Review: American Trinity: And Other Stories from the Mormon Corridor

 

---

Review by Doug Gibson

I really enjoy reading fiction by David G. Pace. He often captures the conflict between traditional Mormonism, its cultural comfort level, and inevitable questioning and repudiation of mores necessary in a changing world. In Pace's work, this conflict, if continued, can irreparably damage a marriage, cause a general authority to want to rebel, or lead one of the Three Nephites to be fed up with Christ for giving him a never-ending gospel calling.

That leads to the signature story, "American Trinity," in this new anthology, published by BCC Press. Zed is one of the Three Nephites, and the endless stretch of time, the constant changing of environments and culture, have him burnt out, to put it mildly. He only has occasional contact with the other two Nephites, and spends a lot of time at the theater. One of the Three Nephites, Jonas, has become of the world, enjoying multiple marriages and children that he outlives. The other, Kumen, goes the other way, living nomadic and looking for little, mundane miracles he can give to Saints. They are the kind of miracles tailor made for a Fast Sunday sacrament meeting.

I was enjoying the story, Zed's history and his anguish, and expected it to just end, with Zed facing another day. And then wordsmith Pace ups the ante and provides a powerful climax that near brought me to tears. Our protagonist comes across the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, in Greenwich Village, on May 25 1911. Zed comes to a 12-year-old girl, who jumped out to escape flames. She's dying. He can't help her. But somehow this brave soul accepts her death, and -- at least for a little while -- saves Zed. "'Don't be afraid,' she told him."

There are 12 stories in the anthology. Some I particularly enjoyed were "City of the Saints," a Babbit-esque tale of a recently called lesser LDS general authority trying to assert himself and resist conformity. Another, "Sagarmatha," involves a disaffected Latter-day Saint man escaping his crumbling marriage by traveling to Nepal on a mountain-climbing trek. While on it, he devotes considerable energy to protecting a sick dog.

"Caliban Revels Now Ended" is a well-crafted story of a missionary, with his companion, who read The Book of Mormon to a stroke victim, Ian, who cannot talk to them. "There was something about reading the verses aloud--the way they filled the old house with an authoritative cadence--that conjured for Ethan an assurance he hadn't felt before: that the book was a good one; that it was speaking to him," Pace writes. The story concludes 20 years later, with Ethan no longer an orthodox Mormon, no longer a believer in the Book of Mormon as fact. Yet Pace writes, "Still, as Ethan drove away that summer night, he hoped that someone had read one of the final passages of the Mormon's book to Ian before he passed on--a passage that, to Ethan seemed to transcend both orthodoxy and disbelief."

I see through the stories a respect for the Book of Mormon, not as a factual tome, but as a book, created by a man with talents, that can change the lives of individuals. In "American Trinity," Zed reiterates his deep affection for the Book of Mormon as a history that survived, although he is disappointed at Mormon's excessive abridgment.

A couple of others stories I particularly recommend are "Stairway to Heaven," for its take on how surprising too-soon death can be interpreted within LDS culture, and "The Mormon Moment," a lighthearted yet insightful tale -- told in quotes -- of an older LDS man trying to convince "Dot" to vote for Mitt Romney over Barack Obama. It reminded me of the culture of 2012, only 12 years ago but it seems like a long time. Frankly, I'd like to see Pace capture this subject with Donald Trump in 2024.

Buy this anthology, and also pick up Pace's novel, Dream House on Golan Drive. It's an excellent read of a Utah Mormon family in the 1970s, and the novel's narrator is "Zed" of the Three Nephites. I've no doubt Zed's still around today, hoping against hope for Christ's Second Coming, and an end to his calling.

The Darkest Abyss is a fascinating, offbeat journey through stories related to Mormonism

 

---

Review by Doug Gibson

BCC Press released "The Darkest Abyss: Strange Mormon Stories," near Halloween or so of this year and that really wasn't a bad choice. A lot of the tales provided by author William Morris are curious -- but satisfying -- reads. They all tend to have a little something of fantasy, sinister, otherwordly, -- take your pick. There's even a "witch" in one tale, and a grown-up dryad who's definitely a bigger threat than the "witch."

