I recently read The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell. He’s the author of Cloud Atlas (2004), and if you’ve seen that 2012 movie with Tom Hanks and Halle Berry, you know he’s a master at weaving together intricate story lines through great spans of time. This novel covers only 1984-2043, but like its predecessor, the tale weaves in and out of history, ultimately foretelling a chilling future, but ending on a note of hope.
I appreciated the intricacy of the novel but was captivated even more by the complex characters who grew and changed as the story progressed. And because I loved the people so much, this is where the author tripped me up.
Ninety percent into the book, Mitchell introduced an absolute split between Christianity and Science. A violently judgmental and narrow-minded Christian woman supported by a critical and twisted priest appears, tempting distressed villagers to choose sides against their neighbors instead of collaborating on ways to help each other survive the technological wasteland which their country has become. And, of course, the woman’s hyper-sexed and leering son completes the picture of evil Christianity by threatening the protagonist’s teenaged granddaughter.
Caricature, according to the definition I found on the web, refers to a description “…of a person in which certain striking characteristics are exaggerated in order to create a comic or grotesque effect.” Here, Mitchell went for the grotesque and these two-dimensional characters stand out like a sore thumb against the background of his nuanced and complex story.
It’s sad to see something this sloppy in such a great book, but I wondered: Why does it feel like such a deep betrayal to me? After stewing about it, this is what I’ve come up with:
The Bone Clocks is full of theological themes. The protagonist experiences many levels of Mystery she cannot explain but only embrace, including the liminal space between life and death. While rejecting a cartoon image of God as the old man in charge of everything, she still accepts that there is a dimension beyond the physical, and that she has access to it.
This novel also considers morality such as the interdependency of all created beings and the responsibilities of those more powerful to those less so. It grapples with the problems of climate change and access to technology.
It didn’t bother me at all that Mitchell couched neither morality nor theological wonderings in religious language. In fact, I found it refreshing. But (this is the big BUT!) when he resorted to constructing a simplistic duality of Religion against Science portraying it as evil incarnate against cosmic goodness, he slammed the door on an important truth: religion has been the portal to spirituality and deep relationship with Mystery since the beginning of time.
I understand that a great swath of our present culture believes Mitchell’s caricature is an accurate portrait of Christianity. Indeed, no institutional religion is a perfect entranceway to the Divine, and critique is not unwarranted. Some people do mistake the gate of a particular religious institution for the room it opens into. However, the disdain with which religion is treated by turning it into a comic book villain locks the door–maybe even makes it invisible–to people who might find it helpful. It denies the thousands of years of insights and experiences of good and noble people who walked through such a portal to find a scope of life bigger than anything they imagined. This exaggerated attack on Christianity smacks of arrogance and narrowmindedness, at least as toxic as the religious bigotry it portrays.
I wonder, is it possible for a work of fiction to walk a path of truth which acknowledges the Mystery and nods encouragement to any door which might open a person to relationship with God without being on one hand coercive or on the other hand, wishy-washy? Next month I’ll review another book I’m now reading, which I hope will illuminate this question. Until then, take a look at The Bone Clocks, and let me know what you think!