This is my third year continuing my writer in review tradition. I don’t know if these are valuable to anyone else out there but me, but I really enjoy the forced opportunity to reflect back on the work I’ve been doing. Sometimes in the thick of it, I don’t see any progress, but then you look back on a whole year and can see real changes. So without further ado, a summary of last year.
One of the many things that gives me imposter syndrome as a humanities graduate student is the fact that I don’t like so many of the classic literary works that I’m supposed to be studying. During my undergraduate years, I was often in the awkward position of loving reading and hating most of the books I had to read for class. Part of this was that I tend to enjoy speculative fiction books and, at the time, very few professors taught speculative fiction books as part of their courses. I did love my Shakespeare class and a few of the novels I read grew on me through the process of discussion. But by and large, the books I remember most from that time period were the ones that I read on my own or with the CS Lewis society on campus.
In the years since, I’ve often felt the obligation to embark on projects to read the “great works,” however you end up defining that. I’m particularly enamored of the format set up in Susan Wise Bauer’s The Well-Trained Mind of following a rotating, four-year schedule of reading books by period: ancient, classical/medieval, early modern, and modern. (The beautiful systematic approach appeals to me, plus it doesn’t hurt that it aligns well with the church’s Come Follow Me scripture study rotation.) My most recent attempt at this was following the Hardcore Literature Book Club on YouTube, which had me reading both War and Peace and The Brothers Karamazov in the same year, which I’m not sure I can recommend for anyone looking to get enjoyment out of literature.
The issue with most “read the classics” approaches is that they tend to be based on reputation, with subsequent pressure to say that we enjoyed them even when we blatantly didn’t. My father-in-law had a habit of saying whenever one of his kids didn’t enjoy a canonical work that “the classics aren’t on trial,” with the implication being that you, or at least your character as a cultured person, is; that your worth as a person, or at least as a reader, is determined by matters of taste. Or rather by denying that this is a matter of taste at all.
On the one hand, I see the value of consuming books that we don’t necessarily like or immediately jive with. It can help us avoid the slump towards books that we “use” to indulge in favorite tropes. We all know someone who reads what seems to be the same romance novel over and over. By challenging us with something that we experience for the first time and have to work at. By doing so, we can expand our tastes: I didn’t used to appreciate edamame or hummus, but with repeated exposure, they are now some of my favorite foods.
And some books have been undeniably important to the world conversation. Part of my motivation for doing the double-Russian last spring was that I didn’t feel I could rightly be commenting on issues of belief in literature if I hadn’t at least been exposed to The Bros K. It’s such a formative work on the subject for our collective understanding. The canon is not as set as we think it is, but also, certain books are important for a reason. Sometimes we have to reach beyond our personal tastes to acknowledge this.
But sometimes the pressure to like a book that’s been proclaimed a classic can actually squash our ability to have a real conversation about it. I often felt this way as an undergraduate, hesitant to say that I found Victorian classics like Dickens and Hardy to be wordy and boring, because I worried about how it would reflect on my own character (and how it might damage my relationship with a professor who controlled my grade).
One thing that has liberated me at least somewhat from this perspective was reading about C.S. Lewis’s dislike of TS Eliot–not just personal dislike or professional envy, but saying that what he wrote was bad poetry (which would have been heresy in several of my classes). But from Lewis’s perspective, Eliot was simply a contemporary, not a major shaper of modernism that I met him as. Seeing this literary giant as a human person whose work was not universally praised gave me permission to realize that I could both recognize something as important and stand by the idea that I didn’t like it.
A book’s spot in the canon is not a mark of merit per se but a mark of engagement with the current issues in our public consciousness. As Daniel Coleman wrote in In Bed with the Word, books “stay alive because they are not hermetically sealed, closed off against new engagements, appropriations, and interpretations. … We play the texts we read into life” (84). Too often, students (myself included) approach the books they read in school with this “hermetically sealed” mindset, that we are here to measure ourselves against something which is externally judged to be worthy. But this attitude tends to result in a dead-on-arrival engagement with literature, kills the real connection (or lack thereof) we might have with the text. For me to really enjoy the works that previous generations have deemed to be great, I have to be free to engage with them as something living and real, something that represents the inner thoughts or imagination of a living person, who I may or may not get along with. Strangely, by giving myself the option to hate the classics, I find myself more likely to enjoy them.
I’ve had my October book reviews in my drafts folder since November, but again, grad school got the best of me. (I’m plotting how to do better at this next year.) So you’re getting a mega-three-month edition of book reviews.
