A Rascal and a Christian
By Matt Thurston on Jan 18, 2007
I read Levi Peterson’s two short story collections, The Canyons of Grace (1982) and Night Soil (1990), as well as his two novels, Aspen Marooney (1995) and the incomparable The Backslider (1986) during the summer of 2005. At the time Peterson’s stories provided fuel for my mind and salvation for my soul. Both responses surprised me.
The fuel-for-my-mind response came courtesy of Levi’s undeniable literary talents. Prior to reading Peterson’s works, I naively assumed that Mormon “literature” (as opposed to, say, “popular fiction”) did not exist, that Mormon fiction consisted primarily of teenage morality tales and melodramatic historical novels. My reading tastes skew heavily towards the literature end of the literature/popular-fiction scale. Give me Roth, Rushdie, McCarthy, and Marquez any day over Grisham, Brown, Clancy, and Crichton. Peterson’s stories belong in the former category while maintaining crossover appeal for lovers of the latter category.
The salvation-for-my soul response is more personal and difficult to describe. In the years leading up to 2005 I saw the world through two lenses — a Worldly lens and a Mormon lens. The Worldly lens was grey; the Mormon lens was black and white. The Worldly lens was chaotic but dense with meaning and beauty; the Mormon lens was ordered and safe. I’d felt “spirituality” seeing the world through both lenses throughout my twenties, though I’d never been able to reconcile the two. For some reason, reconciliation didn’t matter — I was content with my bi-focal point of view of the world.
During my thirties my Mormon lens cracked while my Worldly lens became increasingly more focused. With one lens working and the other broken my vision faltered, I couldn’t see straight. Inevitable headaches followed. Reconciliation of the divide separating my two points of view now became vitally important. Levi’s stories (among other discoveries) helped bridge the gap — here were Mormon characters and Mormon stories that my Worldly lens could easily identify; here were themes of redemption, repentance, atonement, and forgiveness that required no lens-to-lens translation… here was a Mormon (the author himself) that I wanted to get to know. Now, with the arrival of Levi Peterson’s A Rascal by Nature, A Christian by Yearning: A Mormon Autobiography I/you/we can do just that.
I devoured A Rascal by Nature over the Christmas holidays. My off-the-cuff, book-jacket-blurb description would be this: “Like Levi’s fiction, Levi’s autobiography is unflinchingly canded and often mischievously funny; but it’s his heartfelt wonder and love for nature and its greatest creation (or resident) — people — and the ever-present melancholy Peterson derives from the knowledge that both are fated to endure pain and eventual death, that will stick with you long after you’ve read the last page.” Blah.
My People-Magazine-blurb description would be this: “A Latter-day tour de force! You’ve never read a Mormon Memoir like this!” Ah, much better.
At this point I could steer this blog post in a dozen different directions, A Rascal by Nature being that rich with blogworthy material. After a few starts and re-starts, however, I’ve decided to focus on the subtitle of the book—A Mormon Autobiography.
Levi Peterson certainly forces one to confront the question: “What defines a Mormon?” On the one hand he is an unrepentant Coffee Drinker, an Ower(er) of 30-40 years of back tithing, and an avowed Non-Believer in LDS doctrine; on the other hand he is a Garment Wearer(er), a faithful Home Teacher, a self-described Christian by Yearning, a prolific Author of Mormon-themed essays and stories, and an Editor of a certain Journal of Mormon Thought. Not quite a “Jack,” certainly not a “Peter,” we may need a new term to describe such a Mormon, a “Levi”? Whatever he is, he may some day be christened the Patron Saint of Active Mormon Doubters and Non-Believers.
Where do Mormon Doubters or Non-Believers go? How should they act? The two most common responses are: 1.) They leave the Church; and 2.) They hide their disbelief from family, friends, and fellow ward members, and continue acting the role of a Believer. Levi’s memoir is “Exhibit 421A” that something along the lines of what New Order Mormons call “the third way” is possible, that one can remain “active” without sacrificing integrity.
