Suffering

 

It’s been said that if you ask the wrong questions, you’ll get the wrong answers – not wrong in the sense of answering the faulty questions, but in the sense of addressing the situation you’re questioning. The truth of this old axiom can be clearly seen these days in the questions asked and the answers offered regarding human suffering and God’s power, or goodness, or love. “If God’s so loving, why did He let our grandchild die?” “If God’s so powerful, why didn’t He stop that terrorist attack (or whatever catastrophe)?” For many in our slogan-saturated society, these questions (and their implied answer: “He isn’t”) are the discussion-stoppers, the ace of trump thrown down in defiance to any claim of God’s love or goodness.

In his book Suffering – What Every Catholic Should Know, Mark Giszczak begins the discussion by straightening out the questions. “Questions” that are actually rationalizations, or expressions of pride, or whatever, don’t actually answer the universal human reality of suffering – they just paper over it, leaving those who cling to them still hurting with no solution. Drawing on Scripture, centuries of Christian devotional wisdom, and human experience, Giszczak begins by framing the right questions, then carefully and thoroughly answering them.

The keynote to the whole work is finding meaning in suffering. Even basic human experience tells us that suffering that has meaning is more bearable. From the athlete training for the big event to a wife who learns that her firefighter husband perished while ensuring some children were rescued, we instinctively grasp that it isn’t suffering per se that is difficult to bear, but senseless suffering. I remember this clearly in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks: people were not so much angry or vengeful as they were stunned and bewildered. The attacks were incomprehensible, they made no sense. Why would anyone do such a thing? This touches on the deeper question of whether suffering can ever have any meaning, and this is Giszczak's point of departure.

From a scholar like Giszczak, you would expect well-reasoned and theologically sound answers, and he does not disappoint. What you might not expect is a realistic and sensitive treatment of the hard and often bitter reality of suffering, but he provides that as well. He does not offer abstract solutions to the knotty equation of human pain, but rather speaks from his own life experience and that of others. His examples are drawn from everyday life, things to which we can all relate. His advice is gentle and sympathetic, yet also challenging.

Another thing you might not expect from a book on suffering is assistance in deepening your devotion, but that’s exactly what I found. As I better understood how Jesus enters into our suffering, I found myself drawing closer to Him. I even found myself going to confession after reading about how poor responses to suffering can be nothing more than expressions of ego. Of course, this stands to reason – if the wrong questions and answers regarding suffering can hinder our devotion, the correct ones can aid it.

Atop all these virtues, the work is extremely accessible. Nearly anyone could read this book and benefit from it. To me, this has always been the mark of true genius: not the ability to explain a subtle concept to another genius, but to explain it to the school janitor. Giszczak manages this deftly.

Suffering doesn’t give glib, facile answers to the problem of human pain, because the topic cannot be answered that way. The reality of evil and the consequent suffering is far too complex and personal. The fact that God Himself came down in person to walk beside us, and indeed enter into our suffering, should amply indicate that the problem will admit no simple solutions. But that very fact is what provides meaning, even redemption, to our suffering. Mark Giszczak does a thorough and admirable job of explaining how to better grasp that truth.

https://ignatius.com/suffering-sfwckp/

Seeing Red

T.M. Doran’s latest novel, Seeing Red, is his first foray into the dystopian/alternative history genre. He’s proven with prior works such as Iota and Toward the Gleam that he can create deep characters and tense plot lines, so I was eager to see what he could do in this setting. Full disclosure: I had an opportunity to read an earlier version of this story in manuscript form when Tom sent it to me for some author-to-author critique. I’m glad he kept working on the manuscript and wanted to see how the final product turned out.

If the book seems to read like a Twilight Zone episode, that’s because it is, among other things, a tribute story that pays homage to screen greats Alfred Hitchcock and Rod Serling, both of whom appear in the story under thin disguise. Those of us who remember The Twilight Zone can also recall how the episodes could sometimes cause viewers to furrow their brow as the story line forced them to look at events from a new angle, or consider things they’d never considered before. Seeing Red contains echoes of this perspective-jolting tendency. It doesn’t fit tidily into typical assumptions; indeed, it isn’t intended to.

For screenwriter Castro Hume, the glow of his sole Academy Award has long since faded, and he’s been reduced by time and alcohol to living in a shabby LA apartment, trying to get screenwriting lightning to strike twice. The first strike five years earlier had been impressive – he’d turned a popular novel into a screenplay for a photoplay directed by the renowned Alfred Cooperwasser. The play had been shot on a set that was essentially a reconstruction of the main town of the novel, which had been constructed in the middle of the woods in rural Michigan. In desperate hope of reacquiring his creative spark, and to evoke better times, Castor decides to visit the still-standing set, which has become a minor tourist attraction in the economically strapped region. There he meets Jeff Clement, caretaker of the site and de facto tour guide.

