Читать книгу Parting the Mormon Veil - Ángel Chaparro Sanz - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe Mormon Context (History and Literature):
Always with a stitch in my side
To analyze the whole literary production of a writer encompasses more than just focusing on his or her books. At least, in my overview of Phyllis Barber’s literary production, I found that if I wanted to deliver a thorough and extensive analysis of her books, it would be necessary to go beyond them. The goal might seem too aspirational and intricate, but it is my impression that this spirit has consistently proved to be unavoidable, and more so as I aspire to widen my conclusions in order to propose assumptions that may be of assistance when approaching a specific culture and its corresponding literature. In the case of this project, it is in regard to the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I even dare add a third pursuit even if this makes my target too high and far away. As I already explained in the general introduction to this book, I also pretend to offer my analysis and the subsequent conclusions as an invitation to reflect on our position as cultural subjects determined by, or, at least exposed to, a variety of social, cultural, political and moral components that complicate our personal definitions of self.
Just by taking a look at the structure of this book, one can perceive which main factors of Phyllis Barber’s literary production I have considered relevant for achieving a complete analysis of her work. Her being a woman, mother and wife, together with the fact that Barber’s fiction is set in an urban West are noticeably proposed as main factors considered in the general analysis of her literature. Another element that is obvious to any reader is that of her being, or having been, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. However, it is not her membership that I consider to be important, but the fact that it has been a troublesome one. Some time before I finished this book, I had the chance to ask Barber herself about my calling her a Mormon. This was the answer that she gave me:
I'm a writer who is informed by my birth in the West, by the Mormon religion which has played a large role in shaping who I've become, and by my desire to craft my expression into something beautiful in the literary sense of that word. Many ‘Mormons’ might not consider me a Mormon writer, actually, because I don't always write pleasant things, and I haven't stayed within the boundaries of Mormon idealism in my own life.1
My insistence in describing Barber as a Mormon needs to be understood as part of the researcher’s urge to resort to labels in aid of accessibility, coherence, and academic scrutiny. At any rate, based on this answer and on further inquiry, I deduce that Barber is aware of the influence that her being raised a Mormon has had upon her. That is indeed a palpable strand in her literature. In fact, it is impossible not to perceive her compulsion towards spiritual connection, and this compulsion, regardless of whether or not it takes her beyond any established denomination, originally springs from her Mormonism. Likewise, it cannot be denied that her being a woman as well as her sensitivity toward the landscape of the American West, are crucial elements in the shaping of her identity. She herself says as much. However, both of these elements can be related to her being a Mormon. Without a doubt, analyzing Barber’s fiction requires a multiplex strategy, one that digs out her roots but that also maps out the long road that leads her from them.
In any case, it is my conviction that apprehending Barber’s work in its fullness demands a developed understanding of the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some of her stories are rooted very deep; rooted in a soil that has been harvested for two centuries. Some others are placed in urban spaces and they only reach a few days back from yesterday, but they always ascertain a set of connections that transcend the single moment and specific locale. That is the main reason behind my intention to give a recapitulation of Mormon history and literature before beginning my analysis of her books. Thus, readers will be equipped with the necessary context from which both Barber’s literature and my own analysis proceed.
There is a second reason that I feel it is mandatory to offer this historical and literary overview. In short, it is prudent to assume that not everybody knows that Mormon literature exists. Since the late 1970s when the initiation of the first Mormon college classes and the publishing of the first Mormon anthologies signaled the beginning of a flourishing interest in Mormon literature from an academic perspective, Mormon literature has observed a growth that provides an interesting route to understand its complicated existence today. Mormon criticism is still studying the limits and concerns of both the criticism and the literature. It is my aim to study this process and to show that critical attention is given to Mormon literature.
Furthermore, I want to contribute to this visibility through a panoptic approach which posits a complex definition of Mormon literature. In my treatment of Mormonism and Mormon literature I will exhibit a preference for a multiplicity of points of view, unpretentious criticism and an inclination to pose questions rather than make statements. I believe this to be the proper way for an outsider to approach a different culture. In any case, the aim remains the same: to give visibility to a body of work that, as I will try to show, has been long denied the attention it deserves.
Mormonism has gone global and international, and this movement began long before Mitt Romney became the first Mormon to be a major party presidential nominee. In the second half of the 20th century, the Mormon Church has supported and encouraged the establishment of missions and wards all over the world. Today, the Church acknowledges a total number of almost 14.5 million members. These members are distributed in 28,784 congregations worldwide. The Church has 340 established missions and 140 temples around the world. Some of these temples have been built in places as diverse as Germany, Spain, Mexico, Brazil, Panama, Colombia, Sweden, Argentina, Canada, China, Philippines, Nigeria and Denmark, to name but a few.2 Still, prejudices abound and ignorance fosters stereotypes. An unveiling of Mormonism therefore requires an accurate mapping of its background. Mormon history articulates the very fabric of Mormon identity. When approaching Mormons as a tight group—as a community—the researcher easily perceives the importance of history for the construction and continuation of that bond. Likewise, the history of Mormonism is fundamental to the individual and personal design of any Mormon’s place in the world. In America: Religions and Religion, Albanese summarizes all this into one simple sentence: “To understand the Mormons is to understand this history in which they acted out their identity” (226). Therefore, if I want to offer a proper background to my analysis, I need to explore not only contemporary Mormonism, but I also need to walk backwards and track its history.
In conclusion, before I begin to pose my analysis of Phyllis Barber’s literature, it is necessary to approach both Mormon history and literature in order to provide a proper frame within which to understand her books. Levi S. Peterson explains that “if it is written well, history can function as potently as either fiction or drama to capture our imagination, to arouse our emotions, to cause us to identify and project and to live vicariously in the scene portrayed by the historian” (Juanita 135). By contrast, Linda Sillitoe affirms that fiction can be more resolute than history in achieving its natural aim: “Sometimes a deeper, subtler truth can be told in fiction” (Off 12). The combination of these two different positions supports my perception that offering introductions to the history of Mormonism and to Mormon literature proves valuable insofar as it guarantees a better understanding of my subsequent analysis of Barber’s literature. Besides, these introductions, as I have already stated, function as an invitation to come closer to a culture that offers a different approach to the American West, and to discover new challenges that could even rearrange our own personal definitions.
Genealogy and Memory:
How to Shape a Communal Identity
The history of Mormonism is a story of movement and constant progress, an evolution of a community through events and circumstances that have drawn the path to the present-day consideration of Mormonism as a spiritual and cultural group. Indeed, it almost verges into an ethnic category. When Candadai Seshachari tries to explain the nature of the duty of a Mormon writer, he is compelled to explain that the Mormon writer finds in the historical past of his or her ancestors a weight equivalent to that which an African American might feel toward the history of slavery (Seshachari 23).
Whether I am here talking about writers, mathematicians or plumbers, to say that Mormons look back to their history in order to find a place for themselves is an obvious assertion. And as soon as the obvious comes into play, so does the risk of bending it for the sake of simplicity. Such a clear statement may invite us to sacrifice the complexity of the history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when, in fact, it is necessary to approach any single event of its history with an eye open to different approaches, perspectives, and levels of interpretation. There is no better example to understand this complexity than by paying attention to an even more obvious statement: that almost the entire history of the Mormons took place in the American West; an American West that, as Neil Campbell emphasizes, became “a particular focal site for the inscription of national identity” and a “primary mythic vehicle” (Rhizomatic 152). Mormons, as part of the historical, but also mythical, enterprise that led to the settling of the American West, were engaged in that same frontier-search for definition and transcendence. To gain understanding of their sense of community and their quasi-ethnic perception, it is indispensable to study the myths upon which their agreement is erected. As Stacy Burton has suggested, the pioneering days—a cardinal point in Mormon history—are fundamental for understanding this mythical nuance: “Mormons have long revered early adherents to the faith, particularly the pioneers who crossed the plains to Utah. But what began as reverence gradually became mythologizing and then sacralizing” (Burton, Toward 32).
This process of “mythologizing and then sacralizing” has its explanation in the Mormon tendency to look backwards in search of a sense of community. Probably, that bent towards memory and tradition stems from Mormonism’s reaction against the growing secularization of its surroundings. As Anthony D. Smith explains in Myths and Memories of the Nation, “the myths represent a means of adapting to rapid change, of mediating between an untenable but much-regretted religious tradition and an ardently-sought but often fearful social change and modernization” (Myths 84). Smith adds that these myths also reflect the “hopes and possibilities” (Myths 84) placed upon a change produced by the move into a new industrial, capitalist and modern society, a “modern era where traditional economy of isolation and subsistence is finished” (Myths 84). Or as Richard Slotkin puts it, “myth-making is simultaneously a psychological and a social activity. The myth is articulated by individual artists and has its effect on the mind of each individual participant, but its function is to reconcile and unite these individualities to a collective identity” (Slotkin, Regeneration 8). The Mormon’s growing “mythologizing and then sacralizing” of the pioneer days does—with some variation and change of emphasis—fit into this picture.
