The novel Brother Brigham gets an updated release

"Brother Brigham," a novel by D. Michael Martindale, was first published in 2007. The Zarahemla Press release told the story of C.H. Young, his wife Dani, and two small boys; a faithful Mormon family with parents who despite loving each other, are living an impoverished life that both exhausts them and leaves them feeling spiritually guilty that they can't devote enough time to ward activities, church attendance, temple session visitations. 

C.H. is related to the famous LDS prophet Brigham Young, "Brother Brigham," and harbors a belief that he'll one day have a calling of great importance. One day C.H. is amazed to have the spirit of Brigham Young appear to him and tell him he'll soon be the LDS prophet. This leads to a series of increasingly unsettling events that captures readers' interests and imagination.

Latter-day Saint young families, with one earner, can identify with the protagonists as they are introduced in the tale. A still-young marriage, even younger children, an exhausted wife, a husband frustrated with a low salary and deferred personal dreams that he suspects may never be realized. 

Last November, Martindale published an updated version of the novel. The plot has not changed but he's brought it into the Internet, smart phone, Blu-Ray, digital world we have in 2019. An example is where the Youngs, provided some money courtesy of Brother Brigham, switch from an old VHS to a Blu-Ray player and finally shed themselves of the once ubiquitous Disney VHS cassettes. (Many a reader, myself included, with small kids almost a generation ago, remembers those Disney VHS tapes). It underscores the very limited means of the family that they passed the DVD era without money to upgrade from VHS.

Readers can order the updated "Brother Brigham" (and other fiction) at Wordsmithstories.com (here) and purchase the updated paperback also via amazon here. It can also be purchased here via Kindle.

The following interview with the author contains spoilers.

Below is 2010 review of "Brother Brigham" that I wrote for the Standard-Examiner newspaper in 2010. Afterwards there is an interview this month with Martindale. I also share a cartoon from the great Cal Grondahl, published in 2010.

-- Doug Gibson
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HEADLINE: Brother Brigham forces the LDS reader to ponder some uncomfortable thoughts

One of the quirkiest, and enjoyable edgy Mormon fiction out there remains “Brother Brigham,” (2007, Zarahemla Books) It’s a pity that probably only a few hundred people have read the novel. Utah Author D. Michael Martindale’s bizarre, at times sexy tale prompts the attentive LDS reader to really wonder if they’re faith is as strong as they might like to think it is.

“Brother Brigham,” set in Salt Lake County, involves Cory Horace “C.H.” Young, descendant of Brigham Young, married in the temple to Danielle. A BYU “marriage” dropout with dreams of being a violinist, he works in a bookstore and lives in a tiny duplex with his wife and two sons, Petey and Glenn. At the bookstore there’s a cute bohemian girl named Sheila who dabbles in satanism.

One day, out of the blue, “Brigham Young” appears to C.H. and tells him that the LDS Church has slipped into apostasy and that he, C.H., has been called of God to restore the Gospel. “Brigham” informs C.H. that polygamy must also be restored. “Brigham” leads C.H. to hidden away money in the desert west of Salt Lake City.

The angel, using the same type of language as the Prophet Joseph Smith records in Mormon accounts, pushes C.H. to get things rolling. C.H. reluctantly agrees. He manages to convince his skeptical wife, and then follows the angel’s commandment to marry Satan-dabbler Sheila, who perhaps not surprisingly given her personality, accepts C.H.’s offer. Things start to spiral more out of control when “Brigham” commands C.H. to take an underage ward teen, Cyndy, as a second plural wife.

“Brother Brigham” is a lighter novel than may appear from the brief partial synopsis. C.H. is very reluctant to take on what he’s been commanded to do despite promises from “Brigham” that he will be successful. There’s a lot of sex in Martindale’s prose. This will never be a novel found on the virgin shelves of Deseret Book. One funny, sexy sequence involves C.H. and Sheila’s wedding night where, at least for the groom, “plural love” turns into solo lust.

