Children know, as all art knows, that what we call 'real' is what we agree to do so, and that this 'reality' depends on the stories we believe in. Art reminds us that life is stranger, more beautiful, demanding, joyous and painful than common sense knows. The holy then, is mysterious. It underlies the vision of tragedy and, indeed of any good novel which gives us a glimpse into the mysteries of the human condition. Far from being unworldly or abstract, this mystery exists in the midst of our lives as a wonderful passage in Margaret Attwood's Alias Grace makes clear.
Grace comes into the kitchen early in the morning.
God had come in because God is everywhere, you can't keep him out, he is part of everything there is. But he did not answer, he just kept on being silver, so I went out to milk the cow, because the only thing to do about God is to go on with what you were doing anyway, since you can't ever stop him or get any reasons out of him. There is a Do this or Do that with God, but not any because. In this sense both are the hope of a world so badly in need of transformation. Robert Adamson, The Clear Dark, Sydney, Paperback Press, p60-61.