As I suggested before, it is significant that this mythic use of the Mormon past belongs to the same ideal that America took as a source for its own national identity: the American West. Mormons relied on that mythology, but with a personal flair: a certain specific set of characteristics that insert their own idiosyncrasy to a narrative that encompasses a wider identity, against which they built their own. But, at the same time, Mormon experience of the American West introduces an ambiguous and paradoxical element that contributes to the opening up of a different approach to the history of the American West, one that shares with recent trends in academic research an emphasis on complexity and exploration. Throughout the history of the American West, the Mormons occupy a place that seems unbalanced and tricky. Although, due to their different (and thus dangerous) characteristics, they stood in apparent opposition to the imperialist strands that marked the pioneering of the American West, they were also involved in a process of expansion and subjugation. In short, Mormons can be perceived as a minority group within the experience of the American West. To a large extent, they match a mainstream pattern that they, on other occasions, divert from.
To write an overview of the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is an overwhelming task that encompasses different periods that, on occasion, run parallel to the history of the United States of America.3 In fact, to encapsulate the history of the Mormon community, one needs to travel from the beginnings of the United States as a country and the key events of the pioneering days to our present time. Such a journey reaches over a vast expanse of land: from the state of New York to the deserted land around the Great Salt Lake and even further to California, and southwards down to Mexico. In the interest of clarity, I have divided Mormon history into six different periods.
Starting from the beginning, that is, from the very foundation of the Church, the first period demands an appraisal of the foundation of the Church. Joseph Smith’s first vision opens the period and it ends with Governor Bogg’s Extermination Order, which removed Mormons from Missouri (Blair 64). This period seems to establish a pattern that will be repeated in the following years.
If Mormons moved from Missouri to Illinois, then the next step should focus on Nauvoo, the first—successful but brief—attempt to build Zion.4 Nauvoo works as a symbol of Mormon enterprise and this period ends with the death of Smith which, obviously, deserves a close analysis.
The failure of this settlement launched a new period that could be symbolized by a change of focus when discerned in the main leaders of the Church. If, as I said, the Nauvoo period closes with the death of Joseph Smith, the next one opens with the emergence of Brigham Young, the main character in a very important historical period for the Mormons – referred to as the Mormon exodus—and the subsequent settling of the Salt Lake valley. The time of the exodus, as Jan Shipps affirms, contains great significance, as it led to Mormonism’s institutionalization as a Church and almost into an ethnic group in their own right: “these events took on an experiential character appropriately described as metaphorical only if metaphor is understood as something more than literary device” (Shipps 61).
This period and the following, from the pioneering days to the Mormon instauration of a community in the desert, still exercise a fundamental influence in present day Mormonism. When it comes to undertaking an analysis of Mormonism’s settling in the American West, a dual approach seems advisable. First, a period considering the first years shows how isolation was a pattern, but also how many Mormons were subjected to persistent nomadism for the benefit of a Church looking to settle in new areas. Brigham Young succeeded in promoting a sense of community during these first years. A second period within this general pioneering period follows the first one and it ends after the polygamist controversy takes place in the last years of the 19th century. This period explains the dispute with the Federal government over polygamy. This was, again, a period of significant consequence for Mormon culture; a period that, in fact, draws a line that separates all of the previous periods from the future evolution of the Mormon community.
The sixth and last period sees the involvement of the Church in mainstream culture and economy. It also contains the signing of the First Manifesto, as well as the achievement of Utah statehood. The period finishes with a view to contemporary Mormonism, which consolidates its structure and status but looks for international expansion. This last period also displays the level of complexity and diversity that Mormon culture enjoys today. This recent social context will be especially helpful for understanding the subsequent analysis of contemporary Mormon literature. In what follows, I provide a lengthier approximation of each of these periods so that the events and facts in each one describe the evolution of Mormon culture and community.
Mormonism began in the east but became what it is today in the west. Joseph Smith, the son of a couple of New Englanders (Brodie 5) who, at the beginning of the 19th century, moved to New York in search of a better opportunity, was concerned to find out which one of the many sects spreading in his county was the real one. The historical context in which the young Smith felt the need to ask for guidance is very significant. Isaac Bullard, Ann Lee—mother of the Shakers—, William Miller, John Humphrey Noyes, Matthias, Dylks and many other eccentric leaders were preaching in the vicinity (Brodie 15). At the turn of the century, Western New York was known for the religious revival and fervor of the many sects and cults being promoted all over the region. This situation helped the region earn the name of “burned-over district” (O’Dea 10). Smith’s own parents had many doubts about which one was the true religion. They were Calvinists, but the conditions of the New America were changing the intensity of their faith. Fawn M. Brodie states that these were days in which New England was the breeding-ground for doubts and remorse of any organized church, and this was especially true of Smith’s family (Brodie 1-15). It was within this context that Smith decided to go into the woods near his home and pray. He testified later that both God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared before him. Through this vision, Smith later confessed, he received some plates, covered in strange writing. In the following years, Smith worked on translating the writing on these plates that he claimed had a divine origin.
The Church was officially organized on April 6, 1830 in Fayette, New York. With the help of Oliver Cowdery and some other people, Joseph Smith succeeded in organizing the first gatherings and expanding new branches. After the conversion of 130 members of a Campbellite sect—the leader, Sidney Rigdon, among them (Bushman, Joseph 173)—the growth of the Church doubled. However, problems also grew, and on many occasions, Mormons were driven from their settlements. In 1831, when the first controversies began back in Western New York, Rigdon convinced Smith to move to Kirtland, Ohio. New problems, this time coming both from inside and outside the Church, forced Mormons to move again, this time to Missouri. They encountered new hostilities in Missouri. At this time, many of the controversies centered on the idea of polygamy, and this was also the emphasis of the violent events that are referred to as the first Mormon War.5 After surrendering in Far West and agreeing to leave Missouri, they crossed the Mississippi River to Illinois.
Initially, they received a friendly reception in Quincy, Illinois. They purchased land for a new gathering place close to the Mississippi River and they called it Nauvoo. The emigration program was well organized in those years and Nauvoo became the first truly successful attempt to build the kingdom of Zion on earth as it had been envisioned by Smith. The new settlement grew very rapidly, eventually forming a community of over 12,000 members (Black 93). However, in the aftermath of the prophet’s death, Nauvoo too would come to a violent end. Smith’s decision to close the Nauvoo Expositor was crucial to this event. The Nauvoo Expositor was a periodical in which two Mormon excommunicants—William Law and Robert Forster—expressed their criticism of the recent changes introduced to the Gospel during the settling of Nauvoo. Only one number of this periodical was ever published. Smith, infuriated by the initiative, forced the closing of the new journal. His closing of the printing-press caused uproar among non-Mormons, which led to him being placed in jail, where he was subsequently killed by a mob (Arrington, Church 20).
The death of Smith marks the end of the founding period and the beginning of a journey that was to become the most important and decisive event in the history of the Church. In this second period, Brigham Young will occupy the place that Smith enjoyed during those first years. Smith’s practical thinking led him to believe that it would be easier to lay the foundations of that promised kingdom of Zion in an isolated place where they could avoid confrontations with neighbors. Moving West was the option, as Smith himself had foreseen before (Andrus 131). After Nauvoo’s failure, Young restored this old goal.
Mormons had to cross the Mississippi River and thus forfeited their chance to make Nauvoo a successful community. They accommodated a temporary settlement in Winter Quarters (present day Florence, Omaha), where they stopped to spend the winter. On April 5, 1847, the first group of pioneers, guided by Young, departed from Nebraska. The last stage of the long exodus took three more months. By mid-July, advance scouts had entered the valley of the Great Salt Lake. On July 24, Young piloted 148 Mormons into the valley. A few days later, he proclaimed that this was the right place to establish the kingdom that the Mormons were bound to build and he chose a proper site for the temple. When the Mormons got there they assumed that they were outside the United States of America, so they took possession of the valley and began to build their settlement without reflecting upon the presence of the former inhabitants of the land.6
After the annexation of Texas, Mexico broke diplomatic relations with the United States in 1845. Only three years later, that is, one year after the arrival of the Mormons in the valley, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed and the land that the Mormons had chosen became part of the United States of America. Even before the Treaty, the leaders of the Church had already begun to think about the convenience of asking for territorial status. After California and New Mexico became states, they decided to ask for statehood (Bigler 44-45). In the summer of 1849, a committee wrote a constitution based on Iowa’s, naming their newly drafted state Deseret. The proposal encompassed nearly all of present-day Utah and Nevada, large portions of California and Arizona, parts of Colorado, New Mexico, Wyoming, Idaho and Oregon. The Congress reacted by creating a new territory called Utah Territory that encompassed the northern part of the State of Deseret (Arrington, Mormon 163).
