Mormon Literaturstreit: why not the Mormons?
Hello!
In this month’s newsletter, we arrive at the end of the Mormon Literaturstreit proper (but not the end of the series), and I provide an update on The Courtship of Elder Cannon.
But first:
My musings last month on Mormon literature and the Mormon conception of the afterlife led to a few responses from readers. I appreciated them—it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one interested in such things.
I released a hard techno EP called Transit earlier this month (as Will Esplin) that draws inspiration from the WWII novel Transit by Anna Seghers, which is about refugees attempting to flee Europe via Marseilles, as well as the fascinating 2018 adaptation of the novel by Christian Petzold. It’s hard techno so, ymmv, but the first several listens are free, and while I know nobody listens to albums as albums any more, I do think it tells a cohesive story across the five tracks (and the track titles literally do that). If you are into it and want to purchase it (or any of my releases), it’s Bandcamp Friday on Oct. 4, which means they waive their normal fees for music purchased on that day.
Earlier this month a landmark title in Mormon aesthetics (which continues to be an interest of mine) was published by Oxford University Press: Latter-day Saint Art: A Critical Reader. More details, including a pair of podcast episodes from the editors, can be found on the website of The Center for Latter-Day Saint Arts. I don’t yet have my hands on a copy of it, but I definitely hope to write about it.
Mormon Literaturstreit: Michael Austin asks, “Why not the Mormons?”
This month we wrapped up the Mormon Literaturstreit proper (although this doesn’t end the series—there are some echoes I’ll be posting about in October/November) with Michael Austin’s attempt at mediating/resolving the Mormon Literaturstreit, albeit one that is less the type of synthesis Gideon Burton suggested in the previous post/newsletter, and more of a kaleidoscopic approach.
Mormon Literaturstreit: Michael Austin asks “Why not the Mormons?” – A Motley Vision
William discusses Michael Austin’s attempt to put forth a vision of Mormon literary criticism that is expansive but still uniquely Mormon.
Disclaimer
I should note that after I published the post on AMV, Michael Austin mentioned it on Facebook. I do talk about this in the post itself, but while he didn’t overtly disavow his talk/essay, he indicated that his mind had changed on a lot of things. I don’t doubt that. I still think it’s important for what he said at the time and in relation to the field since then. Just know that when I attribute opinions to Austin, they’re the Austin of back then and not the one of now.
Brief Summary
Austin argues that the terms on which various entries in the Mormon Literaturstreit have tried to define Mormon literature thus far have fallen into a trap of parochialism and provincialism (those are my terms—not his), and that what is needed is an expansive approach to Mormon literature. And that, in fact, Mormon academics should fight for Mormo-American literature to have a place in literary studies in the U.S. That: “Mormon students and Mormon professors should be able to use university time and resources to study, write, and teach about our own culture and our own literature.” But, Austin, notes, if we are to do that, then we must acknowledge all works of Mormon literature—any that are by, for, or about Mormons.
Key Quote
“We know that, like any other large group of people, Mormons can be ignorant, blind, and wicked; but we also know that they can be insightful, inspired, and magnificent. And we know that all of these attributes together constitute the story of Mormonism that the rest of the world needs to hear.”
Why It’s Important
Much of what Austin writes about is the socio-cultural and material conditions for Mormon literary criticism alongside arguing for the need for an expansive definition of Mormon literature. Which is great and was largely missing from the previous entries. These two sentences by Austin make a good point about how Mormons should not be afraid to show the good and the bad—and also that it should be Mormons who tell those stories. They very much sum up his approach.
But what I especially like about this quote is that it also applies to those of us who write Mormon literature, especially fiction. We tend to pay some attention to the ignorant, blind, and inspired (although there’s always room for more). But what about the wicked and/or the magnificent?
Revising The Courtship of Elder Cannon
I had a week of vacation this month—days I had to take off before they expired. I used part of that time to finally sit down and take a look fresh look at The Courtship of Elder Cannon, my short novel that was part of the Mormon Lit Lab’s book mentoring program.
I approached the task with some trepidation. It had been more than a year since I’d last read through it, and I didn’t know how well it had held up.
In case you need a refresher, here’s a brief summary of it:
The Courtship of Elder Cannon is a short literary novel about a recently widowed member of the Seventy and a U of U literature professor who are set up on a blind date in 2009 in the wake of scrutiny over the Church’s involvement in California’s Proposition 8. Told through conversations, journal entries, talks, emails, scriptural commentaries, and so on, the novel explores how Mormon conceptions of grief, eternal marriage, and personal revelation impact Elder Cannon’s relationships with the woman he courts, his family, her family, and his identity as a husband, father, and church leader.
Re-reading it was interesting because it feels like, on the one hand, it’s much too late. I think it’d would have more impact if I’d written and published it in 2014 or 2015. At this point it reads much more like historical fiction than when I wrote it.
On the other hand, I was relieved to discover that it holds up. And it didn’t need a massive rewrite. Most of what I did was line edits. Important line edits to be sure, but I was worried that I’d have to restructure it or do something more dramatic. Or even worse: that it would just fall to pieces on me.
At the same time, I have no idea how folks are going to receive the novel. Is it too satirical or is it too gentle? Is it rather approachable or does it require too much of the reader? Is it too subtle in everything it’s doing or is it totally blatant?
I really don’t know.
What I do know is that I feel good enough about where it’s at that I’m going to publish it next year. Most likely the first half of 2025. More details on that, of course, here in this newsletter. Heck, I might even go all author on you and do a cover reveal*.
Some of you have heard me talk about this thing for more than a decade now. I’m not this open about every project I work on, but this one has always felt like I needed time for it to find its’ final form and that it was good to be public about it so that I’d keep hacking away at it.
The hacking may not have been perfect, but it’s finally led to something in the shape of an actual novel.
*I need to commission a cover first, though.
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