Wayfriend, that's a good quote. Donaldson doesn't make this easy for us, because, as WotWE quoted, he seems to contradict himself. And, I think he was (seemingly) contradicting himself in that very quote. Obviously, his characters *do* believe in a Creator and a Second Coming of a Savior. And I seriously doubt that he means he is "religious" in the normal sense of the word.
I think the only way we can wrap our minds around this is to see how Donaldson attempts to wrap his mind around his own contradictions--and it is crucial that we note his usage of the language he uses to do this. As Wayfriend said.
Bear with me. This is going to be a long post.
But since so many people want to know, I'll say this. It is my opinion that the question of whether or not a Creator (let's call her God) exists itself does not matter. If God does exist, her existence will not be affected by my belief--or lack of belief--in her. If God does not exist, no amount of belief on my part will call her into existence. Either way, asking the question doesn't make any difference. But I'll go further. I think that asking the question *shouldn't* make any difference.
Here's what I believe *is* important. (Take it or leave it: it's just an opinion.) 1) Every human being is responsible for the meaning of his/her own life. God's existence, or lack thereof, doesn't change that. And in fact the very notion of God is often a destructive concept, since so many people use their belief in God as a means to avoid accepting responsibility for their own lives. Hence it is my *opinion* of the man from Nazareth that his story enriches some people's lives and degrades others, depending on whether or not those people use his story as an excuse to avoid their responsibility for their own lives. 2) We live in what I like to call a "possible" world; a world in which far more things are possible than we will ever be able to know, recognize, or name. "God" is certainly a convenient term of reference for many of those possibilities. So is "soul." So is "ghost." So is "Grace." But the terms of reference only exist for *our* convenience: they have no bearing on what actually is or is not possible.
And now I suppose I'm in trouble. <sigh> I've probably alienated every third person who reads this site. Certainly my poor mother is turning over in her grave. (My father was more inclined to the idea that religion is something you *do* rather than something you *believe*: he might conceivably have understood what I'm saying.) But, gol durn it, you DID ask.
That quote is an important place to start. If Donaldson is serious about this "I'm a religious person" stuff, then this is a strange religion, indeed. He thinks that words like "god" and "soul" are metaphors for possibilities we don't understand. So he is explicitly distancing himself from literal interpretations of those words. And then he espouses a clear-cut version of existential "ethics," that of authenticity. Being true to oneself. Being responsible for oneself. This is a humanization or secularization of religion. He is setting the groundwork for reclaiming words like "religious" to mean something other than they have in the past. It's not a belief system, but rather a mode of being/acting.
I realize that many major religions are predicated on the idea that God (or some other external force) is going to fix things for us. All we have to do is have faith. But I can't see how that makes sense. If we aren't responsible for the content of our own lives, why do we bother to live at all?
On the other hand, *believing* that someone else is going to fix things for us can give rise to any number of storytelling possibilities.
(07/01/2005)
Again, the distinction between believing/doing. Between a religion with a god-figure, and turning oneself into the only "god" one needs. This is a story of SELF-redemption. It isn't about grace. This is the replacement of traditional religious concepts with a secular, existential interpretation.
However, the
transition from believing that someone else will fix things, to realizing your own responsibility to fix things, is an important story to tell. So in as much as his books are "religious," they include the previous connotation long enough to show how it is
wrong. And then show a new take.
Is it your contention that the word ["transubstantiation"] can only be used in reference to the Christian sacrament of communion? In that case, yes, I've mis-used the word. But I like to think that words can be used as metaphors, or can be extended (in some form) beyond their most literal denotations. That, it seems to me, is part of the glory of language. Why can't the general concept of "incarnating the sacred in the mundane" be applied in contexts that have nothing to do with churches, priests, or even coherent religions?
(03/01/2006)
Again, an example of how he thinks he is reclaiming religious terminology to expand it into a more general, secular usage.
You're right, of course: I make virtually no use of "institutional religion" in my stories (with the obvious exceptions of "Penance" and the "tent revival" in TPTP). "Theology" is a different matter: if you held a gun to my head, I could probably argue that my work is full of theology in one form or another. Haven't I already quoted--or misquoted--S. P. Somtow: "Fantasy is the only valid form of theological inquiry"? Still, your point is a valid one. "Religion" plays no role at all in the lives of the vast majority of my characters.
I've often asked myself about that, and I've concluded that the subject is simply too personal: it elicits very strong emotions in me, emotions which would overwhelm any story in which I attempted to include them. Throughout this interview, I've tried to explain in various ways that--for me--storytelling requires a certain "impersonality." Storytelling can't be about *me* (except to the extent that it articulates my convictions about storytelling). It can't be about my beliefs or emotions on any subject: it can only be about the story. (Which probably explains my irrational insistence that the ideas for stories come from somewhere "outside" me: a necessary fiction which allows me to treat the story as if its existence is independent of my self; my ego, my emotions, my needs.)