Through a series of mishaps, Castro discovers that things on the aging set are more complicated than a casual tour would indicate, and Clement has more going on than just maintaining the site. The set buildings, being well off the beaten track, have become a haven for fugitive Red Cards. These are social outcasts with either congenital or incurable medical conditions. They are hiding from the Social Security Bureau, a government agency whose job it is to ensure that precious resources aren’t wasted on those who cannot contribute anything to society at large, and especially to the elite White Cards, a privileged class who get the best of everything. There are only a handful of Red Cards secreted on the set, and it is challenge enough to keep them hidden and provided for. Discovery by random visitors is one of their worst nightmares.

But Castro is sympathetic to their plight, and is drawn into their struggle for survival. He ends up helping with a variety of things, such as smuggling one of the Red Cards to Detroit for treatment by an underground medical practitioner. He runs afoul of an SSB raiding party who have strong suspicions about what the set is being used for. He returns to Hollywood, where he tries to use his talents and connections to generate sympathy, if not outright assistance, for the Red Cards.

Without unpacking the entire story, suffice it to say that there are plenty of twists and turns, as well as a bit of skullduggery, which is one of Doran’s specialties. One thing gratifying about the story is that it doesn’t overreach. Nearly washed-up screenwriter Castro Hume doesn’t burst from obscurity to topple the Evil Bureaucracy, save the endangered Red Cards, and restore a Just Social Order. What he does is turn a corner, both personally and publicly. Others are encouraged to stand up and speak out. Risks are taken and hope is kindled, but no outcome is guaranteed. Just like life.

Those who appreciate subtle thrillers will find much to enjoy in Seeing Red. If the work has a weakness, it is occasional obscurity. Doran is a subtle writer, often resorting to hints and allusions, leaving his readers to fill in the gaps. But this means that if you don’t catch the hint or grasp the allusion, you could be left befuddled, at least for a while.

But these are minor matters. If speculative thrillers are your style, and especially if you’ve enjoyed Doran’s previous efforts, you’ll appreciate Seeing Red.

My Family and Other Skaters

 I’ve long admired writers like L.M. Montgomery and Jan Karon for their ability to describe what I call the Adventure of Everyday Life. In their writing about ordinary people in everyday life circumstances, they’re able to unveil the reality that there are no ordinary people, and everyday life offers opportunities for us all to respond well or poorly to the chance to grow in grace and charity. Novelist Fiorella de Maria can be added to that list with her newest novel My Family and Other Skaters. Though released as a work for youth, this story can be enjoyed by all ages, and especially by those who appreciate the Adventure of Everyday Life.

de Maria is an experienced novelist who has written in a variety of genres. She’s no stranger to stories with sober, even heavy themes. This is her first foray into youth fiction, and in the judgment of this fellow author, it’s a smashing success. The protagonist is Rosaria, or Rose (though occasionally known to friends and siblings as “Rosie Rose!”), who is eleven and lives in a ramshackle mansion with her parents, five siblings, a St. Bernard, a pet alpaca named Paddington (yes, there’s a story there), and a yard full of chickens. The most important thing about the house is that it’s a two minute walk to the town ice rink, because the whole family is deeply into – and I mean deeply into – figure skating. Rosaria caught the skating bug from watching a Torvil and Dean performance, and proceeded to infect the entire family, from her older brother Hugo down to her three-year-old twin sisters. Skating and rink life are the activity center of this bustling family, though the bustle is only made possible by the rock-solid foundation of faith and family commitment, which is low-key and understated.

There’s no Big Plot to the story, in the sense of major crises or dramatic life upheavals. What occur are a series of what some might call minor incidents, such as when the family of Rose’s good friend Giuliana, who is also Hugo’s skating partner, decide to move back to Italy. Or when Rose’s mother decides to leverage her kitchen skills and proximity to the rink to open a cottage industry catering to hungry skating parents. Or when a homeless veteran needs a place for Christmas dinner. What happens is ordinary life, viewed through the eyes of a vivacious, effervescent eleven year old who love skating, her family, and pretty much everything else. What’s so charming is that de Maria brings the reader into the center of all that everyday richness, so you can live it alongside Rose, her friends, and her family.

In a world that’s getting jaded with the antics of even superheroes (“No, we’re not just saving the world! This time...this time we’re saving the entire universe! Really!”), we need stories that restore our perspective. Authors and screenwriters are trying to provide the next Jack Reacher or John Wick, but I think we need someone who can bring out the adventure provided by a snow day. de Maria delivers this in a refreshing and wholesome story that is well written while avoiding simple sentimentality. My only dispute is that the story is offered as being for youth. While I’ll be certain to order copies for my granddaughters, I contend that anyone who loves to visit places like Avonlea and Mitford will love Skaters as well.

As an author myself, it’s always delightful to see another author strike a rich creative vein, one that brings out their artistic best. For all de Maria’s prior accomplishments, I think My Family and Other Skaters shows her at her finest. I can only hope that this is the first in a string of stories about Rosaria and her wonderful family.