I won’t give away the ending of "Brother Brigham," although a turn in the plot and the climax are quite clever. Mormon lore abounds in “Brother Brigham.” A promise in C.H.’s patriarchal blessing seems to hint at what will occur to him. When “Brigham” appears to C.H., he follows Mormon lore by asking the angel to shake hands with him. The plot also includes references to the Book of Mormon and wrestling with demons and raging theological debates Parley P. Pratt-style.

“Brother Brigham” is not a book critical of the LDS faith, but its very plot forces the honest Mormon reader to confront two uncomfortable thoughts. How many of us, if we had lived in the time of Joseph Smith, would have believed a 14-year-old boy had been visted by Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ? And, a question perhaps even more difficult to answer, is: Had we been members of the early LDS Church, how many of us would have agreed to ditch our matrimonial covenants and pursue wives half our age? Would we have thought that was of God, or a product of lust?

These are not questions that today’s Mormons ponder often. In fact, most of us have become quite comfortable scorning fundamentalist polygamist Mormons for their “sinful” lifestyles.

“Brother Brigham,” besides being a great read, reminds us that we’re pretty lucky to be Mormons in 2010, where C.H’s experiences remain something that we’re not likely to have to deal with.

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Interview with D. Michael Martindale (February, 2019)

Do CH and Dani represent a certain type of Latter-day Saint who is too busy with real life to embrace a very active role in the church but retain a strong traditional role, in which a forbidding, commanding, intimidating Brigham Young would seem to be from God? How does the historical culture of the church encourage that interpretation?

MARTINDALE: I'll say right off that what all aspects of Brother Brigham represent is my effort to tell a compelling story. At the time (early 2000's), I looked around and couldn't find any quality LDS novels, so I decided to write what I wanted to read.

I can't say I was ever consciously aware of any thematic motivation  other than trying to write as authentic and engrossing a story as I could. In fact, it's against my literary principles to do so. They too easily become message stories. My main goal is to write as honestly as I can--honest to the plot, honest to the characters. I put my own biases in neutral as much as any human can and let the characters be who they are, no matter how much I may agree or disagree with them.

This means I'm actually in the same position as any student of literature. I have no idea what was in my (subconscious) mind when I wrote this, so I have to analyze it and come to conclusions like everyone else.

Having said all that, I can tell you what C.H. and Dani as a couple represent to me. First and foremost, they represent the kind of relationship I wish I could have had in marriage. Second, their faithfulness but mediocre commitment was purely a literary device, because I was walking a treacherous tightrope trying to make their deception believable. When you think about it, the whole story is preposterous in spite of the fact that theoretically, according to Mormon theology, it could happen. Would someone who was visited by a devil really take that long to figure it out?

That's why I put them in circumstances that challenged their commitment and spiritual state. That's why I set things up with this vision of a special mission for C.H. that would feed his pride and be his downfall. That's why C.H. interprets the negative spiritual feelings emanating from the evil spirit as guilt and unworthiness--a very Mormon thing to do! I wrestled with trying to hit the perfect balance to make it believable, and was never sure I was succeeding as I wrote.

So C.H. and Dani represent the kind of LDS member who would believably be deceived by the demon so it could drive the plot.

The church's culture feeds into that in a few ways, the concept of continuing revelation, including personal revelation, the literal visitations from angels in its history, the lingering nostalgia for the days of polygamy that seems to persist, coupled with a "what if" question that can only be asked within the context of Mormondom, thereby generating a thoroughly Mormon story: What if an angel visited a contemporary Mormon husband like with Joseph Smith and commanded him to practice polygamy?

That question hints that I wasn't thinking of it being a devil when I first conceived the idea. That came out of story development.

I love the passage where a flustered Dani at the library is helped by a woman who scares her due to her appearance? Is this a deliberate effort to underscore how often we discriminate against people due to their appearance? 

MARTINDALE: It was a DELIBERATE effort to make a bland scene dramatic. SUBCONSCIOUSLY I'm sure there was some element of that involved, once I conceived of how the scene would play out. I certainly looked back on it when finished pleased with myself for having organically placed a moving moral lesson in there, a lesson I felt applied to myself as much as any other Mormon.

I noticed the use of Blu Rays and smart phones to take the story ahead in time. I liked the idea of the Youngs being so poor they relied on old VHS tapes and a VHS player. Those Disney VHSs are memorable to anyone raising kids a generation ago? What other touches were used to move the story ahead in time?

