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."

Dead on the Corridor blends Mormonism with life along I-15

Review by Doug Gibson

In Dead on the Corridor (Anderson Publishing, 2017), a collection of short stories from Utah writer James Elliott, a deeply troubled woman, barely alive, enters a welfare office in St. George, Utah. In desperate need of help, she is instead ushered out by a worker whose compassion matches cartoon bureaucrats Selma and Patty Bouvier of "The Simpsons."

In blistering heat, the woman returns to a tent outside the city to die. It's an agonizing, lonely death. But she finds peace in her final moments, clutching a small version of the Christus Consolator statue, a saved, treasured relic from her earlier life as an student in Mormon seminary.

That story, with Elliott's dispassionate prose, creates passion for the reader. This particular story has stuck with me, and will for a long time. With other stories in the collection, located in the backdrop of the harsh but beautiful of Interstate 15 between Las Vegas and Utah, tales of the least among us, the people who are forced to be survivors, are related.

Besides "The Worth of Souls," which is the name of the above-mentioned story, other tales involve a young boy, fated to die a painful death accidental death in the desert, reunited with a young, lost murder victim. While his parents live the slow agony of losing a child, the boy makes a friend. Another story, told partially in flashback, recounts an elderly, beloved woman, a sort of "mother" to a ward, relate to her bishop how she killed her fanatical, sadistic husband decades ago.

Another story with a particular punch to this reviewer involves two individuals trying their hardest to survive. One is a former missionary with a big testimony of his faith and severe mental problems. The other is a young woman with a child trying to atone for a past and create a happier life for her small family. Their lives will cross tragically and the survivor will make a hard, callous decision that nevertheless is reasonable given the individual's circumstances.

Elliott has a lot of talent, and Dead on the Corridor provides a lot for readers to think about as they move through the short stories. Is everyone our brother and sister? Does having a job, financial comforts, control over our mental faculties, and a comfortable place to sleep every night allow us the right to feel superior over those who are struggling to attain those securities?

Dead on the Corridor merits a lot of readers. Elliott, besides the questions his stories offer us, passes the most important test. He spins a good tale. After you read these stories, do the author a favor and leave a review on Amazon.

The Bishop's Wife tears at facade of normalcy

“The Bishop’s Wife,” Soho Crime, 2014, (buy it here) stands alone as a fine addition to crime fiction. It has a strong main plot, an almost-as-compelling chief secondary plot, the requisite twists and turns and an exciting climax. As a Mormon-themed novel, penned by active Mormon wife and mother Mette Ivie Harrison, the novel is unique for two reasons: It has a Mormon, stay-at-home mom as its narrator and protagonist, and it deals frankly and provocatively with discrimination, subtle and frank, that is part of a church with a male hierarchy.

The book is a great mystery read, and only the fact that I had to work the next morning kept me from finishing it with an all-night read. In a Draper LDS ward, Bishop Kurt Wallheim, and the bishop’s wife, Linda, receive an early-morning visit from ward member Jared Helm, and his daughter, Kelly, 5. Jared reports that his wife, Carrie, has abandoned the family. Jared is an immature young man, struggling with his marriage. As the author has noted, the story is inspired by the disappearance of Susan Powell several years ago. However, the developing plot does not mimic the turns of the Powell case. As Carrie Helm seems to virtually disappear, Linda Wallheim, a mother of sons, becomes protective of toddler Kelly, who seems a substitute for the daughter she lost to a stillbirth years earlier. She also becomes sympathetic to Carrie Helm’s parents, who use the media to try to indict Jared and his family as culpable in Carrie’s disappearance.

The main subplot involves the illness and death of ward member, Tobias Torstensen, who has been married 30 years to his second wife, Anna. The experience brings Linda and Anna into a close friendship. As Tobias nears death, questions about his first wife’s death — there is no grave and no one seems to know how she died, even her two sons — arise. Through a series of incriminating discoveries, Linda, Anna and even the police are convinced that mild-mannered Tobias murdered his first wife long ago and never told anyone. However, as is a theme in this novel, the story is more complex, providing new answers as layers of long-held secrets are unveiled.

The deepest relationship in the novel is between Kurt and Linda Wallheim. The author makes their relationship one of mostly mutual value, with the usual frustrations, disagreements and trials supported by the loyalty and love that binds the pair together. Linda, the bishop’s wife, is a liberal Mormon; a former atheist tempered by her husband’s more conventional beliefs. She forgives his occasional patriarchal biases, understanding that she has softened him over the years. Ivie Harrison does a good job of presenting a diverse collection of Wallheim sons, all with distinct personalities on life and spirituality. Linda is closest to the youngest, Samuel, who is a lot like his mother, with the novel having him react to many of the events.

Active Mormons will appreciate how well the usual life of a bishop and his wife are outlined. Kurt is an accountant who barely sees his family between church and tax season, as well as Sunday afternoons and evenings. Linda, as a bishop’s wife, struggles to deal with being the “ward mother” and the listening and action that requires. He deals with the ward’s secrets. While his job necessitates discreetness, he trusts his wife enough to request she visit specific families to offer friendship, kind words and baked goodies. In one scene a troubled ward member, understanding that Linda is a better ear than the bishop for his problem, confides in her.

There is another strong scene early that captures Mormon culture. Linda, helping prepare for a wedding at the ward chapel, consoles the bride’s mom over her disappointment that the wedding is not in the temple. It’s an interesting passage because there’s no scandal attached to the wedding; the pair simply want to get married as soon as possible. Active Mormon parents place a high priority on a temple wedding, and its inclusion adds authenticity. (In the years after I wrote this review I have gained more empathy with this scene.)

