BY G. CONNOR SALTER

Christopher J. Rziha is a PhD student at the University of Notre Dame studying the literature of Spanish mystics, and has recently published his first novel. The Way of Lucherium, released through En Route Books, is a fantasy tale that combines religious imagery, poetry, and elements of allegory to tell the adventure of the bard Geoffrey in the kingdom of Trastaluche. Geoffrey has fallen on hard times following a political mission gone bad, but he finds a new path when strangers offer him access to a mystical path that offers not only spiritual enlightenment, but the possibility to change reality. As Geoffrey comes to understand The Way of Lucherium, he realizes it will require him to redirect everything he values, perhaps give up everything he holds dear, to unlock the Way’s secrets. Not only that, but it appears the people who introduced Geoffrey to the Way are connected to his last mission, and his association with them may answer what went wrong or bring up pain he wants to move away from.

Rziha was kind enough to answer a few questions about his novel and his writing process.

Interview Questions:

What inspired you to write The Way of Lucherium?

Several things; some general, some more specific. To start with the general, as a graduate student of Spanish literature, I have been given the tools to write at a professional level, and I’m literally paid to read timeless literary works. Combined with my studies in theology and philosophy, this has given me a set of gifts that are well suited towards writing in many forms. In fact, one might say that a decent chunk of my secondary vocation (secondary to my calling as a Catholic husband and father) is to write. More specifically, however, my inspiration for writing The Way of Lucherium came from a conversation I once had with a professor, who told me that tragedy is the most enduring form of literature because it touches the deepest part of the human experience: loss. While brokenness and loss due to our sinful humanity is no doubt an integral part of every person’s experiences, the doctrine of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection teaches us that there is a deeper reality upon which the human experience is founded: that of life, love, and unity. This is not to diminish the stark reality of sin and loss in any way—remember, Christ does not pull back from suffering, but rather immerses himself in it, and through his death, saves us- rather, it seeks to properly “order” the experiences of suffering and loss within a wider cosmovision, one which recognizes that Christ died and rose for us, that he became man so that we might ultimately participate in the loving communion of the Trinity.

Did you write the book primarily when you were a graduate student studying for your master’s at Baylor, or during your PhD studies?

I wrote The Way of Lucherium while I was completing my MA at Baylor, and then spent a few years fine-tuning the manuscript and seeking a publisher.

Going off the summary, the mystical Way that Geoffrey studies appears to be based on Catholic teaching, but not in a one-to-one way (i.e., this isn’t like the secret message that a character called Christian discovers in John Bunyan’s novel The Pilgrim’s Progress). Would you describe the book as an allegory, or more complex than that?

I don’t think it is incorrect to describe The Way of Lucherium as an allegory for how grace acts in one’s life; however, if I had to describe the work, I would use the term “dramatization.” This characterization comes from my own work examining Spanish religious theater, where themes such as the love of God for humanity and the Eucharist were dramatized through plays and poetry. While dramatization utilizes allegory heavily, it inherently adds a personal touch at the same time; drama relies on characters and their struggles, so any allegory is automatically “incarnated” in a very relatable manner. The Way of Lucherium is a dramatization of the question: what if the realities of grace and sin, of deification and demonization, were made visible in our own bodies, souls, and relationships?

You have mentioned in an interview with Locus that your graduate student reading helped you to discover your own writing voice. What are some particular books that helped you? Any writers that you realized fit closely to your writer’s voice?

So, I have an obvious answer and a surprising one, here. On the obvious side, reading Tolkien and Lewis (not for grad school, just in general) greatly influenced my literary sensibilities, and therefore my writing. In addition, my study of the Spanish mystics, including St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila, heavily impacted this book, as did my translation work on Spanish Eucharistic dramas. However, the book that served as the tipping point was, ironically, a literary study on the novels of the Cuban mystery novelist Leonardo Padura that I was writing a review for. I’m not sure why this is the case, as this book bears no resemblance to my writing thematically or stylistically, but for whatever reason it motivated me to begin my novel. 

Since you’ve studied Spanish religious literature and history for your master’s at Baylor and your current PhD at Notre Dame, I’m curious: did you work any references to Spanish history into your story?

Directly, not really, but indirectly, yes. In a sense, The Way of Lucherium mirrors the mystical way described by figures such as Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross; in addition, Teresa explicitly inspired one of the novel’s main characters (think of the name and you’ll figure out who). Likewise, the work’s whole premise—an exploration of the relationship between grace and nature, between darkness and light—is extremely “baroque,” which makes sense, given that the Baroque era is my area of study.