Shortly thereafter, in 1852, the Church acknowledged the practice of plural marriage. Joseph Smith introduced the practice of plural marriage while the members of the Church were still gathering in Nauvoo, but it was only communicated to the main leaders and they avoided giving publicity to it. In fact, this new tenet of the Gospel was an important part of the inner turmoil that led to the controversies that brought an end to the prosperous settlement in Nauvoo. Some leaders opposed this new tenet. In 1852, with the Mormons peacefully developing their own kingdom, the apostle Orson Pratt announced the practice of plural marriage at a special conference (Bigler 61). Smith’s revelation was published after this announcement. In previous years, even though it had not yet been officially acknowledged, polygamy had been a permanent reference for those who were opposing the growing impact of Mormons within their communities. Marriage was a very important tenet in the Mormon Church since the very beginning, because the family, as a unit, was the best resource that the Church had to secure their progress and prosperity. Previous to this new concept of plural marriage, the Church already safeguarded the concept of the family with the introduction of the idea of celestial marriage, which, it is important to bear in mind, is not synonymous to plural marriage. Celestial marriage is the idea, born from Mormon belief, that marriage is everlasting. Marriage, then, is to last even after earthly life is over. The introduction of plural marriage thus strengthens the fortification of an institution that was fundamental to the Church. However, whether it was practiced or not before its announcement, the truth is that it was a constant source for tension and conflict between Mormons and other inhabitants of the United States.
Democrat James Buchanan won the presidential election against John C. Frémont in 1856, but the Republican Party weakened the reputation of the Democratic Party by accusing the party of being tolerant to what they came to call “the twin relics of barbarism”7: polygamy and slavery. In this context, Buchanan decided to depose Young and appoint Alfred Cummings as the new governor of the territory. Many Mormons saw this appointment as an imposition, and rejected it. Federal officials sent to Utah reported that the Mormons were in state of rebellion and refused to accept the President’s decision. Without even taking the time to investigate the truth, Buchanan decided to dispatch troops (White, It’s 168). It would be wrong to think of these events as anything like what we now call a war, but in historiography these events are all gathered under the appellation the Utah War. However, the conflict is also referred to as “Buchanan’s Blunder”—a title revelatory of the critical reception of the President’s activities. However damaging it was for Buchanan, it was far exceeded by its affect on the Mormons. Their economic welfare was seriously impaired. They had lost Brigham Young as their Governor, and the economic and social involvement of the gentiles8 began to increase. Besides, the Gold Rush and the completion of the transcontinental railroad were anticipating the end of an era—the era in which Mormons came close to attaining the isolation that they were pursuing so that they could succeed in building a prosperous community grounded on their particular beliefs.
Young died in 1877 and in the following years the Federal government launched a series of acts that further narrowed down Mormon power. As far back as 1862, Abraham Lincoln signed the Morrill Anti-Bigamy Act, making polygamy illegal. This measure had been introduced by Congressman Justin S. Morrill of Vermont (Bigler 217). However, once it became clear that there was no money to enforce the law, President Lincoln decided to leave the Mormons alone. In the 1870s, a series of laws tried to impede Church theocracy in the territory. First, the Poland Act, in 1874, tried to eliminate Mormon involvement in the legal system. Later, in 1882, after the Reynolds vs. United States trial in 1879, when the Mormon George Reynolds, accused of bigamy, tried to defend himself on the basis of religious freedom and duty (Bigler 305), the Congress passed the Edmunds Act. This law introduced strong measures to end polygamy, to the extent that any Mormon committed to plural marriage would be imprisoned, would have to pay a hefty fine and might lose his right to vote. And the law was to affect even those who had practiced plural marriage before the Act had been passed. A commission was established to ensure that the new law was enforced. An oath was required to prove that a man was not practicing plural marriage. By the end of the 19th century, Mormons were living in a state of suspicion and threat. Still, Congress suspected that Church members were disobeying the law, and they decided to draw up more severe measures. The Edmunds-Tucker Act of 1887 was intended to be the ultimate mechanism that would provoke the collapse of the Church, and indeed, it shook the Church to its very foundations (Groberg 400). The Church’s President Taylor, who had gone underground to avoid being imprisoned, died after having spent five years directing the Church by the letter. It took two more years for the Mormons to declare Wilford Woodruff their new President, but he too had to go underground. The law sought the dissolution of the Church and the Perpetual Emigrating Fund Company, deeming both illegal. Most Church property fell into the hands of the Federal government. In 1890, the Church came close to certain death, and Woodruff (4th President of the Church, from 1889 to 1898) was compelled to sign the First Manifesto (Arrington, Mormon 183). In that manifesto, Woodruff announced that the Church officially renounced the practice of plural marriage and that no new plural marriages would be allowed by the Church. The Church had been defending the right to practice plural marriage as part of their doctrine and it was not easy to discard it practically overnight. To avoid a general repudiation of the Manifesto, Woodruff reported that he made the decision after praying and receiving revelation. Six years later, the territory achieved statehood.
This manifesto was a landmark event in the history of the Church. As previously stated, the Church was forced to abandon part of its beliefs in what some members understood as bowing to the Federal Government. The truth is that after the Manifesto was signed, the laws against the Mormons were eased and the claim for statehood began a rapid process towards completion. It was, in fact, the beginning of a period of integration and consolidation. The end of that period and the achievement of statehood, allowed Utah to try to move into the American mainstream in terms of politics and economy (Arrington, Mormon 242). Many cooperatives were privatized and, in fact, the Church did not hesitate to effect a complete change in its economic ethics. The missionary effort of the Mormon Church nearly tripled in size, and missionaries were even sent to places like Samoa, Tonga, and Hawaii which altered the migration tendency. European immigration to Utah receded. But this was not the only change in the Church’s politics on migration. The focus of the Church was also new. Converts were encouraged to found churches in their homelands rather than to emigrate to the United States (Oman 70). All Presidents in charge during these years strove to balance the changes to the Church during the first half of the 20th century with the preservation of old values. The Church tried to modernize its official structure, while simultaneously retaining traditional values and remaining faithful to the moral and cultural codes of Mormonism. Since the first half of the century, it has been a time for social, cultural, political and even economic integration of the Church into mainstream American society, but also for internal consolidation. This pattern increased in the second half of the century, exemplified by the new involvement of the Church in the politics and the economy of the United States, but also by the measure of growing concern about the dangers of this integration.
The growth of the Church was noteworthy by the end of the first half of the 20th century. In 1947, the Church tallied one million members. As emphasised above, the 20th century was marked by the growing internationalization of the Church, as well as its integration into the American mainstream: a process that provides both flattering assumptions for understanding the nature of Mormon culture, and an opening up to new definitions from different approaches. Today, most Mormons live outside of the Utah Mormon country9 and, as Joanna Brooks perfectly summarizes, the “phenotype” for Mormons has changed completely (Brooks, Genealogy 294). Present-day Mormonism launches a very different image of Mormon identity, one oriented both to the communal and the individual. 19th century rural Mormonism has developed into an urban culture in which different tensions combine to weave a much more heterogeneous community. For instance, contemporary Mormonism invites researchers to pay special attention to the birth of the feminist movement. This critical, social, cultural, and political movement (complex and varied in itself) illustrates the multiple changes and processes occurring in Mormonism during the second half of the 20th century, but there are many other social changes and cultural affairs that could have been chosen to exemplify this growing complexity. I choose feminism here, because it is related to many topics that I develop in my subsequent analysis of Phyllis Barber’s books.
In this summary, a critical reader perceives the progressive development of this religious group into a category that seems bigger and much more complex. Above, I emphasized the pervasive importance that the pioneer period had in the construction of Mormon identity. It is probable that the experience gathered through these first years of continuous movement and enterprise enhanced the stability of the group beyond that which conventional affiliation of religious groups tends to achieve. The historical role of the Mormons in the pioneering of the American West cannot be ignored. Mormons opened one of the two most important trails in the general move westward—the so-called Mormon Trail—and they contributed to the beginnings of many of those original settlements that are now modern cities. Looking back at this period, the impression that remains is that Mormon experience of the frontier opens a different approach to the conquering of the American West. Mormons played a distinct and peculiar role in the conquering of the American West, because no one is so far from Daniel Boone as Brigham Young, even though they were practically in the same place at the same time. Mormons presented a set of values very different from the stereotype favored by mythic interpretation of the frontier. In that sense, they opened a way to a complex and dynamic understanding of a reality which, as it passed into history, has been subjected to mythical interpretations. For the Mormons, the American West permeates the same notions of “quest and the prospect of fulfillment” (Dippie 117) that prompted different people in that direction. If the Mormon story is labeled peculiar, it is because it is slightly different in source but alike in disguise. Mormons conquered, and built a kingdom where there was only a desert and a lake of undrinkable water. In his landmark book, “It’s Your Misfortune and None of My Own:” A New History of the American West, Richard White proposes the understanding of the American West as “a set of relationships” (It’s 538). The Mormon experience of the American West asserts White’s idea of it as a complex space, full of paradoxes, different dimensions and perspectives. Mormons crossed the plains, opened the way to migrants, and set in motion a system of proselytizing which took in new immigrants from such places as Sweden and Norway, helping to compose the multicultural brew that today enriches American identity. But that is not the only contribution by the Mormons.