MARTINDALE: I had them purchase a hybrid vehicle instead of the original "just a van." I can't really think of any other updated technology other than the player and the phones, the existence of which demanded acknowledgment to avoid making the story sound dated. Deep down the book's still a product of its time, early 2000s, with cosmetic changes to disguise that. I don't even know if the Satanic Bible is still in print, or if its cover had been updated since I described it, and the bookstore in Valley Fair Mall is one where I worked at which no longer exists (B. Dalton).

Talk about how the appearances of Brother Brigham prompted the Youngs to bring to reality feelings of lust, envy, materialism, regret, pride, self-grandeur, that were always under the surface. “Legion” understands that and boasts of how successful he was with Korihor, but is as successful with them. Does this underscore that perhaps we don’t understand and interpret theology and Scripture as closely as we should?

MARTINDALE: Oh, no question we're sloppy and lazy with our understanding of theology and scripture. Instead of conducting our own search for truth, we rely on what we're spoonfed in a church environment. We go to great effort to contort the reality we observe to match the approved worldview. (Channeling my previous Mormon self.)

But I didn't explore those things to serve an agenda. I used those things to try to make the story believable to Mormon readers. Always on my mind was the question, "How COULD they be so deceived?" And it felt like a real juggling act putting the pieces together.

Have any of your interpretations of the major characters changed, even a little, over the 12 plus years you have dealt with them?

MARTINDALE: I don't think so, because I write in a manner comparable to "the method" in acting. I become the characters, then write what I would do. When I go back to reading the book years later, I can readily reassume that state of mind and be back where I was when I wrote it. As I read it through again to rewrite and typeset it, it moved me in the same way it did in those earlier years. 

I very much separate my personal mindset, thoughts, and feelings when I write, and focus completely on who these characters are and what they think, say, and do, and remain as honest and fair to them as I can. I live in their paradigms when I write them. Therefore they still represent who they were when I wrote them, because they're honestly evoked characters.

If anything, I long even more to have a relationship like C.H. and Dani have.

Your novel can be erotically charged. CH’s first encounter with Sheila in her home is a strong example. Why do you think this turns away LDS adult readers, even when these types of scenes are essential to the story? No one seems to object that Coriantumr succumbs to temptation in The Book of Mormon, but later repents, as CH does?

MARTINDALE: Because brainwashing. Bean-counting morality. Nobody cares what the message is, the themes, the honesty of the story. They just want to count how many cuss words, how many sex scenes--but curiously not how much violence--and pass their judgment accordingly, ignoring the fact that many horrific things happen in the scriptures they say uplift and inspire them when they read them.

I would imagine that disconnect comes from how scripture is more surreal than real, ancient writing styles and archaic language, canonized into holy artifacts rather than seen as compelling profound stories, whereas good novelists put great effort into making it feel real like the reader is experiencing it. Plus a dash of the apologetic urge to whitewash everything associated with one's religion because they think potential converts would be turned off by imperfection. In reality, the opposite is true--imperfections are what moves and endears people to stories, as long as the reader doesn't have an agenda invested in them--message stories. Nobody likes obnoxious perfection. Nobody believes obnoxious perfection.

Is there anything else you would like to add for readers?

MARTINDALE: I was a believing, practicing Mormon when I wrote Brother Brigham. Although I knew its edginess would challenge Mormon culture, not for one minute did I entertain the idea that I was writing something evil or apostate or inappropriate within LDS standards. To this day I wonder how speaking the truth can be considered a vice, not a virtue. The notion that the book is anti-Mormon is an insulting joke.

My feelings are captured in my favorite tagline for the book: "Brother Brigham is completely faithful to the gospel--but not all its characters are."

Mormon one-size-for-all Sacramental goblet was a casualty of the progressive era

I was talking to an elderly woman in my LDS ward and I asked her if her father had mentioned partaking of the Sacrament in a large ward goblet, or chalice, or cup, where everyone, children to ancients, passed the cup around taking a sip. She replied that she’d heard tales of it as a child from her grandmother, who told her she didn’t enjoy taking sips from the cup after those old high priests, with their long beards, had taken hairy sips!

