Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

For a long while I resisted reading Blue Like Jazz because it was trendy. This says more about me than it does about trendy books--sometimes a reading popular book can be worth the trouble of appearing trendy. This is the case with Blue Like Jazz.

Styling itself as containing "Nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality," Miller's book functions as something like a spiritual memoir/introduction to the Christian faith. In other words, Miller is mostly occupied with telling the story of his own religious history, but he does so by hitting on certain topics in a certain order so that he also ends up discussing the big questions and aspects of Christianity (and spirituality in general) within the context of his own life, experience and story. As it turns out, this is a fantastic way to discuss these often difficult subjects. It's my belief that the enormous success of his books has a great deal to do with this narratival approach to his subject--a format that resonates with our current generation in much the same way that C.S. Lewis' more systematic (and non-narratival) presentation in "Mere Christianity" connected with his original audiences.

Along with this strong emphasis on story, Miller's book also succeeds for at least two other reasons--strong writing and a commitment to honesty about his story as well as Christianity itself. Miller's writing style is very much his own, and thus difficult to pin down, or to adequately compare to another writer. Employing short, and often choppy sentences, his words benefit from a keen attention to rhythm and sound. In Blue Like Jazz, Miller doesn't simply tell his story, he tells it with an attention toward the craft of the thing, concerned about not simply about ideas or images, but about how the words themselves fit together--in the sentence and on the page. Because of this attention and skillful care, Blue Like Jazz is a delight to read. It is often funny, occasionally moving, and rarely dull. The words and story move quickly, flitting from scene to scene with hardly ever a misstep toward sentimentality or heavyhandedness (common pitfalls of the religious writer). Miller's occasional tendency toward self-idulgence and lack of discipline in his distinct style, is, on the whole, a small complaint. Finally, it is Miller's honesty that endears the reader to himself and draws him into the story. Whether the topic is evangelism, romance, tithing, or faith itself, Miller speaks without reserve--managing to appear "authentic" without devolving into cynicism.

Though Miller does an excellent job of presenting Christianity in a manner that is likely to be attractive to those outside the faith as well as challenging to those already within its fold, his apparent definition of the message of Christianity (that is, the "gospel") is not as robust as it might be. In Miller's words, the gospel promises, at its root, "[personal] forgiveness and a home in the afterlife" (35). Though Miller's definition is not far off from the familiar message of American Evangelicalism, defining the promises of Jesus within a primarily individualistic, internal, and ultimately, otherworldly framework robs his book of much of the power it might otherwise have. It is not that the Christian gospel fails to offer forgiveness or a "home in the afterlife" (though this is probably the worst possible phrase to use regarding Jesus' promises for what the future holds for his people) as much as it contains so much more. Miller would do well to consider how the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the historical center of the Christian faith, both intersects with and explodes his definition of the Christian message. This criticism noted, Miller's book remains an excellent work to hand to those who are curious or skeptical of the Christian faith, and generally deserves the wide reading it has received. Would that the Christian community produced more books that contained its honesty regarding spiritual topics, creativity in presentation and high artistic standards.