This was, by far, the most frustrating novel I’ve read. It comes out tomorrow, for those interested.

Don’t get me wrong, Dekker put effort into Forbidden. He’d have to with his “New York Times Bestselling Author” blurb on every book. The book had moments of rapture, these moments where I believed these characters existed out there. Chapters clipped along, tiny hybrids of Brown and Grisham, pulling me in. Overall, it’s probably worth your time if you’re a Dekker fan. It’s my first Dekker. There are better ways to spend the hours I devote to reading.

Forbidden erects a post-apocalyptic world plagued by an emotion-killing virus. It’s similar to zombie books, but feels different. For one, there are no zombies – not technically. Yes, the people walk around dead to the world, but it’s because this virus (called “Legion”) stripped everyone of emotion. No one feels anything except for fear and its derivatives like anxiety. Cool set-up, right? King could work wonders in that world.

Our protag, Rom, finds himself assaulted by a raving madman. The lunatic’s out of Order, yelling about some ancient Order of Keepers, and being chased by trusty officers of the law. Violence is prohibited. Knives are no-nos. Guns… do they even exist? I don’t remember any guns…

So when this Keeper gives Rom a small wooden box (the thing he’s been “keeping” all this time) and tells him his father didn’t die in an accident, but was murdered – Rom’s ready to turn the guy into to the “wellness center.” I imagine the wellness center’s something like Soylent Green, but without the eco-friendly reduce, reuse, recycle bit. Too morbid, Lance. Too morbid.

About that time, the trusty officers of the law murder the Keeper right before Rom’s eyes. Witnessing murder and having spoken a promise to the Keeper, Rom goes on a noirish-quest to return the emotions to the world.

Okay, synopsis over. Cool concept, like I said. I think it’s a brilliant idea with wonderful moments. I found myself disgusted at the antagonist Saric and rooting for Rom. I felt sorry for Saric’s past and hated Rom’s propensity for violence. Dekker is a man who understands both the sexual and the rage impulses. Moments of conflict were so… raw that I felt myself yanked into the story, critiquing establishment along with Dekker:

On each of the city’s seven hills, the spires and turrets of centuries old buildings stabbed at the heavens like so many lances piercing a boil.

No, it’s not just because my name’s in that sentence. I like what he’s saying without saying it. That’s good showing. At another point, two characters who know something of emotions outside of fear start talking about what emotion – what life – might be like. The older reveals absurdity in his talk with the younger:

“Here we are, two corpses, talking.”

That’s not prose, that’s poetry. That line, in and of itself, made up for the frustrations in the read. I half-expected to find this hidden in some MeWithoutYou lyrics or inside an Elliot poem. It summed up the novel, and I think let Ted say something to the reader. I loved this moment, and will mull this line over and over until it’s burned into my hippocampus.

There’s another:

“Here are the eyes that have captivated the world.”

Which, in context, works well. This style of talking echos a future-dialect in the world he created. The downside is this play with language left me longing for more idioms that the book lacked elsewhere, especially concerning modern, emotional phrases. I expected an emotional tone similar to 1984 with Forbidden, but got The Notebook and A Game of Thrones instead. Less emotion at the start of the book might have sold me on the world itself. It set me up and let me down. Let me reiterate, though, that these were great moments and I’m happy in their memory.

But a book is more than a compilation of good moments strung into a plot. The plot was good. The set-up was good. Even the pay-off was decent.

The inconsistency, however, wounded me.

A dozen or so times during Forbidden I found myself ready to set it down. It’s not that I was bored. I felt preached at. The place names seemed ripped out of the New Testament rather than born out of the author’s mind. Some of the quotes, supposedly in a post-apocalyptic Europe some five hundred years from now, came straight from Scripture. Examples?

We see now through a cloudy mirror.
…power beyond any earthly throne
peace reigns on earth (and I said aloud good will to men)
I am the artist and you are my perfect clay

Add these to the renaming of Rome into Byzantium, the monotheistic world where everyone believes in God and refers to him as “Maker,” and the unanimous naming of the afterlife as “Hades” – a first-century Greco-Roman concept foreign even to me, a twenty-first century American, let alone imaginary thirty-first century characters – and you’ll see why I felt preached at. I wondered if Forbidden was a scheme for quoting scripture at me. If that’s what he’s doing, that’s not creative writing. That’s stilted theological prose that happens to classify as “fiction.” I’d say the same to someone who studied Nietzsche or Wittegenstein and quoted him verbatim. We’re not in the business of footnotes, people.

What’s worse is when a character curses with “dung hills” in the mist of a rage, only to use the word “damn” two paragraphs later. I don’t care what an author does with their characters but be consistent. Either replace the first with “shit” or the second with “dang,” but as is I don’t accept it. As is, I get distracted with inconsistency and find myself critiquing the author instead of the culture he’s critiquing, wondering if he’s so committed to his audience that he would compromise the integrity of a character. Triphon, as a character, moved all over the place. Nail him down for me so I can enjoy him.

In the end, most of this isn’t directed at Dekker, but the crowd of people behind him. I did enjoy the beginning and end of the book. It’s the middle that made me mad. To the people that aspire to write like him, I’d say this:

You wanna follow Jesus? Great!
You wanna write books? Cool.
Don’t write Christian books.

What I mean is, Christians claim to follow Jesus. If Jesus wrote a novel, he wouldn’t market it to religious people. You wouldn’t find his book in Pharisee bookstores. You’d find it on the desk of the tax collector, by the register at a brothel and in the hands of bartenders. I’m not saying Jesus would write smut or donate money to modern sex slavery. I’m saying he wouldn’t slap the adjective Christian onto his fiction and market it to religious people. I went into Forbidden expecting a novel and felt scammed into a religious… product? Yeah, product. Like the enterprise and religious system itself was more important than the story. That’s not a novel.

That’s a bumper sticker.

Maybe I’ve overstated. I enjoyed moments, but found the book packaged all wrong, forcing me into a love-hate. I’ll give Dekker another chance. Seems like a cool enough guy. Check out Forbidden, if you want, but be warned. It gets preachy.

Words I learned from Ted Dekker:

• hippocampus – the elongated ridges on the floor of each lateral ventricle of the brain, thought to be the center of emotion, memory, and the autonomic nervous system.
• lathe – a machine for shaping wood, metal, or other material by means of a rotating drive that turns the piece being worked on against changeable cutting tools.
• affecting – have an effect on; make a difference to (always get this mixed up with effect)
• sconce – candle holder, or a holder of another light source, that is attached to a wall with an ornamental bracket.
• prelates – a bishop or ecclesiastical dignitary
• galvanizing – shock or excite (someone), typically into taking action (the first time he used this, it was novel. The second time, cliché based on his own usage.)
• virulent – of a disease or poison – extremely severe or harmful in its effects
• lithe – thin, supple, graceful
• thrall – the state of being in someone’s power or having great power over someone
• brusquely – abrupt or offhand in manner
• rankled – continue to be painful; fester
• vitriolic – sulfuric acid