 Let me start with the dryad tale, "Wild Branches." In it a conventionally eccentric Latter-day Saint mom is very attuned to nature. Her daughter, speaking to a professor, explains that mom was brought by dad from his mission in Finland, in a trunk, and eventually planted in the U.S. The parents are a bit nomadic, traveling a lot, moving often. Dad likes archeaological digs, but as daughter relates, mom was always better at discovering things in the earth.

This story takes a twist at the end that the author, in a podcast, notes veers toward "cozy horror," although it's certainly not a traditional horror tale. I was caught surprised by the ending, which is sinister. However, re-reading the story, focusing on the mom, her likes, dislikes, talents, it makes perfect sense.

"Proof Sister Greeley is a Witch (Even though Mormons Don't Believe in Witches)" is one of my favorites in this book. Morris crafts it in numbered paragraphs, each one supporting the premise of the title. I like the story because I think most Latter-day Saints have a "Sister Greeley" in their ward or branch, eccentric, kind of scary to youngers, misunderstood by members lacking depth, and highly skilled in often underappreciated talents, such as cooking or home nursing. The "Sister Greeleys" of the world also get it that there are "some things the brethren of the priesthood just can't understand," as Morris writes in the tale. 

To me the whole story had the type of pleasant vibe I get from reading the late John D. Fitzgerald, author of "Papa Married a Mormon" and "The Great Brain" books.

Let me interrupt to say what's obvious. Morris is a very talented storyteller who manages to create unique situations and plots within the culture of Mormonism. This is whether he writes about things that can happen daily in this world, or when he constructs alternative universes and supernatural characters. In a review I published years ago for his short story anthology, "Dark Watch," I wrote that "his prose reflects the uncomfortable situations, the struggling to find the right words to persuade, the inclination to rely on a convenient Scripture to try to sway, and the realization from most of those talking that they won't change the minds of those listening to them."

That brings me to another story in "Darkest Abyss," "A Mormon Writer Visits Spirit Prison." I love this fantasy story because, admit it, all of us Mormons wonder what it will be like doing missionary work in the afterlife. How many times do your hear members of the ward insist that their departed ones are busy as bees doing missionary work for their fellow dead? It's an iconic visual in the church's culture.

Morris provides a spin on that scenario that reminds of C.S. Lewis' wonderful novella, "The Great Divorce." In Morris' tale, a post-life missionary gets an earful from a man penned in spirit prison. The man provides solid reasons as to why he's not receptive to this after-the-fact attempt to save his soil. The Mormon Writer prostlyting engages in mostly platitudes. Morris provides superb dialogue that will remind us -- uncomfortably or not -- of the pabulum we sometimes hear in wards, homes, firesides and some literature. Here's an example:

- I am not God. But I am a representative of the Lord Jesus Christ.

- Yes, you are. I don't know why that matters to my situation at all.

- It matters a great deal.

-So you say.

-- Oh, so I'm a lion now. Or am I the politician?

-- You certainly aren't the lover.

-- And yet I do love you. That's why I keep visiting.

-- And do you enjoy your visits to Arkham, Mr. Wayne?

The story ends with the "missionary realizing" he has little empathy or understanding of the man he's trying to convert. It's a fun, uniquely crafted story.

There's 18 stories in the anthology. "Emma Travels West" is an alternative-universe 19th century tale with Emma Smith visiting wary Utahns and pitching her version of plural marriage. I enjoyed how Morris handled media reaction to her visit. "There Wrestled a Man in Parowan" reminds me of reading a great Levi S. Peterson story. (When I mention other authors, please don't think it's an insinuation of Morris being derivative. He is a unique valuable talent in the genre. Many of his stories remind me of books and stories I have enjoyed.)

"A Sword Bathed in Heaven," and "Uncle Porter's Revolver," are excellent reads that deal, in a supernatural manner, with contemporary topics of the last days, or final battles, and firearms for protection. In 'Uncle Porter's Revolver," a young city man is harshly influenced by the unwelcome gift of a firearm. 

What I enjoy about Morris's writing is in these stories, and others, I have heard people in my life talk like the people in the stories. And that's a strength of "The Darkest Abyss," no matter how out there in the "multiverse" some of these stories venture to, the characters are often people you would meet today.

