I am doing a blog series on Novels Every Christian Should Consider Reading.
Sarah Kinnard studied English and Education at Wheaton College.
A former middle and high school English teacher, she now homeschools her own children and tries to squeeze in a morning run and a little reading.
She blogs at goingsgraces.wordpress.com.
Dorothy Dunnett’s novel The Game of Kings opens a six-book series that is spectacularly written, exhaustively researched, profoundly thought-provoking, and utterly absorbing. As far as I know, Dunnett was not a Christian, nor are her main characters. But her books illuminate the histories of cultures, nations, and individuals in ways Christians would do well to ponder. I think they are novels every Christian should consider reading.
The Lymond Chronicles actually form one continuous story with the seven-volume House of Niccolò series that follows. I’d start by recommending the entire cycle to you, but I don’t want to scare you off. So I will focus on Lymond, sure that anyone who is entranced, like me, by Dunnett’s story will be compelled to read the whole thing.
Francis Crawford of Lymond is a complex figure of fabulous talents and deep wounds. He is looking for a leader worth following and a nation worth serving, and for a purpose that will conquer his past. Dunnett sets her books in the flowering Renaissance, sweeping toward the upheaval of the Reformation, amid all the chaos and opportunity of that rapidly changing world. In such a time, a brilliant man could access the levers of history by using his gifts in the service of kings. Lymond does not seek power for himself; he seeks a monarch who will let him help shape an unsteady young country into greatness. In Dunnett’s world, that ideal arena is her beloved Scotland, poised here between a turbulent past and a stable future. We know from history that this conflict-scarred land is soon to become one half of a remarkable compromise that will secure a Protestant United Kingdom and produce the King James Bible. Dunnett places her fictional characters in the meticulously drawn historical scene, giving a glimpse of how such massive changes might have been wrought.
The future, both of nations and families, is of deep concern to Dunnett. Lymond grapples with the identity dealt to him and the heritage he will pass on in turn. He carries a hidden anguish at the injustice that has dogged his steps, but he continues to make choices that befuddle the reader and alienate those who love him—because he is working toward a future that he sees more clearly than anyone else. In the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) chess match alluded to in the titles of all six books, Lymond operates several moves ahead, often misunderstood and reviled by those he has silently shielded and saved. Ultimately, he sacrifices justice for love; rather than claiming what is due him, he chooses to pass on the heritage of one to whom love and loyalty mean more than fairness.
Though he sometimes acts in ways we would consider immoral, Lymond actually lives by a very specific moral code, with motives much better than they first appear. Christians may not agree that his ends justify his means, but the dilemmas he faces are worth discussing: what constitutes true loyalty? How does one unmask a hypocrite whom everybody loves? What sorts of hurts can be forgiven? And most importantly, what makes a life worth continuing?
Dunnett tackles these heavy questions sidelong, through story. Her prose is vivid and dense, and it rewards careful reading. Like many great stories, it can take a while to draw you in; so don’t give up too early. Keep reading, and you’ll be glad you did. A note: though they take up both the theological (Reformation) and mystical (astrology and second sight) ideas of the time, these are not what one might call “Christian” fiction. Instead, they explore some of the darker realities of the broken world—in which Christians, both then and now, have to live. There are portrayals of sin, but no wallowing in it.
Reading novels is not a utilitarian exercise in self-improvement, but in a mysterious way, if we read the right kinds of books, they do improve our selves—they transport us out of our necessarily small and bounded worlds to other times, other places, and a variety of human hurt and happiness which no one person could ever experience. Such novels can make us better people, more compassionate, more observant, more thoughtful. As swashbuckling adventure tales, the Lymond Chronicles certainly meet the hedonistic criterion for literature mentioned by Dr. Ryken (my favorite college English professor), for they are immensely enjoyable. I also think they enlarged my heart, and I am better for it.
