Spiritual Advice from a Little, Belgian Detective

I picked up another one of Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot novels, Death on the Nile.  There was a wonderful exchange, full of spiritual wisdom:

[one character shows Poirot a pistol, and muses to him about how she'd like to exact revenge on her enemy] 
Poirot:  Mademoiselle, I beseech you, do not do what you are doing.
Jackie: Leave dear Linnet [i.e. her enemy] alone, you mean?
Poirot: It is deeper than that.  Do not open your heart to evil. ... Because--if you do--evil will come. . . . Yes, very surely evil will come. . . . It will enter in and make its home within you, and after a little while it will no longer be possible to drive it out.

It's reminiscent of James 1:15--"Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin; and sin when it is full-grown brings forth death."

Poirot's entreaty to the young woman in the story is also grounded in everyday, human experience.  The incredible effort needed to break addictions, habitual sins, and weaknesses is, using his words, an attempt to drive evil out of our hearts.  No easy task, and one impossible without grace.

The Perils of Historical Fiction

This is my periodic “wow, I haven’t written on this for a while” post.  Something nice and light to give me a minor sense of accomplishment...

Recently I finished an historical fiction novel called Wine of Satan.  It was written by Laverne Gay, who wrote only one other novel.  It told the story of the life of Bohemond, one of the major figures in the First Crusade.  

I am a fan of historical fiction, but I’ve read a couple duds that cause me to be wary of the genre.  The novel that evoked the strongest reaction from me was set during the high Middle Ages.  Maybe it wasn’t historical fiction as much as just plain fiction, as the story didn’t concern any actual historical figures.  When I finished the book, I was so upset with the ending that I ripped it in a few pieces and threw it away.  Another one, written about the life of Henry V, had me scratching my head at the end.  On one hand, the author included a postscript, noting all the research she did.  On the other hand, I remembered from past history classes things that contradicted the author’s research.  

Perhaps King Henry V is a special case, since much has been written about him.  The Battle of Agincourt in 1415 was fraught with controversy then as well as now.  

Still, with those historical fiction novels, I wish I could go back into my life and reclaim the hours I spent reading them.  The parts I enjoyed were not just eclipsed but gored out of my memory by my frustrations with the books.  

Enter the newest why-do-I-bother-with-this-genre: Wine of Satan.  I have no one to blame but myself; I judged the book by its cover.  It said it was a novel of the First Crusade (hmm, interesting) and it had a cover with knights on horses (cool).  The first half of the book was good, but the second half was terrible.  I hated the ending so much that I’m tempted to burn the book in my backyard.  

My main objections were two of my biggest pet peeves with entertainment (books, TV, movies, plays, etc.):

1) Once the main characters finally went on crusade (halfway through the book), they became very unlikeable.  All of them.  I kept reading, hoping for redemption.  Maybe resolution!  Maybe repentance!  Terrible things are going on?  That happens in real life.  There’s mortal sin all around and the main characters could care less?  That’s a human reaction, not unfamiliar to anybody living today.  Was there any redemption, healing, or anything positive?  NO!  That’s real life sometimes, I understand.  I really do.  When I’m reading something for fun, however, I’m not always looking for how bad life and people can be.  

2) The ending sucked.  It had no resolution for one of the two main characters and it killed off another main character, with little detail behind it.  This happens often in a TV show my wife and I like.  It’s an hour long, and unless the guide notes it as “Part 1 of 2”, you know it will end in one hour.  Just by keeping track of the clock, we know that the episode will wrap up in, for example, the next 5 minutes.  This book was much the same; there were less than 10 pages left and I still hadn’t gotten to the ending... then the death scene came and went in a flash.  The “lack of resolution” scene was similar.  And poof, it ended!  That was it! 

Maybe I’ll give other historical fiction novels a try, but not for a while.  And if anyone is in the mood for a backyard BBQ, let me know...