I believe you’ve described C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien as two of your major inspirations in several interviews. Accurately or not, there’s a tendency to read Lewis as talking about his faith in obvious ways (Aslan’s crucifixion-like death in the first Narnia book) and Tolkien as talking about his faith more subtly (an “implicitly Catholic” tone). Do you find your writing fits one of those approaches more than the other?

Funnily enough, I think that my writing is a much closer match to Lewis’ style than Tolkien’s. However, other readers have compared The Way of Lucherium to Tolkien much more often. I think that the main themes in the book are presented much more directly than Tolkien himself would have preferred; however, the many layers of symbolism woven into each character, their names, and their actions, as well as the lore on Lucherium developed throughout the book, is much more Tolkien-esque.

Aside from Tolkien, did you explore any Catholic speculative fiction authors while you were writing? Gene Wolfe, R.A. Lafferty, anyone like that?

I did not explore Gene Wolfe, but if one can call Miguel de Cervantes a Catholic speculative fiction author (which could definitely be argued for), then I suppose my answer to your general question is ‘yes.’ Overall, as noted above, I drew my inspiration from Catholic writers such as Graham Greene, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Teresa of Avila, Lope de Vega, and Jose de Valdivielso. I can add a few additional names: Flannery O’Connor, Arturo Perez-Reverte, Luis de Leon, Marcela de San Felix, Ruben Dario (I know his “catholicity” is disputed, but check out his work on Pope Leo XIII), and John Henry Newman.

You’ve been quoted in the Leaven as saying St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s “Little Way” influenced the book, and En Route compared it to St. Augustine’s teaching. Can you offer any details on how these Catholic thinkers influenced your themes?

Of course! As mentioned in a previous answer, The Way of Lucherium explores the role of grace in one’s daily life. In other words, it ponders how ordinary actions can take on extraordinary significance when God’s eternal plan is considered. St. Thérèse understood this truth and lived it deeply, which is why her “Little Way” revolves around doing “small things with great love.” The Way of Lucherium is a sort of dramatization of this worldview. The protagonist is a weak character at the start of the book, and he is incapable of performing great actions. As a result, he must learn to cooperate with Lucherium—that is, to cooperate with grace—in the tasks of everyday life, and it is only once he realizes that any action can be a light-filled one that he becomes able to do “great things with great love” as well. As far as Augustine goes, I would say that both Geoffrey (the protagonist) and Vincente (another main character) are both heavily influenced by Augustine in that both fall from lives of worldly ambition and experience the grace of conversion while they are in especially dark places. Augustine is astounding in his loving pursuit of truth—that is, his whole-hearted search for fulfillment—and I think that Geoffrey is in many ways the same.

Your book has also been compared (at least in promotional material) to Andrew Peterson’s Wingfeather saga. Are you familiar with Peterson’s work?

I am, although not as familiar as I would like to be. The Wingfeather saga really picked up in popularity after I was a little older, so while I have read part of it, I wouldn’t call it one of the formational books of my childhood. However, I am consistently struck by Peterson’s mixing of the mystical and the mundane (or the daily and the divine) in the saga, and I think that, like The Way of Lucherium, it also has quite a bit in common with Thérèse of Lisieux’s “Little Way.”

Since you have mentioned Tolkien and also your inspiration from translating Eucharist dramas from Baroque Spain, I am curious: have you explored any of Tolkien’s translation work?

Only indirectly; that is, from his own letters, from excerpts of certain works, and from scholarly articles, but I hope to do more in the future! At the moment I am inundated with Spanish literature and have not been able to delve into English literature as much as I would like, but a deeper dive into Tolkien’s scholarly and translation work has been on my list for a while now. At the moment, my own “theory” of translation is very much informed by Fray Luis de Leon’s commentary on said topic.

Do you envision this book as being the start of a series, perhaps a standalone book that could become a series?

I wrote it to stand alone if need be, but God willing, I hope it becomes the start of a series. In fact, just this week I began to seriously think about the direction I would want to take in a possible sequel.

I know that graduate translations don’t always translate to published work, but I’m curious: will any of your translations of eucharist dramas be available for the public to read anytime soon?

God-willing they will! They are currently under peer review at an academic press, and if the editor decides they are worth publishing, they will hopefully appear sometime next year. In the meantime, I’m happy to send a copy of the translations to anyone who would like them (just shoot me an email at crziha98[a]gmail.com), and performance permission is available for purchase on my website: Christopher J. Rziha- Novelist, Translator, and Catholic Scholar.

Any upcoming projects you can share?

First, the Eucharistic drama translations, which will likely be “officially” available soon. I also hope to follow those up with a book of translations on the Eucharistic sermons of St. John of Avila, and of course I’m working on my dissertation, which will analyze Eucharistic reception and Baroque Spanish mysticism. Otherwise, you can find my latest projects on my website!

The Way of Lucherium is available through En Route Books and other book retailers.