A Response to "The Casual Vacancy"

J.K. Rowling tells stories masterfully.

When I read the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, I was utterly and delightfully hooked. With each following chapter and book, I grew to know and love the characters and the world of Harry Potter more and more. Most people I talk to experienced the same thing.

When I meet people who have not read the series, I recommend it eagerly and with the same joy that I would feel while introducing a friend to someone whom I knew they would marry someday. I get wrapped up in the story of Harry Potter and fall in love with it, just as everyone does when they read it. Rowling weaves a beautiful, moving story, full of such detail and color, depth and history that when I read them I feel as though I'm simply learning about a world that actually exists somewhere. (Don't worry - I don't actually think it's real. Sadly.)

The Harry Potter stories are marvelous. J.K. Rowling is a marvelous storyteller. But I'm not here to talk about the Harry Potter books (though, clearly, I could go on and on about them).

Understandably, when Rowling finished the Harry Potter series, she wanted to move on to something entirely different. I would too. With seven unspeakably successful children/teen books, she moved on to the next genre. She wouldn't be put in the children's-author box. No, sir.

Enter The Casual Vacancy.

Many Harry Potter fans are grown-ups now, so they greeted the news of Rowling's adult novel with joy and adulation. Of course. I was among them. When the book came out, I put a reservation on it at the local library, and I was number 81 on the waiting list. Yikes. Weeks later, the library sent me an email: my time had finally come.

And... I was disappointed. Not because the story was uninteresting or the characters were lacking in depth. Not at all. The story takes place in a town called Pagford in which a city councilman dies, leaving his council seat open and making room for small town politics and scandal to rear their ugly yet strangely interesting heads. I hate politics, but I found myself inexplicably interested in the story, interested in the characters of the small town and the fate of the open council seat. Because really, the fate of the council seat determines the fate of the town and its people. It's very much about the characters.

It only took me a few hours to get a hundred pages in to the 500-page novel. And I could have kept reading, finished it within a few days. But I didn't. I couldn't.

Don't get me wrong. I really wanted to finish it. But I surrendered it back to the library two weeks before I had to.

I chose to stop reading the book because, when you hear that it's Rowling's first novel for adults, you should understand that it's Rowling's first "adult" novel. It took only a few pages for harsh cursing to begin. And I don't mean the "Crucio" kind of cursing from Harry Potter, although it was excruciatingly painful to read. The language was harsh, and while I've heard that the f-bomb is less offensive and less-taboo in Britain than it is in the U.S., Rowling being a British writer, that doesn't make it any less offensive to me. Even excluding that word, the language of several characters was absolutely filthy.

Sadly, the language was not my main problem with the book. Again, I refer to the description of the book as "adult." I won't say that The Casual Vacancy sinks into the disturbingly pornographic detail that I've heard 50 Shades of Grey wallows in. But it's close enough. Sex is not the pervasive topic of the book, but it's prevalent enough that I didn't feel right about continuing to read it page after page.

Thus, my disappointment. Rowling has already proven to the world that an incredible story with compelling characters can be written and enjoyed without all of that nonsense polluting it. Does she think that just because a book is "for adults" it has to overflow with obscenities and sexual encounters? That it has to contain those things at all? Did she forget that a truly excellent writer can portray filthy characters and lives without making the audience feel filthy for reading it?

So, after reading almost one hundred pages, I took it back to the library. I knew at about page 30 that I had to return it, but I let myself read more and more because I didn't want to stop reading. I wanted to give Rowling a chance, and I wanted to find out what happened. I cared about the characters and the story because, like I said, J.K. Rowling is a great storyteller. But the filth continued, and I had to put it down - that's not what I need to put into my mind and heart.

J.K. Rowling set out, so I've heard, to write something completely different than the Harry Potter books. Sadly, she succeeded. Harry Potter is about a boy in a world of adventure and magic; The Casual Vacancy is about adults (and some kids) in a world that is anything but adventurous or magical. Harry follows the growth of that boy and his journey to save the world and the people he loves; Vacancy is about small town politics and scandal. Those differences are okay. Authors write worthwhile, excellent books about both settings, both kinds of worlds. But the other differences are what make me so disappointed and disheartened.

Harry Potter is "for children," and The Casual Vacancy is "for adults." In reality, I recommend the books about a boy wizard to everyone, adults more than children. I wouldn't recommend Rowling's new book to anyone.

The Harry Potter books, though they get darker as the series goes on, are clean and redemptive, ending with good triumphing over evil. From what I read of Rowling's new book, it begins and remains dark and sordid, filled with disgustingly vulgar language and inexcusably overt sexual references and descriptions.

The books about Harry Potter and his friends are about love and sacrifice, about friendship and loyalty, about life and death, and about doing the right thing in the face of enormous obstacles. On the other hand, I couldn't justify reading The Casual Vacancy long enough to find out what it was really about.

A Bathroom Mirror

I had an epiphany while in the bathroom at church the other day.

As I stepped out of the stall and to the sink, a little girl finished washing her hands. She was maybe eight, and she proceeded to dry her hands with a paper towel before throwing it in the trash. But instead of walking out of the bathroom right after that like I expected, she came back to stand in front of the bathroom mirror.