Read this anthology. It's worth readers' time and investments. A few other stories that are must reads include "With All Our Dead, "The Only 15," After the Fast," and "A Ring Set Not with Garnet but Sardius."

Anthology offers the best of Mormon literature in 2009

 

I absolutely loved this anthology of Mormon literature in 2009, and since if you look hard and are patient, you can find a reasonably priced copy. There is one for $9.07 on Amazon but ignore the ridiculously priced offerings there and on other sales sites. Originally published at defunct StandardBlogs, I saved it from Wayback. Darin Cozzens, James Goldberg, and Lisa Torcasso Downing were among authors whose work I admired.

It’s not difficult to find good Mormon literature, but to find the best Mormon literature is more difficult. As my friend Cal Grondahl might put it, there’s fuzzy bear stories and grizzly bear stories. Fuzzy bear stories, that make us feel cuddly, sometimes with a “Charly”-inspired tear, are easy to find. Grizzly bear stories, which explore themes that aren’t wrapped with a nice bow tie in the final paragraphs — which feature survivors rather than conquerors — well, that kind of LDS literature is harder to find.

You have to search for pricy publications, with names such as Irreantum, or Sunstone, or The New Play Project, Segullah, BYU Studies, Iowa Review, etc. It’s a tiny audience, but the search is rewarding. Fortunately, Curelom Books, Salt Lake City, has published “The Best of Mormonism 2009,” which offers a diverse selection of quality Mormon-themed efforts.

It’s a too-thin volume at 163 pages. I read it all on a Sunday afternoon. My favorite selection was the short story, “Reap in Mercy,” by Darin Cozzens, first published in Irreantum. It’s a tale of a retired LDS farmer, alone with his wife, bitter that he didn’t prosper in life while a neighbor he once had to constantly help later prospered. It’s a reminder to believers that God does not promise material wealth as a reward for obedience. It also reminds us that true redemption can take place in the least likely times.

I also enjoyed the one-act play, “Prodigal Son,” by James Goldberg (The New Play Project), an interesting tale where a young man breaks his father’s heart … by becoming a Mormon and going on a mission. That’s probably more common that most of the readers might think.

In Sunstone’s “Clothing Esther,” Lisa Torcasso Downing brings us into a mortuary where a middle-aged mom and wife puts the LDS garments on her mother-in-law. It’s an emotionally powerful recounting of something that is certainly not uncommon practice among Latter-day Saints, but rarely spoken of.

A couple more kudos go to “Who do you think you are?” a selection from Angela Hallstrom’s “Bound on Earth.” In it, a young teen admirer learns that the subject of admiration, and crush, a young teacher, is not always the same person he is in the classroom. And in “He Who Owe Everything to a name,” Lynda Mackey Wilson, writing in BYU Studies, pays tribute to the man who loved her more than her own mother.

I hope people will buy this anthology. It will more than pay for itself in enjoyment. And then buy the journals listed by the stories.

-- Doug Gibson

LDS author Douglas Thayer's novel of teen’s fight to survive avalanche

The late Douglas Thayer, a BYU English professor who died in 2017 at 88, penned some pretty good books, including a memoir of his boyhood in Provo, “Hooligan,” and the novel, “The Treehouse,” a well-written but bleak-to-a-fault novel of a Mormon youth’s teen years, mission to Germany, a horrific stint in the Korean War, and his post-war life.

Thayer is a top-tier Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints novelist out there. His final novel, “Will Wonders Ever Cease: A Hopeful Novel for Mormon Mothers and Their Teenage Sons” (Zarahemla Books, 2014), is a good read that mixes an adventure with the protagonist’s stream-of-consciousness thinking as he works to avoid peril and death.

The plot involves Kyle Hooper, 15-year-old Mormon boy in Colorado who takes off in a Suburban to go skiing without his parents’ permission. Almost abruptly, Kyle’s knocked unconscious and his vehicle carried away by a massive snow avalanche.

