictional world is the confidence among the rabbits that their war-ravaged world will be set aright. Smith has managed to teach profound truths about humanity through a world of rabbits with swords. As the author claims, they are “new stories with an old soul.” In his Green Ember series, S. Within the last few years I’ve come across a series of stories that stretch the minds and souls of readers young and old. They offer stories that are exciting, but offer little in the way of revelation of the truth about the world. Too often, however, the stories my children find on the shelves of the local library or bookstore do little to offer meaningful proxy memories. This is why the “coming of age” motif is so popular in children’s literature. These memories shape the moral imagination of children in mysterious and powerful ways. The child reader (and the adult, too) lives vicariously through Taran’s experiences, which function as “memories,” when she encounters the story. His final choice at the end of the last book demonstrates that he has abandoned the foolish dreams of his youth for self-sacrificing maturity. For example, Taran in Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain series grows up in front of the reader. Stories often function as a proxy memory for children.
Stories are a central way we explain the world’s problems to children. Introducing our children to this broken world can be overwhelming, since there is a usually a large gap between the actual state of the world and the state of the world as it should be. Reading the news is enough to tell us that.
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