The God Box, Alex Sanchez
27. Alex Sanchez, The God Box.
Paul, his girlfriend, and all their friends are Christian; together, they make up the core of their high-school's Bible club. Paul genuinely loves his girlfriend -- they've been dating since middle school, and she's his best friend, to boot -- but he doesn't feel sexual passion for her. He has hopes that passion for her will kick in someday; after all, a footnote in his high school health ed book had suggested that "sexual curiosity toward others of the same sex" is only a "temporary phase." So Paul waits, and prays, and hopes that his prayers will be answered.
And so, perhaps, things would have continued, had not Manuel arrived in town. Manuel who wants to attend Bible club because he, too, is a Christian. Manuel who is gay, and out, and doesn't believe that homosexuality is a sin.
There is so very much I loved about this book. Because I intend to ramble in an ultra-spoilery way, let me first summarize my reasons for love: being queer isn't drawn as being in opposition to being Christian (even despite the ubiquitousness of the traditional queer/Christian tension driving the book); the characters are drawn with much compassion, making them a joy to read; coming out was portrayed as being about integrity and ethics in a very true-to-life way, and not as a quest to be understood and accepted by the larger society.
One of the very best things, of course, is that being GLBT is not drawn in opposition to being Christian. Manuel, I am happy to say, does not experience the Bible as an anti-gay cudgel -- he has an honest love for Scripture, and does a good job communicating that to the reader. (Even this crusty old non-Christian got all sentimental, happy to know that the Christian queers in my community may be that at-ease about their outness and their faith.) The first third-or-so of the novel covers quite a bit of theological ground, and it was comforting to see a close, non-dismissive reading of the Bible that is not anti-gay. I especially like that Manuel is forward and comfortable about his reading of Scripture, too -- when some members of the Bible club try to bully him via a spur-of-the-moment change of the day's verse to the story of Lot, Manuel votes for discussing the story, against the Bible club members who tried to protect him by suppressing discussion of Sodom and Gomorrah. Christianity is Manuel's religion, too, after all, and just because everyone else thinks the story is painful or awkward for him, doesn't mean that he does. (Which isn't to say that the discussion goes well, nor that the popular reading of Sodom and Gomorrah -- as opposed to the story itself -- isn't painful for him.)
But the moment that really made me smile, with respect to Christianity and LGBT not being natural enemies? When a school GSA is started to try to protect Manuel from violence and bullying, it is members of the Bible club who lead the push for a GSA. Yay, Bible club members!
Of course, the book isn't all roses-and-rainbows about the intersection between LGBT people and Christians: the reason that selected Bible club members lead the push for the GSA is because someone in Bible club refused to back down from his reading of Leviticus 20:13. Similarly, there are tensions within Paul's church -- Paul's pastor perceives himself as compassionate toward homosexuals, but it's that painful "compassion" that stems from within his biases and mis-information. (That scene between Paul and pastor like to took my heart out of my chest, the pastor's so-near-yet-so-far reaction to Paul's admission hurt so bad.)
Most of the characters are generally drawn with much compassion, not just the so-near-so-far pastor. Paul is slow about coming out because he's trying to balance the various harms to people he cares about, and even though Paul's delays intensify the various harms, his delaying is drawn with tenderness, as someone working hard to find a moral path in the face of uncertainty, internal doubts, and conflicting guidance. Paul and Angie behave like they really do love each other -- both understand that the other isn't the enemy, nor the author of their dilemma. And I'm a complete sucker for Paul's Papi, as I am for all confused-but-staunch parents: Papi doesn't know what to make of his son's being gay, nor if it's a sign that Papi failed him as a father, but he does know that he's on his son's side, whatever that side may be. (When Papi stood up and walked out of church during an anti-GSA sermon, on no more authority than his son's assertion that the GSA wasn't what the pastor said it was, I bawled like a baby. Go, Papi, go! Show your love for your son!)