A second contribution by the Mormons—and not a positive one for them—is key to the complexity I refer to when I place Mormons within the context of the American West. During the second half of the 19th century, the United States of America saw a national quest for a new national identity. In this quest, Mormons were given the role of the Other—providing an example of what this new identity was not. Constructing an identity by contrast to another is not something that was invented in America. Werner Sollors argues that ethnicity is not essential but invented, not a “conspirational interpretation of manipulative inventor” but some “intensely debated, collective fictions that are continually reinvented” (xi). Following Sollors’s cue, Mormons, at the time of the construction of American identity, were given the role of the villain that faces the hero in this “collective fiction.” And, as White explains, choosing Mormons for that role was in itself paradoxical: “that Mormons should be tainted with the brush of un-Americanism is particularly ironic because Mormonism is in many ways the most American of religions” (White, It’s 163).
The Mormon scholar Terryl L. Givens associates this tendency with the idea of Mormon religious genius and he argues that in order to understand the Mormon compulsion to develop into an ethnic category of their own, the stress ought to be put on these confronting outsider forces rather than on the Mormons’ own conception of themselves as a peculiar people: “On the other hand, the position of Mormonism in the margins of American ethnicity suggests the substantial degree to which identity can be—and in this case has been—manipulated” (Givens, Viper 18). It is Givens’ impression that the quasi-ethnic status relies on what he calls “the malleability of ethnic categories” (Givens, Viper 18) but also on “the role of popular fiction” (Givens, Viper 18), which help to establish a self-representation in which the Mormons adopted the position of the other to use that difference in order to shape their own identity. Paradoxically, perhaps the opposite group worked towards the same aim: both sides were taking advantage of this game to shape their identities. In short, two different forces work to complicate the easy conclusion that Mormon ethnic consideration is basically derived from a strong stress upon community-bonds and peculiarity. Mormons participated in the global evolution of the new country, sometimes paralleling it, sometimes confronting or opposing it. Attention to outside interests is key for understanding this process.
In any case, Mormon identity cannot stop here. The second half of the 20th century has been efficient in providing the complex context within which Mormon identity exercises a sophisticated process towards diversity. What being a Mormon meant in the pioneering days differs a great deal from what it means today. Mormon identity experienced a paradoxical development in which consolidation and disruption were both important elements. This process is not alien to the nation at large. The 20th century, for Mormons, is a period of integration into American society—a time when the state of Utah enters the stream of modern fashion, global economy and urban life. The second half of the century was a time for internal consolidation, but also a time for internal and external disruptions that complicated Mormon self-awareness: economic involvement into American economy; political integration; controversial issues, such as feminism; international repercussions; fundamentalism and racial issues all abounded. Eugene England states that the Americanization undergone by Mormons was a sort of “ethical decline” (Bradford, Four 176) and Stacy Burton points to the complications of identity focus: “the future will see a much wider disparity among life experiences called ‘Mormon’” (Toward 30). In any case, the Mormon experience displays a new array of perspectives that contributes with new meanings to the general and varicolored experience of the American West, historical and contemporary.
In this overview, I have attempted to provide a coherent and impartial recollection of Mormon history so as to make it visible to any reader of this book that the Mormons are part of a continuum that solidifies and ascertains their sense of belonging to a cultural and quasi-ethnic community. My recollection, however, has been neither meticulous nor lengthy, since I have wanted to rely on facts rather than relate them. In other words, my intention—rather than providing an extensive list of historical facts—has been to provide an analysis of how Mormon identity and sense of community evolves from the beginnings of the Church to the days in which Phyllis Barber’s fiction and memoirs are born. The imprints left by those remote days when the community walked in the desert are still visible and persuasive in contemporary Mormon identity. What seems unavoidable is the importance that history still exercises over Mormons, who are still looking back to history and tradition as important elements in their contemporary lives. It is for this purpose that I have considered it relevant to offer a historical overview, which, together with the literary summary that follows, should assist to offer a much more penetrating and qualified reading of a writer who searches for her own identity in her books, especially when her personal search does not avoid direct references to her upbringing as the member of this specific community.
Peculiar but Pervasive:
An Overview of Mormon Literature
In Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place Terry Tempest Williams asserts that “In Mormon culture, that is one of the things you do know—history and genealogy” (Refuge 13). My interpretation of her statement leads me to believe that in order to understand Mormonism it is compulsory to have a notion of their history. In any case, I also believe that it seems convenient to place Barber’s books in the space of Mormon literary history. Again, if I had limited that space to her contemporary context, this would have reduced the spectrum of information necessary to analyze the magnitude and significance of her contribution. Mormon literature requires a general overview to note the category and credit of its nature. As Karen Lynn states, “Since the early years of Mormon history, Church leaders appear to have granted the arts a legitimate place” (44); but there is a long and complex path from this statement to this other one by William Mulder: “Mormon moderns are clearly stretching the old limits of theme and technique, displaying a mastery of style and structure, of voice and tone and point of view, all working together, all the words ‘combed the same way’” (Essential 1). It is compulsory to explore that path if one’s aim is to show how—even though it is mentioned among those that Mulder calls “Mormon moderns”—Barber’s fiction can be said to emanate from Lynn’s call for roots. That connecting path offers a wider context for Barber’s fiction, just as a similar method can be used to locate her literary production within a historical context.
Mormon literature is special, peculiar, different, but it is essentially American and Western, even though the international expansion of the Church is opening wider horizons. As I already explained, Mormon literature complicates its definition when this is related to matters of spiritual concern. Edward L. Hart, a renowned Mormon scholar, talks about “double jeopardy” (81). A writer never knows the meaning of his or her creative work before he or she finishes or refines the work of art. This final meaning of the work can be unexpected. That is the first jeopardy, but Mormon writers undergo a second jeopardy: this unexpected meaning can be taken as rejection of or rebellion against the Church. Another prominent Mormon scholar, Eugene England, calls this a “burden” (Mormon 15). A Mormon writer has to bear a special burden in trying to deal with his or her beliefs and to do so artistically. Wallace Stegner explains the congenital difficulty in writing about Mormonism (Stegner 114). What makes Mormon literature peculiar is its own nature. When Richard Etulain asks him about Mormon literature Stegner replies: “It’s so separate a culture that you could only write from within it, for people within it—unless you adopted the old Mormon-baiting stance, which is, thank God, dead”10 (Stegner xvii). Stegner expands on this topic to conclude that “Mormon society is so special that a Mormon writer can’t project outside of it. He has to write his fiction from within, for a purely Mormon audience” (Stegner 127). Stegner was talking in the 1980s and one of the purposes of this introduction is to show how many Mormon writers have tried to overturn Stegner’s statement. Nevertheless, it is significant how Stegner and other scholars such as those mentioned tried to stress the intricate balance between religion and literature. Tension between religion and literature has shown itself to be a narrative source of social, cultural and even religious interest. Literature has shown, in fact, that great fiction can be found everywhere.
That Mormon literature is peculiar is not a loose statement. William Mulder uses Henry James’ confession of a “complex fate”11 to explain how Mormon writers are born in a “closed and comfortable” world but they are involved in a literary world which is “open and secular,” thus experiencing “a similar complexity, a complexity which pervades and enriches their work as individual talents explore Mormon tradition” (Essential 1). Through this resemblance, Mulder confronts one of the characteristics that other scholars have defined as an obstacle, and a deficiency that hinders the achievement of excellence in Mormon literature: the lack of conflict. “There is not sufficient tension or tragedy,” says England when considering what has been proposed as a criterion to discern the flaws of Mormon literature, “Mormonism answers so well so many basic questions and provides such a satisfying way of life for most of its people” (Dialogues 1). This is an idea that Karen Lynn summarizes in her theory of the “disallowing of perplexity” (48-49); a complex theory that goes right to the core of Mormonism in that it assumes that Mormons contemplate happiness as an inevitable and personal responsibility, available through dedication and consecration. The second half of the 20th century has proven that many Mormon writers are able to conjure up enough conflict for the creation of elaborate and powerful narratives. The literary tension in their fiction delivers not only purely literary or aesthetic values, but also moral values. Its peculiar nature turns out to be a perfect source for intrigue and imagination. Mormon writers have shown that the limits are notional.
