Wonder what happened to Marley's Ghost? Read this novella

 

Originally published at StandardBlogs in 2011

Have you ever wondered what happened to Jacob Marley, the tormented, consigned-to-eternal-punishment spirit who successfully warned miser Ebenezer Scrooge of the fate that awaited him if he did not change his evil ways? As someone who has read Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” at least 50 times, so have I. I’m sure others have pondered Marley’s fate as well, I give kudos to Alpine author R. William Bennett for writing, “Jacob T. Marley,” (Shadow Mountain, Salt Lake City, 2011) a very religious, albeit cumbersome, attempt to expand Marley’s “A Christmas Carol” cameo into a novella. As the book blurb mentions, “…Marley” hopes to be another “Wicked”-type sequel.

But homage sequels and prequels to classic works are mostly misses with rare hits. And they’re ubiquitous. There must be 100 homage sequels to Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice,” for example, and I wouldn’t be surprised if writers, before Alpine’s Bennett, have tackled Marley’s surmised life. What kills nearly all homage sequels is that they try to imitate — respectfully — the style of the master who penned the classic. Because the authors can’t write like the masters, the results are subpar.

And that’s the chief problem with “Jacob T. Marley”; too much of the writing is dull, a feeble attempt to copy Dickens. When Bennett goes beyond the Dickens’s story, it’s a little more interesting. He delves into Marley’s upbringing and even genealogy. Marley’s parentage is more admirable than Scrooge’s. He’s not warped by a father who deserts him. Instead, Marley is done in by too much praise as a child, which turns him proud, and eventually cold.

However, Bennett makes a mistake that many film adaptors have made with Ebenezer Scrooge. He makes his primary character more of a sociopathic sadist than a supreme egotist. Bennett’s evil Marley does not have a spark of humanity in him. He takes more pleasure in turning pregnant women out of homes than counting his money. In a twist that stretches credulity, Marley is responsible for Scrooge’s sister, Fan’s death at childbirth, due to his evicting her and her husband.

As Dickens’ creation, Ebenezer Scrooge is an unfeeling man, not an angry man. He chooses to ignore his ability to help others because he’s indifferent; it’s cruelty by omission. Scrooge possesses many talents. He can charm whom he wants to charm, when it comes to business. As Dickens’ writes, “He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of aye business: very wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a point always of standing well in their esteem: in a business point of view, that is; strictly in a business point of view.”

We must assume that Marley is like Scrooge. And Bennett writes, “There was a monotony of greed that laced every day, a monotony that both Marley and Scrooge worshipped as their assets grew.” It’s a good line, but lacking in the “bad” “Jacob T. Marley” is any potential for humanity.

Perhaps only a master storyteller such as Dickens could instill the right amount of tiny humanity into the miser Scrooge’s soul to make his reclamation believable. And there is humanity in Scrooge. He cries when he witnesses his past; he regrets; he is moved by Tiny Tim’s fate and the children of Want and Ignorance, But “Jacob T. Marley” lacks that. There is no literary reason to expect any reclamation of Marley’s soul. This makes Bennett’s “deathbed” conversion by Marley simply ludicrous. Worse, Bennett’s Marley’s soul is saved after death and chooses to walk the earth weighted down with cashboxes, etc. He waits for a heavenly opportunity to be seen by Scrooge as a spirit.

This plot twist by Bennett takes away the mystery of why Marley appears. In Dickens’ tale, Marley has no idea why he can be seen; his dreadful moans and regret are his way, powerful to the reader, of reacting to the sight of another human being after years of wandering ignored. Bennett takes the power of that moment away by changing Marley into a sort of heavenly missionary that has finally received his call to preach. It must be stressed that Marley cannot preach to Scrooge, only lament. He has no right, unless re-created inappropriately by Bennett.

Another poor plot twist initiated by Bennett is to have Marley accompany the three spirits on their journeys with Scrooge. Worse, Bennett changes Dickens’ tale by inserting the grim promise that Scrooge will die on Christmas morning if not persuaded to goodness by the spirits. I can understand this plot twist by Bennett. Frankly, there’s not much for Marley to do after he visits Scrooge. But, again it seems to clash with Dickens’ story. In any event, this is the worst of the novella, with Bennett’s Marley whining and being lectured to by spirits as they simultaneously attempt to reclaim Scrooge’s forsaken humanity.

