February was a busy month outside of school. My presentations at LTUE 42 went well and I had fun meeting up with old friends. I read from my essay “Through the Wardrobe: Inhabiting the Divine Story” at the Wayfare issue 3 launch party; I’m always impressed by the quality of writers they find, so I’m very humbled to be among them. Check out the previews of issue 3 (including this amazing art combining The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and the Kirtland temple that was commissioned to go with my piece) and consider subscribing to get one of the beautiful print copies.
This month I’ll be presenting a paper on using CS Lewis’s interpretation of Spenser’s Faerie Queene to understand the poetry of another early modern poet, Amelia Lanyer, at BYU’s English Symposium. I’ll also be travelling to Florida to attend the International Conference for the Fantastic in the Arts and read my paper on Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi and using speculative fiction to cope with trauma. So many conferences this semester! Remind me to limit myself to one next time.
The podcast has been a little dormant due to grad school, but we did release a short today on a short Pixar film called Self. The episode is twice as long as the film itself; we do some interesting twisting of the short into a religious reading that the filmmakers certainly didn’t intend. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy it, and we’ll get back to more regular episodes soon.
I also made a concerted effort this month to revive my non-school related reading. I find that reading for school becomes more interesting when I have things from my own interests to connect with it. So even though February is a short month, I’ve got 10 book reviews for you. Let’s jump to it!
Speculative Fiction
Letters from the Earth: Uncensored Writings by Mark Twain – Mark Twain brings his savage wit to bear on religion. The similarities in format to The Screwtape Letters are only superficial as Twain seems to barely use the pretext of Lucifer writing reports from earth back to his fellow (though unfallen) archangels. There’s no clever irony as in Screwtape where one can read the subtext to see a commentary on human behavior. Perhaps this is because Twain’s version of the divine reality is ridiculous, with God standing so high that the archangels reach only to his ankles and being more petulant than anything else. It reminds me of nothing so much as Terry Pratchett but without the heart, for everything is a joke to Twain and there’s very little to redeem any of humanity. I got through Satan’s letters, the first section of Methuselah’s journal, then to Eve’s diary, and when the text returned to Methuselah again, I decided I’d read enough. Even at its short length, the mode of attack by exaggeration and mockery got boring after a while and didn’t seem to be worth my time.
Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis – Reread this for CS Lewis Society. I can see why this book might be startling or confusing when compared to the obvious Christianity of Lewis’s other fiction. On its face, a story about a pagan woman trying to save her sister from being sacrificed to a monster might not immediately work for his target audience. I remember being utterly baffled the first time I read it. This time, knowing somewhat where the book was going, I was able to understand a lot more about the story and how Lewis constructed it, and even enjoy the ways that the myth of Cupid and Psyche is being twisted through it.
There are so many crossovers between this book and the rest of Lewis’s works. This time, I saw in the Fox so much of what Lewis said about his tutor (the Great Knock) in Surprised by Joy. Orual’s possessiveness about Psyche strongly mirrors the corrupt loves portrayed in The Great Divorce, and her denials of the possibility of the supernatural sound exactly like the rationalist denials that so much of Lewis’s apologetics was pushing back on. But precisely because of these crossovers, I would recommend this book not be your first Lewis book. It works much better if you have some background in Lewis’s thought before you approach the story.
Added Upon by Nephi Anderson – I found this book much more readable than I expected to. I am constantly referring to it as one of the first works of speculative fiction in the Latter-day Saint tradition, but I was hesitant to actually read it because I don’t tend to enjoy the more didactic fiction of the home literature period. In case you aren’t familiar, Added Upon was the first Mormon novel to use the format of following characters from the premortal life through their life on Earth and following up with their eternal destinies. You could consider this a distant ancestor of Saturday’s Warrior. There are multiple versions of this novel as Anderson worked on it over time; I read a late edition printed by Bookcraft. (I don’t have my book handy, but I feel like it was the 5th edition.)