I’d wager most Latter-day Saints who take the Sacrament weekly and sip from tiny paper cups aren’t aware that for about 90 years, members sipping from a large ward Sacrament goblet was the norm in LDS chapels. Frankly, it was the norm in most protestant and Catholic congregations as well. In the fall 2012 “Journal of Mormon History,” Justin R. Bray, an archivist at the LDS Church History Department in Salt Lake City, has a fascinating article. “The Lord’s Supper During the Progressive Era, 1890-1930.” Bray explains that the gradual demise of the single-goblet Sacrament ritual in Mormon chapels was one of many sanitary reforms initiated during the “Progressive Era” in America.

As Bray relates, even before some church members began questioning the use of a large ward goblet, sanitary reformers were already at work initiating reform measures in the cities. One of the first disease-breeding “conveniences” to go were drinking mugs, usually chained next to water fountains in cities. Salt Lake City stopped using public drinking mugs in 1910, for example. The mugs were a health hazard. They allowed people ill with disease to pass on bugs to unlimited numbers of persons. Bray relates one case where an entire student body and faculty of a school was taken ill due to one sick student who drank from a public mug.

As Bray writes, “The Progressive Movement … was an attempt to cure the ills of American society left over from massive industrial growth in the late 1800s.” Reducing disease caused by factory conditions and unsanitary housing was part of the crusade. Many Mormons, including LDS Church President Heber J. Grant, considered themselves progressives. As early as 1900, Bray relates, Seldon Clawsen, a member of the 18th Ward in Salt Lake City, was lobbying LDS leader George Q. Cannon, to do away with the large sacramental cups. Cannon’s death postponed his efforts for about a decade, but by 1910, as Utah was reforming its public drinking locations, efforts were renewed, led by Clawsen, to replace the cups with individual tiny cups and trays.

Initially, there was strong opposition to the idea of replacing the large communal cup, with traditionalists arguing that the Lord would not allow illness to result from his Sacrament. Eventually, an 18th Ward committee recommended ending the large communal cup practice to the bishop and the stake president of the Ensign Stake, where the 18th Ward was located. The stake president cautiously referred the matter to church leadership.

Then-LDS President Joseph F. Smith handled the matter more like a politician than a spiritual leader. As Bray’s article relates, he was”impressed” with the tiny cups but felt that most members would oppose a change. Also, Smith was worried he would be blamed if the tiny cups idea failed.

Eventually, though, as Bray relates, quoting Clawsen’s notes, “President Smith … looked at the floor for a minute or two, then he looked at us and smiled and said, ‘I have it. I’ll turn the matter over to the Council of the Twelve. Then they can take the blame for the failure.’”

Eventually, the Quorum of the Twelve allowed the 18th Ward to use the tiny cups, so long as the ward handled the costs. After a little while, every ward in the Ensign Stake was using tiny cups instead of a large cup.

It wasn’t long before the First Presidency of the LDS Church began recommending, but not mandating, that members use the tiny cups. In an interesting bit of marketing, the LDS Church leaders recommended that wards buy metal sacrament cups and trays patented by a church member, Jacob Schaub, who sold his cups and trays through the Sunday School Union Bookstore. Despite the endorsement, Bray relates that Schaub’s Sacrament set was never very popular with wards, which were not afraid to buy sacramental sets not affiliated with the LDS Church. The article includes old ads from Schaub, and another competitor, Daynes Jewelry Company, that were advertised in LDS church periodicals. Ironically, Brays relates that one objection to the Schaub tray and cups was that they failed to meet sanitation standards. Nevertheless, Schaub prominently placed in his ads that his Sacrament set was “Recommended by the First Presidency.”

For six years, the use of the trays and tiny cups were largely restricted to the Salt Lake City area. LDS President Joseph F. Smith did little to promote a change, church-wide, from the traditional large cups. As Bray relates, what hastened the end of of large, communal Sacrament cups in LDS wards for good was the Spanish Influenza epidemic after World War I. Returning U.S. soldiers brought it to America, where 675,000 Americans died; 21 million across the world. In October 1918, Utah banned all public gatherings, and many residents wore protective masks over mouths. Bray writes, “Whole cities were quarantined. Some cities, like Ogden, allowed people to enter only with a doctor’s certification of good health.”