The epilogue is better. Briefly, Bennett summarizes the remaining years of Scrooge’s life and skillfully weaves an earlier plot involving the late Fan’s necklace, coerced by Marley, finding its way back to Scrooge after scores of years.

As mentioned, homages are not your ordinary novels; they are labours of love. I’ve been harsh to Bennett’s homage not because I don’t appreciate the effort, nor because I think I would do better. I just love the classic and think, after reading Bennett’s effort, that it’s best left alone. The best sequels to “A Christmas Carol” that involve Marley, Scrooge, Fred or Tiny Tim are probably found in the imaginations of the readers who experience Dickens’ superb writings.

Having said that, I hope “Jacob T. Marley” sells well every holiday season. It has a good message. I would only urge that it be read with “A Christmas Carol,” and not instead of. As for its literary lifespan, it has the appeal of a Hallmark Channel movie. 

--- Doug Gibson

Smoot smites smut was LDS senator’s mantra in 1930 crusade against ‘Lady Chatterley,” and more

 

One of the interesting footnotes to the long career of Sen. Reed Smoot, the LDS apostle who served in the U.S. Senate from 1903 to 1933, was his successful effort to have the U.S. Treasury continue to ban books that were deemed “obscene.” It was a relentless effort by Smoot, chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, to change an amendment to a tariff bill that had prevented customs officers “to seize ‘any obscene book, pamphlet, paper, {and} writing.” Historian Michael Harold Paulos presented a paper on Smoot’s 1930 effort to smite smut at the 2013 Mormon History Association conference in Layton.

According to Paulos, Smoot was outraged over the anti-censorship amendment, sponsored by Sen. Bronson Cutting, of New Mexico, like Smoot, a Republican. Over the next few months, Smoot would literally exhaust himself to get the book censorship returned, losing weight on an already thin frame, adds Paulos.

As Paulos notes, Smoot was an absolutist on the issue of banning what he observed as obscene books. In his paper, Paulos provides a short history of book banning in the 19th century, including efforts by LDS leader Brigham Young. In a footnote, Paulos recounts advice against reading novels that Young sent to his son. The Mormon leader “compared reading novels as tantamount to using poisonous herbs or berries to salve ‘a poor appetite. … it is a remedy worse than the complaint.’” (It was a rare moment of solidarity between evangelicals and Mormons, as both were opponents of inexpensive novels for the masses.)

It seems that Smoot’s belief that “obscene” novels must be banned was as firm, and likely strongly connected to his belief in the Mormon faith and its scripture, “The Book of Mormon.” In short, Smoot’s desire to ban books can be compared to a testimony, or adherence to a principle from God. He fiercely fought his many critics, relying on that era’s standard for obscenity, the Hicklin test, which “broadly defined obscenity within the context of protecting children, or in so many words, any material whose ‘tendency of the matter is to deprave and corrupt the morals of whose minds are open to such influence and into whose hands a publication of this sort may fall,’” writes Paulos.

Smoot made this emotional statement in support of the book banning: “I would rather keep out a thousand {books} than have one mistake made,” he said. Later, Paulos notes, Smoot said the “rotten” books are “worse than opium,” adding, “I would rather have a child of mine use opium than read these books.”

While these remarks may be surprising today, they were still a majority opinion, at least in the U.S. Congress, in 1930. Change was slowly occurring, though. However, Smoot had allies such as Senator James Thomas Heflin of Alabama, a Democrat, who “admonished the senate to use the Bible as a legislative guide, and added that senators “protect the boys and girls of America from the indecent, obscene, and immoral literature of foreign countries.”

Smoot had other supporters who provided outlandish rhetoric on his behalf. As Paulos writes: “GOP Senator Coleman L. Blease of South Carolina, that the ‘virtue of one little 16-year old girl is worth more to America than every book that has ever come into it from any other country.’ Moreover, Blease found it preferable to ‘see both the democratic form of government and the republican form of government forever destroyed if that should be necessary in order to protect the virtue of the womanhood of America.’” … Whew!

