Novel puts readers into the shoes of a gay Mormon teen who wants to stay worthy

 

Review by Doug Gibson

Note: I reviewed the novel, "No Going Back," by Jonathan Langford in 2009. It was published only of StandardBlogs, a feature that the Standard-Examiner newspapaer carelessly allowed to go defunct. In the most recent William Morris email of A Motley Vision, Morris remembered Langford -- who died eight years ago. He paid tribute to his sole novel, which is an excellent book. I decided to search Wayback and find my review of "No Going Back." It has comments from that time, including one from Mr. Langford. To achieve permanence for the review, I place it here on the Culture of Mormonism blog.

“I made my choice. I did the right thing and stood up for the church. But it’s just so hard. Being around people. People not liking me. People pretending I’m not even there.”

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Or so says teenager Paul Ficklin, a gay Latter-day Saint in freelance writer Jonathan Langford’s novel, “No Going Back.” The new Zarahemla Books offering has a premise that many haven’t contemplated before. It allows the reader to get inside the head of an active-in-the-church gay teenager who desperately wants to live the Gospel and the law of chastity even if it will deny him the instinctive, God-given need of future love, companionship and family.

In “No Going Back,” Paul rejects a gay/straight alliance club at his school because it teaches him to reject LDS doctrine and embrace his sexuality. As a result he is outed by a vindictive member.

The irony is he feels far less acceptance from his straight school and LDS Church peers — in fact he’s frequently taunted — than from the GSA former friends who he left.

Although it’s didactic at times and has too much sequence introductions with characters thinking, “No Going Back” is a powerful tale. The story revolves around Paul’s long relationship with his straight friend, Chad Mortensen, who happens to be the bishop’s son. Chad is the first person to which Paul reveals his homosexuality. Though there are a lot of bumps in the road — some of it normal best friend spats — Chad ultimately becomes Paul’s biggest defender. Another help to Paul is his single mom, Barbara. Chad’s father, Bishop Richard Mortensen, also provides potentially lifesaving encouragement to Paul, counseling Paul through his teenage years with a constant reminder to him that LDS doctrine does not regard same-sex attraction by itself as a sin and that God loves him.

But one dilemma Paul has throughout most of the novel is a constant loneliness that comes with being gay and having longings completely distinct from his role models and most friends. Pushing away from those at the GSA — who encourage him to be a gay teen — so he can live his religious beliefs comes with a price I think most straight people wouldn’t accept.

There is a scene midway in “No Going Back” where Bishop Mortensen, overworked and dealing with marital stress, chats with his kindly father in law, a former local church leader. His father in law disapproves of how Mortensen is handling Paul as too permissive. The scene is probably a microcosm of the hell many gay people experience when dealing with religious leaders. Their feelings, which they can’t control, are deemed sinful. In the LDS Church, that is not true. The irony, as Paul discovers, is that not enough of his church peers, even perhaps those in authority, have learned that.

Langford’s novel is not designed to please those who take strident positions pro and con on gay rights. It’s no coincidence that a Prop. 8-type gay marriage battle is included as a backdrop to the plot in “No Going Back.” I’ve read a lot of different viewpoints on Langford’s novel on LDS-related Web sites. It’s getting a lot of buzz, which I hope helps Zarahemla’s sales.

Many, I fear, will scorn “No Going Back” due to its protagonist choosing to stay with a religion that calls his preferred sexual practice a sin. They have a point that seems to make sense: Be who you are. But religion doesn’t always make sense. It calls for obedience. There are no doubt countless young people with same-sex attraction trying to obey a traditional Christian lifestyle. And the gay/straight alliance, which preaches tolerance, has no tolerance for Paul after he tells them he regards homosexuality as a sin.

What’s missing in the harsh criticism religion gets often in regards to issues such as gay marriage is that it is only a very small part of an entire belief system. To place too much emphasis on one aspect of the gospel can be a road to apostasy, whether it’s the Word of Wisdom or gay marriage. Paul learns that during his experiences.

In “No Going Back,” we don’t know if Paul’s going to make it long term as a faithful member. A spiritual survivor, he’s plugging away, reading his scriptures, praying and going to church.

In a poignant scene, Paul seeks out the church patriarch who gave him a blessing, asking for more insight on his future family life. His recorded blessing is vague on that. He gets sympathy and some platitudes, but no answer.

Although disillusioned, Paul remains an active Mormon, trying to do the best he can in the world God sent him to to be tested. The difference from most of us is the added burden of being gay that Paul has to deal with.

As I seem to mention every time I review a Zarahemla novel, I wish this book was on the shelves at Deseret Book. A lot of us could benefit by reading it.

