Reading Time: 3 minutes

Ever had a conversation flip-flop your perspective entirely? It’s hard for me to pick just one.

But what about a one-sided conversation, like a book? What about…fiction? I have a running list of fiction books altering how I look at the world. Back in fourth grade, Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry rocked my world, and my understanding of our nation’s history of racism.  In middle school, I drank in every Peretti novel I could get my grubby little hands on. But of course those I read as an adult have transformed me: Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible (still a favorite). Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. John Grisham’s The Appeal. Randy Alcorn’s Safely Home. Alan Paton’s Cry, The Beloved Country.  R.J. Palacio’s Wonder.

And haven’t we all been changed by the stories we read? Hasn’t fiction–think Uncle Tom’s Cabin–even contributed to major events in history?

What Gets In Our Heads

 

And this is actually part of the psychology of storytelling. I recently watched a fascinating, research-based webinar from Muse Storytelling, who’ve won some Oscars for their talents. Muse reports the most effective storytelling establishes a sense of oneness with the character to the point that you internalize their emotions and goals. When we read a story, we experience what’s called narrative transportation. We’re actually “transported” into the mind of the character.

 

And perhaps, as you’ve seen with my own experience above and your own, the more we’re transported, the less counter-arguments we experience.

 

We stop arguing, and start feeling alongside someone.

 

This is even more so based on the proximity of the story to our own lives; its relevance to us. Can we relate to a loss the character is experiencing? Are they a mom like we are? Are they an outcast, like we felt in junior high? It’s a different element for each reader.

 

But as we’re transported, our brain even stores those memories (yep, fiction too) in the same place where it stores our personal experiences.

 

I say this to communicate the power of what entertains us. Muse also reports that even when we know a story is fiction, we still have strikingly similar responses as we would to non-fiction.

 

I also believe it has significant implications for us as artists. Author Randy Alcorn’s observation has stuck to my mind like hot chewing gum on a pair of Chuck Taylors:

 

Fiction has subversive potential. People let it into their minds, like the Trojan Horse. They don’t know what’s inside. You hook them with the story, and God can work below the level of their consciousness. Fiction can be propaganda for evil or convey a theme that impacts people for good.

 

When excellent art transports us, our imagination opens in ways our minds might never have grasped. But that narrative shift increases exponentially when the transportation device itself–the art–is excellent. And shouldn’t we continue to push our standards upwards for our art simply because our competence glorifies God? Shouldn’t we be well-trained in that degree as we show the world who God is?

 

I’d love to hear more opinions on Christians and the arts in the comment section–

and I might even be looking for some guest posts on the subject (submit your idea through the contact form!).

What makes for compelling art for you?

And what fiction has changed the way you think?