Reality is Still Stranger Than Fiction

I've been having deep thoughts about my passion for reading but I don't know if I'm articulate enough at writing to give them expression. I'm going to make an attempt because I'm curious as to others thoughts on the subject. I belong to an amazing book group comprised of women who are not only close friends but thoughtful, intelligent, educated, spiritual women. We are as different in life experience and personality as we are close in spirit and heart. Our books and conversations regarding them are always fascinating and uplifting to me. This month we read a book called "Peace Like A River" by Leif Enger. While in general we all liked it, there was some debate about one of the main characters in the book, an 8-year old named Swede. She plays a pretty major role in the entire story and provides vehicle for some of the story's major symbolism and "metaphors". My friend claimed her character was too unbelievable for her, that she had difficulty believing an 8 year old could do, say or think many of things that Swede does in the book. Because Swede is such a central character, it was a real stumbling book for my friend in reading the book and made it difficult to accept the books plausibility. While I agree that Swede was a percocious and unusual character, I began to ponder this idea of reading "fiction".

The simple definition of fiction is that it isn't true. But how interesting that our threshold for suspending disbelief is tapered and limited. My experience and need to accept Swede's role in the novel allowed me to believe that she was capable of all the author gave her to do. But my friend's needs and experiences were so vastly different that she couldn't accept it and found it a distraction. A wise friend said that she was capable of believing almost anything if it is well-written and I have to agree. The author holds the power with the manipulation of words to either sweep me into the story or keep me at a safe distance. What I am able to believe is based so much on the environment created in the book that allows me to suspend my disbelief and give over to my imagination. I do love non-fiction, anything non-fiction. And I adore picture books and fairy tales...most well-written books for children because I remember vividly a world where anything was possible. Within the framework of being written to match a child's perspective and imagination, I can believe anything.

At a different book group last year, there was a disturbing conversation about a fantastic novel called "The Red Tent". Women in the group were horrified that the book was about prophets from the Old Testament and the degrading light they felt was cast on these men. I was really appalled because the book's whole theme was about examining the culture of women from that time period, not the men. AND the book was intended to be FICTION, not doctrine on prophet's from the Old Testament. I felt so sad that people in the group had missed the opportunity to really examine and contemplate the real themes and issues this novel posed, but then again, where the line between fiction and reality gets drawn is so individual and personal. I'd love to talk to every one of you about where your line is and what you love and hate about fiction...about this stuff that is just made up but can touch us all so deeply and personally. And I will always stand by the belief that no one, not the most talented author or articulate writer, could conceive any fiction stranger than the reality around us every day. Don't get so buried in that novel that you miss the strange man on the subway singing broadway tunes!