You could say that I exclude "religion" from my work because otherwise my personal emotions would distort and ultimately destroy the story. Or you could say that my personal emotions on the subject are so intense that they swamp my imagination, preventing me from even conceiving--never mind executing--any story.
(03/08/2006)
He makes a distinction between
theology--which is a study of religion, rational inquiry into religious questions--and
religion, which is the practice of , adherence to, or belief in religion. One could say that Richard Dawkins or Nietzsche practiced theology. They certainly had a lot to say about religion in the course of their examination of it. But no one would ever accuse their works of being "religious."
Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that the Clave was "based" on "the christian church"--or any particular church or religion. But there's no question that the Clave (intentionally) reflects my personal experience with specific churches, specific brands of fundamentalism. And the distortions of the Rede mimic the scriptural distortions practiced by religious fanatics of every description. Christianity and Islam appear to be uniquely susceptible to such distortions; but I suspect that they occur in every religion.
Just my opinion, of course.
(07/18/2006)
That's a nice insight into exactly what he's trying to distinguish himself
from.
I did not intend to present Covenant "as [a] character with deep religious beliefs or values": I intended to present him as a character whose struggles are *about* "deep religious beliefs and values". (I hope the distinction I'm trying to make is clear.) And in keeping with my argument that fantasy is internal drama acted out as if it were external drama, everything else is addressed, well, in disguise. You mentioned healing the leper and Covenant's idiosycratic profanity: details like that are pretty overt. But look at other details: the Land has cathedrals (Revelstone, Revelwood), scripture (Kevin's Lore), bishop-figures (the Lords), a seminary (the Loresraat), pastor-figures (the teachers in the Loresraat), prophets (the Unfettered), even lay preachers (Atiaran). (Just because they don't talk about "God" doesn't mean they ain't got religion. <grin>) However, I hasten to insist that none of this is intended to reflect Covenant's personal beliefs. Rather it is intended to shed light on the meaning of his personal struggle.
(07/30/2006)
This is perhaps the most important quote of all. TC struggles *about* religious issues. So does Neitzsche. So does Dawkins. So does every atheist. The fact that this is the context in which they struggle should not minimize the point that this is precisely that which they distinguish themselves
against. Covenant doesn't become a Lord, an expert user of Earthpower, and a scholar of Kevin's Lore. He becomes the White Gold Wielder.
He becomes the "god" of his own inner world. Apotheosis: Exaltation to divine rank or stature; deification. Why do you suppose Donaldson chose that word to describe the last section of WGW? Why do you suppose the Creator is no longer a character in the story? Covenant fills that role now.
I don't think there's much room for argument on this point. "The Land" is definitely an "entity/character" in the story. It's not an accident that the very *stones* possess sentience; or that the Old Lords made a virtual religion out of service to the Land.
(08/13/2008)
Note: a "virtual" religion. The Old Lords weren't the Clave. Their service isn't to be compared to today's fundamentalist religions. But even at that level, the Old Lords were still wrong. They were still waiting around for "Berek II" and limiting themselves with self-denying codes of ethics. So even their relatively benign example was used to illustrate a counterpoint to TC's journey.
In my view, *meaning* is created internally by each individual in each specific life: any attempt at *meaning* which relies on some kind of external superstructure (God, Satan, the Creator, the Worm, whatever) for its substance misses the point (I mean the point of my story). That, among several other reasons, is why the Creator has effectively vanished from "The Last Chronicles": I'm trying to tighten my thematic focus and keep it where it belongs.
So when you ask me a question like, "Did the Creator actually create the Earth or just provide the circumstances for its creation?" my reflexive reaction is, WHA---? You've stepped so far outside the story I'm trying to tell that we are no longer speaking the same narrative language.
(10/22/2008)
That's pretty explicit. The point of his story is to present a character who finds a meaning to his life within himself . . . in direct, stark contrast to the alternative: finding meaning in an external "religious" source. Just because he includes that which is needed to set up this contrast doesn't mean that this contrasting element is what the story is about. It's about the exact opposite.
Now, to answer the original question here: Is the Chronicles Religious? I'd say no. Notice the wording of the original quote used to make this argument. He says the
issues (and answers) which the Chronicles deals with are religious. That's not the same as saying the Chronicles themselves are religious. And I'd even take issue with him about the "answers" being religious, given the context of the above quotes. Certainly those answers have nothing to do with God, religion, churches, or any external source of meaning.
So, in my opinion, if you want to call that "religious," then either you miss the point, or you understand that Donaldson has completely reinterpreted and reclaimed the term.
