On “The Lamp Series” & Philosophy

World Building

It’s been quite a while since the Lamp Series books have landed and I wanted to take a quick moment to discuss my motivations for writing the book and speak to some of the underlying themes in the work. Although these themes span all four books in the series, I will try to avoid issuing spoilers by limiting most of this to the first book.

As I mentioned in a previous interview, the idea for the book arose during a conversation with my editor, Tom. I told him I wanted to write a dark and gritty urban fantasy. Tom threw out a suggestion about a guy who has to go on missions that he doesn’t understand. That was a great start. And I could raise the stakes on each progressive mission. It felt like a strong premise and the mystery element intrigued me. Our hero would carry a lamp and then get beckoned to random addresses at very inconvenient times.

The next step was to flesh out who this lamp-bearer was, and the idea of making him a former boxing champion recently pardoned felt like a good match. Why not, right? It’s so much fun to write about strong characters in vulnerable situations. For Levi, the main protagonist in The Lamp, he’s a fierce and physically intimidating man, yet we find him dealing with trust issues. That becomes the chink in his armor which allows doubt to possibly sabotage his mission.

Violet, a character who begins to steal the show in Dark Works (the second book in the series) was actually not intended to be a major character. This was going to be Levi’s journey entirely, but I needed a scene wherein Levi gets his wallet stolen. Once I wrote that initial scene with Violet, I became intrigued by her and it startled me (fellow writers will know this phenomenon). It was almost as if I found her on a street corner and she was saying, “Hey, if you’re going to put me in your stupid book, I’d better be the star!” And sure enough, the Lamp saga took a new direction, and suddenly Levi had this charming little pickpocket to accompany him on his journey. Jenny was another unplanned addition.

And then we come to the frightening antagonist of the book, a Shadow Lurker named Dev. My goal here was simple: write the thing that would scare me the most and have him stalk poor Levi. What would make me not want to open a window or peek through the blinds once the sun goes down? The answer is Dev.  So I wrote my own worst nightmare and if reviews can be trusted, this figure creeps out a lot of readers. Good.

Setting

Atmosphere is very important to story, and it's one of the reasons I loved Orwell's "1984" so much. I envisioned a gritty place with lots of brick walls and graffiti. Tree-lined sidewalks with ornate brownstones resting just beyond the streets with skyscrapers rising up in the distance. Our heroes inhabit a great Unnamed City. And while it may seem odd that I don’t define our world more clearly by just naming the place, the reason for this hopefully becomes more obvious as the books progress. By the end of Falling Embers, you’ll have a better idea of why I made this choice. If not, then e-mail me.   

Themes

Once I had a basic premise to build upon, the writing essentially became me, as the author, wrestling with what philosophers call The Problem of Evil or theodicy. It's a very personal exploration of my own struggles with this issue, sort of like dipping a pen into the ink of my own blood before setting it to the page.

Some have asked me if the Lamp series is about God. The answer is both "yes" and "no." It's about a group of people trying to make sense of a mysterious world which offers very little in the way of answers. And yet there's always a sliver of hope that something grand and mind-blowing and beautiful lay just beyond the horizon.

This Problem of Evil states that God is either all powerful and not all good, or is all good but not all powerful. So either God is powerful enough to stop evil and suffering, but chooses not to (in which case, he’s not all good) or is not powerful enough to stop it even though he wants to (in which case, he’s not all powerful). This proposition, however, has always reeked of a false dichotomy to me because the possibility of other options would dissolve the tension here. Even a third option to this philosophical challenge would deny its force.

Perhaps evil and suffering occur because the world is not fatalistic and choices really do matter. If God exists and allows this chaos to swirl unabated, which surely produces both good and tragic realities, it says nothing of this God’s character – only that he values freedom of choice. But what about natural evil, like earthquakes and tsunamis? Why allow such destructive forces to occur at all in the presence of a loving Creator?

Here we move away from the category of evil into the more specific category of suffering. Does the presence of suffering, whether through natural disaster or human depravity, exclude the possibility of a Creator who is both good and powerful? I see no reason to think so. That we suffer is a fact. Why we suffer is a question with many different possible answers. Maybe it's good to be reminded that we are not the center of the universe and how to value what's truly important and lasting. I can tell you from personal experience that many deeper things can only be gained through suffering. 

Maybe there are malevolent forces at work in the universe and we are engaged in some epic struggle. Perhaps these forces have power over the natural elements and exercise their own free will to bring havoc on the Earth. If we're on vacation and a bug lands in our drink, we feel like throwing a tantrum. But if we're taking cover on the battlefield after an intense firefight and a bug lands in our canteen when we're dying of thirst, we'd be thankful there's a drop of liquid there to even entice an insect. Perspective matters.

Other times we may suffer because the Earth has been set on a natural course and sometimes tectonic plates shift and giant waves swallow us. Sometimes people make irresponsible choices and others suffer as a consequence. If, however, there is a chance that all things will be sorted out in the end (assuming the God hypothesis, as The Problem of Evil does) and all injustices satisfied, then we might think of our lives as a severe testing or examination period instead of a vacation. If there's eternal value to being tested by a chaotic, senseless and often violent world, then we have another possible explanation to the Problem of Evil. This perspective also makes sense of a God who allows malevolent forces to act in ways that are contrary to his nature. For a time.

I personally suffer from chronic and sometimes debilitating pain. Does my temporal suffering in this life mean our powerful thirsts will not one day be quenched? If this concept of an eternal perspective is even remotely possible, then the Problem of Evil has been shown to have a fatal flaw. 

As I maintain in The Lamp Series, I do not know the answer to why any individual suffers, though I know of several different possibilities. If we are to imagine a world without God and without an afterlife, then the question of “why is there evil and suffering?” becomes nonsensical. In that scenario, we suffer because that’s what happens in nature. Organisms live, they suffer and then they die – on and on into oblivion. There is no such thing as real justice or a final sorting out of all things. In a Godless universe, the Problem of Evil is meaningless and the dispassionate grave awards all equally.

The question of why there’s evil and suffering only makes sense if there is a God who is both good and has all power over his creation. But I'm not sure we need to worry so much about the “whys.” Even if I knew the reason I suffer from chronic pain or why little kids get cancer in light of a loving God, it wouldn’t make the agony any easier to death with. Pain and loss still suck. Just knowing there are potential answers (one of which is probably correct – I just don’t know which one) deflates the so-called Problem of Evil.

When someone around me is hurting, I try to refrain from saying there’s a reason for it. Maybe there is. Maybe there’s not. Maybe this person is suffering because of someone else’s poor choices or because nature is ruled by entropy. And yet, whatever suffering an individual must undergo in his or her lifetime, it will someday end. I might struggle with chronic pain for forty more years, but it won’t last forever. Hopefully things will be sorted out in the end and justice will have a name. It certainly doesn’t hurt to think so, and would be irrational to maintain confidence that there is no final justice or reward granted to those for whom this life proves cruel.

So much more could be said on the subject. C.S. Lewis has written extensively on this, and from a deep place of personal experience with grief. I suggest reading Lewis for a lengthy treatment of the Problem of Evil.

Thanks for reading.