A Review: The Shack, by William P. Young

As I said in an earlier post, I had no intention of reading The Shack. I'm not much for fiction written by Christians for Christians despite that particular genre taking up more and more space in Christian retail establishments. This is one of the reasons I avoid Christian retail establishments when possible.

Several people have recommended that I read the book. Even the college-aged sales rep said this when handing me the copy she was about to ring up, "Oh. My. Gosh. You will be so happy you bought this. It is SO GREAT. It's the best book I've read in YEARS!"They told me they thought I'd enjoy it. The fans of this book are certainly passionate about the book. They LOVE it. And, they aren't alone. This is a self-published book that has sold over 500,000 copies and climbed to #7 on Amazon.Com's top 100. That's a big deal, man. But none of those were reasons for me to dive into Christian fiction. I mean, fifty million Elvis fans CAN be wrong (they weren't, but they COULD be wrong).

Then someone at my church mentioned that they might start a Bible study based on the book and asked me to read it and what I thought about that. So, I didn't mind reading for that purpose.

First, I'd like to address the book as art. Early on in the book, I actually had to fight through some poor writing. I mean, it was poor enough to actually distract me from the story. An example, from page 18: "Once inside, Mack methodically shed the layers of outerwear as best he could, his half-frozen fingers responding with about as much dexterity as oversized clubs at the ends of his arms. He decided to leave the drizzly bloodstained mess right where he doffed it in the entryway and retreated painfully to the bathroom to examine his wounds. There was no question that the icy driveway had won. The gash on the back of his head was oozing around a few small pebbles still embedded in his scalp. As he had feared, a significant lump had already formed, emerging like a humpbacked whale breaching the wild waves of his thinning hair."

Oh, my. As you can tell, the author could've used the editor a publisher would've provided. Too many adjectives and adverbs. (How else can you shed clothes other than "methodically?" Is there an insignificant lump? How do you retreat "painfully?") Poor grammar & syntax. Distracting. And that's just one example. I could've used many more.

Thankfully, the author gets better in the latter half of the book as it becomes more dialogue-driven. But, oh, man. It was tough in the early going.

Second, there were some plot devices that were cliche. Most notably chapters 17 & 18. I had an acquaintance, an author, once tell me that in this particular genre you almost have to create a semblance of this event in this type of literature due to the nature of it and the presumptions if you don't...but I saw it coming a mile away. I thought the neat & tidy resolutions of chapter 16 pandered more to what we wanted rather than what would be. There were two extra children that were seemingly thrown in.

That's what I didn't like about it as art.

However, on the upside, there's no question that this story grabs you emotionally. Stephen King once said, "It is the tale, not he who tells it." Young has a TALE, my friends. He pounces on the fears of any parent. It's dark and brooding and rips your heart out for Mack. In a lot of ways, this story is so powerful that it actually overrides the poor writing. Hence, I have no trouble at all seeing why so many people are affected by this book in positive ways. It's been a long time since I've read a book where the tale actually pulls the author along. It's a good tale, no question.

Now, on to the theological matters:

I'll stay away from the easy ones. You know, like the author taking a low view of divinity (in other words, God is not transcendent, but rather terribly easy to approach, even calling God "Papa." I'm not sure the Greek gives us that freedom to call God "Daddy," as is somehow a popular notion in Christian circles). Stuff like that. It's fiction, folks. And, in order to create fiction in this particular manner, I can't think of any other way to do so. I'll let those slide.

First, I didn't like the downplaying of God's Word. From page 65: "In seminary he had been taught that God had completely stopped any overt communication with moderns, preferring to have them only listen to and follow sacred Scripture, properly interpreted, of course. God's voice had been reduced to paper, and even that paper had to be moderated and deciphered by the proper authorities and intellects. It seemed that direct communication with God was something exclusively for the ancients and uncivilized while educated Westerners' access to God was mediated and controlled by the intelligentsia. Nobody wanted God in a box, just in a book."

Wow. And here I thought God's Word was living and active and able to pierce the joints and marrow and all that. The very breath of God. Believe me, if you read that book, it will unbox God in ways that will flip your world upside down. And, don't even get me started on Mack's seminary. Nobody at mine told me God stopped working in macro or micro senses. And that entire Reformation where we all got God's word for ourselves rather than an educated class? Hmmm.

Second, I was stuck by the ambiguity of the author's words in areas like, well, let's look at salvation, shall we? From page 182: "They arrived at the door of the workshop. Again, Jesus stopped. 'Those who love me come from every system that exists. They were Buddhists or Mormons. Baptists or Muslims. Democrats, Republicans and many who don't vote or an not part of any Sunday morning religious institutions. I have followers who were murderers and many who were self-righteous. Some are bankers and bookies. Americans and Iraqis, Jews and Palestinians. I have no desire to make them Christian, but I do want them to join in their transformation into sons and daughters of my Papa, into my brothers and sisters, into my Beloved."

"Does that mean," asked Mack, "that all roads will lead to you?"

"Not at all," smiled Jesus as he reached for the door handle to the shop. "Most roads don't lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you."

And that's just one example. There's a discussion on 197 about the role of emotions: [Sarayu, or Wisdom, speaking] "The more you live in the truth, the more your emotions will help you see clearly. But even then, you don't want to trust them more than me."

It sounds good, doesn't it? And, depending on what he means, he might be right...but I'm not sure exactly what he means.

Same on page 227, when Papa's helping Mack forgive someone: "Just say it out loud. There is power in what my children declare."

Hmmm. Really? Again, it's pretty ambiguous.

So, if I were to recommend this book, who could I recommend it to?

Fiction readers/lovers? Nope.
Non-believers? Absolutely not.
New believers? Nope.
Folks who've been in church circles a while? Not so much.
Strong believers looking for something to discuss over coffee on whether God acts this way or not? Maybe. And that's about the only group I could...but the pejorative view of theology that seems to come across would almost prevent me from doing that. Hence, only in a "discussion-starter" kind of way could I even give it a "maybe."

And, once again, I feel far afield from those in my Tribe. I mean, so many people have told me they've had their lives changed by this book...and who am I to argue with that? I just know it didn't change mine.

Even Eugene Peterson, an author I truly admire, said, "This book has the potential to do for our generation what John Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress did for his. It's that good!"

So, maybe I'm missing something here. And I'll give you the link to the publisher's responses to early criticisms for a balance. But, I didn't even step into these areas (or at least for the same reasons others did)...

...but the bottom line is that I'm not sure what all the excitement is about. Of course, when you're fiction reading list includes heavy doses of McCarthy, Hemmingway, Childress & Perrotta, well, maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe all the gushing got my hopes up.

So, maybe you could all help me out here, patrons. Because I do feel a bit removed from the hullaballoo.