I also loved the portrayal of coming out. First of all, as I said above, Paul doesn't come out in a quest to "be understood." He comes out because it's the only moral path he can find, both with respect to the people around him, and with respect to his faith and his God. But coming out isn't just a matter of announcing that one is gay. Oh, no. Paul has to unlearn all the internalized misinformation, stereotypes, and rumors that "everyone knows" about gays. He has to sort out who he can trust -- his pastor, who has been pushing him toward an ex-gay ministry? The ex-gay who tries to counsel him? Manuel, the stranger with the unorthodox Bible readings and the view of queerness that is utterly alien but which makes so much sense? Paul also has to face up to his actions from before he came out -- things he did (or failed to do) while trying to camouflage himself within the herd of straight people. And then there's the head-on portrayal of the dilemma that as much as one fears that coming out might destroy a relationship, not coming out is guaranteed to destroy it, inexorably rotting it from the inside. I also like how making the decision to accept himself on one front -- being gay -- has the consequence of making it easier to accept himself on other fronts, such as his being a bilingual Mexican-American (a piece of his identity he had formerly tried to suppress).
My reservations about this book are very few, and not even very strong. As much as I adore Manuel, the only LGBT people I've met who are as on-the-spot articulate in their self-defense as Manuel are activists with decades of experience. I know eighteen-year-olds today have the entire internet worth of arguments to draw upon, but seriously, this kid is as adroit at outmaneuvering verbal traps as Jesus was -- I just can't buy that Manuel doesn't get tangled in someone else's assumptions from time to time. And yet, even though I find that aspect of Manuel unrealistic, I still have a big swoony crush on the character, and wouldn't have him written any differently. Sometimes you just want a strong heroic role-model. And Manuel is definitely that.
I also have some reservations about the near-fatal gay-bashing of Manuel. There's a limit as to how much tolerance I have for narratives about Teh Tragic Gay People, and when the gay-bashing happened, it felt like the book had suddenly taken a turn in that direction. However, Sanchez didn't write that kind of narrative; he had solid narrative reasons for including the gay-bashing, none of which had to do with Teh Tragic Gay People. And, too, I keep coming back to the point that high school really is a dangerous place for queer teens, especially for QPOC. So again, I am ambivalent: I would have preferred no gay-bashing, but I do like and respect what Sanchez did with it.
I would absolutely recommend The God Box, especially to Christian queer or questioning youth, as well as their allies, whether adult or youth, Christian or non-Christian, queer or straight. I'm not entirely sure how well The God Box would read outside the LGBQQ + allies group -- after all, it is definitely written to validate a particular experience of (allegedly) conflicting identities -- but for readers within that group, it could very well be one of those ever precious no estoy loco books.
Paul, his girlfriend, and all their friends are Christian; together, they make up the core of their high-school's Bible club. Paul genuinely loves his girlfriend -- they've been dating since middle school, and she's his best friend, to boot -- but he doesn't feel sexual passion for her. He has hopes that passion for her will kick in someday; after all, a footnote in his high school health ed book had suggested that "sexual curiosity toward others of the same sex" is only a "temporary phase." So Paul waits, and prays, and hopes that his prayers will be answered.
And so, perhaps, things would have continued, had not Manuel arrived in town. Manuel who wants to attend Bible club because he, too, is a Christian. Manuel who is gay, and out, and doesn't believe that homosexuality is a sin.
There is so very much I loved about this book. Because I intend to ramble in an ultra-spoilery way, let me first summarize my reasons for love: being queer isn't drawn as being in opposition to being Christian (even despite the ubiquitousness of the traditional queer/Christian tension driving the book); the characters are drawn with much compassion, making them a joy to read; coming out was portrayed as being about integrity and ethics in a very true-to-life way, and not as a quest to be understood and accepted by the larger society.
One of the very best things, of course, is that being GLBT is not drawn in opposition to being Christian. Manuel, I am happy to say, does not experience the Bible as an anti-gay cudgel -- he has an honest love for Scripture, and does a good job communicating that to the reader. (Even this crusty old non-Christian got all sentimental, happy to know that the Christian queers in my community may be that at-ease about their outness and their faith.) The first third-or-so of the novel covers quite a bit of theological ground, and it was comforting to see a close, non-dismissive reading of the Bible that is not anti-gay. I especially like that Manuel is forward and comfortable about his reading of Scripture, too -- when some members of the Bible club try to bully him via a spur-of-the-moment change of the day's verse to the story of Lot, Manuel votes for discussing the story, against the Bible club members who tried to protect him by suppressing discussion of Sodom and Gomorrah. Christianity is Manuel's religion, too, after all, and just because everyone else thinks the story is painful or awkward for him, doesn't mean that he does. (Which isn't to say that the discussion goes well, nor that the popular reading of Sodom and Gomorrah -- as opposed to the story itself -- isn't painful for him.)