That said, the third road is difficult to negotiate, as A Rascal by Nature attests. Here are two such examples:
“…however painful truth may be, morality requires that I confront its implications in my public life. What it is, is — recognizing this truth honestly is the heart of my moral being. As Althea (Levi’s non-Member wife) said to me today, she was the one who believed me when I said it was a violation of my integrity to play the full role of believer as I had done on my mission. My relatives believed that role playing was the better part for me. By marrying Althea I expressed my integrity.” (page 415)
And, following an interview with his Stake President, Levi felt sharply…
“…the deep duplicity of my life — my possession of distinctly different personas in conservative and liberal environments, and wondered again how I could bridge the two worlds without being insane, and feeling again it is precisely because I do bridge them that I’m not insane.” (page 375)
And so it is with many of us — it is precisely because we learn to embrace our sometimes schizophrenic nature that we maintain our sanity.
So let’s return to the question, “What defines a Mormon?” Sometime in the past year or two this question was being debated somewhere on the Bloggernacle, probably at By Common Consent. If I recall correctly, the responses were varied and typically long winded. Though I may have imagined it, I could swear that Levi Peterson chimed in with a short-but-sweet two-sentence comment: “’Who or what is a Mormon?’ How about: Whoever wants to be?”
Additional reading material related to Levi Peterson:
Tracie Lamb reviews A Rascal and A Christian in the December 2006 Sunstone Magazine.
Neal Chandler and Jeremy Mumford reflect on The Backslider as part of a twentieth-anniversary celebration of the novel’s publication. Both reflections originally appeared in the September 2006 Sunstone Magazine.
Signature Books will publish a beautiful hardback, illustrated, twentieth-anniversary edition of The Backslider in March 2007.
Having felt a similar “deep duplicity” in my own life, I’m grateful for Levi’s example as someone who both sanely and admirably navigates the world of self-defined Mormonism.
Comment # 1 by Jana | Jan 18, 2007 | Reply
I just finished Levi’s autobiography a couple nights ago. I found it a very compelling, engaging read, even though at times it does fall a little bit into the mode of “and then this happened,” probably unavoidable with a whole-life autobiography. His level of self-analysis is deep enough that it made me do a lot of self-analysis of my own, comparing how I’m similar and how I’m different.
Unlike Levi, basic belief in Mormonism isn’t one of my challenges, and even after reading the book I couldn’t tell you exactly WHY Levi doesn’t believe–it just seems to be part of his personality and identity. For me, I’m able to negotiate troubling history or science or institutional behavior because, as a human, I know I don’t know the full story yet. Anyway, I couldn’t make sense of the universe without the basic Mormon worldview, which I would never abandon unless something better presented itself, which I can’t imagine ever happening.
Where I’m jealous of Levi is how deeply he engages with the world, perhaps to compensate for his lack of belief. He has much stronger connections with community, family, and his daughter and grandchildren than I can personally comprehend, and also with nature. He seems to always be deeply engaged in things like skiing or remodeling his house or hiking or doing lots of other manly things, not to mention his career accomplishments as a professor and writer. In comparison, I have a much harder time connecting with people and the world–I don’t know where Levi gets all the time and energy. In comparison, I feel somewhat slothful and self-centered.
Anyway, it’s a great book if you enjoy peering very deeply into someone else’s life and psyche and, in consequence, looking closer at your own.
Comment # 2 by Chris Bigelow | Jan 19, 2007 | Reply
I just want to say how very, very excited I am that the terms “New Order Mormon” and “Third Way” have been used on the same page as “Levi Peterson.”
It is hard to come to grips with the duplicity of the dual life. The very term “duplicity” has illicetness about it. Am I a liar? Am I a liar to focus on the positive in one sphere and to vent about the negative in another? Thank you for sharing the quote from the biography about sanity. It illuminates.
Comment # 3 by Ann | Jan 19, 2007 | Reply
I agree with your thoughts, Chris. Like you I found myself in “self-analysis” mode each time I picked up the book and was tempted to sit down and write my own experiences/thoughts that either corresponded to or were triggered by events in Levi’s life. Levi’s commitment and love for his (very) extended family and nature also left me feeling inadequate by comparison.