The disappearance of Carrie Helm carries the novel, as Linda struggles to maintain a relationship with little Kelly after the arrival of her paternal grandfather, a controlling, truly repellent character with obsolete Mormon beliefs. A strength of her character is despite her impetuous nature — which leads her to make wrong assumptions — she’s able to embrace the truth when it’s revealed. And it’s several twists, and a key discovery, that makes Linda again question her ability to discern what’s righteous and what’s evil.

And the truth doesn’t come easy in “The Bishop’s Wife.” The “normalcy” of an LDS ward is taken apart layer by layer as serious injuries and dysfunctions are revealed. And these layers can’t be peeled back in a nice manner. They are torn off the facade of the ward, with the requisite pain, bleeding and adverse consequences.

If there’s a quibble with “The Bishop’s Wife,” it’s Linda’s specific action that leads to the climax. I’m not sure Ivie Harrison’ character, while impulsive, would willingly put herself into such certain danger. But it’s an exciting scene nevertheless, and wraps up a novel that’s well worth reading, either all night long or during a particularly boring Sacrament meeting.

- Doug Gibson

Originally published at StandardNET.

Cal Grondahl's Standard Works cartoons -- a sample

For the holiday week, here's a sample of Cal Grondahl's Standard Works cartoons, done over a several-year period, roughly about 2009 to 2015. A website change ended the site (except for Wayback), but these were saved at Flickr and we occasionally use them on the Culture of Mormonism blog. Enjoy!

Novel Dream House on Golan Drive, Mormon Thunder Jedediah Grant

A Mormon-themed novel, “Dream House On Golan Drive” (Signature Books), by David G. Pace, a writer of considerable talent and regional note. “Dream House” is not likely to move beyond its genre but it’s extremely well written and thought-provoking.

It involves the lives within a Mormon quasi-celebrity family, the Hartleys, living in Provo in the late 1970s through the 1990s. The dad, Nelson, is the sort, not uncommon in the faith, who is a third spiritual giant, a third motivational speaker, and a third pitchman. Mom Joan is a former Miss Utah. There’s a whole passel of kids, and the story revolves around eldest son, Riley, taking us from childhood and well into his adulthood.

In an interesting quirk, Pace allows one of the Three Nephites, “Zed,” to be a narrator. The old Nephite, who seems to play a sort of guardian angel to Riley as well, also consorts with contemporaries, including The Wandering Jew. Through Riley, most of the traditional rites of passages of growing up Mormon are observed, an we get a peek of the many dysfunctions that accompany a “perfect Mormon family” headed by a ’spiritual celebrity.’”

Pace possesses talent with his prose. For example: “The power of the word is two-edged. It can constrain you, Riley learned. A kind of reverse logos. Back home he was struck by how religion seemed to be spoken into a wide-mouthed canning jar and quickly sealed, but the most amazing permutation of toxins bean in that sterile environment. Morality turned into moralism. Couragebecame obedience. Values were edicts. Self-discipline became mental-subjugation. The WORD became simply an act of preservation, of enduring toward some kind of end.”

There’s a strong passage of mother Joan’s frequent trips to the Provo temple, where she she can sit in solitude, contemplate and grieve for her wayward children’s dysfunctions. The fate of one character, a sort of mentor to Riley, left me in tears. Be warned, this is a grim novel, more concerned with the scabs than applying any balm to the wounds. There are random moments of humor that relieve the tension.

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With the renewal of enthusiasm for Mormon history, led by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints itself, it’s about time that the historical personage of Jedediah Grant was resurrected. Possessed of looks reserved for movie matinee idols, the counselor to Brigham Young was a major player in mid-1850s Utah ... and then he died.

One reason Grant may not get the same publicity as his peers is that he was a fiercely devoted advocate of the Mormon reformation, and spoke favorably of now-taboo doctrines such as blood atonement. Nevertheless, he had a fascinating life. Soon after his conversion, he became brother in law to William Smith, prodigal brother to the Prophet Joseph Smith. He served many missions for the church, worked closely with the Mormons’ non-Mormon ally Thomas Kane, and self taught himself to becoming a powerful speaker.

More than a generation ago, Gene A. Sessions, Ogden scholar, wrote a strong biography, “Mormon Thunder: A Documentary History of Jedediah Morgan Grant” (I have a 2008 edition published by Greg Kofford Books). Sessions captures the personality of this early-Mormon leader, and how a tender familial side could go to a bowery pulpit and strike fear in the hearts of the faithful.

Session writes: “Apparently believing that the bloodstream of the body of the Saints needed purification, he (Grant) openly fought dangerous notions that Restoration had lost its way under its new leadership. The Church, he maintained, could and ought to change, but only under the laws set down by the rule of the priesthood. That must be the unchanging order of the universe.”

Many of Grant’s discourses are in “Mormon Thunder,” and they are treasures. Here’ just one excerpt I enjoyed, particularly Grant’s use of slang for a cat: “... I know some of our milk and water folks thought all the fat was in the fire. ’Brother Brigham has gone rather too far; he might have spoken a little milder than he did. I think it would have been much better,’ &c. This was the language of some hearts; and I feel to say, damn all such poor pussyism. ...”

Sessions includes a major tragedy of Grant’s life, losing his wife and infant child on the Pioneer trail. The account includes his return to gather the infant’s body, only to discover the corpse had been picked apart and scattered by wild animals. Overall, “Mormon Thunder” is an interesting account of a remarkable church leader.

-- Doug Gibson

Originally published at StandardNet.