The story has a few interesting twists. Using different names for the characters in the spirit world turned out to be a good idea even though a bit confusing, as Anderson got me thinking that the schoolteacher was actually the destined soulmate of our protagonist, only to pull the rug out from under me. I didn’t expect some of the other rough patches that the characters went through on their journey to the gospel either. The dialogue is stilted and Victorian, but the interior life of the characters is a bit better in terms of quality.
The real surprise of the book was the fourth section that takes place during the millennium and for some reason features the king of Poland visiting the millennial city. I was fascinated to get a glimpse of the way Anderson envisioned a utopian society working. There are even some science fictional hints at a power system based on “ether,” which is never explained. But the best part was how Anderson argues that fiction writers are just as necessary in this future Zion as craftsmen, and the society supports them by allowing them free time and houses full of inspiring art and nice views. Isn’t that the dream, Nephi?
When the Day Comes by Gabrielle Meyer – Honestly, I was really angry at this book most of the time. The premise is intreguing: time-travelers who live their lives in two different eras, switching every time they go to sleep, who must choose when to live their life on their 21st birthday. And early in the novel, it’s apparent that this science fictional concept doesn’t ignore religion, as the main character and her mother both believe that their time-crossing is part of God’s plan for their lives and trust in him.
However: I really hated the vague idea that they couldn’t change history without losing that time period. There are so many mechanical issues to this that are never addressed. Doesn’t everyone change time merely by existing? Doesn’t knowing how things will turn out in the older time period mean that they automatically are acting differently than they would without that knowledge? How does that not change history? What is a big enough change? Apparently living and raising your children with 1990s ideals about gender equality isn’t enough, though this would absolutely impact their actions, though it does provide a good in-world explanation for the typical historical fiction trope of the characters having values which are much too modern for the time period.
Mostly this “don’t change time” rule is used to make the main characters passive in a very Calvinist way. With only minimal whining, they accept that whatever happens is the Lord’s will and just wait around for it to happen for the vast majority of the novel. The result is characters who feel like they are observing history rather than living in it. Then at the last quarter of the novel, our main character decides very weakly to break these rules, and it turns out to make no difference at all to history.
The last 30 minutes of the audiobook pull off a eu-catastrophe that might have made Tolkien proud, a Deus-ex-machina that’s supposed to make everything that went before all right, but for me, it was too little, too late. I could not accept, as our main character does, that it was God’s will that this woman suffer through marital rape not once, but twice, with a minimal apology from her husband that he was drunk both times. He gets killed in war before there’s a chance for him to really put his claims of reform to the test. And the author expects us to be okay with this because the character ends up pregnant and loves the baby with no conflicted feelings about it. I don’t know any woman who would accept this situation as calmly as she did. I spent a lot of this book yelling at the author or the protagonist and can’t in good conscience recommend it.
Just Stab Me Now by Jill Bearup – I’ve been following Jill Bearup on YouTube for her fantastic analysis of movie combat and media armor reviews. I laughed along with everyone else at her series of shorts featuring a fantasy novelist arguing with her protagonist (both played by Bearup). But when she announced that she was turning those shorts into a book, I was skeptical that it would work. How would you convey the author arguing with someone she was writing without breaking believability for the audience?
Well, I’m happy to say that I’ve been humbled because this is a really fun book. It’s really a two-for-one story. Our fantasy author’s day job features a good deal of office intrigue reminiscent of The Office, as well as her emotional relationship with her editor. Meanwhile, in her fantasy novel, we have the story of a widowed mother of two sent on an impossible diplomatic mission. I loved watching the author try to force romantic tropes onto her characters who reject them for much more sensible and human reactions. It’s not the next fantasy classic, but the writing is clean and clear and the plot is fun. Recommended for a good vacation read.
Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson – What can I say? It’s my fourth time through Words of Radiance. I still love Kaladin’s plotline for its LDS resonances. I love Shallan’s discovery of her own powers, both literally and figuratively. Pattern is one of my favorite characters in the series and it’s nice to hear his voice again. The tragedy of Eshonai’s plotline is still agonizing. Although I think Sanderson surpassed this book with Oathbringer, it still stands as a remarkably perfect achievement in epic fantasy, with all its interlocking plot lines reinforcing each other’s themes.
