2 of 3

Hansen's general principles are given flesh in his critical essays "Babette's Feast" and "Leo Tolstoy's 'Master and Man.'" Both stories clearly qualify as "sacramental" writing. Babette's Feast isn't a "religious movie," but in Hansen's capable hands it demonstrates "the Christian recognition of God's graciousness for which thanksgiving is offered in our eucharistic celebrations." And Tolstoy's short, apparently secular story "Master and Man" is shown to be a powerful illustration of the gospel message. (A Stay Against Confusion would be a stronger book if the essays were all related to Hansen's main preoccupation; of the 14 short pieces in the book, only six treat the subject of faith and storytelling. The rest cover a miscellany of topics ranging from John Gardner to the murders of six Jesuit priests in El Salvador.)

Having made his point (writers don't have to make explicit reference to Christian theology in order to fulfill their vocations), Hansen goes further. He writes, with the air of a man who's getting ready to climb out onto a very thin limb, "In fact, there may be no obligation for a Christian writer or artist to overtly treat Christian themes."

Apparently uncomfortable even with this qualified statement, Hansen keeps explaining what he means by Christian fiction: "Faith-inspired fiction has a fondness for humanity" and "is ever aware that we are on holy ground." Faith-inspired fiction "squarely faces the imponderables of life," is "instinctive rather than conformist, intuitive rather than calculated; it features vital characters rather than comforting types, offers freedom and anomaly rather than foregone conclusions, invites thoughtfulness not through rational argument, but through asking the right questions."

This doesn't make the issue much clearer for the reader, and it doesn't seem to work for Hansen either. He finally declares, "I hesitate to say more, for fiction is far better experienced than interpreted. And so it is with sacraments. To fully understand a symbol is to kill it."

In the end, the essays in A Stay Against Confusion don't answer the questions Hansen raises. If a Christian writes a Western full of hijinks, humor, and bloodshed, is he fulfilling his vocation as a Christian writer? What if the Western includes themes of sin and redemption? What if the themes are there but no one recognizes them? Should we all be writing religious parables instead?

Hansen's fiction ("far better experienced than interpreted") gives a more satisfying answer to these questions. Atticus is most certainly a Christian novel with strong allegorical elements (a father, a garden, a son who was dead and then alive).

But Hansen's most recent novel, written after the essays in A Stay Against Confusion, doesn't carry on this high vein of parable. Hitler's Niece is neither hijinks nor religious allegory. The novel tells the story of Hitler's alleged affair with his niece, whom he finally murders when she is 23. But Hitler's Niece is only partially about the historical monster Hitler. It is also about the sheer ugliness of evil—its banality, its self-absorption, and its weakness. Hansen's novel never tempts us to worship or esteem sin. Unlike the antiheroes of Fight Club or Any Given Sunday, the evildoer of Hitler's Niece is ultimately pathetic:

. … a screeching, hysterical, stooped, and prematurely senile old man. … whose skin was sallow, whose hair had turned suddenly grey, whose hands trembled, who stank, who shuddered. … The front of his brown uniform jacket was stained with soup and mustard. Spittle was often on his lips and he drooled or whistled through his false teeth when he talked. Imaginary armies ignored his commands; treachery was everywhere; his dearest friends had failed and undermined him.

next page... |  2 of 3

share this page

November 12 2001, Vol. 45, No. 14