To give coherence to such a label as Mormon literature, there is a need for something else besides a fiction that renders conflict in writing. Mulder lists three important developments in contemporary Mormon writing: expansion of content, discovery of techniques and a growing body of literary criticism (Telling 159-160). It is precisely Mormon criticism that is key to understanding the improvement of Mormon literature in the 20th century. I will add to my literary overview an analysis of how Mormon criticism has contributed to the study of Mormon literature, and thus, to its improvement. Criticism is fundamental to any literature. Its results are equally fundamental for providing the structure that comprises the years that contemplate the origination and development of any body of literature.
It is useful to divide Mormon literature into an accessible and coherent classification of four different periods, spanning the years from the foundation of the Church to the present-day. This division was first proposed by Eugene England in 1982 in an essay for BYU Studies. In the last thirty years, his essay has been republished several times. The edition that researchers usually quote from is the 1996 version that appeared in Tending the Garden: Essays on Mormon Literature, edited by Lavina Fielding Anderson and England himself.12 England remains one of the most important forerunners in Mormon criticism and William Morris labels his work as “crucial in this history” (4). In my understanding of this classification, there are some new secondary divisions required, since the contemporary period that England gathered in just one category has since grown more complicated. In any case, with slight changes, England’s is the pattern I follow to outline my summary of Mormon literature.
Naturally, in the first period, from the 1830s to the 1880s, attention should be centered on The Book of Mormon. Many literary critics, such as Mulder, England and Neal Lambert, point out that Mormonism began with a book (the Book of Mormon)13 and that the Mormons are therefore the people of a book. John Bennion explains how Mormons relied on references to the great stories of Mormon culture in order to form their identity (Popular 173). Accordingly, we realize how important writing and literature have been for the foundation of the Church of Latter-day Saints and for the formation of Mormon identity and culture. Additionally, this period gives readers a certain amount of unsophisticated works produced by the members of the Church during the pioneering days. These are mainly in the form of letters, diaries, journals, sermons and hymns (England, Mormon 1). These first works can be considered an important legacy, providing insight both of the practical needs of the Church (hymns and sermons) and as personal records of the convert experience in those days (diaries, memories, letters). As historical artifacts, they can be seen as providing crucial help for understanding the convert experience and the struggle involved in settling and developing the community. In their literary dimension, even though they can be said to be unrevised and unsophisticated, Mulder claims that these first works exhibit what he calls the Mormon “genius” (Telling 158), considering later works to have lost that genius due to their increasing submission to literary types. This period also saw the first attempts at Mormon literature, boasting some remarkable poetry by Emmeline B. Wells and Eliza R. Snow.
In the Mormon literature of this period, should also be included the important 19th century sub-genre known as “the Mormon-menace novels” (Peterson, Mormon 849).14 Not written by Mormons themselves, but by gentiles who took advantage of the mythic and mysterious characteristics of Mormon idiosyncrasy to fuel their creative work, Terryl L. Givens has analyzed this anti-Mormon literature that was fashionable during the 19th century, and he concludes that they played an important role in the shaping of Mormon identity. Mormon scholar Leonard J. Arrington has stated that the work of these writers—together with other public lectures and writings by 19th century humorists—influenced national attitudes against Mormons and promoted some of the national policies that the Federal government issued in those years (Cracroft, Distorting 272). The first of these novels, Captain Frederick Marryat’s Monsieur Violet, was written in 1843, but the tendency persisted all throughout the 19th and even into the 20th century. Very famous writers such as Artemus Ward, Mark Twain and Arthur Conan Doyle resorted to that mythical darkness that distorted Mormons for the sake of fiction, usually by way of mockery, and frequently using them as villain-figures. Conan Doyle’s 1887 book, A Study in Scarlet—the first of the Sherlock Holmes series—portrays Mormons as an intolerant and narrow-minded community. In drama, there are also examples of this trend. In her review of anti-Mormonism in American drama in the 19th century, Megan Sanborn Jones, for instance, mentions, among others, James B. Runnion’s One Hundred Wives, first produced in 1881 at the Booth’s Theatre in New York.
If these writers inaugurated a literary trend, it is easy to anticipate that it did not die with them. Michael Austin has studied how contemporary novels display the standard anti-Mormon characteristics set by these first novels. Even if this fashion nowadays looks sporadic and partial, before Austin’s research Levi Peterson had already evaluated a sequence of anti-Mormon works spanning from mid-19th century to the first decades of the 20th century. This heritage invites researchers to estimate that the tradition exemplifies a temptation of successful fiction that could last in time and fashion.
England proposes a second period that takes him from the 1880s to the 1930s. In 1888, Bishop Orson F. Whitney tried to defend the Mormon community from external attacks by stressing the importance of literature, culture, and wisdom to achieve the mission for which the Mormons had been selected. His speech, fundamental to Mormon literary history, marks the beginning of this second period. Whitney rallied for a Mormon literature based on the Restored Gospel, which was rooted in Mormon tradition and pretended to defend the Saints from the attacks of the gentiles. Mormon-menace novels are the best example of Mormon presence in that period’s literary production, but the social and economic situations of those days also serve to explain Whitney’s preoccupation with Mormon culture and community.
The literature written by Mormons in this second period was labeled “Home Literature” and Utah saw its birth some years after Whitney’s speech was delivered. It consisted of very didactic fiction and poetry whose basic aim was to defend the community from outer attacks and to spread orthodoxy among the members of the Church. The best outlets for this kind of literary production were the magazines sponsored by the Church. Periodicals such as Young Men’s Journal, The Contributor, The Woman’s Exponent, Utah Magazine and The Improvement Era were perfect channels for awarding visibility to the poems and short stories that promoted orthodoxy among young members. However, there were also some other pieces of fiction or literary works published during those days. Susa Young Gates, Josephine Spencer, Auguste Joyce Crocheron, B. H. Roberts, Emmeline B. Wells and some others were successful in making their poetry and fiction available to a growing audience.
The best example of this period is writer Nephi Anderson and his highly acclaimed novel Added Upon (1898), a very didactic and sophisticated work. The influence of writers such as Anderson has remained strong until today. Many readers contemplate Anderson’s books as an uplifting source from which to fortify their faith and their sense of belonging in the community; others, in turn, censure the overt didacticism and his narrow discourse that seems to speak only to a very specific readership. Even though it is true that every book written by Anderson possesses a didactic tone, and that all were apparently delivered for a specific audience, some of his novels, Dorian (1921), for instance, are also relevant for an analysis of the literature being produced in those days beyond a Mormon orbit. Dorian shows that Anderson was a gifted writer even if he sometimes drove that talent toward a moral agenda that spoiled his work in the eye of an outsider. Besides, it contains the significance of the novels written on the edge of two different historical periods: it tells more than what emerges from a first reading.
“Home Literature” can be still used as a label today. It is a term that gathers those literary works that are directed at a particular target audience and that deal with specific topics concerning that audience. However, it is unhelpful to make strict distinctions between genres at a time when they are often transgressed and labels trespassed. Still, there was a public to welcome these books when they were being written at the turn of the 19th century, and there is a public now; an audience ready to consume what the books which this label gathers try to express to their potential readers.
A third period can be discerned as spanning only a few years in the middle of the 20th century—a short period of time in which a valuable group of writers wrote some of the most interesting books in Mormon literary history. Importantly, they were able to publish nationally. This first group from the 1930s and 1940s reacted against the provinciality and didacticism of the so-called “Home Literature” period, but, because they were rejected by many Mormons and published their books outside of Utah, Edward Geary called them the “Lost Generation” (Geary, Mormondom’s 98). The main figure of this period is Vardis Fisher, whose novel Children of God: An American Epic (1939) is considered by Wallace Stegner to be one of the best novels in the history of Mormon literature (Stegner 114). Fisher, winner of a Harper Prize, received mixed reviews for this book: “he had many letters from ‘the righteous’ condemning him for being anti-Mormon” (Arrington, Heritage 44) but, at the same time, “most critics found him definitely pro-Mormon” (Arrington, Heritage 44). The novel establishes two clear dimensions which are intertwined and which interact with tension: a general, historic dimension and a much smaller dimension—that of the specific problems faced by individuals. The truth is that this novel remains one of the most highly regarded of all Mormon novels.