As for your comments re Levi’s lack of belief (and your own belief) in the Mormon faith, I sometimes wonder how much control we have over such a “feeling.” Your comments makes me wonder if you do not agree: “basic belief isn’t one of my challenges,” and “Levi’s [disbelief]… just seems to be part of his personality…”
I sometimes wonder if feelings of belief are not unlike feelings for art. How much control does one have over one’s response to a painting, or a piece of music, or a movie? You “love” it; someone else does not. You can explain/share your love with the non-lover. The non-lover can study the artwork’s history and background, can immerse himself in seeking to understand the artist and its meaning. After such an expenditure of effort the non-lover will probably appreciate the art, will understand why others “love” or are moved by the art, but he/she may still not feel any love or emotion for the work itself (or maybe through such an effort he/she will actually grow to love the art).
I don’t know, maybe the above is a bad example, but it seems that anything that is feeling- or emotion-based springs from the same entirely subjective place. One person hear’s sweet music in Mormonism; another person can’t quite catch that tune, but he hear’s the same sweet music in nature and his fellow man.
Comment # 4 by Matt Thurston | Jan 20, 2007 | Reply
Matt:
Hopefully not a threadjack, but let me explore the implications of your comment a bit further:
I think the question that preoccupies me right now, is why my previous fervor for the Church has evaporated? I don’t think those feelings were anything innate, because it has changed so drastically in a rather short period of time. But maybe I have just transferred the earlier fervor to different things and the fervor still remains?
Comment # 5 by Jana | Jan 20, 2007 | Reply
Sometimes I think the fervor I felt for a broad thing was actually an expression of a much more specific need. For example, some of the times I expressed a fervor for belief for a very specific type of afterlife, I was really expressing a desire for a life after death that was predictable and comfortable and not a bit scary and unknown. Or when I expressed desire for believing the church as a whole (which I’ve since decided is a very broad, over-generalized, and way-too-all-encompassing statement) I was really expressing a deep desire to be a part of something bigger than myself.
As far as what is a Mormon, I think that when the phrase is used, most people interpret it as meaning a member of the LDS church. Which generally brings with it the assumption of belief in God, Jesus, Joseph Smith, and adherence to commonly known laws such as the Word of Wisdom and chastity. If person means anything else than this, I think most would expect the statement to be qualified, as in “I’m Mormon, but, I believe it’s ok to drink a glass fo wine.” Or “I’m Mormon, but have unique views on Joseph Smith.”
That’s the publicly held definition of the word, though. It sounds like Levi Peterson had a very personalized use of the word Mormon. I do too, and I think a lot of Sunstoners would claim the same. Whether we’re Mormons by practice, by heritage, by friend- or kin-ship, or because we grew up involved in the same religious group - one that shaped and formed who we are, regardless of where we’re at.
Comment # 6 by Elise | Jan 20, 2007 | Reply
Jana (#5), If I had extended the “art” metaphor a little further I would have included some kind of caveat that addressed changes in feeling or fervor. When I was an 8th Grader in 1983 I thought Billy Idol and Rocky III represented the apex of artistic merit for music and movies, respectively. My fervor for both has dwindled considerably.
I don’t think our feelings for art or religious beliefs are static over our lifetime — they wax and wane or completely change course depending on some unknown mix of nature and nuture/experience.
So I’d agree with Elise (#6) that your previous fervor for the Church and your current fervor for something else stem from the same broad spiritual hunger. I could say the same about my 8th Grade feelings for Billy Idol and my current feelings for The Shins or Bright Eyes.
In any case, I’m not suggesting we have zero control over our feelings/beliefs, just that there is some percentage of feeling/belief that seems to be innate and somewhat beyond our control. The spritual or artistic muse strikes and we listen. Most testimonies I hear borne on Sundays seem to have that ineffable quality.
Comment # 7 by Matt Thurston | Jan 21, 2007 | Reply
Wow, I feel so fortunate to have stumbled across this blog entry. THE BACKSLIDER is a breathtaking novel; I had no idea such a Mormon novel existed. Before I continue let me say that I label myself as a lapsed Mormon. I used to think that it was an either/or scenario–I am a devout Mormon or I am an excommunicated Mormon. Neither scenario worked for me and while I do not believe the doctrine (I don’t understand why; I just don’t) I am still very much a cultural Mormon, a very happy one at that. Anyway, back to literature.