Ironically, the Spanish flu epidemic claimed the life of LDS President Joseph F. Smith, who died of pneumonia “caused by the influenza virus.” Because of the epidemic, the next LDS president and prophet, Heber J. Grant, was not sustained until June 1919, in a delayed LDS General Conference.

As mentioned, Grant was “progressive by temperament, diligently campaigning for ‘better city ordinances and state laws on the question of proper sanitary conditions,’” writes Bray. During the same conference that sustained him as church president, Grant said that 1,000-plus LDS church members had died from the Spanish flu epidemic in nine months. It wasn’t long before ads for trays and tiny cups became ubiquitous in LDS Church publications, thereby helping sales of trays and cups outside of the Salt Lake valley. In 1923, as Bray relates, a 13-step guide for LDS wards on handling the Sacrament was published in the LDS periodical “The Improvement Era.” As Bray relates, “these instructions stressed that the sacramental water must be distributed in ‘individual glasses’ and ‘carried in trays.’”

No mention was included of a common sacramental cup. After nearly 100 years, the practice of a large common Sacrament cup, passed around to babies, ancients, tobacco users and delicate lips, had ended.

Afternote: For those interested, here’s a 1911 article from The Improvement Era on the LDS Sacrament. Also, the Daynes ad below is from this blog site.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published in StandardBlogs

Comparing vampires: a Mormon author versus a Mormon novel

“… just because we’ve been … dealt a certain hand … it doesn’t mean that we can’t choose to rise above — to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try and retain whatever essential humanity we can.” 
– Vampire Edward Cullen in Stephenie Meyer’s “Twilight.”

Twilight presents an interesting literary dilemma. What category do we place Stephenie Meyer’s successful novels of love between vampire Edward and klutzy, attractive mortal, Bella Swan, who spends most of the four-novel series pining to become undead?

For those unfamiliar with the series — “Twilight,” “New Moon,” “Eclipse” and “Breaking Dawn” — it involves high-schooler Bella Swan, who moves to rainy, overcast Forks, Wash., to live with her dad, Charlie, the local police chief. She becomes drawn to the hyper-beautiful Cullen clan, led by youngish doctor Carlisle. Bella develops a bond with Carlisle’s “son,” Edward, who is hesitant to act on but unable to resist their clear romantic attraction. Bella learns the clan — Edward, Carlisle, wife Emse, and couples Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale, and Alice Cullen and Jasper Hale — are vampires. The clan has — through self-control — shed most bloodthirsty tendencies and are “vegetarians,” meaning they consume animal blood.

Most of the series — in a nutshell — involves Edward, the Cullens and other allies saving “damsel in distress” Bella from various vampire threats, including a sinister, “Deatheaterlike, for you Harry Potter fans,” clan of elite, watchdog vampires called The Volturi. Later in the series, Jacob, a younger friend of Bella’s, is revealed as part of a clan of wolf-like shape-shifters. Bitter enemies, the shape-shifters and vampires reach an uneasy truce with a shared goal of protecting Bella.

In Breaking Dawn, the final and best novel of the series, Bella becomes a vampire and unites with the Cullens, the shape-shifters, and other vampires to repel an attack from the Volturi, who want to destroy Bella and her family for a reason disclosed later in this essay.

A HOT PARANORMAL ROMANCE

So, back to the question: What genre is Meyer’s Twilight series? It’s a paranormal romance for teens and those ubiquitious Twilight moms who seek a mostly chaste romantic thrill in middle age. Meyer, a devout Mormon who tags the Book of Mormon as a favorite, is a splendid writer who can craft a page-turner, but take away the horror elements and Edward is basically a good-hearted Fabio with fangs. Bella is the wench on the paperback cover in the supermarket without the heaving bosoms. Despite its PG-rated writing, Twilight is a hot tale between the lines, with lust and passion to the extreme. It’s amazing how chaste Meyer makes it all seem. She protectively guides avid 11-year-olds, such as my own daughter, demurely through a bout of very rough sex between newlyweds Edward and Bella in Breaking Dawn. (The film adaptation of Twilight loses some of the characters’ nuances but retains the feminine fantasy that drives the series’ success.)

