The White Door

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader along with some further ruminations about it, comparing it to some of Hibbs' Non-Fiction work.

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What’s The White Door About?

A pull-quote on the cover calls this “Pilgrims Progress meets Stranger Things.” I’m not sure that Bunyan belongs in the conversation—maybe Lewis meets Stranger Things? This Present Darkness with better theology is closer yet.

There’s a great ensemble of characters featured in this novel, but let’s focus (as the novel does) on two—the first is Pastor Cleft Warrington. It’s evident soon after we meet him that he’s the kind of pastor you’d want—educated, compassionate, smart, and faithful. But there’s more than that to him—the small town in Pennsylvania that he pastors in has more going on than is visible to the naked eye. There are forces on the move—and he is one of the few aware of it.

The other character we focus on is Seth Logan—he’s a father of a couple of little kids and a writing professor. His wife is a steadying and supportive influence in his life, which he really needs. When we meet him, he’s unaware (like most people in this town) of the unseen workings around him. But all that changes when he comes across a stray cat one day while hiking.

I’m not sure how much else to say, but the cover blurb says little more—there are two doors (in places that have no business having doors, see McGuire’s Wayward Children series for examples). A white one and a black one—those who walk through them are changed. What, and how, they see is altered in ways that say a lot more about the doors than anything else.

The custodian (for lack of a better term) of the black door is named Skotos—he has been popping up in Dingmans Ferry now and then for quite some time. Cleft is trying to monitor his actions as much as he can. Cleft can’t say for certain what Skotos is up to—or what his aims are—but they are not for anyone’s benefit but his.

Those who walk through the white door get nicknamed “gazers,” because of their altered vision. They see things, realities, that others don’t–and cannot. Because of this power, they have a responsibility to their town (if not to more than the town) and its citizens. The gazers have allied with each other for this purpose and when they add members, they take them under their wings and help them understand their abilities and far more.

The Choice of the 80s

This is set in the 1980s, which is an interesting choice. And I’m not sure that it was necessary for the story. Sure, it eliminates the Internet in early or current form, so that’s an advantage—this would’ve been a difficult story to tell if characters could just check certain events online.

While there may be little about the events or the narrative that demands that time period, the smaller town feels more authentic in the 80s, I guess. There are plenty of little details that Hibbs provides to help it feel like that time.

The biggest thing that made me wonder about the choice of chronological setting (probably the only thing) was the way that Seth’s anxiety was depicted (and the way people reacted to him). I haven’t done any research on this—but I’m not sure that too many people in the 80s were talking about people with anxiety disorders or panic attacks quite the way these characters do. Particularly regarding adult men. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’d wager that was a stumble (as an example, see how strange it was in the late 90s for characters like Tony Soprano to deal with those things, and the ways they covered it up).

The Mix of Theology and Fantasy

Mixing Christian thinking, Christian belief, and fiction—particularly Fantasy—is a tricky thing. It can be done, and there is a tradition of it. But I can’t help wondering about the way that Hibbs does it. I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I had some questions and qualms.

The titular white door and the way it changes those who walk through it…both are great, full of symbolism and meaning. I really appreciated the effects produced in those who’ve entered it. But I have so many questions about it, too—why aren’t all the believers in town taken to it? Is it some sort of second blessing?* Why is it available for any random person walking by (although it is out of the way) to just walk through? Along those lines—Skotos’ victims…the way that Seth and his companions figure out what happened to them and the way they appeal to Paul’s writings to get there really misses the apostle’s point and even contradicts it. And that really troubles me.

* I know Hibbs wouldn’t go for that, but it kind of seems like one.

There are some other things depicted—some visions, another reality that’s visited (to put it as vaguely as I can), and things of that nature—that were just great. The pure fantasy stuff—or at least the things that he can talk about in purely fantastic terms—was great.

You take the blending of fantasy and theology out of this—leave us only with Skotos’ “magic” or whatever, the Deeper Magic of the Doors, and whatnot—I wouldn’t have a complaint at all. No church, no sermons, no Bible—just warring Good and Evil? The whole thing works. But Hibbs frequently stumbles when he combines them.

Now let’s set aside the Fantasy for a minute and just focus on the Theology. First of all, anyone who’s read much of Hibbs is going to recognize his thinking here. Narnia, Seth, and Cleft sound like they’ve studied Hibbes’ work (ignoring the anachronism there)—which is good. If only so you know that you’re supposed to think they’re on the right path. Other characters largely sound like they’re on their way to sounding that way, too.