The problem I see is not so much with a lack of good Mormon writers–at the risk of sounding smug, literary writers–but with Mormon literary criticism. I might be completely off base here, and if I am please point me in the right direction, but the criticism I’ve found is all written for a Mormon audience.
Here’s the real problem: Say I’m writing an academic essay on Mormon Literature. The best sources–take John Bennion’s piece, “Renegotiating Scylla and Charybdis - Reading and the Distance between New York and Utah,” or Eugene England’s excellent survey piece on the history and future of Mormon literature, for example–exclude non-Mormon readers when they speak Mormonese or presume Mormon truth in their discussion of literature. What kind of scholarly journal accepts an essay which uses such sources? The real shame, to me at least, is that these two articles are insightful, important, well-written, and scholarly (with an asterisk). It frustrates me that we can’t have a criticism outside the parameters of Mormon truth, even while Mormon artists wrestle with that truth (without it, novels like THE BACKSLIDER remain on the fringes of American literature). Why does the discussion of Mormon literature also have to reaffirm Mormon truth? Isn’t that what church, scripture study, and general conference are for? Incidentally, I think the best critical work is being done on blogs (again, how can I use these as sources?).
Eugene England quotes Karl Keller from a roundtable in Dialogue: “When someone becomes capable of creating imaginative worlds where Mormon theological principles are concretely true, then we will have a writer of the stature of Flannery O’Connor. Because she was a Catholic, she said, she could not afford to be less than a good artist.” Flannery O’Connor is an interesting choice. No story upsets my students more than “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” and to me the Misfit bears more resemblance to a Brian Evenson character than any other Mormon character I know (pick one of his). I like Evenson’s work because it is so distinctly Mormon and yet he has been shoved out the door. Mormon critics, I suggest, are afraid of the same fate which is why they often declare Mormon truth in the same breath as their literary utterance. This prevents Mormon literature from moving forward and THE BACKSLIDER from gaining a wider readership. Furthermore, Keller’s quote still relies on the idea of Mormon truth. I will stop now.
Any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you.
Comment # 8 by Aaron Sanders | Jan 25, 2007 | Reply
Nice questions, Aaron.
As I said in my blog post, I have not read a lot of Mormon fiction. The same could be said for Mormon literary criticism, though I have read the England essay you reference. I have also read some of the essays in the Signature Books essay collection Tending the Garden which focuses on Mormon literature.
I hope Stephen Carter and/or Scot Denhalter read your comment as both are probably better qualified to answer your question.
Having said that, I’ll take a stab with my thoughts…
I think (99% of) Mormon Lit or Mormon Literary Criticism is written for a Mormon audience. I’m guessing that both the authors and/or critics rarely even consider the non-Mormon audience. Therefore, because both are written almost entirely for a Mormon insider audience, the work’s relationship to Mormon truth/morals/ideals/etc will always be a subject for Mormon stories, and a talking point for Mormon literary criticism. I’m not sure either must necessarily “affirm” Mormon truth (and I don’t think it does), but both the work itself and the criticism will at least acknowledge some relationship (whether close or distant) to Mormon truth.
I haven’t read Evenson yet, though I own Altmann’s Tongue. I’ve read the work of both Walter Kirn and Brady Udall. Both authors novel’s have (some) Mormon characters and themes, though I wouldn’t describe either the authors or the literary criticism of their work “Mormon.” (BTW, I really liked Letting Loose the Hounds.)
I probably haven’t answered your question. Whatever the case, I agree 100% that The Backslider should be read by everyone, both Mormons and non-Mormons. And it should be studied by both Mormon Literary Critics and non-Mormon Literary Critics, both for its adherence or non-adherence to Mormon truth/morals/ideals/culture/etc., AND for its literary merit, independent of Mormonism altogether.
I gotta run. Maybe I’ll post additional thoughts later.