Fisher aside, it also seems mandatory to underline the work of other writers of this period such as Maurine Whipple and Virginia Sorensen. Maurine Whipple also chose the pioneering days for the setting of her novel The Giant Joshua (1941), a novel that is still praised and recognized, and not only within a Mormon realm. By contrast, Virginia Sorensen represents another side of this complex group. She belongs to that group of writers who, rather than contextualizing their stories within the frame offered by the pioneering days, tended to delve into the tribulations of a provincial Mormonism that tried to transcend the days of the settling of the American West (Geary, Mormondom’s 89-100). In this group, Virginia Sorensen is probably the most visible figure, but some others will be mentioned later. Many of her novels, from A Little Lower than Angels (1942) to The Evening and the Morning (1949) are rated as the best examples of Mormon literature dealing with the 1920s. These three writers were not the only worthy representatives of this particular era. Others, such as Paul Bailey and his book For This My Glory (1940), Richard Scowscroft’s Children of Covenant (1945), Samuel W. Taylor’s Heaven Knows Why (1948) and Ardeth Kennelly’s The Peaceable Kingdom (1949), help to favor the idea that this was a period of writing in which Mormonism showed the first outpouring of literature which was able to transcend the tastes and interests of an orthodox Mormon audience.
In general, this first reaction against the previous attention to didacticism heralds the future division of Mormon literature and criticism: the division between those who claim for a Mormon literature that deals mostly with Mormon themes and that is written for a Mormon reader, and those who encourage a literature that incorporates disruptive topics. This division exists in Mormon culture as such—not just in literary criticism—and it seems to stem from a tradition that encompasses these last two periods. However, the next step in the history of Mormon literature tilts towards a promising balance that signals a tidy but risky path ahead.
The fourth period extends to the present day and contains a general survey of contemporary Mormon literature and criticism, with special emphasis on the new perspectives introduced by the most recent Mormon writers. This generation obviously overlaps with the previous generation, which continued producing works of literature. The second half of the 20th century is too long and complex a period for which to advocate definite labels. In fact, there is here a dual tendency that makes the contemporary landscape even more complex. On the one hand, it is obvious to the eye of this scholar that some traditional tenets are still followed with zeal and determination. Writers that are in debt to the so-called “Home Literature” tradition keep trying to develop a high-quality literature that deals with topics that only appeal to Mormons. In contrast to this, there are a great number of writers whose point of view and interests seem to resemble the books published by the authors that blossomed during the so-called “Lost Generation” era. Nevertheless, there is also a tendency to merge these two inclinations in one. There are a considerable number of Mormon writers who have been able to blur the borders between these two customary tendencies. Besides, contemporary writers often threaten to subvert the gap between literature and religion. Some Mormon writers are including religious aspects in genres that usually remained unaware of the potential dividend that faith could offer to fiction. Others are developing topics that go beyond what some orthodox Mormons expect from literature, looking rather inappropriate for their contents or styles. In conclusion, it seems quite brute and daredevil to try to summarize the second half of the 20th century and the first years of the 21st with definite conclusions offering a perfect frame or specific category to fit everything into. Contemporary Mormon fiction and poetry seems to accept the challenge of blurring any line that appears to establish distinctions between genres, motifs and moral stipulation. As in any other body of literature, there are writers who could be associated with certain genres and even those who purposely address a specific audience with a specific agenda, but it is also true and indeed necessary to point out that there is a growing number of Mormon writers who have been contributing to the task of ending these dichotomies.
As I stated above, during the second half of the 20th century, some writers have kept on writing and improving the so-called “Home Literature” tradition. What researchers still call “Home Literature” was sourced in the specific historical situation that made it so belligerent, but today there are still many novels stressing their Mormon elements over any other literary aspects. It is evident that writers such as Shirley Sealy, Jack Weyland and Gerald Lund are popular writers who enjoy the acceptance of a wider orthodox readership that looks for a specific set of attributes. In contemporary writing the sales of this popular fiction has increased notably. The improvement in the sales and the growing popularity of these traditional novels started in the 1990s when Gerald Lund released his first work in the series The Work and the Glory, the chronicles of the fictional Steed family. Subsequent releases were very successful and other Latter-day Saints fiction series like Chris Hemerdinger’s Tennis Shoes Among the Nephities (1989-2012) contributed to the rising popularity of Mormon popular fiction. Other writers, such as Anita Stanfield and Rachel Ann Nunes in romance novels, or Dean Hughes in historical fiction, and children’s books—also worth mentioning the work by Richard Paul Evans, even though he also writes in other genres—could be included here because their books have achieved popularity mainly within Mormon readership.
Nevertheless, in the 1960s, an increasing number of Mormon writers turned to the project of writing about human experience, while keeping a profound emphasis on the Mormon faith. These writers from the second half of the century—whose works some scholars have classified under the name of “Faithful Realism” (England, Mormon 1)—were able to produce a literature that was artistically worthy and ethically deserving. The main writer of the start of this period is Clinton F. Larson, who has been praised for his skill in combining didacticism in his writing in conjunction with delighting the reader in his poetry (England, Tending xxiv). In fiction, I must draw attention to the names of Douglas Thayer—a writer who has been very influential for subsequent Mormon writers—and Levi S. Peterson and his famous novel The Backslider (1990). But many other writers who had been publishing during the second half of the century (and that still publish today) take that label beyond any limit when they cross chronological borders and amplify the multiplicity of literary styles and topics that Mormonism enjoys today, even if this can lead to controversy or revitalizes previous debates about the dichotomist nature of Mormon literature.
Finally, a growing number of writers have been gathered under the label that Eugene England called “New Mormon Fiction” (Tending xxvi). These writers have a broad scope of audience and a wide range of topics. They are also sensitive to their personal religious appeal or education. Good examples of these writers are Linda Sillitoe, Neal Chandler, Margaret Blair Young, Lewis Horne and Phyllis Barber herself. Already in the 21st century, the prospects that those writers gathered under the label “New Mormon Fiction” have been accomplished as expected and even exceeded by others who emerged later. Today, we can even find some examples of talented Mormon writers who are being widely and nationally honored in contemporary writing, such as Orson Scott Card in mainstream science-fiction, and Terry Tempest Williams in the field of environmental fiction. Anne Perry converted to Mormonism more than forty years ago and some of her novels, especially Tathea (1999) and Come Armageddon (2001), were informed by her religious beliefs. Carol Lynn Pearson and Emma Lou Thayne were also writers who enjoyed some level of success. But those names have been followed by others belonging to writers who were successful in transcending the borders of Mormon literature. Darrell Spencer,15 Walter Kirn, Judith Freeman, Brady Udall, Jack Harrell, Steve L. Peck, Dan Wells, Eric Samuelsen and Neil LaBute have all gained recognition because they reached to audiences other than the Mormon. All of them have different attachments to the Church and they have developed their Mormon relations to different extents.
The same progress can be seen in poetry. In 1989, Eugene England and Dennis Clark gathered the best poetry by Mormons in the second half of the century. The result was Harvest: Contemporary Mormon Poems, an anthology that remained a cornerstone for a long time. Older and newer writers were grouped in this collection. Some names were already familiar in a Mormon context but the variety was notable: from Clinton F. Larson to Lance Larsen, from the one who was called the leader of “Faithful Realism” to the most talented poet in Mormonism today. However, in 2011 the poet Tyler Chadwick dared to make the anthology that was to follow the steps taken by Harvest. Fire in the Pasture is bold enough to carry the subtitle Twenty-first Century Mormon Poets because, in fact, it is advancing more than it is testifying. Again, the anthology gathers some of the most successful and well-published Mormon poets, such as Patricia Gunter Karamesines, Lance Larsen, Warren Hatch, Alex Caldiero and Paul Swenson, but it also introduces new names, thus anticipating a fruitful and pregnant period of good poetry in Mormon literature. Some of these names are Sarah Dunster, Karen Kelsay, James Babcock, Deja Earley, Melissa Dalton-Bradford. To list them all is beyond an introduction like this. A general overview of this collection presents the names and voices of important poets in the Mormon tradition but also those of national and international poets. The volume shows a rich and complex variety both in form and content. There are different levels of attachment to the Church, motley themes, free verse and traditional forms, personal poems, elegiac poems, experimental poems, major topics, minor topics, new images, new mappings. If American poetry is decentralized and varied, the same applies to Mormon poetry.
These four periods reveal a progress that William Morris identified as “divided and ambivalent” (15) as it seems to repeat a pattern of separation into two different groups. However, contemporary writing, as I have tried to show, discloses how these two apparently opposite sides can find a co-operative zone in which combination and diversity elaborates complex but meaningful literature.
I want to finish this introduction by exposing an example of how Mormon literature reveals heterogeneous and sophisticated peculiarities. Michael Austin maintains that “to a very large degree, texts by Mormon women are the Mormon literary canon, and when we discuss important, influential, and critically acclaimed books by Mormons, we will find our conversations nearly dominated by women author’s works” (Some 23). From a feminist point of view, this demonstrates that Maxine Hanks is right when she talks about it being “more empowering to consider female authority as creativity and authorship” (xxii). In her survey of the new poetry being written by Mormons during the 1980s, Linda Sillitoe reinforces Austin’s opinion about the importance of women writers when she points out that the number of women poets included in the contemporary poetry section of the anthology A Believing People: Literature of the Latter-day Saints (1974) denotes a substantial increase in comparison to the number of women poets considered for the 19th century.16 England shares that perception: “I can find no other culture, or nation, contemporary or historical, in which such a preponderance of creative thought and writing is by its women” (England, Dialogues 1).