Smoot detested D.H. Lawrence’s “Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” describing it “written by a diseased mind and a soul so black that he would even obscure the darkness of hell. Nobody would write a book like that unless his heart was just as rotten and as black as it possibly could be.” Such hyperbole left Smoot open to derision from many of his colleagues, who pointed out that Smoot’s moralizing would exclude portions of the Bible and some of Shakespeare’s works from importation to the U.S. Other rebukes to Smoot pointed out that his own faith’s chief tome, “The Book of Mormon,” had once been a victim of censorship and scolding. Other detractors noted that under Smoot’s amendment, discourses by Brigham Young should be banned.

In obvious disgust for Smoot’s amendment, Paulos notes that Senator Cutting claimed that “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” was his favorite book. Cutting also expressed surprise that the Mormon faith, as depicted by Smoot, would evolve to oppose freedom of speech. Other opponents, including Time magazine and other media, regularly mocked Smoot. Another argument claimed that Smoot’s book banning was in opposition to Christ’s teachings.

Smoot used his seniority, Senate debating skills and sheer doggedness to survive the attacks on his amendment. However, one concession, made to Senator Hugo Black, a future U.S. Supreme Court justice, would prove fatal in the long-term to Smoot’s efforts to retain the Hicklin test and keep “obscene” novels banned. Smoot agreed to Black’s reasonable request to allow judicial interpretation to dictate whether specific books were banned. That concession likely helped Smoot’s amendment to pass easily despite fervent opposition from Cutter and others. The vote was 54-28 in favor of Smoot’s amendment being inserted in the Smoot-Hawley tariff bill.

On the Senate floor, Smoot emotionally defended his Mormon faith and its people, calling them “the most honest, industrious, and virtuous people if any ‘who ever lived in all the world.‘”  Smoot was “emotionally connected” to Mormonism, in my opinion, to the extent that he placed his religious and political beliefs into the same sphere he placed his religious beliefs. He saw opposition to his moral amendment in the same vein as he saw opposition to his faith. It must have offended him to have detractors in the Senate use Mormonism as a debating tool against him.

The Smoot-Hawley tariff bill passed and proved to be unpopular. As Paulos notes, Smoot’s career ended in 1932, when he was soundly defeated in a re-election attempt. Adding insult to injury, the courts took full advantage of Black’s successful insertion of judicial review into Smoot’s amendment. It wasn’t long before the court’s rejected the Hicklin test, thereby allowing the entrance of books such as James Joyce’s “Ulysses” access into the United States. In 1959, an unedited “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” would finally arrive legally into the U.S.

As Paulos writes, “a new legal framework for defining obscenity (replaced Hicklin), which was ‘that the legal test of obscenity must be a work’s effect upon persons of average sex instincts … rather than children or the particularly susceptible.’”

In other words, the ideals of Senators Smoot, Heflin, Blease and others were stymied. Smoot’s amendment was effectively ended by judicial review. One can picture Smoot, in his last years, lambasting himself for allowing judicial review.

Nevertheless, as Paulos notes, at LDS-owned institutions such as Brigham Young University and Deseret Book, there are still censorship decisions regarding books. “And if Smoot were alive today, he would in all likelihood be pleased with the work they are doing.”

--- Doug Gibson

--- Originally published in 2013 at StandardBlogs.

Book of Mormon Musical songs may be profane, but that profanity has heart

 

Originally published by StandardBlogs in 2012.

(Note: I never managed to see Book of Mormon Musical. But I still listen to the score often.)

I haven’t seen “The Book of Mormon Musical” but if it gets to Utah I’ll pay the scores of dollars it will cost to see it. I enjoy listening to the DVD. It’s profane but profane with heart. Jon Stewart reflects the positive vibes by noting that the play spoofs a religion, yet also celebrates it.

I’ve listened to the CD dozens of times. As a returned missionary, I’m impressed by how satirists Matt Stone and Trey Parker can channel — even through the obvious farce — the yet-to-mature enthusiasm, scattered spirituality and fear-masquerading-as-confidence that defines most new missionaries.

