I’ve heard it said that reading fantasy helps us escape the harshness of reality, giving us a refreshing break. I agree it is enticing to immerse myself in an alternate reality full of thrilling action and likable characters who share their lives with me. But I do not always come back refreshed.

Rather, I feel abandoned by my erstwhile companions. And usually, after we have journeyed and fought through much trial and heartache to reach the culminating victory. Here, at the end, when we should live happily ever after together, I am cut off from their warm embrace. It feels jarring and leaves me morose until I dare to go on another literary adventure.

Therapy or Trauma?

Many people believe it is beneficial to have benign sources of distraction from everyday stress. While that might be true, is it good if that distraction returns you with an added burden of melancholy?

A well-meaning friend or wily author might say that you simply need another fix, so just keep the good books coming. I’m all for good books—after all, I am a writer—but are we being kind to our readers if we can only dole out moments of pleasure that evaporate into distress? Then, is fiction any better than pharmaceuticals? Can authors offer more?

I believe so, if our stories can bridge the return to real life with lasting inspiration.

The Scouring of the Shire: an Example

The Lord of the Rings is my favorite book, but my experience with it has not been without misgivings.

I first tried to read the trilogy by starting with The Two Towers, wanting to save time. I soon quit, concluding that the books must be bad because my teenaged self could not pick up the story from the middle. Nearly two decades later, I tried again, starting from the beginning. Then I realized what an idiot I had been.

Yet, even though this second reading endeared the series to me forever with its high adventure and splendid camaraderie, I took exception to the chapter “The Scouring of the Shire” in The Return of the King. Again, in my infinite wisdom, I thought that the inimitable Tolkien had a miss in writing such an anticlimactic scene after the glorious triumph over the enemy. These end chapters should be all about basking in the success. The heroes should celebrate and be celebrated, not come home in anonymity to deal with pettiness.

It would be another two decades before I could see my ignorance once again and acknowledge what a true master the author was.

This chapter paints a bleak homecoming after grand exploits, much like the end of a lovely book. The “real world” dulls in mundaneness, and most of the inhabitants thereof know nothing of the valor and fell deeds our hobbits have seen. Trifling vices still pop up after they have destroyed such an immense evil. And they wonder if their great adventure has mattered at all.

But that’s the rub. It has, and they know it. They remember what happened. And the lingering inspiration of the feats, sacrifices, and undying fellowship reminds them of truths not drowned out by distance or ignorance. Carrying these truths into their present reality endows it with the gravitas of their growth. Their little shire sees a bit of the enormity they have experienced through the magnitude of who they have become.

In depicting the hobbits’ reentry into their old lives as new people, Tolkien showed how our stories could transition us from fantasy to realism with hope. We must all come back, but we don’t have to be the same. Through our palpable journeys of imagination, we can bring back ideals to this world, which can brighten it for ourselves and others.

The Imperative of Fiction

But it must be true and life-giving. Beyond diversion, amusement, excitement, or any other stimulation, fiction needs to speak truth—the kind that resonates with our souls and strengthens us to face life anew.

That sounds like a daunting task. What if we fail?

Maybe all readers seek transcendence in the our tales, whether we intend it or not. It is a dangerous thing to pen words. They have the power to move lives for good or ill. Should we be content to let such influence work randomly? No, I think authors have a responsibility to convey worthy values by seeking truth and knowing it ourselves. May God help us.