But the moment that really made me smile, with respect to Christianity and LGBT not being natural enemies? When a school GSA is started to try to protect Manuel from violence and bullying, it is members of the Bible club who lead the push for a GSA. Yay, Bible club members!
Of course, the book isn't all roses-and-rainbows about the intersection between LGBT people and Christians: the reason that selected Bible club members lead the push for the GSA is because someone in Bible club refused to back down from his reading of Leviticus 20:13. Similarly, there are tensions within Paul's church -- Paul's pastor perceives himself as compassionate toward homosexuals, but it's that painful "compassion" that stems from within his biases and mis-information. (That scene between Paul and pastor like to took my heart out of my chest, the pastor's so-near-yet-so-far reaction to Paul's admission hurt so bad.)
Most of the characters are generally drawn with much compassion, not just the so-near-so-far pastor. Paul is slow about coming out because he's trying to balance the various harms to people he cares about, and even though Paul's delays intensify the various harms, his delaying is drawn with tenderness, as someone working hard to find a moral path in the face of uncertainty, internal doubts, and conflicting guidance. Paul and Angie behave like they really do love each other -- both understand that the other isn't the enemy, nor the author of their dilemma. And I'm a complete sucker for Paul's Papi, as I am for all confused-but-staunch parents: Papi doesn't know what to make of his son's being gay, nor if it's a sign that Papi failed him as a father, but he does know that he's on his son's side, whatever that side may be. (When Papi stood up and walked out of church during an anti-GSA sermon, on no more authority than his son's assertion that the GSA wasn't what the pastor said it was, I bawled like a baby. Go, Papi, go! Show your love for your son!)
I also loved the portrayal of coming out. First of all, as I said above, Paul doesn't come out in a quest to "be understood." He comes out because it's the only moral path he can find, both with respect to the people around him, and with respect to his faith and his God. But coming out isn't just a matter of announcing that one is gay. Oh, no. Paul has to unlearn all the internalized misinformation, stereotypes, and rumors that "everyone knows" about gays. He has to sort out who he can trust -- his pastor, who has been pushing him toward an ex-gay ministry? The ex-gay who tries to counsel him? Manuel, the stranger with the unorthodox Bible readings and the view of queerness that is utterly alien but which makes so much sense? Paul also has to face up to his actions from before he came out -- things he did (or failed to do) while trying to camouflage himself within the herd of straight people. And then there's the head-on portrayal of the dilemma that as much as one fears that coming out might destroy a relationship, not coming out is guaranteed to destroy it, inexorably rotting it from the inside. I also like how making the decision to accept himself on one front -- being gay -- has the consequence of making it easier to accept himself on other fronts, such as his being a bilingual Mexican-American (a piece of his identity he had formerly tried to suppress).
My reservations about this book are very few, and not even very strong. As much as I adore Manuel, the only LGBT people I've met who are as on-the-spot articulate in their self-defense as Manuel are activists with decades of experience. I know eighteen-year-olds today have the entire internet worth of arguments to draw upon, but seriously, this kid is as adroit at outmaneuvering verbal traps as Jesus was -- I just can't buy that Manuel doesn't get tangled in someone else's assumptions from time to time. And yet, even though I find that aspect of Manuel unrealistic, I still have a big swoony crush on the character, and wouldn't have him written any differently. Sometimes you just want a strong heroic role-model. And Manuel is definitely that.
I also have some reservations about the near-fatal gay-bashing of Manuel. There's a limit as to how much tolerance I have for narratives about Teh Tragic Gay People, and when the gay-bashing happened, it felt like the book had suddenly taken a turn in that direction. However, Sanchez didn't write that kind of narrative; he had solid narrative reasons for including the gay-bashing, none of which had to do with Teh Tragic Gay People. And, too, I keep coming back to the point that high school really is a dangerous place for queer teens, especially for QPOC. So again, I am ambivalent: I would have preferred no gay-bashing, but I do like and respect what Sanchez did with it.
I would absolutely recommend The God Box, especially to Christian queer or questioning youth, as well as their allies, whether adult or youth, Christian or non-Christian, queer or straight. I'm not entirely sure how well The God Box would read outside the LGBQQ + allies group -- after all, it is definitely written to validate a particular experience of (allegedly) conflicting identities -- but for readers within that group, it could very well be one of those ever precious no estoy loco books.