A consistency in the paranormal romance genre — teenage zombie love stories are another current, hot genre — is a make-it-up-as-you-go-along attitude to the horror elements. Twilight can’t honestly be called a horror tale — there’s no consistency to traditional vampire lore. The biggest plot hole? There is no human check on a Meyer-created vampire’s thirst or savagery. No cross can stop Meyer’s vampires. They glitter — rather than wither — in the sunlight. No human-propelled stake can pierce a vampire’s heart. Reading while the evil Volturi vampires casually snack on unwary tourists, a reader must wonder, why don’t these Twilight vampires take over the earth and keep the humans as livestock? There’s nothing to stop this sinister option — one that Dracula, Lestat, or Carmilla never had.

A CHRISTIAN MORALITY TALE

But then there’s a paradox: Twilight is also a morality tale. Although Meyer favors no religion in her books, analogies to Christian teachings — many favored in Latter-day Saint lore — are everywhere. (In fact, there is a LDS modern-day vampire tale, Eugene Woodbury’s “Angel Falling Softly,” published by Zarahemla. The two novels have similar themes, and will be compared later in this essay.)

The vegetarian vampires, the Cullens, have chosen to be in the vampire world but not of the vampire world. The term “in the world but not of the world” is familiar to most active Mormons. We’ve heard it since we were Sunbeams. The Cullens acknowledge their savage vampire world but make a conscious decision to avoid what they regard as a sin, attacking and eating humans. Animals, however, are on the earth to feed them. Free agency is exercised. And it’s a difficult choice. The smell of human blood creates a desire in Meyer’s vampires akin to torture if not satiated. But the Cullens spurn it. Family patriarch Carlisle regards it as less a choice than a matter of self-control. In fact, the gentle Carlisle has become a doctor, deliberately exposing himself to human blood to heal humans.

The Cullens, despite differences of opinion over whether they can be saved, clearly have moral values. They have love for humans. Wrong behavior exists. To some, God looks over all creatures, even “monsters.”

ATONEMENT AND ETERNAL LIFE

In Breaking Dawn, Bella’s transformation must be considered an analogy to the Atonement. She endures agony so horrific that it almost — but not quite — reaches parody. The suffering is required to bear her and Edward’s half-human, half-vampire daughter, Renesmee. The child is only the second recorded offspring of a male vampire, female human mating. To deliver Renesmee, Bella must die and suffer immense torments. But then she awakes, with a perfect, immortal body.

Bella’s body transformation after she becomes a vampire is akin to how many Latter-day Saints regard exaltation. Here’s how Bella describes her change on pages 482-483 in Breaking Dawn:

“I was never going to get tired, and neither was he. We didn’t have to catch our breath or rest or eat or even use the bathroom; we had no more mundane human needs. He had the most beautiful, perfect body in the world and I had him all to myself, and it didn’t feel like I was ever going to find a point where I would think, ‘Now I’ve had enough for one day.’ I was always going to want more. And the day was never going to end. So, in such a situation, how did we ever stop?

“It didn’t bother me at all that I had no answer.”

Admit it, Meyer just defined “eternal life” more clearly than the average ward Gospel doctrine class can.

ANGEL FALLING SOFTLY V. TWILIGHT

As mentioned, there is a Latter-day Saint vampire novel, Woodbury’s “Angel Falling Softly.” It’s a sexier tale, with vampiress Milada Daranyi prowling both the wards of Sandy and the night life of Salt Lake City. The pale, uber-sexy teen-like Milada is a corporate big-shot prepping to buy a Utah medical research firm. Milada rents a Sandy home with a cool, shaded basement. Naturally, the ward members arrive.

