Obsessed (book review)

An underrated Ted Dekker novel

This isn’t a new review, though it is making its Substack debut. It was originally posted to my old Goodreads profile on August 24, 2017. I hope you enjoy it.

**

bookshelves: religious, historical-fiction, speculative-fiction, favorites, thriller

When Obsessed was published in 2005, I don't know if Ted Dekker was a household name. He certainly hadn't gained the loyal fan base that he knows today. It is a cult-like following, in that his fans can be quite divisive at times, and they let their opinions of him and his work be known. It is a fan base I'm proud to be a part of, and I'm not afraid of express myself.

I don't mention these things as filler or because they might or might not interest the reader (though I'd like to think I'm not alone in finding them modestly interesting.) Rather, I say them to stress a distinct point, which I believe should be considered throughout the course of this review.

On the cusp of adrenaline-laced books like Heaven's Wager and the second installment in The Heaven Trilogy,, When Heaven Weeps (also known as The Martyr's Song trilogy,) as well as Thr3e and Blink, Dekker's eleventh novel offers something that others do not. It's a departure from his supernatural or mythology stories, although it is just as theological as his other work. I also suspect that while he had written historical fiction before (namely the coveted Circle Series, those are more speculative and biblically-based.

In Obsessed, we possess something different. It's a quality which Dekker has honed over the last seventeen years, to the point of near perfection. He is constantly keeping things fresh, reinventing himself. Essentially, Obsessed is historical fiction, through and through. Its preternatural elements are minimal. Doing so allowed him to shift the focus away from plot, in an attempt to develop character. Sadly, I found most lacking. Where there should have been a fullness and love, compassion and empathy, there's a wretched flatness that I'd never associated with Dekker before.

To be clear, I'm not being overly critical. I prefer the term "constructive criticism." I think that he wrote one heck of a novel that's fast-paced, deeply profound in a myriad of ways-even touching at times-- and, for the most part, very well-written. In fact, of the ten Dekker books under my belt, Obsessed falls short only of the Circle series and Adam. That's saying a lot, too, seeing as those five books are near and dear to me. They're beyond compare, personally.

More to the point, I believe that most of the flaws in Obsessed stem from relative inexperience. He was also experimenting, the end result being historical fiction verging on insanity—well, almost— which oozes fringe. Dekker's all about the fringe.

It’s always risky to balance two sides of the same story by two or more perspectives (all of which should invariably be distinctive,) and that’s exactly what Dekker does here. But typical of this Indonesian, he takes it steps further. The chapters in question aren’t merely contrasting points-of-view; they show the experiences of two women imprisoned in Torun, an infamous concentration camp in Poland, circa 1944-45. Ruth and Martha’s chapter’s are shown in the utmost detail, often gut-wrenching and moving. There's a lot of heart and soul there, too. What makes this so risky is that the reader could potentially enjoy one half more than its counterpart. This is a bold move which pays off in spades, despite (or perhaps because of) its precarious nature.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toru%C5%84

It's a risk that works, even though I did enjoyed them more than the present storyline, set in 1973, Los Angeles. Those set in Torun satisfied and astounded me. They fascinated me infinitely. They gutted me unlike anything I’ve read in a long time. I wanted more, much more. I still do. Dekker could write a whole book, chronicling the lives and unique experiences of Martha and Ruth, and I would not complain. As a matter of fact, I would be honored to read their stories.

There is immense purpose to the juxtapositions, too. It isn’t as though one doesn’t serve the other in some way or another. Dekker certainly didn't included them as filler. There are connections throughout, some being thematic while others are concerned with character, four of which make an enormous impact on the present. There's no future without the past, and vise versa. It all makes sense in the end.

”I sell ideas. Actually, if you think about it, everything is really no more than an idea. The past is nothing more than a memory, which is one kind of idea. The future is still a hope, another kind of idea. The present is fleeting and becomes a memory before you can put your hands on it. All ideas, I sell ideas.”

There’s a significant amount of supernatural talk, of power obtained through it. Overall though, that’s all it amounts to: talk. In utter seriousness, I’m not sold on the concept that the novel’s main villain, Roth Braun, is some supernatural entity. If he is, Dekker does not define it. There is, however, mention of psychic energy. Roth believes that the phenomenon is vastly misunderstood by humanity. He gloates:

He hated America, but he loved the purity of nature, and despite the smell of exhaust, the wind held some of the power that came with that purity. Even those who thought they understood the psychic energy in nature rarely rarely really understood its true unspoiled power.

It was the energy of a million nuclear detonations.

It was the force of a billion babies crying out at once.

It was the substance of creation—raw, staggering. A plea to reverse the chaos suffered at the hands of ruined humanity.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Energy_...

Despite my reservations, I did not struggle to picture Roth. I know his likes as well as the subjects of his loathing. Whenever a personal trait was mentioned, I was not taken aback. Everything felt genuine. The same goes for Roth’s father, Gerhard Braun. Clearly, Dekker knew the duo intimately, as well as the research necessary to render the historical aspects as accurately as possible.

Not that I sympathize or have empathy for Roth, but I understand him. He’s a cruel monster, and yet, there’s a part of me that pities him. His childhood was, in a lot of ways, forced upon him, resulting in a terrible upbringing (I'd challenge anyone not to be scarred by it.) Even through he chose to embrace a murderous lifestyle later on, that status was basically inevitable. (That isn’t a spoiler, by the way, as the synopsis tells you that he’s a serial killer, which makes way for my next point.)