Comment # 9 by Matt Thurston | Jan 25, 2007 | Reply
“When someone becomes capable of creating imaginative worlds where Mormon theological principles are concretely true, then we will have a writer of the stature of Flannery O’Connor.”
Though he may deny it, I think that Brady Udall in his novel _The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint_ does precisely this–creates an imaginative world completely infused with traditional Mormon theological concepts, particularly the idea of an anthropomorphic God and the path of the individual from pre-existence into this world.
Comment # 10 by Brad | Jan 25, 2007 | Reply
Thanks, Brad, for the Edgar Mint mention–I ordered it today and look forward to reading it.
And thank you, Matt, for your thoughtful response. First off, if you haven’t read Brian Evenson yet, I recommend starting with his most recent novel, THE OPEN CURTAIN. I think its his best work yet.
About the criticism, I agree with your characterization of MoLit/MoCrit, that 99% of it is directed at a Mormon audience. I also agree that “the work’s relationship to Mormon truth/morals/ideals/etc will always be a subject for Mormon stories, and a talking point for Mormon literary criticism.” What I would add is that I think it’s time to build on this. I want MoLit to take its rightful place among other great American literatures–and I believe that we have the writers to do it.
For this to happen I think Mormon critics might step it up (sorry for the sportscaster diction) by addressing an audience of both Mormons and non-Mormons. I think Mormons often operate in defensive mode, a mode that protects certain aspects of Mormonism from the general public for fear of being misunderstood. This defensive mode waters down some of the more interesting aspects of Mormonism and suggests, on some level, that we are ashamed of our heritage. I think this defensive mode has trickled into the way we talk about our writers. Any discussion of literature seems to begin and end with what a Mormon audience might think of that literature. Is it too edgy for a Mormon audience? was the refrain of the Brother Brigham book review on Motley Vision. The brilliance of the Flannery O’Connor essay I quoted in my first post is that she realizes that her fiction will offend many Catholics. At one point she even says that it is a good thing that Catholic leaders tell other Catholics not to read her fiction. In that same essay she writes:
“If we intend to encourage Catholic fiction writers, we must convince those coming along that the Church does not restrict their freedom to be artists, but insures it (the restrictions of art are another matter), and to convince them of this requires, perhaps more than anything else , a body of Catholic readers who are equipped to recognize something in fiction besides passages they consider obscene. It is popular to suppose that anyuone who can read the telephone book can read a short story or a novel, and it is more than usual to find the attitude among Catholics taht since we possess the truth in the Church, we can use this truth directly as an instrument of judgement on any discipline at any time without regard for the nature of the discipline itself. Catholic readers are constantly being offended and scadalized by novels that they don’t have the fundamental equipment to read in the first place, and often these are works that are permeated with a Christian spirit” (from “The Church and the Fiction Writer”).
I agree with O’Connor and it seems to me that to write serious fiction for a general Mormon audience is the wrong way to think about it. We’ve seen our great writers offend this audience time and again, and pay the ultimate price for it. This song and dance will go on for years if nothing changes. The job of the critics, as I see it, is to defend the writers to that Mormon audience on the one hand, but on the other hand, and more importantly, present these writers as a LITERATURE to both Mormons and non-Mormons. This criticism has to stop worrying that Elder Holland or Elder Packer might be reading it too. If enough critics and writers stood together they couldn’t possibly kick everyone out, could they? I don’t mean to sound flippant or naive. My questions arise out of my passion for literature, in this case Mormon literature. I think the Mormon church would grow stronger if it would allow its artists to be themselves and question, offend, dance with the obscene. We should celebrate Brian Evenson and Neil LaBute, for example, instead of regarding them as the wayward sons who have lost their testimonies. Their works are as Mormon as they come, and raise all kinds of interesting questions about what Mormon literature is at its most extreme. And who better to tell the Mormon audeince to value their writers than the literary experts, those with the training to recognize how great they are. The critics! Last O’Connor quote, I promise: “It is when the individual’s faith is weak, not when it is strong, that he will be afraid of an honest fictional representation of life.”
I must stop now.
Comment # 11 by Aaron Sanders | Jan 26, 2007 | Reply