Fortunately/unfortunately, I also had quite a few publications happen during these months, meaning they didn’t get nearly as much attention here as they ought to, but here they are in belated fashion. My essay “Turning the Corner” was published in the Fall 2023 print edition of Exponent II. You can’t find this one online, so you’ll have to track down a copy, but it’s about being sick at Christmas and moving to a new stage of parenting where your kids no longer need you to keep them alive from minute to minute.
My short genre confused piece “The Cost” was part of the 12th annual Mormon Lit Blitz. I was completely surprised when it won the judges’ choice award as well as fourth place in the audience choice because all of the pieces in the contest were really strong. I recommend reading them in order together because there’s a great theme of family and life stages that seems to naturally flow.
My creative nonfiction essay “Knit Together” was published in the latest issue of BYU Studies. It’s accompanied by some photographs of a few of the knitting projects that I mention in the essay. This essay was one I wrote over the course of about a week last year when I was still in the emotional throws of the events that happen at the end of the essay, so it’s a really vulnerable piece for me. I hope it can be helpful for others who struggle with family relationships.
I’m also experimenting with mirroring my blog over on Substack, so subscribe over there if you prefer to read on that platform.
Continue reading “What I Read: Oct-Dec 2023”I intended to post this after I finished releasing these comments on social media, but graduate school got the best of me. Nonetheless, they deserve a permanent home here, so apologies for the un-timely post.
Irreantum’s genre issue is alive in the world! I have been absolutely dying to share this issue with you all for months. These stories absolutely prove that combining Mormonism with genre elements doesn’t have to be gimmicky or silly; speculative fiction (and other genres, though most of these works have a supernatural slant) can lead to profound thoughts about our culture, about our beliefs, about human nature, and about the universe. Here are my thoughts as a co-editor of the issue on the stories contained therein. I’m going in reverse order of the table of contents just to make sure the ending pieces don’t get forgotten.
Could Brandon Sanderson Have Saved the Nephites? – Obviously, as someone who also writes criticism about Mormonism in Brandon Sanderson’s work, I feel really excited about this piece. Nick Fredrick is a very careful and reflective scholar; his analysis of the parables in The Way of Kings left me thinking about both Stormlight and The Book of Mormon in ways that I hadn’t before. After I listened to him read this piece at LTUE last year, I knew it needed to be published, and I’m so pleased that we were able to include it in this issue.
The Year the Graveyard Flooded – Emily Feuz Jensen’s piece straddles the line between realism and magical realism in the best ways. Are the people of the town just interpreting events in faith-promoting ways or is something really happening? Either way, this story features classic LDS themes of turning the hearts to the fathers in a lyrical, contemplative package.
The Incident at Burning Bush Ranch – I love the way Shayla Frandsen wields the tropes of the “found footage” genre in a written package. The ambiguities and corrections feel authentically folkloresque, and the story she tells plays off of an important but less-explored aspect of LDS culture, girls’ camp. This was one of the first submissions for this issue that I fell in love with.
Welded – I’ll admit to being intimidated by poetry, but I love what Makoto Hunter has done by mashing together poetry and historical research. I learned a lot about the history of polygamy from the footnotes and a lot about the human heart from the stanzas. Hopefully you’ll enjoy unraveling exactly what the author is implying as much as I did.
An Opportunity – This story is unique because Jeanna Mason Stay tells it from an outsider perspective; her protagonist is both outside the LDS community and outside her family’s special heritage. But there’s something undeniably Mormon about the magic system she presents and the wrestle the protagonist has with her past and her future. In an age of strained family relationships, this story will touch your heart and stay with you for a long time.
7 Devils – Declan Hyde gives this issue some classic demonic possession. I love the LDS twists on the lore, but the ending is what made my heart race in the best horror way. I recommend reading this one with the lights on and in a highly-populated area (or the inverse, if you like being scared).
The Archaemaji – This story is a Heavenly Mother story, but perhaps not like the ones you’ve read before. While it’s set in a secondary world, it makes commentary on an issue that’s important in contemporary LDS writing. D. C. Wynters’s ending struck as unique among the Mormon literature that longs for the divine feminine, and it’s one that couldn’t have been achieved without the unique fantasy set-up of the story.
Unidentified Faith-affirming Object – Gregory Brooks’s irreverent mash-up made me laugh out loud from the first line: “A column of light, gradually descending like a tractor beam.” Mormon readers might think they can tell exactly where this poem is going to go, but the scope quickly grows wider than you might anticipate. The radical recontextualization of everything you know will feel familiar and, dare I say, alien at the same time.