‘Murder by Sacrament’ a Mormon-themed murder mystery

 

Those who yearn for Mormon-themed fiction without the obligatory faith-promoting climax might want to give Toom Taggert the once-over. He’s the protagonist of author Paul M. Edwards’ mystery novel “Murder by Sacrament,” from Signature Books. 

“Murder By Sacrament” is the second book featuring Taggert, who plays a somewhat cynical philosophy professor who also heads the education department of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, now known as The Community of Christ. Edwards is a former president of the Mormon History Association and he created Taggert in an image no doubt treasured by most explorers of Mormon history: He’s an unorthodox bureaucrat, coffee-drinking and less impressed by faith than his peers, uncomfortably nested in an environment of church hierarchy bureaucrats and hyperfaith junior members of the church staff. A bit of a loner, with a comatose wife, Toom’s closest friends are a cop buddy named Amos, and Marie, the church’s legal representation. There is romantic tension between Toom and Amos over Marie, who almost married the cop in the past.  

The book is set in the RLDS church’s Independence, Mo. headquarters, at the time period just before the RLDS church changed its name. Frankly, with the structure and tensions that Edwards creates, the novel could just as easily be set in LDS headquarters in Salt Lake City. In “Murder by Sacrament,” someone is killing major church donors via poison. The first donor is killed drinking the sacrament in the church’s temple, another is killed sampling chocolates at an expensive church party. Ultimately, the pressures of performing in an highly religious environment play into the murder plot.

This is a cerebral novel, with Taggert using his philosophy skills both to try to solve the murders, handle the anal behavior at work, and meander through a love affair he cannot consummate due to his ailing wife. One hobby that helps him keep sane is finding books with authors’ names that resemble the subject. For example, “Follow My Dust,” by Arthur Upfield, and so on. The reader can’t help but like Taggert, a man who uses his wit to maintain his faith, a product most would laud, except in an environment filled with certainty. It’s interesting to read a novel that pits faith as the opposite of certainty. There is an odd twist to the novel in which Edwards scrawls asides on the pages. One is a page number game (“go to page …”) that can lead the reader into a never-ending page maze.

There’s not a lot of violence in “Murder By Sacrament,” and often times other issues intrude on the plot. But it’s a well-paced, well thought-out mystery in a Mormon setting and the story builds to a satisfying climax, with a bureaucracy-mandated twist at the very end that leaves a killer with a good legacy. Edwards’ first Toom Taggert novel, “The Angel Acronym,” involved a RLDS church archivist murdered at the headquarters. The plot included certain documents discovered that cast the Prophet Joseph Smith in a harsh light. It’s a good read that can serve as a precursor to “Murder By Sacrament.”

-- Doug Gibson

Originally published at StandardNET

The Thieves of Summer captures life in long ago Salt Lake City

Review by Doug Gibson

In 2014, Signature Books is released a novel, “The Thieves of Summer,” drafted by Linda Sillitoe just before her death in 2010. Sillitoe is best known for co-authoring the non-fiction crime book “Salamander: The Mormon Forgery Murders,” but also wrote novels, short stories, essays and poetry. In “Thieves of Summer,” Sillitoe combines several of her passions -- crime reporting, elephants, family, Mormonism and the culture of old Salt Lake City -- to craft a cluttered, but nevertheless entertaining summer story.

It’s 1938, and in Salt Lake City’s Liberty Park area the Flynn family is surviving the Depression as best it can. Dad Evan is a police detective, consumed with a case of missing children. His wife, Rose, stays at home and with dad raises Glenn, a new adult, troubled teen Joyce and three 11-year-old triplets, Annabelle, Bethany and Carolee. Nearby lives Princess Alice, a very independent elephant that is the main attraction at the Liberty Park zoo. 

Sillitoe has tossed a lot of ingredients into her novel’s conflict broth, and at times the reader will wonder what exactly is the main plot of “Thieves of Summer.” It probably fits into the genre of crime fiction, but there are long interludes in which the case of the missing children, and the thoroughly evil pedophile antagonist, disappear from the novel. Also, the elephant Princess Alice, tagged pretty early as a major character in the novel, makes cameo appearances until the novel approaches its climax. 

Perhaps a better title would have been “The Family Flynn” because they are the real focus of the novel, particularly the parents and the two oldest siblings. The family’s challenges, which include Glenn getting his girlfriend, Margie, in a family way, as well as emotionally maladjusted Joyce being caught stealing at work and trying to harm her new sister in law, are detailed from both secular and religious consequences. Sillitoe makes it clear that for an active Mormon family in 1938 Salt Lake City, every crisis includes a reaction from the dominant church. In one episode, in which an aunt dies of complications from mumps and pertussis, Sillitoe captures the culture well in the manner the family hustles away Glenn from the quarantined home due to the potential threat to his child-bearing future. The not-always-subtle discrimination against woman is captured in how some ecclesiastical leaders handle Glenn and Margie’s pregnancy.