The position of women in Mormon patriarchal society has always been a matter of debate, and especially much so in the second half of the 20th century. In fact, analyzing Mormon literature from a feminist perspective reveals an improvement. When approached from an extensive or historical point of view, the works accomplished by many Mormon writers reveal a sense of development towards complexity and diversification—both in content and style—that overcomes Stegner’s admonitions about the difficult nature of Mormon literature. Barber quotes Italo Calvino who declares that it is necessary to give “a voice to whatever is without a voice, when it gives a name to what as yet has no name, especially to what the language of politics excludes or attempts to exclude” (Writing xix). This is only one example of the many different currents that affect Mormonism and Mormon literature. A variety of topics and emphases are driving Mormon literature towards a complexity that takes it closer to mainstream literature and to a wider audience.
Criticism:
Paving the Road to Go Beyond
In the 1960s, Mormon literary criticism began to find its feet. As already mentioned, in that decade and the following, the first classes on Mormon literature were held at Brigham Young University, and the first anthology of Mormon Literature was published in 1974. A couple of years later, a group of forerunners to Mormon literary criticism founded the Association for Mormon Letters. As William Mulder states, the progress experienced in scholarly work, both in production and in quality, is a valuable element for understanding the betterment of Mormon literature (Telling 160). Mormon criticism has always been subject to division and debate. Even before the critical contribution of Mormon scholars exposed the latent tendency to divide Mormon literature into two—apparently opposed—categories, the literature itself testified to various writers opting for different perspectives, each of them seemingly pointing in diverging directions.
In any case, recently, both the criticism and the literature have shown that those categories are neither incompatible nor absolute, and several attempts have been made to testify that borders can merge and be crossed. Paradoxically maybe, the Mormon literary canon proves incomplete if the two are not combined. If we look back on the history of Mormon literary criticism, we can find several examples from several scholars who could not properly find a definition for Mormon literature without dividing it. In 1982, for instance, Eugene England differentiated between “Home Literature”—the highly didactic literature promoted by Whitney’s famous speech—and the literature written by the so-called “Lost Generation” that generated in reaction to the other literature. In fact, it was Edward Geary, who in 1978 separated literature created out of dogma from that created from experience, who coined the term “Lost Generation.” Four years earlier, Karl Keller classified Mormon writing as either orthodox or “jack-fiction”: a term that derives from the concept of a “jack-mormon”—denoting Mormons who are neither committed to the theology nor enthusiastic about the activities of the Church. Even half a century ago, Don D. Walker talked about “outsiders” and “insiders” in reference to the beliefs and the moral values on which the writer relies (Bennion, Popular 159-160). England follows this pattern to state that: “Mormon literary history can, in fact, be imagined as a continual struggle between the two concepts of chosen in literature that encourage one kind of writing at the expense of the other” (England, Good 76).
In 1990, one year after Signature Books published Harvest: Contemporary Mormon Poems, Richard Cracroft—a member of Brigham Young University’s English Department and a Mormon literature critic and reviewer17—published a review of the text. In that article, Cracroft manifested his profound disagreement with some of the poems selected in the collection, especially with those that belonged to writers born after 1939. These poems were criticized by Cracroft not because of their skillfulness but because of their “lack of Mormonness.” Cracroft complained that the poems written by these authors were grounded in a current and fashionable humanistic and secular culture, at the cost of the Mormon “spirituality” and “transcendence” (Cracroft, Review 1) that should be the main constituent of any true Mormon poem.
Cracroft’s article led to great controversy, and no later than a year after the publishing of his article, Bruce W. Jorgensen—also a member of Brigham Young University’s English Department—wrote a reply to this review. In his reply, Jorgensen expressed his disagreement with the “essentialized readings” that Cracroft suggested, declaring that there is no use in applying terms such as “virtue” or “spirituality” (Jorgensen, To 63) to decide whether a poem is Mormon or not. Jorgensen proclaimed that the fundamental problem with Cracroft’s point of view was the essentialism that he had proposed as a criterion from which to judge literature, while Jorgensen himself advocated hospitable acceptance of these different perspectives and voices.
The significance of this debate lies in the fundamental questions that it raises about the nature and duty of Mormon literature and criticism. Cracroft advocated what he later called a “mantic” literature; a literature that embraces a concept of the world based on religious beliefs, and stood against what he called the “sophic” literature that attempts to define the universe through realistic and scientific modes of interpretation. On the other side, as England quoted in his recollection of this debate, Jorgensen affirmed “the superiority of a literature that opens up to the sacredness of all people and their experience, capturing differences rather than being focused solely in Mormon essences” (England, Good 76). John Bennion tried to reconcile these extremes through his vindication of both “popular” and “faithful” fiction (Popular 159-182).
This debate was lucrative for Mormon letters as it motivated many scholars to collaborate in reaching a better definition of Mormon writing. The best example with which to illustrate that the Mormon criticism is still—in spite of the considerable amount of work done in the second half of the 20th century—in its beginning stages is the fact that the general project to define the Mormon canon continues. The division between those who champion for a Mormon literature that deals mostly with Mormon themes written for a Mormon readership, and those who encourage a literature that incorporates disruptive topics, still exists in Mormon culture.
In a way, literary criticism only reflects the inner nature of any specific body of literature. Books keep being written and published whether they fit into one category or another, but it seems that, in every body of literature, there remains a primitive temptation to find its ultimate definition. Features, content, form, style, voices, ideologies and ethics can be addressed in order to define any literary group, even if this is gathered in relation to geographical concomitances, the language being used, or the faith that the writers share. Indeed, this bent echoes human impulses towards definition and coherence, and it resembles our own paradoxical existence, since our virtues reveal our flaws. We tend to search for cohesiveness and denotation and we end the search by discovering our chaotic, complex and multiple nature. We invent categories as though we were working on a shoe cabinet for our penny loafers. Then, when everybody is wearing space boots and they no longer fit in our cabinet, we find that we are lost.
The debate about whether Mormon literature ought to be didactic or not reaches to the very core of its nature. Barber herself—reflecting upon Nadine Gordimer’s words about political issues—concludes that “the differentiation seems to be promotion vs. exploration” (Writing xviii). Apparently, every Mormon writer has to pay a toll before achieving a work of art. Some might see this as an uplifting challenge, others as a hindrance, but it seems unavoidable that the tension between religion and literature is encountered when the two are dealt with at the same time. William Morris states that “Mormon culture is based on LDS theology, membership, and history, but encompasses a broader range of attitudes and practices that can be engaged in no matter what one’s actual standing in relation to the Church is” (2). Based on this idea, Morris reaches the conclusion, already quoted above, that “the Mormon community remains divided and ambivalent” (15).
In order to define any body of literature, a concern with content and form must be present. Brian Evenson states that “Mormon writing has less to do with making statements about Mormonism than it does with having something integrally Mormon about it” (Bigelow 34) and he mentions language among the elements that can determine the mormonness of a text. Jana Riess, publisher and editor, encounters this division in the market: “LDS commercial fiction and ‘Mormon literature’ are not necessarily the same thing. So, the next step will be to develop more of the latter, to tell stories that are darker and deeper” (Bigelow 141). Riess advocates the erosion of the line that divides writing that is “self-consciously literary and the writing that is done to sell books” (Bigelow 142). In this connection, she predicts that, in the future, Mormon culture will see “the emergence of more independent voices” (Bigelow 143), meaning by independent not that they express some kind of criticism of the official Church but that they “connect the Mormon experience—which has been all too insular—to the wider world” (Bigelow 143).
Contemporary Mormon literature and modern criticism unveil a frenzied flurry of activity that promises favorable prospects for the future. Mormon literary criticism should avoid tending towards dichotomies and separation. It should propose a wider range of critical awareness, one that embraces different levels of commitment to the Church or different propositions of understanding about what being Mormon is. In fact, Mormon literature aspires to visibility, and that is still a work in process. National, and international, visibility still remains a challenge, even though many different writers have attained a commercial success that anticipates the potential to germinate in foreign soil that Mormon literature possesses. Mormon literary criticism is a key element to this evolution. The research and reviews being made by scholars will help to frame and substantiate the progress of Mormon literature.
