GQ and the Bible

I disagree with including the Bible on GQ’s list of books you don’t have to read.

Granted, the Bible is a terrible book. Its plot lacks cohesion. The character development is all over the place. It fails utterly to show how that primary character made the journey from narcissistic psychopath to an aloof observer who has others enforce his “loving” narcissism for him. (I call him a primary character because people think he was the protagonist. As I read it, he was the chief villain of a poorly-crafted psychological drama who cast the most truthful character in the whole book into the role of “Prince of Lies.” Gaslighting at its finest.)

All in all, the GQ summation of the Bible (#12 on the list) was spot-on:

The Holy Bible is rated very highly by all the people who supposedly live by it but who in actuality have not read it. Those who have read it know there are some good parts, but overall it is certainly not the finest thing that man has ever produced. It is repetitive, self-contradictory, sententious, foolish, and even at times ill-intentioned. If the thing you heard was good about the Bible was the nasty bits, then I propose Agota Kristof’s The Notebook, a marvelous tale of two brothers who have to get along when things get rough. The subtlety and cruelty of this story is like that famous sword stroke (from below the boat) that plunged upward through the bowels, the lungs, and the throat and into the brain of the rower. —Jesse Ball, ‘Census’

Now, I will admit that the abuse of the minor characters is poignant at times, but none of them ever achieves agency enough to tell the villain to stop mucking around in their lives. We rooted for Job, but he was such a stereotypical abuse victim he didn’t even realize what was happening to him. Ditto Sarai, who we thought had potential when she laughed at God, but she kept allowing her husband to pass her off as his “sister” and thereby put herself in more and more danger.

And the fanfiction. Like most fanfiction, biblical tends to be universally (ahem) god-awful. There are exceptions – I loved Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent.   Although not strictly fan fiction, Alice Hoffman’s Dovekeepers was amazing. And few allegorical novels can beat Barbara Kingsolver’s Poisonwood Bible. But most of it is just saccharine bloviating.

At the same time, people without literary criticism skills or who fall short of thoughtful assessment of this book gaslight people around them into believing that it is a beacon of morality. If the protagonist is for something, it is, by definition, good. For instance, killing your child because an unseen voice tells you to. Or slaughtering entire cities or tribes – and committing genocide –  just because their soldiers lost a battle against you. What decent person sends bears to eat the children who teased someone for being bald? Good people don’t demand that you keep promises that have disproportionately devastating consequences for other people. (Hint: If you promise to sacrifice the first creature you see in exchange for victory in battle, you are justified in breaking that promise if that creature is your daughter.) Likewise, offering your virgin daughters or the wives of your guests to a mob of rapists is not only a mind-boggling example of terrible parenting but of poor interpersonal skills. It gives you no justification for the ensuing war you declare just because the mob rapes one of the girls to death. Seriously, what did you expect would happen when you sent her out there? And don’t get me started on people who get pissy with fig trees for not bearing fruit out of season. Talk about selfish and entitled!

That’s not to say there aren’t inspiring stories. Esther, for example, is well-positioned to counter some pretty vicious racism. Still, the notion that she’s married to a king who knows nothing about either her ethnicity or her religion prevents me from suspending my disbelief long enough to enjoy it. That goes against human nature, and even the worst speculative fiction knows you can’t get away with that as a plot device.

I can go on and on (because, you know, I’ve read this book), but the bottom line is that we only understand that gaslighting if we are familiar with the stories – and with logic and science. Plus, there are lots of literary allusions to the Bible that would go right over our heads if we haven’t read it, and according to my 9th grade English teacher, it’s vital to catch literary allusions.

That being said, I recommend skimming it to familiarize yourself with the basics, spot-read chapters if you love a good dystopian horror tale before bed, and use it to prop open a door the rest of the time.

Last Updated on April 24, 2018 by Anne