Enter bishop’s wife Rachel Forsythe. Milada, who toys with most of the ward members, is drawn to a close, even passionate relationship with Rachel. Rachel’s young daughter, Jennifer, is dying. As Rachel begins to understand what Milada is, she concocts a desperate, dark plan to keep her daughter alive. At no time does she seriously entertain or consult priesthood authority. Instead, she trusts her mortal instincts.

Angel Falling Softly has caused some controversy. Fantasy author and conservative LDS columnist Orson Scott Card has scorned the novel. Some LDS bloggers share Card’s disdain. What fuels the criticism is probably the R-rated sex scenes, including lesbianism, and a resolution that tests the Gospel-comfort homily that “families are forever.”

But that test is a strength of Woodbury’s tale. As LDS blogger Moriah Jovan writes in her online review, “It’s a character study of the things we, as Latter-day Saints, might do when pushed into a corner with no apparent way out. It also asks if we have faith in what we say we believe.”

Twilight and Angel Falling Softly are distinct tales. Angel Falling Softly is clearly for adults, Twilight for youngsters, teens and moms. Angel Falling Softly is a regional novel, read by at best thousands. Twilight is an epic, read by millions. Angel Falling Softly is overtly religious, with clear LDS doctrines. Twilight’s religious lessons are allegorical.

In Angel Falling Softly, Rakosi, Milada’s late creator, created vampires to satisfy his thirst, greed and loneliness. Twilight’s patriarch Carlisle creates vampires to save a dying individual. Angel Falling Softly probes human society, with Milada’s curiosity directed at her human, LDS neighbors. Although Angel Falling Softly is written by a male, it’s most interested in females. Other vampires are limited in character, and in the background. In contrast, Twilight’s Bella is interested in her vampire friends, and later shape-shifters. Twilight’s female writer is mostly interested in male “monsters.” And the humans in Twilight, including Bella’s parents, stay in the background for most of the series.

Finally, the sun’s impact on a vampire differs in both novels. In Twilight, the vampires glitter and dazzle in the sun. In Angel Falling Softly, their skins burns, sheds and eventually regenerates.

PARALLELS BETWEEN THE NOVELS

One parallel to the novels is the decency of the main vampires. The Cullens have clear moral values that extend to humans. Early in Angel Falling Softly, Milada risks her vampire cover to save a young boy’s life. Also, Milada’s sister Kamilla — like Carlisle — is a doctor. Although Kamilla has a small role in Woodbury’s novel, both she and Twilight’s Carlisle contrast Edward and Milada, who at points in both novels are convinced they are without souls and beyond redemption. Nevertheless, both Edward and Milada establish close, intimate relationships with humans who believe otherwise. And both Edward and Milada choose to preserve human life — a clear contrast to the roles occupied by past literary vampires.

Accumulated wealth through a clan’s shared sacrifice is also a theme in Angel Falling Softly and Twilight. Milada’s clan, that includes her sister and others, have through time accumulated massive wealth. So have the Cullens. Their virtue is rewarded materially. This is important when contrasted to the novels’ nomadic vampires.

In Angel Falling Softly, Rakosi, Kamilla and  Milada’s uncouth creator, is long dead, having willingly expired in poverty. The nomads in Twilight are poor, thirsty wanderers, picking off unwary humans savagely.

REDEMPTION QUESTION

Questions of redemption dominate the climax of both tales. In Angel Falling Softly, young Jennifer is clearly a vampire. Rachel’s choice will lead, it seems, to her losing her daughter. Milada’s decision to help her is as much for having another eternal companion as it is for pity. She’s lonely.  In fact, in a perceptive passage, Milada sensibly asks Rachel why she worries about Jennifer’s death if she knows they will be together after death. In Twilight, Renesmee’s birth in Breaking Dawn underscores what many characters wonder: If a monster can create life, isn’t there a creator for the monsters?

Both Angel Falling Softly and the Twilight series do not have secure happy endings. A sequel to Angel Falling Softly would be intriguing. One wonders how Rachel Forsythe’s choice plays out.

And in Twilight, the Cullens, shape-shifters and their allies survive a tense showdown with the evil Volturi elites, but there’s no guarantee of eternal safety. The Volturi represent tradition — and control. They try to destroy the Cullens because they fear Renesmee’s new life in their world. They see paranormal children as new minds they cannot control, and therefore must destroy.