Prospects and Academia:
The Limits of Mormon Literature
The goal of this book could (and should) not be to resolve any debate within Mormonism. I envision this project as an opportunity to adopt the widest perspective in an attempt to encompass “a broader range of attitudes and practices.” This method reduces the tendency to consider Mormon literature according to any essentialist criterion. It is not only the content but the literary quality of Mormon literature that must be considered in this brief introduction: “the literary merit of a work is independent of whether it falls within the realm of Mormon literature or some other literary classification” (Seshachari 25). This explains why a few authors who could have been included on my list of Mormon writers—even if it is not my aim to be sententious—were omitted. Obviously, these other omitted writers would be essential if I was approaching this topic from a strictly Mormon perspective, but my perspective is literary. At the same time, by bearing in mind the nature of Mormon culture, I am able to observe the relevance of some works that might fall outside a canon validated by certain literary patterns. Thus, although I do not underestimate the influence of faith and culture, the literary quality of the texts have prevailed over the significance of their contribution to Mormonism.
Brady Udall’s fiction has been translated into different languages, and his The Lonely Polygamist (2010) is finding a visible spot in European bookshops. Fire in the Pasture has received a positive reception in amazon.com’s poetry ranks. Terry Tempest Williams is enjoying a growing recognition in the field of ecocriticism. Orson Scott Card has leapt to new technologies. Stephenie Meyer’s success in composing Mormon vampires has gone international. These are only some facts that anticipate the potential of a literature that is energetically directed both backwards and forward. Whether it is Mitt Romney’s running for President, or people running to Broadway to buy tickets for the Tony Awards winning musical The Book of Mormon, it is obvious that Mormon writers do not wait for cheap publicity or internal ecstasy in their pursuit of literary excellence.
The international success of those writers will probably help to make a better place for Mormon literature in global academia. Mormon writers and historians have had to wait until the last decades of the 20th century and the first ones of the 21st century to enjoy visibility in non-Mormon academia (Duffy, Faithful 2). In Europe, the number of colleges and scholars exploring this literature is even smaller than in the United States. Mormons play an important role in the field of minority literature, with a new horizon of interpretations based on the derivations of their distinctive collective features. Those names that I mentioned before—along with many other Mormon writers—have accumulated sufficient gravitas to merit significant scholarly research for each and all of them, taken individually as well as being part of a group, whatever that group might be. They have succeeded in winning recognition and they deserve a suitable place in college programs, one that remains unconstrained by vindicating labels such as “Western” or “Regional” or “Ethnic.”
As I already stated at the beginning, the aim of this section was dual. On the one hand, I considered it necessary to provide readers with a proper historical frame to place Barber’s fiction. On the other hand, I took advantage of this necessity in order to give visibility to Mormonism and Mormon literature. This dual objective has encouraged me to approach my work with a warning in mind: I have needed to embrace complexity. And standing for complexity means embracing chaos, paradox and uncertainty. And here, this means first of all, that labeling Barber as a Mormon writer seems both appropriate and constrictive. Second, it means that Mormonism and Mormon literature are here approached with an eye for critique and width but also with depth and respect. In fact, here, I have employed Mormon literature in a way that bestows on it the roles of content, object of study, and core of the analysis. Conversely, Mormon literature has afforded me with my perspective, method, examples and lenses.
If the study of minority literatures has expanded our canon and amplified our visions of what literature may cover or even mean, Mormon literature offers a complex scenario that helps to approach the virtues and defects of globalism. Today, the rhizomatic methodologies that we apply in our analyses of contemporary literature and culture complicate the definition of local and regional literatures to reveal a new set of relationships, coincidences and connections that convolute our own pre-set definitions. Approaching Mormonism is fascinating in itself, but it is also important in that it provides a different perspective that can be applied on to topics and fields that other researchers have been approaching before.
This introduction to Mormon literature, together with the subsequent analysis of Barber’s literature, is intended to function as an invitation to consider Mormon literature as a valuable corpus for drawing conclusions applicable to a very peculiar and specific reality. In addition, it offers new assumptions of universal scope that will enrich the scholarly approximation of the literature of the 21st century. In this sense, my approach to this foreign culture that is set within a wider frame—that of the American West and Western American Literature (which is also foreign to me)—invites us to challenge or redefine our own positions as observers or analyzers. In a way, this triple mission functions in a dual direction. In other words, my project is ordinary and prevalent, in so far as my assumptions observe features that are pertinent to a specific examination of a concrete writer and literary tradition, but it is also immanent and transcendental, which means that my analysis of Barber opens up the possibility to apply my conclusions to a wider spectrum of writers. My analysis of Barber’s books, in what follows, will show if what I am stating here is true or not.
1 This response was delivered through email in the year 2010.
2 This information is accessible on the official website of the Church. Specifically, those interested in facts and statistics should visit the following webpage: http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/facts-and-statistics/
3 Even though no quotation appears to unveil its impress, reading Daniel H. Ludlow’s The Encyclopedia of Mormonism (1992) was my first encounter with Mormon history, and, as an initiation, Ludlow’s comprehensive effort was very instructive. Published for the first time by Macmillan, the book is a very important official document relating the history of the Mormons. It gathers the works of many different historians, not all of them are Mormons. The book has to be read now online. In any case, even though I confess that its influence can be perceived in this overview of Mormon history, I opted to resort to quoting some other works, when needed, to show that I also relied on additional resources to improve my understanding of Mormon history.
4 Zion may have different meanings within Mormonism but here it refers to the utopian project to organize a settlement based on communitarian economics.
5 1838 Mormon War and Missouri Mormon War are also names used to refer to these hostilities. Thus scholars and historians try to differentiate it from the lesser known conflicts that took place in Illinois, and from the so-called Utah War that lasted from May 1857 until July 1858.
6 Historically Mormons were understood to be friendly to Native Americans. One important tenet of Mormon faith is rooted in the Mormon belief that Native Americans are the descendants of the original Israelites who came to America, as explained in the Book of Mormon. They aimed at being on good terms with Native Americans, but this did not always transpire, and the policy was a failure. Richard White explains how the Mormons followed the same pattern of appropriation so common in the pioneering of the American West: “In Utah, too, the Mormons established residence on Indian lands without any federal acquisition of title” (White, It’s 89). Another scholar, Jared Farmer, states that the conquest of Utah was different for its religious element, but that again they followed the same pattern that other pioneers had followed in other regions: “yet the main story of Utah’s formation—settlers, colonizing Indian land, organizing territory, dispossessing natives, and achieving statehood—could not be more American” (Farmer 14).
7 “As the 1856 Republican Party platform put it, polygamy was, along with slavery, one of the last ‘twin relics of barbarism,’ a sentiment echoed by President Grant in 1871, who decried Mormons as ‘barbarians’ and ‘repugnant to civilization and decency’” (Handley, Marriage 101).
8 Gentiles for the Mormons are those who are not Mormons.
9 Using John L. Hart’s statistics, published in the LDS News at the end of the 20th century (1997), William A. Wilson concludes: “Especially is that true today when most Mormons do not live in the West. Of today’s ten million Mormons only ten percent live in Utah, and over half of all Mormons live outside the United States and Canada” (189).
10 I will show later that some Mormon scholars do not agree with this statement.
11 This refers to James being an American writer writing in Europe.
12 The original text published under the title “The Dawning of a Brighter Day: Mormon Literature After 150 years” was first reprinted in After 150 Years: The Latter-Day Saints in Sesquicentennial Perspective (1983), edited by Thomas G. Alexander and Jessie L. Embry. The one in Tending the Garden is an abbreviated version. In 1995, this article appeared in David J. Whittaker’s Mormon Americana: A Guide to Sources and Collections in the United States with the title “Mormon Literature: Progress and Prospects”. With slight changes and updated, a web version of this last print version is available at Mormon Literature database.
13 The Mormons believe in the Book of Mormon, hence their appellation. The Mormons accept as canonical scripture both the Bible and the Book of Mormon which is said to have been translated by Joseph Smith.
14 I will be using this denomination as a label under which to gather all the novels published in the 19th century that had some kind of reference to Mormonism from a negative point of view. I borrowed this term from Levi S. Peterson, who, in “Mormon Novels,” gives a rigorous chronological account of all these novels.
15 His name is carved in the wall of honor in the Tower Entrance and Reception Gallery of the Mathewson-IGT Knowledge Center since 2010 when he was inducted into the Nevada Writers Hall of Fame.
16A Believing People: Literature of the Latter-day Saints was the first published anthology in Mormon literature. Sillitoe’s emphasis is therefore significant even from an historical perspective: “[It] includes twelve men and four women in the section of nineteenth century poetry, but sixteen men and thirteen women in the twentieth century selection” (New 47-48). In Fire in the Pasture women outnumber men.
17 Richard Cracroft died in September 2012, when I was still working on this book. Eugene England, a prominent scholar himself, said about Richard Cracroft that he “could be called the father of modern Mormon literary studies for his pioneering work in the early 1970s” (England, Tending xiv).