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.

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

 

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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."

'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.