Order out of chaos

After a long pandemic hiatus, faithful readers reconvened for a much-anticipated reunion at Calvin University’s Festival of Faith and Writing on April 11-13, 2024. In the opening chapel, Dr. Chanequa Walker-Barnes invited attendees to slow down and practice sacred self-care. The balm she prescribed was to reject the impulse to constantly feel and express outrage and give grace to ourselves to better love our neighbours. Simple and profound, her words oriented our attention to the festival’s varied guests – writers, lawyers, activists and faith leaders – each uniquely gifted to speak into the chaos of our times and offer pathways to order.

For truly these troubled times demand attention. Mitali Perkins spoke of the need for penitential courage and honesty since opposition to truth, beauty and goodness is everywhere. Diane Glancy exhorted writers to make their words count since writers will “be in trouble everywhere, anyways.” Rabbi Elan Babchuck spoke of unlearning the leadership style of empire, disturbing the world as it is and dreaming of the world yet to be. I was so inspired; I could have gone home after day one. But as a historical fiction writer there was no way I was going to miss the keynote grand finale, New York Times bestselling author Anthony Doerr.

The magic of writing

I wasn’t alone in holding on to the very end. The Van Noord arena was teeming with conference attendees and community members eager to hear from the creator of All the Light We Cannot See and Cloud Cuckoo Land. It’s hard to know what to expect of literary heroes in real life. Doerr is known for creating characters whose ordinary courage is set against extraordinary backdrops. His detailed descriptions of 20th century radios, snails and the secret life of oxen might cause readers to believe he might be shy in real life, awkward in conversation, visibly eager to return home. But Anthony Doerr wanted to be in that arena. He bounded up the steps to the podium and began his keynote with an exuberant “What’s up, Grand Rapids?”

Instantly, he had the audience in the palm of his hand. His hilarious PowerPoint slides, which laid out his grandiose thesis for the evening, were followed by ridiculous similes (“I blinked my eyes liked a whacked donkey”) that had everyone roaring with laughter. He made an echoing auditorium intimate. For forty minutes we forgot the discomfort of bleachers and leaned into a message that on the surface seemed quirky but was, in fact, profound.

In seven points, moving at lightning speed and pausing only to comment on Calvin’s athletic banners as though to give the audience a break from his stream of consciousness, Doerr made the case that writers should return to creating similes, for the sake of the world, because by coupling incongruous images, writers create magic.

Drawing on many literary excerpts as case studies, Doerr demonstrated how an excellent simile repeated enters the reader’s subconscious by contrasting unexpected images, surprising the reader with new possibilities. And this takes risk, which the world needs. We’re dream-deprived, disconnected from our food, animals and nature, and alien to the invisible ecological connections of the universe. Writers must draw threads through incongruous things, and similes are the neglected literary devices for the task. He suggests that there are hidden connections in pairing metaphors, and that crossing the river from one image to another builds a bridge. The creation of those bridges is the writers’ superpower, and now – in a landscape that lacks the imagination to celebrate stories beyond lone heroes – is the moment to use i