In these new vampire tales of romance, love, despair, hope, eternal life and exaltation, life has been preserved, but evil, and uncertainty, still exist.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published in 2009 at StandardBlogs

Cache County’s Thatcher was an apostle who was dropped from the quorum

Nineteenth century Mormon apostle Moses Thatcher (above) is buried in the Logan City Cemetery. His death in 1909 at age 67 was national news. The prominent businessman, polygamist and politician never lost his fame, but he was famously smacked in a very public battle he waged with the LDS Church’s hierarchy in the mid 1890s.

In the Spring 1998 issue of Journal of Mormon History, Cache County LDS historian Kenneth W. Godfrey has a fascinating 35-page account of Thatcher’s battle with the LDS Church and his expulsion from the Quorum of the 12 Apostles. Intermixed in the drama is the war of words that was waged between the two competing newspapers in Utah; the anti-Mormon Salt Lake Tribune, which championed Thatcher, and the church’s Deseret News, which criticized him.

However, Moses Thatcher was no apostate, even if he did come within a hair of being excommunicated from the LDS Church for failure to sustain a “Political Manifesto” from church leaders. The manifesto required church leaders to seek ecclesiastical OK prior to accepting an outside calling or seeking political office. Thatcher was a Democrat, which put him in conflict with many church leaders.

For a very long time, Thatcher, in a very public manner, refused to sustain the manifesto. His argument was that he feared average church leaders would be prohibited from political activism, which he considered, correctly if interpreted it as such, as church dictating to state.

Thatcher wasn’t alone in his initial concerns. For a while fellow church leader B. H. Roberts supported him. Eventually, however, Thatcher became the solo nay vote on this among church leaders, and gradually he became a constant subject of criticism from President Wilfred Woodruff and others. However, church leaders, mindful of Thatcher’s status as an apostle, were quite patient with him, giving him lots of time to recuperate from a chronic bowel illness, and lots of time to reconsider his position. They tried, to no avail, to convince Thatcher that the manifesto would not restrict speech.

On Thursday, Nov. 19, 1896, Thatcher missed his last opportunity to meet with the church hierarchy and explain his position. At the meeting, he was dropped from the quorum and relieved of all priesthood responsibilities. The Salt Lake Tribune featured the news with a huge headline, “Deposed.” The Deseret News editorialized, “The leaven has been working for a long, long time and for well nigh half a score years this same result might have been feared,” records Godfrey.

After being dropped, recounts Godfrey, a still defiant Thatcher almost was elected — by the Democratic-controlled Utah State Senate — to the U.S. Senate. He was a frontrunner for the Democratic nomination, but was nosed out by Democrat Joseph L. Rawlins.

What killed Thatcher’s campaign was B.H. Roberts’ publicly opposing his candidacy. It was a clear indicator to the Cache County leader that losing the church approbation had secular consequences.

In August of 1897, Thatcher faced a church court that would determine whether he would remain a member of the LDS Church. At that time, Thatcher suddenly capitulated and recanted his previous opposition and criticisms. In fact, he admitted guilt to eight specific offenses and admitted “that he has obtained light wherein he was in the dark …”

Godfrey offers various ideas for what might have changed Thatcher’s ideas. One is that after the heat of the campaign, he could “reflect deeply and broadly” about the past events. Another was that the ostracism of the past 18 months since being dropped from the quorum was a reality he had a tough time dealing with.

The reason that seems most likely is that Thatcher was no longer ill. In the years prior and time of his dispute with the LDS Church leaders, Thatcher had suffered intensely from his bowel troubles. He had been addicted to morphine and treated for the pain as well as the tension associated with such, it’s very possible Thatcher was not thinking clearly.

There’s no doubt that church leaders were relieved that a prominent fellow member was back in the fold. As Godfrey puts it, “In short, when faced with being severed completely from Mormonism, a movement for which he had sacrificed so much, Thatcher finally chose church over state.”

For the rest of his life, Thatcher, who remained wealthy, was a partisan Democrat, In 1900, at Brigham Young College, he lectured in favor of socialism, recounts Godfrey.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs