Supernaturalthriller writer Dean Koontzhas written more than 50 novels, 45 of which have been onTheNew York Times’ best-seller list.
While his novels are often filledwith darkness (Faith & Family magazinewarns: “Disturbing scenes include violence, gore and frightening portrayals ofgreat evil; some sexuality.”), he is animated by his Catholic faith — a faithwhich has become more evident in his books in recent years.
His most recent book isBrotherOdd(Bantam), his latest in a series of books about the characterOdd Thomas. Koontz spoke with Register senior writer Tim Drake from his home inCalifornia about faith and its impact on his writing.
Tell me about your family.
I grew up in Bedford, Pa. My dad wasa very difficult man. He drank heavily and chased women. He was a gambler, andviolent. He held 44 jobs in 24 years and was sometimes fired because he punchedout a boss. We never knew if we would be able to keep a roof over our heads. Iused his behavior as a guide: Each time I was in a quandary about a decisionwith moral implications, I did exactly the opposite from what I believed hewould have done in the same situation.
Mymother was far different from my father — a good, honest, very dear person witha lot of health problems. Considering the hell he put her through, I don’t knowwhy she stayed with him. Sometimes at 2 a.m., we got calls from barrooms wheremy father was unconscious on the floor. So we walked two or three miles to loadhim in his car and bring him home.
My mother gave me shelter in themidst of poverty and violence. Without her inner strength, my father would havedone great harm to her and me.
My cousin told me that once mymother, having found 20 cents in a pay phone return slot, agonized for a coupleof days before deciding what to do with it. She put it in the church collectionplate.
What was your faith background growingup?
I grew up in the United Church ofChrist. My father was never a churchgoer. My mother pretty frequently was. Iwent to church and Sunday school regularly.
What led you to consider Catholicism?
I met Gerda, my wife, when I was asenior in high school and she was a junior. We were from the same small town.She was Catholic.
My house was a disaster zone, and alot of people in my family were endlessly fighting with one another. When Istarted dating Gerda, it was amazing to me that all these people [in herfamily] got along. They were an Italian family. It was a different world that Iwas seeing. I began to associate it with Catholicism.
Ultimately, I converted because theCatholic faith started appealing to me and gave me answers for my own life. Imade the decision to convert during college.
Catholicism permits a view of lifethat sees mystery and wonder in all things, which Protestantism does not easilyallow. As a Catholic, I saw the world as being more mysterious, more organicand less mechanical than it had seemed to me previously, and I had a moredirect connection with God.
I feel about Catholicism as G.K.Chesterton did — that it encourages an exuberance, a joy about the gift oflife. I think my conversion was a natural growth. Even in the darkest hours ofmy childhood, I was an irrepressible optimist, always able to find something tofill me with amazement, wonder and delight. When I came to the Catholic faith,it explained to me why I always had — and always should have — felt exuberantand full of hope.
Do you consider yourself a practicingCatholic?
Yes. Occasionally I’ve lapsed, as Isuspect most of us do, but my faith only grows stronger with time. I can’timagine that life could throw anything at me to change that.
In what ways did your upbringing impactyour art?
Everything you go through in life ismeant to instruct you. Eventually you realize that your experiences are lessonsto help you understand the meaning and purpose of your existence. As a boy, Iyearned for a normal family life, but later I understood that the darkness ofmy childhood was in a strange way a gift. Because of the poverty and violenceof those early years, I have a depth of experience to draw upon that enrichesmy work.
It was cathartic to write about someof those things. The benefit of that childhood for me was to show me that thereis evil in the world and that you have to find your way to thread through it,reject it and find other ways to live, and not let it destroy you. It alsobrought me a recognition that life isn’t all about want and suffering. That’snot what I believe about life. My life has shown me that evil can win in theshort run, but it never wins in the long run.
Your novels are filled with darkness,yet optimism prevails. Why do you write about such dark things?
I don’t shy away from having violentthings happen, but I don’t dwell on it. I feel, as a Christian, writing booksthat have a moral purpose to them, it’s actually incumbent upon me to writeabout evil, because this kingdom is Satan’s and he is the prince of the world.It’s here and it’s among us.
My villains are pathetic. I neverglorify a villain. I couldn’t write something likeHannibalbecausethere’s something there that makes the villain the most glamorous person in thepiece. I can’t write that. I don’t find evil glamorous. You’ll never find itthat way in my books.
I need to portray the true struggleof this world, so there are bad characters in my books. We need to be honestabout the violence that we face, including that which we became aware of on9/11 — an evil that denies the legitimacy of the civilization that we know andan evil that doesn’t value human life. A lot of people want to turn away fromit. We’re going to be defeated by it if we can’t recognize the depth of thatevil.
Evil walks among us. We don’t alwayssee it. Each of us, in our daily lives, encounters evil; we are tempted to evilevery day of our lives. If we don’t want to read about it or think about it, Idon’t think that’s a truly Christian point of view. We have to acknowledge it,face it and defeat it. That’s what each of my books is about.
For example,One DoorwayAway From Heaven concerns utilitarian bioethics. Utilitarianbioethics, which would deny the life of a disabled child, has infected ourwhole medical system. If you don’t want to know about it, it’s going totriumph. Avoiding the recognition of evil is profoundly sinful. There is apurpose and meaning in our lives, and that purpose includes confronting evil,not succumbing to it.
Have your novels become more spiritualover time?
Spiritualityhas always been an element of my books. People who see it as a suddendevelopment were just not perceiving it previously, when it was less central tothe story. I write about our struggle as fallen souls, about the grace of God,but I never get on a soapbox about it. I’m first and foremost an entertainer.
Ifyou remain alert to the lessons of life and aware of the mystery of the world,it is difficult to deny the existence of design in all things.
Ican walk in the rose garden, watch the joyful capering of my dog and see theindisputable work of God. The key is beauty. If the world is merely a complexand efficient machine, beauty is not required. Beauty is in fact superfluous.Therefore beauty is a gift to us. If we were soulless machines of meat, thesurvival instinct would be all we needed to motivate us. The pleasures of thesenses — such as taste and smell — are superfluous to machines in a godlessworld. Therefore, they are gifts to us, and evidence of divine grace. The olderI’ve gotten, the more beauty, wonder and mystery I see in the world, which iswhy there are ever more of those three things in my books.
Your stories containmany Catholic truths. Is that purposeful?
Manywriters are nihilists or at the least cynics. They deny that spiritual, moraland cultural truths exist. If you believe life is meaningless, what have youleft to say as a writer? Nothing interesting. Nihilism is the philosophy ofperpetual adolescence.
Manyyears ago, I stopped outlining stories. I started with a character I liked, andjust plunged. With no outline, I went where the characters took me. I gave themfree will, and a wonderful, mysterious thing happened. The characters madetheir way to truths through their actions, and these truths grew from withinthe work rather than being imposed by me from without.
Whenyou create this way, you find yourself in a flow state — what athletes call“being in the zone” — and in the flow state you feel your creativity coming toyou from a higher and much greater creativity. You feel the presence of God, ahumbling experience. This is why I avoid publicity as much as I can. The bookis more important than the author. Critical praise and celebrity are hollowrewards. Real joy comes from those moments during the writing when you feel thegreat beating heart of the divine.
WhileI was working onThe Face, a line came into my head … “My name is OddThomas. I lead an unusual life.” It had nothing to do withThe Face,but suddenly I began writing longhand — which I never do — and finished a firstchapter ofOdd Thomas. That book, from beginning to end, was aflow-state experience of great joy.
IntheOdd Thomasseries, the overriding theme is the beauty and power of humility. The firstthreeOdd books were gifts to me, and I can’t wait to writethe fourth. Alone at the keyboard, you find that writing is meditation,sometimes even prayer.
Tim Drake writes from
St. Joseph, Minnesota.