The killings didn’t feel real, and maybe that’s because we see it happen only one time, early on. And I hate to say it, but I can’t help feeling that Dekker incorporated said trope as a way of attempting to sensationalize his tale. Perhaps he was obligated, and felt afraid of losing readers if he didn't deliver another killer, like Slater from Thr3e. His reasoning could be any number of things. I just wish I knew why.

At any rate, it did not work for me. There was zero tension, suspense or fear.

Still, I should have felt something. If nothing else, the reader should feel the sting of death, especially that of the innocent. And there’s so much innocence here.

I’m even willing to concede the possibility that this was intentional; that Dekker placed less empathsis on the killings in exhange for a more intense, personal narrative revolving primarily around Stephen, Roth, and their respective obsessions.

These present-day Nazi’s aren’t alone, either. Roth’s henchman are outwardly simpleton. They’re mindless, with subverviance bordering on naivete. His entourage is flat, which makes Stephen Friedman's impressive and transparent by comparison. I know nothing about them, save their blind loyalty to “the cause,” and their ethnicity. I wanted to get to know them (still do, in fact,) in the vain hope that maybe there's more to them. Maybe they’re decent and strong and kind. Maybe.

But we’ll never know, unless Ted rewrites the book someday.

At least with Stephen, we have a fairly decent sense of who he is, but I yearn for more, always.

In between Ester and Stephen is there’s an unorthodox love. Or, at any rate, an intense chemistry. I think it blossomed too quickly, and as a result, it felt contrived. Nevertheless, their adoration for each other grew on me. They’re adorable in ways which aren’t gross or heavily romanticized.

His conversion to Christianity also felt forced. I wanted badly to believe in his implicit salvation--I really did--but it kind of felt almost fake. He and his Rabbi friend, Chaim Leveler, and the ever spiritual, Gerrik, seemingly served as the author’s mouthpiece. It’s classic Dekker didacticism. But from a Christian perspective, he couldn’t have written it any other way. He did what was expected of him. That is a move I admire, as a person of faith as well as a reader, writer, and creative individual. No one should be afraid of expressing themselves about anything, particularly hot topic issues like religion or politics. Note: politics isn't an issue here. I used that as an example.

I’ve given this a lot of thought, too, and he does use his characters as mouthpieces, and there’s more to them than the surface allows us to glimpse, but that's not my point. I respect what he did. However, I think he went about the process the wrong way. The flaws are in the execution. He could have conveyed the same things without coming off as didactic. With restraint often comes strength. Less is almost always more.
I don’t say these things to be pompous, but because there are a lot of writers expressing similar themes in subtle ways. I’m also not saying that every beautiful or powerful quote such as Chaim’s and Gerrik’s advice should’ve been omitted. Clearly, they serve a purpose. That’s what I’m saying.

”With his creation. With humans. With the love of humans. You thing he created with nonchalance? Let’s throw some mud against the sky and see if any of it sticks? Not a chance. We are created for love, for obsession. So we do indeed obsess, through usually not over the right idea.”

Again and again, I kept coming back to Roth Braun and his apparent preternatural abilities. If Dekker had taken a little more time developing that part of his character, the results could have been amazing. Instead, we’re given suggestions:

…but it would take too long to explain how the powers of the air work;

Torun, Roth’s spiritual birthing place. Where his faith had shown him how to harvest souls.

Torun, where his father had lost all of his power through one asinine decision.

Torun, where Roth would finally become a god.

The plot itself is terrific, I couldn't put it down. From start to finish, each sentence flowed smoothly into the next, catapulting itself (and the reader) further and further. Before I knew it, the chapter would end on a cliffhanger, and you know I had to keep going to see what happens next.

Ted Dekker writes about good versus evil, forgiveness and ultimately, hope. Love. Light. There is no love stronger or more important than the love of Jesus. Pursue it, chase it. Obsess.

Bonus: An Excerpt

It’s only fitting that Center Street(a division of Hachette Publishing,) paired the former with an excerpt of Dekker’s most historically based fiction to date, entitled, A.D. 30, and it's unlike anything I’ve ever read, period. Years ago, Dekker said that he was born to write the Circle books, but in hindsight, I disagree. I believe he was destined to write the former, and its follow-up, A.D. 33. The quality of his writing has matured immeasurably. His prose blew me away anyway, despite having come to expect it. And it's not just the writing, either. For me, it's the way he depicted the Arabian sands and the numerous tribes and political intrigue. In those sixteen pages, I beheld very impressive character development, far surpassing anything I’ve read in very long time. It was all just...mesmerizing. Breathtaking. Highly addictive. I need it.

A sweeping epic set in the harsh deserts of Arabia and ancient Palestine.

A war that rages between kingdoms on the earth and in the heart.

The harrowing journey of the woman at the center of it all.

Step back in time to the year of our Lord...A.D. 30.

The outcast daughter of one of the most powerful Bedouin sheikhs in Arabia, Maviah is called on to protect the very people who rejected her. When their enemies launch a sudden attack with devastating consequences, Maviah escapes with the help of two of her father's warriors--Saba who speaks more with his sword than his voice and Judah, a Jew who comes from a tribe that can read the stars. Their journey will be fraught with terrible danger. If they can survive the vast forbidding sands of a desert that is deadly to most, they will reach a brutal world subjugated by kings and emperors. There Maviah must secure an unlikely alliance with King Herod of the Jews.
But Maviah's path leads her unexpectedly to another man. An enigmatic teacher who speaks of a way in this life which offers greater power than any kingdom. His name is Yeshua, and his words turn everything known on its head. Though following him may present even greater danger, his may be the only way for Maviah to save her people--and herself.

I really, really cannot wait to get a hold of this one, and A.D. 33

Rating: 4/5 stars