The author captures the period piece of Depression-era Utah well, particularly in a family outing to Saltair, trips on the old public transportation system, horse-riding in the city, and an era of medicine that relied as much on hope as medical expertise. I particularly enjoyed the innocence of the conversations of the triplets regarding the crisis of Glenn, Margie, Joyce and even the stolen children. They are in that small pocket of life where they know something is amiss but are not actually sure what is amiss. Their ruminations comprise excellent writing.

The climax of the novel, which is the resolution of the criminal case, is easy to predict but nevertheless clever and the writing is very strong. As mentioned, the pedophile criminal is extremely evil and sociopathic. Spending several pages in his head leaves readers wondering if they need to take a shower. Sillitoe has the talent to effectively convey the emotions and thoughts of children and adults. The Flynn father, Evan, is an extremely fair-minded, patient man, and Cynthia Sillitoe, Linda Sillitoe’s daughter and an Ogden resident, notes in the novel’s forward how easy it is to see Evan in her grandfather.

After the novel’s conclusion, there are several actual newspaper articles, as well as a photo of the real Princess Alice elephant, which lived in Salt Lake City and was an attraction at the Liberty Park zoo between 1916 and 1918.

“The Thieves of Summer” is a quirky mix of family tension, crime drama and an homage to an elephant, but the writing is superb and Sillitoe has produced a tale that captures interest and provides entertainment.

-- Originally published at StandardNET

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 Backslider reminds us that enjoying sex is part of the Gospel

It’s a pleasure to read Levi S. Peterson’s novel, “The Backslider” every year or two. It’s the tale of Frank Windham, a rural Utah young man in the mid-20th century who is a bit of a hell-raiser but heavily influenced by his Mormon religion. Frank is 20 and “one of those fellows who got bogged down making another man rich,” as Peterson writes on page 4 of the novel.

Out of spite, and soon after he is dumped by the college-gone girlfriend he loved, Frank seduces Marianne, the college-age daughter of his Lutheran employers, Wesley and his wife, Clara. When Marianne gets pregnant, she and Frank decide to get married, give the baby a name, and then eventually part. No one else really takes that pledge seriously except Frank, who has some real issues with enjoying sexual pleasure with a young woman, even if it is within the bounds of marriage.

“The Backslider” is a love story between Frank and Marianne, but it’s also a primer on how to love. Old-fashioned Mormon codes of sex, such as having relations with temple garments on, serve to bridge the old versus the new mores that Frank encounters growing up.

As the late Paul Swenson, writing in Utah Holiday notes, “Guilt, depravity and grace —, Cowboy  themes that Peterson finds fruitful to explore in The Backslider — are not exactly commonplace in fiction peopled primarily by Mormons.” 

“The Backslider” is a frank, sometimes comic novel with incredible depth, that gets into the guilts, resentments, pities, excitement, lust and exaltations that make up high and low points of our lives. Frank’s battles pit his desire to be pious versus his gut-wrenching need to hell-raise makes for wonderful reading, as does his struggle to accept adulthood and take responsibility of himself and his unexpected wife. 

Although Frank’s mother, Margaret, is a faithful Latter-day Saint, both Frank and his brother Jeremy have impressions of the church that are distorted, thanks in part to her, as well as the general culture of the novel’s setting, mid-20th century rural Utah. This leads to tragic consequences for Jeremy. One well-written, amusing passage involves Margaret’s uncomfortable observation that Frank and Marianne’s bed frame needs to be oiled to stop the loud squeaking at night.

Frank, badly affected by his brother Jeremy’s insanity and self-mutilation, finds it almost impossible to reconcile sex with his wife as anything other than a sin. Even her impending baptism doesn’t drive that obsession away until Frank receives a visit from a “Cowboy Jesus,” who tells Frank to stop worrying about these issues, that His atonement has paid the bill up in full. The Cowboy Jesus advises Frank to enjoy his wife and their carnal pleasures and comfort his mother-in-law, who is shook up about her daughter becoming a Mormon.

The whimsy of the final scenes underscore a serious message: pleasure is usually not a sin, although it frequently is assumed to be.

The Backslider can be purchased at many locations. The Signature Books website has it here.

-- Doug Gibson

Portions of this column were previously published in StandardBlogs.