She stood there for a long moment, looking at herself and adjusting her hair and clothes. A twinge of sadness hit me as I stood next to her, washing my hands and watching her in my peripheral vision as she made sure she looked just right before going back out where everyone could see her.

Sad, I thought as she left, that a little girl should already be so concerned about her appearance. She's so young - she should be free from those kinds of cares. She should just enjoy life and see that deep-inside beauty (the beauty of patience and kindness, laughter and joy) matters way more than what-we-look-like beauty.

I dried my hands and threw the paper towel in the trash can. Then I stepped back in front of the mirror and stood there for a long moment, scrutinizing my clothes and hair. I pulled at my bangs and yanked at the hem of my blouse, a bit disappointed that my outfit didn't look quite as cute as I thought it did at home.

Then I stopped. I looked myself in the eye.

And I saw a little girl.

So I left my clothes and hair as they were. And I marched out of the bathroom to go laugh with my friends.

O Death

One of the beautiful truths of the Christian faith lies in these verses:

"'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?'

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! 

He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

-1 Corinthians 15:55-57 (NIV)

Because Jesus Christ died and rose again, conquering the grave, His children don't need to fear death, and we are no longer slaves to the death that is our sin. It's true that, unless Christ returns first, we will still die. But in every other way, Christians are free from the grave. Death holds no victory and brings no lasting bitterness. For the believer death means life. Jesus' death on the cross means eternal life for us, and our physical death means being ushered in to the presence of God, where we will know no more sickness or sinning or heartache or shame. Where we will see God. 

But... death is still a hard thing. A dreadful thing. A terrifying, heart-ripping, inescapable thing. When I read news or hear of people losing their precious ones to car accidents or cancer, miscarriages or old age, war or gang violence - it is a hard thing. Even if the person who died was a believer, we hurt, we grieve, we ask God why. I wept when my grandpa died, and when my other grandpa died, and when my grandmother died, though all of them loved the Lord. And, I'll be honest, if I found out I were dying soon, I would be filled with fear. And it would take an ocean's amount of God's grace to learn joy and trust in that, though I know it is possible. 

Though we know the truth of life - eternal life - death is a hard thing to face and to deal with. 

Reader, I'll let you in on a little secret. ... I am facing death. Not physical death (though God's plan could have me facing that at any time). No, the death that confronts and terrifies me is spiritual, mental, emotional. And it is daily, hourly, minute by minute. The death I'm talking about is what the Christian community calls "death to self."

What I am called to today, in this moment and tomorrow and the next day and every day after, is to die. My flesh, the old Emily who pursued sin and hated God and did everything for herself... she has to die, along with her wicked desires. Because life with the old Emily is death. She has to die so that the new Emily, the clothed-in-Christ's-righteousness Emily, can live and live abundantly.

"... if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; 

the old has gone, the new has come!"

-2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)

The new, in-Christ Emily is already a reality. But I can't live in this newness if old Emily is still alive and kicking. I have to kill her. Every day. Of course, I don't mean that I do myself any kind of physical harm. What I mean is that when my sinful heart draws me toward disobedience, I have to kill the old Emily and not disobey, no matter how much I want to. When I'm tempted to be impatient or angry or proud or lustful, I have to kill the old Emily and live according to Christ's strength and righteousness. I have to kill the old Emily.

That sounds a bit harsh, doesn't it? I mean, really? I have to kill her? I don't think we really grasp how harsh it actually is. Jesus said, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10 NIV). But He also said, 

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself 

and take up his cross daily and follow me. 

For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, 

but whoever loses his life for me will save it." 

-Luke 9:23-24

The cross, as much as we are used to it, is a symbol of death. Gruesome, torturous death. I don't know if you've seen The Passion of the Christ (or any other Jesus/gospel movie for that matter), but I can never stand to watch the crucifixion scene. Death on a cross is bloody and brutal. Yet this is the kind of spiritual death we're called to embrace every day. We're called to crucify our old selves. 

When temptation calls and I want to say "yes" to sin, I must crucify my flesh and say "no." When I crave attention or want credit for doing something good, I must crucify my flesh and remain content with obscurity. When I'm tempted toward impatience or anger or lust, I must crucify my flesh and act in patience, grace, and purity. And on and on. 

Sound impossible?

In our strength - that is, in our weakness - it is impossible. And I feel that impossibility. I don't want to kill my sinful desires. I don't want to take up my cross daily. I much prefer the ease of choosing sin. Just like physical death, daily spiritual death is difficult and painful. And I become discouraged because I do not often choose this death of my self for the sake of life in Christ. But these verses give me hope:

"For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced 

that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, 

that those who live should no longer live for themselves 

but for Him who died for them and was raised again."

-2 Corinthians 5:14-15

Reader, in my strength it is impossible to die to my old self. But just as we possess eternal life through Christ Jesus and need not fear physical death, we also have death in Him and need not be enslaved to our old ways of living. In His strength, I put the old self to death so that I can enjoy fullness and abundance of life in Christ.

So in every way, in Christ, death means life.