He comes to several hours later alive thanks to the strength of the Suburban, fortified years earlier by his late grandfather. Kyle is deeply buried in snow, but lucky enough to have landed close to a stream under the avalanche. That allows him to have oxygen. Without a cell phone — it’s smashed — but a car with battery power and some food and drink, he struggles through several days trying desperately to survive and dig himself out.

Kyle is a well-developed character of Thayer’s and the reader will enjoy following along with his ingenious and courageous efforts to save himself from what looks like a long, prolonged and certain death. Mixed in with the survival efforts in this slim novel are this typical but charismatic teen’s thoughts, which run the gamut from girls, church, testimony, his very religious mother, his remote father, his less religious but very talented grandfather, a brother, Trace, who died recently, family, his best friends, and musings about how friends and family are taking his ordeal.

In one emotional scene, Kyle turns on the Suburban’s radio and learns he’s been given up for dead, and retrieval efforts won’t resume until spring.

Within these thoughts, three characters are well-formed by Thayer, an author in his 80s. Kyle’s mother, Lucille, who is originally perceived as a Mormon scold but is revealed to be refreshingly progressive on issues such as homosexuality and premarital pregnancy, and possessed of a strong will, his Grandpa Hooper, whose legacy of common sense and handyman’s know-how is used to great advantage by Kyle, and his late brother, Trace, whose last months alive Kyle recalls as he endures his own struggle to survive.

About the only thing I don’t like about this novel is the bland title, which seems more suitable for self-help or inspirational genres. But it’s a good read, compelling and thought-provoking and readers — drawn into Kyle’s plight — won’t be able to put the book down in the final pages.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardNET in 2014.

Mormonish stories from Peck tap into the subtexts of our faith

A while back, Steven L. Peck, a biology professor at Brigham Young University, wrote “A Short Stay in Hell.” It was a fascinating piece of Mormonish fantasy, with a protagonist sent to hell after being assuaged of fears of burning lakes and pitchforks. The hell he eventually becomes resigned to, however, proves to be more soul-decaying than anything envisioned in the Old Testament or by Middle-Ages artists.

Peck has a spare, to-the-point writing style, with strong dialogue that engages dilemmas. Through plot and the personal motivations of characters, the dilemmas sometimes find surprisingly simple solutions. The determination of the narrator or main characters, is ultimately rewarded.

Peck has also published a collection, “Wandering Realities: The Mormonish Short Fiction of Steven L. Peck,” published by the outstanding Mormon-themed house, Zarahemla Books. (zarahemlabooks.com) The short fiction is a mixture of LDS-themed science fiction, fantasy and the contemporary. I wasn’t disappointed by any of the fiction, which varies from a few pages to long stories.  

A top offering of the science fiction and fantasy is “Avek, Who Is Distributed,” in which Elder Windle is faced with telling Avek the discouraging news that church leaders have decided that distributed AIs cannot be baptized. As Windle tells Avek, “You must understand. The difficulty is that your intelligence is distributed across three planets in thousands of computational nodes ...”

Avek responds, “And yet I am one thing. A unique individual. Someone that thinks singly. Someone who can feel. Who longs for things. ...”

In the story, “AIs” have long been baptized, with questions of gender long settled. Elder Windle, and church leaders eventually reach a decision that allows a measure of achievement and relief for all him and Avek.

An excellent contemporary short story is “Bishop, Banker, Grocery, Fry,” in which our protagonist bishop is visited by the wife of an active family, a picture-postcard LDS family. Like an attentive spouse, she knows something is amiss with her husband, that there’s a unsettling change in their life. She’s unaware of what it is, and he’s not telling her,

The bishop goes undercover for a day, following the husband through a workday. The very first clue that the wife’s suspicions are on target is that the husband’s career job, the bank, is not on his agenda. Instead they make stops at a grocery and a small restaurant.

The resolution of this tale will resonate with very overwhelmed, working-too-hard career parents who wonders if it’s worth it.

“Wandering Realities” contains the elite of short Mormon fiction. Besides great tales, it enriches the reader with a diverse look at Mormon culture and sentiments. It’s a good deal via Kindle at $4.99 as well.

