A thin vision.

Avalon presents, in theory, a vision of kingship as a pinnacle of right authority, the conduit of national blessing to a people, the bringer, when its potential is fulfilled and when the right king reigns by the power of God, of exceptional prosperity and virtue. But it remains too much a theory. The protagonist says it over and over and over, but we do not see how he comes to that conclusion, and we barely see how he intends to accomplish that goal. What little we do see is relatively conformed to the language of western politics- going out to the people to present the message to them in person.

Lawhead presents a sort of indistinct, low-policy royalist populism, but I’m not sure he believes it. Staunch American that I am, I can see the beauty and potential of kingship, the idea of the king as the concentrated reflection of man’s stewardship role, of his authority, of his dominion-taking, of his governmental duty. The idea has potency, and I’ve every intention of plumbing that when I have the opportunity (whether it’s in echo of Arthur or Beowulf). But Lawhead does not plumb that potency.

I found myself asking, as I read, what he thought of this issue himself. A great story transcends mere assertion and proposition. It takes what the author believes and incarnates it, laying it out in the structure of the characters. Even if no character in the story believes what the author does, even if every character is significantly different, the way they interplay demonstrates the author’s worldview, his understanding of those parts of life with which the story deals. A precise doctrine is often unobtainable, but an understanding of the author’s mindset and the direction of his belief becomes clear. With Avalon, though, I came away genuinely uncertain if this royalism was Lawhead’s own belief or merely put on for the sake of the story.

Putting on a belief for the sake of a story is a very bad idea. When a story requires a viewpoint the author does not share, the author must inhabit that viewpoint, not manufacture it; sometimes, the story requires more than the author can sincerely enter into. There is a reason i could never write Warhammer 40K fiction: the setting requires atheism to be true. Avalon neither convinces the reader that Lawhead believes what he says (and applies it in worldview across the spread of life, as demonstrated in the story) nor shows the reader something Lawhead disagrees with in part but recognizes the virtues of (a complex understanding likewise revealed in the complexities of the narrative).

Avalon thus fails to bring out the sense of destiny necessary to its premise and fails to present a compelling worldview, or even convince of a sincere worldview. The result is something far more superficial than was promised, a story about destiny which verges on contrivance and kingship which is merely grandiloquy. Worst of all, because the promises are so intriguing- I have a sympathy for both of them, an interest in their potential- the failure is much less tolerable, once you notice it. Lawhead has eschewed the lightning bolt for the electric socket, which may somehow be worse than merely managing a lantern bug.

God bless.

Note: Part III ended up at 1800 words and resisted splitting; as a result, it’ll be on Creational Story here.