Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been feeling pretty unwell. I’ve been a man with a cold. It’s been a particularly bad cold, certainly, but a cold, nonetheless, has been the whole extent of it. I am a bad patient. I hate being ill. I’m not very good at stopping. Somehow i think that, without me and my particular brand of faith and humour, the world will fall ever further into the depths of depravity, perhaps irreparably, and somehow it will be my fault, because I didn’t do enough of the right things, in the right way, at the right moments.
Now, I hope that as you have read that paragraph a couple of thoughts have crossed your mind: firstly I gratefully accept your sympathy on my plight, thank you. Secondly, I hope you have recoiled, somewhat, at the ridiculous nature of my emotional response to not quite being the man I want to be, the man that God, I perceive, wants me to be. I hope that, somewhere in your mind, you are beginning to reel off a list of affirmations, scriptural and otherwise to indicate that my value isn’t based on my ability, choices, productivity or anything else, but on the grace and mercy of God alone. Following from this, I hope you are chiding me for thinking that it is me that saves anyone. I hope that, too, were the tone of the conversation to be reversed, you would remind me that it is not my weakness or failure, perceived or actual, which disappoints or angers God, prevents Him from acting, or causes Him to act against another person. God’s love and value of us is His to give. It is given completely, without reservation, because God wills and declares it to be done in this way, not because I did, or didn’t do anything. It’s all because He did something, in Jesus, something I could not, ever do, so that I could be the person I was always meant to be, and, all the more, that God might be revealed and shown to be the most glorious element in our universe.
These feelings, and the impact they can have on a life are, in essence, what John Herrick has managed to interrogate and debunk in his powerful new novel, Between These Walls, which is released next week. Like all of John’s work (From the Dead and The Landing, his previous two novels, as well as the devotional 8 Reasons Your Life Matters) the book crackles with honest hopes and doubts. It presents the story of Hunter Carlisle, its main character, unvarnished. Even though this is “Christian” fiction, in that it presents faith as a crucial element of human existence, this is, at it’s core, simply really strong storytelling. Like much of John Herrick’s characterisation, you quickly find yourself rooting for Hunter, as he explores issues of identity, sexuality, faith and purpose.
Fear not, however. This is not a preachy book. Rare are the passages of theological treatise, or characters sermonising, which so bedevils much Christian fiction, as the reader is force-fed the theology of the author’s perception of orthodoxy (Left Behind series, I’m looking at you). Instead, as Hunter wonders continually about the place of sexual orientation in his life, I as the reader am hard-pressed to know what Herrick’s own position on the issue might be. How refreshing.
As I alluded to earlier, this is more a story of the power of mis-placed and mis-appropriated guilt and shame than anything else. The battles Hunter faces as he works through his own sense of having disappointed family and God, as well as failing to love himself correctly, are at the heart of this book. Whoever we are, whatever we have or haven’t done, this is a book to make us stop and think: is life about us? Is it about God? Is everything as clear-cut and black and white as we hav been told it is? Does it really matter?
At a time when issues of sexuality seem to trump all others in the ongoing narrative of the church, it is exceptionally brave of John Herrick to write this kind of book. He will be criticised from all sides, no doubt, because of the reality of the darkness he portrays, and the fact that that darkness affects all of his characters, wherever they are in the story.He may well be criticised for not presenting a stridently conservative, or stridently liberal view. Ultimately though, in Between These Walls he presents a human story, populated with characters who seem real, and evoke thought in the reader. In these days of theological bluster and noisiness, a story having the power to make us pause for thought has to be applauded.
I know I haven’t written much about what actually happens, or the other characters in the story, or other such potentially salient details. This is deliberate. This, as well as John’s other fiction, is for you to dive in to yourself. You don’t need me to tell you how to enjoy it, but I do encourage you to give it a chance. John’s is a poignant and brave new voice in faith-influenced fiction. He is willing to ask questions that many of us wish we were honest enough to express. He is willing to leave those questions unanswered, trusting us, whether we have some faith or none, to respond in a mature enough way to the stories that he tells. Best of all, the stories that he tells are strong in every department, reeking of reality and the kind of drama that we might all experience at any given moment. This isn’t so much a book review as an entreaty to you as the reader to be courageous in taking the risk of letting a new literary voice in to your life. I hope you will take up the challenge.
You can read a synopsis of the book here.
You can pre-order the book here (you really should)