Fiction
Charly by Jack Weyland – I had seen the early 2000s film version, but never read the book before now. You can tell this is Jack Weyland’s first book, written quickly over a summer and rushed to publication, as it reads like someone’s NaNoWriMo novel with minimal editing. However, once you accept the lack of description and the cheesiness of the dialogue, there’s a lot more to love about this book. Though Charly is somewhat a manic pixie dream girl, the lessons that Sam learns from her are actually crucial to LDS culture. It’s not often that we see someone with these sexist attitudes actually grow and change into someone likeable. I was also surprised by the whole storyline with the Native American members of their ward. When it first came up, I was worried that any writing on this subject from the time period was going to be cringy from a modern perspective, but given the flawed protagonist, I think it actually does a good job covering the unique racial tensions of Mormonism and showing Sam growing to respect native practices. This one is a Mormon lit classic for a reason, and you can read it in less than ninety minutes. Highly recommended.
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson – Read this for class on postsecular literature. It has been a long time since I first encountered Marilynne Robinson’s book on my study abroad while hiking across England. I can’t even recall now how that book fell into my hands given that we were walking from place to place and not really stopping to buy books. My memory of the book was mostly the voice, and that’s still the strongest part of the novel: an old man writing to the child of his twilight years, trying to preserve something of himself for the son that will not know him as an adult. I can’t remember enough of how this voice affected me as a 21-year-old to really say how different it hits as a middle-aged reader with children, but I definitely noticed and empathized more with the parts that discuss the betrayals of the aging body and how we lose our sense of control over our lives as we age.
One thing that I know is different in my reading this time is that I have greater knowledge of the differences between my religious beliefs and the Calvinist Protestant beliefs of the character (and the author). While some parts still resonate strongly with anyone who has fought to explain the experience of belief to a world that seems to have forgotten about it, I also found myself occasionally frustrated with the way John Ames sees things because they are directly opposed to the way I interpret them.
This book also hits different in an age where cutting off contact from members of your family, setting up boundaries that push out those you disagree with, has become sadly the norm. The incomprehension between Jack and John Ames feels sadder when you’ve experienced similar gaps yourself, as it seems almost everyone has lately. I’m interested to read the three companion books sometime this summer and see how Robinson constructs the other sides of this family narrative.
Nonfiction
Thinking Otherwise: Theological Explorations of Joseph Smith’s Revelations by James E. Faulconer – I really enjoyed James Faulconer’s comparison between the default assumptions of the majority of Christian theology and where Latter-day Saint thought ought to travel. He argues that Christianity inherited of the idea of “the One” and the singularity of God from Greek philosophy and how this led to many of the doctrines not found in the Bible but generally accepted by Christianity that Latter-day Saints reject (eg the trinity, creation ex nihilo). I think it took a lot of courage to stop trying to reconcile LDS belief with this tradition which is associated with respectability, and unapologetically own that we actually believe in a metaphysical plurality.
I was a little more confused about his concept of performative theology. The term is slightly misleading since “performative” is generally used as a synonym for “fake,” which is not what Faulconer is trying to say. I believe his goal was to try to make a place for theology in a church that believes in continuing revelation, and therefore can never be bound by careful scholarly study. Instead, he argues that the performative theology of reading the scriptures is actually a way that we can enact our closeness to God by trying to understand his word in a more deep way. I think there are implications here for the humanities crisis and the practical value of literary criticism, but I’m going to think on it more before deciding whether I agree with his approach.
100 Places to See After You Die: A Travel Guide to the Afterlife by Ken Jennings – The book features a string of possible afterlives from mythology, religion, books, movies, and more. I always forget what a fun writing voice Ken Jennings has. This tour is full of silly puns and fun mashups of travel guide writing with impossible mythology in small sections that make it easy to read “just one more.” I finished this much more quickly than I thought I would. I enjoyed both the afterlives I had heard of (eg Latter-day Saint, The Great Divorce, The Good Place, All Dogs Go to Heaven, etc.) as well as the strange ones I hadn’t heard of. I could see this being an interesting tool for fantasy writers who want to shake up their book’s mythology.