When I was at the Missionary Training Center, we were taught the slogan “Keep the Gospel Simple Stupid.” We focused on learning the language, memorizing the missionary discussions, and force-feeding our spirituality to a high level. We adapted to a regimen that began at 6:30 a.m. and ended at 10:30 p.m. We learned to work, pray and study with a companion. My culture class — I was sent to The Peru Lima North Mission, including time in the Amazon Jungle — was curiously lightweight. From what I recall, it consisted mainly of a husband and wife dressed in touristy traditional mountain garb and llama sweaters.

In “Book of Mormon Musical,” missionary companions Elder Price and Elder Cunningham are sent to Uganda, where they find themselves all alone amidst warlords, clitoris cutters and people suffering from AIDS. Under these conditions, Elder Price, the strong alpha companion, wilts and leaves. That forces Elder Cunningham, the slow-witted junior companion, to “man up” and teach the natives as best he can. With sheer bluster, he achieves success teaching an “off-the-cuff” ludicrously obscene version of Mormon doctrine that involves Joseph Smith having sex with frogs and Brigham Young’s nose being turned into a clitoris. Meanwhile, Elder Price ends his crisis of faith, decides to just believe and storms back into the warlord’s camp preaching with Old Testament fervor. The play ends with the natives, now missionaries, teaching the bastardized, profane, obscene “Gospel According to Arnold Cunningham.”

The more interesting character is Elder Price, played by Andrew Rannells. In at least two songs, “You and Me, But Mostly Me,” and “I Believe,” he captures aspects of the missionary experience. In the first song, sung with the amiable fool Elder Cunningham, Elder Price is full of the faux confidence that’s packed with equal parts cockiness and fear. With a passive, worshipful lesser companion, he’s ready to achieve missionary greatness.

“It’s something I’ve forseen.
Now that I’m nineteen,
I’ll do something incredible,
That blows God’s freaking mind!”

Throughout the song, Elder Cunningham chirps how pleased he is that he can play second fiddle to Elder Price’s greatness. It’s a sentiment Elder Price is wholeheartedly in agreement with, as he concludes with:

“And there’s no limit to
What we can do
Me and you.
But mostly me!”

After a spurt of arrogant, fear-driven bravado, Elder Price suffers culture shock and dismay at how unenthusiastic most are to his message — a reaction, albeit to a lesser degree, for missionaries. Again, this is farce. In the real world, an inexperienced Elder Price would not be tossed, along with Elder Cunningham, alone as a pair into a dangerous environment. His reaction: He decides to take off to Orlando, where he feels the Lord should have sent him in the first place. After undergoing some heavy-duty guilt — a shared feeling for many active Latter-day Saints who try to live a religion that assigns degrees of salvation based on works — he surrenders to faith, and achieves his best missionary success with a full-throated, skepticism-be-damned testimony of various LDS doctrines, conventional or otherwise. An example from “I Believe”:

“You cannot just believe part way,
You have to believe in it all.
My problem was doubting the Lord’s will
Instead of standing tall.

I can’t allow myself to have any doubt.
It’s time to set my worries free.
Time to show the world what Elder Price is about!
And share the power inside of me…

I believe that God has a plan for all of us.
I believe that plan involves me getting my own planet.
And I believe; that the current President of The Church, Thomas Monson, speaks directly to God.
I am A Mormon,
And, dang it! a Mormon just believes!”

Being a missionary is hard work. It involves something else that was drummed into us at the MTC — the slogan “Capture the Vision”: Elder Price’s transition to successful missionary is to eliminate doubt, for at least two years. His fuel is faith; he thrives on faith. His optimism is the sizzle that sells the faith. He’s captured the vision.

A lot of Mormons have criticized “Book of Mormon Musical”; it’s inaccurate to a fault, it makes fun of LDS beliefs; it spoofs, for very vulgar laughs, doctrines and characters in LDS history that are treated with reverence by faithful members. But, Jon Stewart is right. It’s a simple, stupid, but profound declaration of how faith, and just believing, can bring meaning into many lives.

“It’s so good it makes me $%^%*&^ hate it,” Stewart told Stone and Parker, describing the message as “sweet.”

It is; faith is sweet; to believe with enough faith to touch lives is a good thing. To gain courage to change lives for the better is sweet. And that’s why “Book of Mormon Musical,” proudly R-rated, is worth listening to.

-- Doug Gibson