Catechism Buzz: Two Streets Over

There's an author, and he's written this novel. “Epic” doesn't even begin to describe it. It's more like [(Karamazov + Les Mis) x War & Peace/Iliad]. Cubed. But longer, with more detail. It’s a redemption story, with a cataclysmic central act involving the author himself. The author's tragic, then triumphant, appearance reverberates both ways through the whole tale, touching every detail and every character.

Somewhere, later in the book (I can’t seem to find the page right now), the author introduces a minor character. This man, having reflected on the fact that there is indeed an author to this book (nothing new, many of the characters had done so), realizes that this means the author is writing every character’s part. Again, nothing new here.

But armed with this bit of knowledge, this fellow begins looking at the roles that the other people in the novel are playing. And instead of enjoying the beauty and intricacy of the little bit of the plot that he’s able to see first-hand, he begins to harangue the other characters. Because he, of all people, understands that they’re merely characters in a novel. That puts him in a position to understand them better than they do themselves.

So this character goes about berating everyone who will listen for a minute about how they have no choice about their knowledge of the author, because it’s the author who decides. He shouts it from the blogtops. He classifies people based on their agreement with him, and separates himself from anyone who doesn’t line up to the letter. Because they don’t realize that it’s all about the author, you see. Years later, he dies alone, bloated, in his mom’s basement, lips coated in Cheetos® dust, caps lock on.

Meanwhile, two streets over, in a Free Methodist church, a sad pervert, a mean drunk, and an overwhelmed soccer mom hear a sermon on Matthew 11:28, and they ask God to forgive them.

But the author, you see, wrote the whole thing.