An interview with Sandy Petersen – I haven’t listened to the full interview yet, but I’m excited to learn about an aspect of LDS involvement in the nerd-space that I’ve previously only heard about. Sandy Peterson created The Call of Cthulu, an influential RPG game based on Lovecraftian mythos. His story is an important part of the history of Mormon speculative fiction. Thanks to D. J. Butler for conducting this interview.
Remember the Blood – When I first read Nate Givens’s story, it gave me strong early Orson Scott Card vibes. Partly this is because of the horror/dread aspect of this story’s lore. Part is the young male protagonist, both cocky and naive. And part is the unique blend of Mormon and Mesoamerican folklore, strongly reminiscent of Pastwatch or “America” from Folk of the Fringe. For me, the ending hits the perfect blending of fantasy and theology for a surprising-but-inevitable resolution that stuck with me.
The Case of the Missing Sacrament Bread – Katherine Cowley sets up a humorous mystery with the form of a ward history, a genre which perhaps only those who have to write them know about. I know none of the Relief Society histories I’ve written were half so interesting as this. You’ll recognize many characters from your local ward in her send-up of the quotidian aspects of LDS culture.
It’s About the People Under You – The concept of this one made me laugh out loud when I was reading through the slush pile, and I knew we needed it for the issue. Willow Dawn Becker satirizes so many aspects of Utah Mormon culture with the protagonist’s gradual downward spiral.
This is What Happened in Trígonus – Alejandro Seta’s work, presented in both English and the original Spanish, examines a familiar scripture story from a different frame of reference, you might say. I was so happy to see this submission right after finishing my analysis of how Mormons write about aliens as it fits right into the pattern of expanding the gospel story beyond a single planet. Gabriel González’s lyrical translation reflects the ethereal and dreamlike nature of the story.
The Double-Snatcher – I’ll admit that when I first started reading W. O. Hemsath’s story, I was skeptical as I’m not much of a consumer of talking animal stories. But when I realized what she was doing, I zipped right through to the heartbreaking ending. Maybe you’ll catch on more quickly than I did, but either way, I know you’ll enjoy this clever story that takes on an issue I never before considered.
You Are Beautiful, Dead, Whole – Chanel Earl’s story/poem takes fairy tale tropes and scripture stories, places them in a blender, and pushes “puree.” The result is a smooth refreshment composed of the real and the fictional, all of it with a special mythopoeic feel. Makes me excited to see what she comes up with for the upcoming folklore-themed issue of Irreantum she’s helping to edit.
The Haunted – I’ve saved another of my favorites for last (or first, if you’re reading the right way round). Mathilda Zeller’s story of a teen girl with a strained relationship with the church and with the ghosts who haunt her is a real achievement in Mormon speculative fiction. Her characters manage to be very real about their relationships to the institutional church while also dealing with a very unreal problem. I laughed, cried, and learned to love Moroni Alvarez and our unnamed protagonist, and I hope you do as well.
The genre issue, along with the rest of Irreantum, is freely available on the internet. That being said, if you feel you got some value out of this issue, please support the writers by joining the Irreantum Patreon. It only charges when a new issue is released; I believe the donations for this issue will be collected November 1st. The Patreon money goes straight to paying the authors who worked so hard to bring you these unique stories that might not have been published in a mainstream press. Plus by becoming a patron, you’ll get early access to Irreantum’s next issue. There are currently three themed issues accepting submissions, one on folklore and one on the restoration. I’m sure you’re gonna want to see what comes next!
Graduate school has begun in earnest, and man, I’m sliding back into school like a fish into water. It’s so refreshing to be around people who are deep thinkers, great writers, and prolific readers all day long. Grad school is a blast! (Remind me of that in December when the paper deadlines hit.)
This weekend (Oct 13 & 14) I’ll be at the Latter-day Saints and Media Studies Symposium presenting my analysis of the portrayal of LDS characters in The Expanse and Stranger Things. Tickets are $30 for two days of interesting research about the interaction between the media and the church and its members. If you’re in the Las Vegas area, I’d love to say hello!
A short essay/fiction/something I wrote made the finalist list for the 12th Mormon Lit Blitz! The Lit Blitz will be starting on October 23rd with my piece being released on November 2nd. I’m also involved behind the scenes this time as I’ll be putting together a podcast version of the Lit Blitz to make it even easier to follow along and vote.
Over at Pop Culture on the Apricot Tree, we finished our Barbenheimer miniseries by talking about Barbie. I know there’s been a lot of LDS coverage of the film, but I think our discussion added a perspective that wasn’t as prevalent. I also really enjoyed our discussion of season two of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. If you’re not already watching it, I highly recommend using your free trial of Paramount+ to do so (maybe over the holidays?).
Onward to book reviews!
Continue reading “What I Read: Sept 2023”