Even the demonic (or at least really evil) character’s theology is rock solid. He rejects it—but he knows it. Watching him explain something, and then reacting to it, was really well done.

I have to add, that some of the gazers get animal companions—stewards—who can talk to the gazers. We see two of them in this book, Seth’s cat, Narnia, and Cleft’s dog, Roland. They are just fantastic. A Tolkein-quoting cat with a penchant for talking theology? That’s a critter I’d put up with my allergies attacking me to spend time with. Every bit with those animals are great. There are some other animals that show up later, too—I really dug them, too. But my spoiler policy prevents me from talking about them.

Some Word Choices

I’m going to throw this out there just to be thorough—and because I know a couple of my readers will think about it—maybe even be turned off by it.

The characters in this novel are not all Christians. And some of them are very recent converts who haven’t quite gotten around to cleaning up their language thoroughly. Hibbs has them use realistic words for people in those situations—a depiction of how the world is, not how he might want it to be.

That said, nothing too terrible is said in the book—nothing you couldn’t get away with in a PG movie (which isn’t the best barometer for some people, but it’s the easiest to convey) or a sitcom from the mid-80s.

Hibbs’ Writing

As a surprise to no one who’s read what I’ve said about Hibbs’ style and way with words before, I loved it. There are some sentences, some passages, and even some phrases that I just adored. If I had a final version and not an ARC, you’d be reading plenty of quotations in this post.

These characters and their emotional lives are richly drawn. The descriptions of little things as well as major events or scenes are the kind of thing that keep people reading regardless of plot and character.

There are two character deaths described that just blew me away. One happens just as the book begins and we see a grieving husband in the minutes after his wife’s death. It’s handled with sensitivity and care—and right from the get-go, you get attached to this character, his reactions feel just right. The other death that we spend an extended time on is handled differently, but perhaps even better. There are other deaths that don’t get this—or similar—kind of treatment. They’re handled the way that most fictional deaths are, and that’s fine. But the two we linger on? Hibbs gets everything right about those and I loved reading them (and will again).

I should add that this book isn’t full of character deaths—but there are some.

I’ve gotten off-topic a bit, but this is just some great writing. There’s a hint of poetry to so much of this energized by an eye for detail. Little things—like the description of Seth’s daughter’s laugh—are just beautiful, and some of the bigger things are done just as well.

So, what did I think about The White Door?

It’s been a long time since I read Christian Fiction regularly—sure, I read a few things by Christians (mostly local authors), but not a lot that calls itself Christian Fiction. In fact, I think this is the fourth book of that type I’ve posted about here. But when I heard that Hibbs was going to be bringing his first novel into the world, you know I had to give it a read. I’ve often said that his books are the best written theological/Christian Living/etc. books that I’ve read (published in the last 50 years, anyway), so of course I want to see what he does with fiction.*

* I should probably try his poetry, too. But it’s poetry, so don’t expect that anytime soon.

I’m so glad I did.

I have mentioned a few quibbles above—the downside of doing that is that it overshadows all the good that can be said. I can’t think of a way to do that without giving too much away. So my own limitation makes the book come across as worse than it should. Note the above paragraph, if nothing else.

It started slow, and I wondered for a while just what the book was going to be about (I didn’t bother reading anything about it before requesting a copy—I just knew it was the first novel for Hibbs, and that was enough)—but it kept me going—and it wasn’t long before I was fully invested (and that kept growing). By the time it was over, I wasn’t quite ready to walk away from these characters and this world.

The conversations that Cleft and Seth have together—or with other characters—about books, The Bible, language, and so on? They’re just great—and I could’ve read many more of them. There’s no justification in terms of character development or plot for us to spend more time with Seth (and Narnia) in Seth’s classes—but Hibbes could’ve given us more of them and I wouldn’t have complained. (I may have noted that he was padding the book with them, but I’d have enjoyed the padding enough to give him a pass)

Similar things could be said for Seth spending time with his family (with or without Narnia)—and so many other aspects of the book.

Every element of this novel works really well when considered on its own. Many of them work in conjunction with the others—it’s when all of them are brought together in these 484 pages that I think Hibbs trips over himself. It’s really a total is less than the sum of its parts kind of thing. But those parts are so worth your time and energy—and I wouldn’t be shocked to learn that I’m alone in some/all of my judgments.

I do encourage you to pick this up. It’s a good read, a refreshing, hopeful read—and I hope it’s the first of several novels from Pierce Taylor Hibbs.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this eARC from the author, but the opinions expressed are mine and honest. And are what I would’ve said about the copy I bought—I’m just saying them a few weeks earlier.