-- Doug Gibson

--- Originally published in StandardNET

'Papa Married a Mormon' a 'Mormon-loves-gentile' story

Few people really understand the fear felt by Mormons in the genesis of the faith's flight to Utah to avoid what members perceived as severe persecution in Missouri and Illinois. In the latter half of the 19th century non-Mormons, or "gentiles" were regarded as intruders in "Zion" bent on either crushing the saints or forcibly removing them from their third homeland. In “The Kingdom or Nothing,” Samuel Taylor's biography of Mormon prophet John Taylor, when settlers heard rumors of a planned U.S. military "invasion" upon the Utah territory, church settlers abandoned the new Salt Lake City and trudged south to Provo, leaving instructions to a few left behind to burn everything if the soldiers assumed command of the city.

These sentiments are nearly gone, although stronger generations ago, when Utahn John D. Fitzgerald wrote the popular novel “Papa Married a Mormon.”

Times have changed, and “Papa Married a Mormon” has been adapted to the stage many times in Utah. The novel, first published in 1955 by Prentice Hall, is easy to find at used bookstores. Two sequels followed: “Mama's Boarding House,” and “Uncle Will and the Fitzgerald Curse.”

Set in the 1880s and ’90s in the fictional southern Utah towns of Adenville and Silverlode, the most unique aspect of Fitzgerald’s novel is that only a small portion of it is true, and that’s with a healthy dose of journalistic license, no doubt. Fitzgerald is writing about his family: His Uncle Will, who leaves Pennsylvania in disgrace to seek a life as a gambler/​gunslinger; His father Tom, Sr., who obeys a deathbed wish to find Will and tracks him down, finding him a rich saloon and gambling hall owner in Silverlode, a mining town close to the Mormon settlement of Adenville, which is headed by the town’s bishop, Ephraim Aden.

Once reconciled with Will, Tom takes over the Silverlode newspaper, and gains the trust of Adenville Mormons whose subscriptions, printing and advertising provide him a means of support. All this is threatened when he meets and falls instantly in love with Tena Neilsen, the 17-year-old daughter of Mormon emigrants from Europe. After a struggle with Tena and her family, Tom wins her heart, marries her in Denver and eventually the pair return to southern Utah with Tom (and Tena) considerably less popular among the saints than they had been previously.

While the novel’s chapters feature diverse tales (there's whole chapters devoted to saloon rowdies, kids’s pranks, family genealogy, gun fights, and dog fights) in essence the rest of Fitzgerald’s novel deals with the growth of Tom and Tena's s multi-religious family in Adenville and their slow but eventual acceptance by the Mormon majority. This subject provides the most powerful writing in the novel, as Fitzgerald portrays the suffering his mother feels, outwardly as a rejected saint, and inwardly as her Mormon conscience tears at her act of rebellion in marrying a gentile.

“Papa knew that Momma’s life was very lonely. The Latter-day Saints politely ignored her because she was an apostate. They would not let her trade in Adenville; even the farmers refused to sell her eggs and vegetables. ... Two weeks before the baby was born, Papa went through a night of torture. Mama had barely spoken to him all evening. About midnight he awoke and heard Mama crying ... He put his arm around her ... Momma threw him off, ‘Don’t touch me,’ she cried piteously.”

When Tom insists that Tena explain her behavior, she admits that she doesn’t feel married to him, since Mormons are married for time and all eternity. Tom goes to Bishop Aden and asks to be baptized a Mormon. The Bishop refuses to baptize Tom to placate his wife, but marries the pair outside a temple for time and all eternity. Although this would be frowned on today, it was not unusual in 18th century Utah to conduct “time and all eternity” marriages from outside a temple or endowment house. But it was certainly unusual if the groom was a Catholic.

Papa Married a Mormon is a fun read for anyone, but also a Utah history lesson. Fitzgerald writes each chapter like a separate story, so readers can jump in anywhere. One weakness is a tendency for the author to be a bit flowery in his prose, so at times romance almost becomes farce. Also, although Fitzgerald's heart is in the right place, he exhibits a condescending attitude toward Native Americans, a vice likely widespread in 1950s literature. One more thing: The novel comes with pictures of all the family members Fitzgerald writes about. It's fun to put a face to Tom, Tena and the Fitzgerald gang.

