The Ache, But Not The Emptiness

I am re-reading Dean Koontz's Odd Thomas series. I had forgotten how talented Koontz is at addressing momentous topics with creativity and seriousness. Close to the end of Odd Hours, Koontz writes the following:

"Grief can destroy you - or focus you.  You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone.  Or you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together, not just watching sunsets together, not just scrubbing a floor or washing dishes together or worrying over a high electric bill.  

 It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it.  The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can't get off your knees for a long time, you're driven to you knees not by the weight of the loss but by gratitude for what preceded the loss.  And the ache is always there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life."

Dean Koontz's Ashley Bell: The World Is A Battleground

 “Fiction is a dangerous art… creating new worlds populated by people as real as you can make them… involves risks. Not risks just to readers who may be influenced toward darkness instead of light, evil instead of good, despair instead of hope, but also to the author.”

There are a number of writers whose works linger in my imagination. James Lee Burke’s haunting stories of life in Louisiana reveal the complexity of human nature in a way I have rarely seen replicated. Patrick Ness (A Monster Calls) and Neil Gaiman (The Ocean At The End Of The Lane) write modern fairy tales that reach into my heart. Neil Shusterman (the Unwind Dystology) and Jonathan Mayberry (Rot and Ruin series) have been building quite a reputation in YA lit, and Brandon Sanderson could drop the literary mic right now and walk with his legacy of epic fantasy ensured.

Yet Dean Koontz stands out to me. From The Corner of His Eye was the first his books that really got my attention; The Taking was next, revealing how well he could write a story both grim and hopeful. The Odd Thomas series, though, turned me into a serious fan. Pretty much everything he has written since then has served to solidify my admiration.

Saint Odd

Odd Thomas has become perhaps the iconic name associated with Dean Koontz. The series has sold over ten million print copies and 900,000 ebooks just in the United States. There are also three graphic novel prequels, a couple novellas, and a movie based on the first book.

Odd Thomas deserves the popularity – and the acclaim. Odd is a genuinely good guy, devoted to doing the right thing even when he knows it may cost him everything. The recently released Saint Odd wraps up this series in a way that provides an appropriate finale to an exceptional story.

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A number of themes have stood out to me over the course of this series, and particularly in the final book.

1) Odd doesn't wait for injustice or evil to come to him – he tracks it down and engages it. Some people have noted that while many of today's literary heroes step up admirably when something is forced upon them, few actively seek for battles to fight. Odd Thomas is one of the few. He has a gift that shows him supernatural realities in ways others cannot see. Because of this, both Odd and the evil he seeks to combat are drawn to each other. He notes,

A gift like mine seemed to come from some higher power, and whatever the source— whether God or space aliens or wizards living in a parallel Earth where magic worked— it must be a benign higher power, because I was motivated to help the innocent and afflict the guilty.

He could have withdrawn - after all, most of the fights don't immediately effect him (though the ones that do are of the utmost importance). Instead, Odd once prayed to God, "Spare me so that I may serve." Odd has been spared many times, and his service takes him around the world and into the heart of evil. His friend Ozzie notes that he was"a young man who would give his life to save a friend or even an innocent stranger, and who, in giving it, would think he had not done enough."

Dean Koontz's "Innocence"

Dean Koontz is perhaps the most famous Christian author alive today. He has sold over 450,000,000 books, with 17,000,000 added each year.  He's sold more books than Stephen King, which is no small feat. Since he’s not published by a Christian publishing house, he flies under the radar in Christian circles. That’s a shame. He is writing about horror, hope, good, evil, nihilism and purpose in a way that is captivating, true, and broadly accessible.

His latest novel, Innocence, is yet another highly acclaimed novel of beauty and hope in the midst of a dark, dark word. Rather than working my way through the plot (I really don’t want to give away the ending), I will let Koontz's own words (from the book and from interviews) reveal why his message has resonated so deeply with so many.

FAMILY

“According to my mother, my real father loved freedom more than he loved her. Two weeks before I was born, he walked out and never walked back in, off to the sea, she said, or to some far jungle, a restless man who traveled to find himself but lost himself instead.” 

“You’re too high a price to pay,’ my mother declared on the afternoon when she sent me away. ‘I’ve lived by my own rules, and I expected a cost, but not this. Not you.’”

Koontz’s childhood was troubled to say the least, but he made the best of it. He told the National Catholic Register, “As a boy, I yearned for a normal family life, but later I understood that the darkness of my childhood was in a strange way a gift. Because of the poverty and violence of those early years, I have a depth of experience to draw upon that enriches my work.”

No wonder he writes poignantly of the perils of childhood. In a world increasingly characterized by the fragmentation of families and the damage that comes from rejection, criticism, and abuse, Koontz’s novels offer both empathy and hope. Our history is real, but it’s not our destiny.