A postscript: I did some research and discovered that the Fitzgerald lived in Price, Utah, not Southern Utah. “Papa” did marry a Mormon, but he was a local financial professional, not a journalist, and also was an elected official. Author John D. Fitzgerald lived a fascinating life, with many unique jobs. He merits a biography.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardNET.

A review of the edgy LDS-themed novel, ‘Rift.’

(Originally published at StandardBlogs in 2009)

"You’re a salvation army of one,” a young woman tells elderly Jens Thorsen in Southern Utah University professor Todd Robert Petersen’s new novel “Rift,” published by Provo’s Zarahemla Press.

That’s a pretty apt description of Thorsen, a retired man who goes around Sanpete, Utah, with his keen, experienced eye, spotting trouble and then trying in his understated manner to help. Jens, who looks like 10,000 other Utah elderly men used to a life around a farm, picks his charity cases with an eye toward what might annoy Bishop Darrell Bunker, with whom he is enjoying, with malicious humor on Jens’ part, a longstanding feud.

Jens also exasperates his longtime wife, Lily, but there’s a still-simmering passion behind their bickering and her occasional temper tantrums at his critiques of LDS customs and impatience with his younger priesthood leader. The fact that Jens and Lily have hung together 50 or so years is enough evidence there’s love buried deep in that relationship.

Watching out for others is one way Jens handles the assumed idleness of retirement. Among those he helps is a young man in prison most of the town would prefer to forget, a dying apostate with a bitter wife who hates Mormons, a barber losing a slow battle with Parkinson’s disease and a Jewish doctor with a land problem that requires heavy machinery owned by Bishop Bunker. Naturally, the bishop did not allow the use of his equipment. Naturally, Jens borrows it and then rubs his truculent behavior in Bishop Bunker’s nose.

Petersen is a very talented LDS-themed writer — that’s why he’s writing for Zarahemla and not the Deseret Book monopoly, which wouldn’t publish fiction that involves considerate, thoughtful, non-condescending responses to harsh critiques of a dominant religion’s culture.

What I like mostly about “Rift” is Petersen allows the reader to get inside the mind of the old man we see at the barber shop, or at the store, or sitting at Sizzler, or in a church pew. Jens is an old man physically, but his mind is as alert and rascally as it was 50 years years ago. Petersen’s scenes of old men sitting in a barber shop, watching TV, gossiping and sneaking glances at a young women are a pleasure to read.

The mostly harmless feud between Jens and his bishop becomes more serious after Angie Bunker, the bishop’s rebellious daughter, returns home to her family planning to have a baby. After she stops coming to church, Angie is tossed from her house and Jens — soon after a life-changing experience of his own — makes decisions that puts him in direct conflict not only with his bishop, but much of Sanpete.

Death, both current and past, and our reactions to it, underscore much of “Rift.” As the novel progresses, and Jens finds himself with more time on his hands than he anticipated, events drive him to recall a very painful event 50 years or so in his past. Author Petersen reminds the readers that while unpleasant memories can sleep a long time, they still exist and shape our actions and decisions.

“Rift” is a compelling read. Petersen, who has a reputation as a short story writer, crafts excellent, stories-within-a-larger-story chapters. The dialogue of his characters are insightful and at times witty.

I have two quibbles with the novel. I would have liked to have seen at least one character as fully developed as Jens. Bishop Bunker, for example, almost seems shadowy for lack of insight into his character. Even Lily, Jens wife, suffers for lack of character development.

Second, although Petersen’s writing is still superb through the climax and resolution, he chooses to avoid the expected path — a final battle royale involving Angie’s welfare between Jens and Bishop Bunker — and instead shifts a surprise detour on the reader. Without giving away too much, I’ll just say I didn’t find it realistic. I just can’t see that kind of sex-on-sex anger bubbling to the surface so publicly within a Relief Society.

Nevertheless, I hope “Rift” finds a lot of readers. It’s an under-your-skin read that provides insights that impact us longer than the dust on a book long tucked away in a bookcase.

-- Doug Gibson

'Dark Watch' an above-average collection of Mormon stories

“Dark Watch, and Other Mormon-American Stories," published several years ago, is a strong fiction collection. Author William Morris is a well-known name in Mormon-themed literature and has published in “Dialogue” and other journals.

There are two genres explored in “Dark Watch.” The first takes regular, often-mundane tasks within Mormonism, such as home teaching, priesthood visits, missionary work, and delves inside the minds, reads the thoughts and conclusions that players feel during these experiences. Other stories are more science fiction, and deal with Mormonism, and religion, as a secret motivation kept under wraps, deeply hidden within adherents, some of whom can go through long stretches of existence without realizing their theological beliefs. “Dark Watch,” the titular story, is in this mode, describing a future society of various colonies, with distinct yet also faint similarities, struggling to stay in some sort of harmony.

In the stories related to home teaching and priesthood visits; there are tales, some narrated by teens, that take home teachers — ward priesthood holders — into the homes of dysfunctional families. One visit is to a father moving into political radicalism. Another to parents losing control of their children. Another to a parent who has written off his child. Morris’ prose reflects the uncomfortable situations, the struggling to find the right words to persuade, the inclination to rely on a convenient Scripture to try to sway, and the realization from most of those talking that they won’t change the minds of those listening to them. There is a story, “Invitation,” where the situation is reversed. “Brother Johnson,” the home teacher, has embraced fundamentalist Mormonism and is slowly hinting to the uncomfortable couple, Michael and Shari, he home teaches, his odd beliefs, including polygamy.

The missionary stories include a recently returned missionary finding it difficult to move smoothly from the mission life to the expected next step, a college education. Another story, “Conference,” involves Sara, a returned missionary, single and moving into a career in academia, inviting two missionaries in northern California for a night chat while she evades an academic colleague who married her roommate. The missionary-themed story I enjoyed the most was “Lost Icon,” which follows a missionary’s experiences with a European academic who regards the church as something to be studied. The professor eventually becomes obsessed with some icons that he believes parallel early Mormon history; he becomes sick, and eventually leaves his research with the missionary, who returns home to the U.S.

The story ends with the missionary following up on the academic, and learning to his surprise that the professor became a convert and is now a regular, albeit eccentric, church member. What I find interesting is that the news of the baptism surprises the narrator, who had envisioned the academic as someone too smart to become a convert. It underscores how we can see people in distinct manners than others and how discernment affects our relationships and actions. It’s telling that earlier in the stories, other missionaries see the professor differently, one chuckling condescendingly about how he likes that “little dude.”

I’m not a Mormon intellectual; I don’t do well at finding specific subtexts in literature. However, I can relate to the interactions, the awkwardness, the communications in Morris’ contemporary stories. That doesn’t make me unique; I suspect that many of my LDS peers would have the same reactions from these tales.

Other enjoyable stories, such as “Reactivator,” describe a priesthood counselor’s discomfort with his super-motivated quorum president, and “Pass Along” is an interesting tale about a lonely LDS woman who can’t stop collecting, and keeping, church pass along cards she finds in distinct locations. As mentioned, other stories deal more in science fiction, presenting a future hidden gospel; one involves a church historian who uses futuristic methods to study the faith’s history.

“Dark Watch” is published by A Motley Vision, which is the name of Morris' blog. It can be purchased for $2.99 via Kindle. These are stories with often spare, matter-of-fact prose that can produce empathy. The contemporary tales usually have sentiments or situations that Mormons can identify with, with endings that ask us to interpret honestly the routine, yet complex, tasks within our church.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardNET.

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
---

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.

---

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."

A Short Stay in Hell is an odd, compelling novella about an eternity of the mundane

I read — mostly during Sacrament meeting — the novella “A Short Stay in Hell,” (Strange Violin Editions) by BYU professor Steven L. Peck. It’s one of the oddest book I have read, but it’s also so compelling that you can’t stop reading. That’s a reflection of the human urge to hope that a likable character achieves an impossible task.

But I’m ahead of myself. The plot: Soren, a recently deceased 45-year-old Mormon husband and father who lived in Utah County, finds himself in an office, with other dismayed dead persons, with a sardonic demon with an office window that shows demons throwing the “damned” in a lake of fire. It all turns out to be a practical joke. There is no lake of hell. The demon explains that the true religion is Zoroastrianism, a faith and philosophy from Iran.

Zoroastrianism, the demon says, will provide a type of hell, or purgatory, with a test for the “damned” souls, if they pass it, they eventually get into heaven.

In an clever plot twist, Soren, who loved books, is sent to a “hell” derived from the famous short story, “The Library of Babel.” The hell contains finite, yet infinite to the human mind, rows and floors filled with books. Every book that could ever be written is located there, all the same words and pages, etc. Soren’s task is to find the book that contains his life story, stick it in a slot, and enter “heaven.” Given that Soren, our narrator, is speaking after spending infinite billions of years there, the task is more or less impossible.

Soren’s religion, and the expectations he had on earth (spiritual body, perfect body, exaltation, becoming a God) all create interesting dilemmas. Although his body is perfect, it bleeds, and it needs food and drink (there is a kiosk that provides any food or drink and rows of beds on the floors, and showers). This brings consternation to Soren as he realizes that his new God allows coffee and alcoholic drinks. Each floor is populated with the same type of persons, all white, all from the United States, all having died within a certain span of years. As Peck writes, Soren wonders: “I began to think how strange it seemed that I never met a single person of color. Not an Asian, not a Hispanic, not anything but a sea of white American Caucasians. Was there no diversity in Hell? What did this endless repetition of sameness and of uniformity in people and surroundings mean?”

Over time, Soren, realizing he’s unlikely to encounter his earthly “eternal companion,” begins a series of sexual relationships with various women. Some relationships are more intense than others, but they all end. Soren joins “universities” with others confined there, and great excitement ensues whenever one of the books, which mostly contain illegible babble, contain a few words of English.

There is free agency within the confines of Soren’s library hell. One can die, but is always resurrected the next day. One can throw one’s self into the chasm and hope to get to the bottom of the library, but as Soren learns, the bottom is both finite and basically infinite to the human mind. Religious fundamentalism can spring up, and there is a disturbing interlude in Soren’s existence in which a fanatic, appropriately named “Dire Dan,” creates a religion that blends the Inquisition with today’s Islamic terrorism. The fanatics kill and torture others to death, and then resume the beatings when the victims awake healthy the next day. During this terror, Rachel, a companion Soren spent 1,000-plus years with, leaps into the chasm to escape.

Much of Peck’s novella, at this point, focuses on Soren’s own descent into the chasm, and his impossible search for Rachel, and later another woman, Wand. The searches in this hell are fruitless. The area is bigger than can be comprehended. At the end of novella, Soren is a shell of what he was. His search for a meaningful, permanent lover is impossible. It doesn’t fit in with the dimensions there. It’s telling that there are no children in Zoroastrianism hell. That would create chaos that might stay permanent.

At the end, he feels virtually nothing, and admits to having periods when he’s senseless. Living in a finite infinity, even sexual affairs lasting 1 billion years, mean nothing to him. Soren has succumbed to “this endless repetition of sameness and of uniformity in people and surroundings.”

Readers are advised not to look for any deeper meanings to the Zoroastrianism hell created by author Peck. It’s just there, it somehow all matches together, and it just happens, over and over and over. By the end, with every question drained out of him, Soren concedes his sole emotion, his sole motivation, is the search to find his life history book.

My favorite passage in the novella is near the end, in which Soren, spinning through space in the chasm, with his latest love, Wand, and still retaining a hopeful attitude for escape together, is intimate with his woman. Peck writes: “We made love twice, before making our attempt. We had both fallen so often and so long that we were like creatures of the air, and it seemed as natural as in a bed. For a day I glimpsed what heaven must be like.”

I like this novella, and I’ll likely read it every year or so, searching for meaning in a hell of the mundane. A hell that contains an eternity of the mundane, whether it’s books that make no sense, stairs and floors that never end, mundane mumbling and threats from the other side of the chasm, mundane evil, or relationships that last so long that they become mundane. That’s a pretty effective hell Peck has constructed.

-- Doug Gibson

Originally published at StandardBlogs

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.

---

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.