Literary Philistines and Great Mormon Novels

As certain as the summer is every year, so is the discussion of the Great Mormon Novel (and its absence.) Every time people bring up this topic again, I spend varying amounts of time looking over it. The reactions from believers. The reactions from non and ex-believers. I even dabbled in writing about it once upon a time.

…But, I recognize that I just don’t get the point and don’t think I did before. I don’t get why this is something people spend so much time about. I don’t get why everyone’s talking about a great Mormon novel.

Does the absence of such a great Mormon novel invalidated Mormonism as a culture? Does the presence of one validate Mormonism as a church? Does either absence or presence say anything about Mormonism as a religion? or as a way of living?

Seth R., a frequenter of all blogs relating to Mormonism (except his own) has gotten caught up in a debate on another one of my posts. I’m sure it must be somewhat frustrating for all of the participants involved (now that the discussion is over 200 comments), but it’s great for me to look over as it happens. In it, he has expressed what I think is an intriguing idea:

In response to an attempt at explaining why people find religions compelling from a nonreligious person, Seth wrote:

…people do not simply follow these ideas because someone told them to.They follow them because the ideas – in and of themselves – are glorious and powerful and speak to the greatest passions, longings, and aims of human identity. The ideas are powerful – with or without someone forcing them on everyone else.

I can see this. So, even though the particulars of what may speak to me, or what my longings are, or what my aims are as a human, may be different than what speaks to another, I feel there is a commonality at the foundation of what others and I are seeking.

Seth continues:

But Daniel, this ignores the fact that some belief systems are better and more compelling than others.

This is where the fatuous comparisons of God to Santa Claus fall on their face.

The idea of Santa Claus didn’t inspire the Sistine Chapel, Milton’s Paradise Lost, most of the works of Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy, and Dostoevsky. Nor did it inform the American Revolution, Martin Luther King, and the Abolitionists. Nor does “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” stand up very well to Handel’s “Messiah.”

I agree with Seth’s argument as it relates to constructs like the “Flying Spaghetti Monster” and “Celestial Teapot,” (but I also believe that these concepts are not raised to try to equate inspirational impact.)

Nevertheless, Seth’s comment made me think. Some belief systems are better and more compelling than others, eh? The fruits of these are the inspiration and fulfillment provided from participation and immersion in the worldviews.

So then, perhaps there are other factors, but wouldn’t Mormonism be expected — if it were glorious and powerful — to produce works attesting to its glory and power? Wouldn’t these works become “Great” Novels?

Kyle has more to to say on this.

To support a generalization with another generalization, the best artists and writers are those that can create something beautiful from conflict, right? Take an inner turmoil, or a fear, or an insecurity, and turn that into something relatable. “The human experience” is one of wondering and searching, and the best art expresses that in a way that the audience can relate to. And while it’s not always true, there tend to be patterns in the backstories of my own favorite artists, which shaped them and pushed them to be who they are.

Here’s a third generalization: mormons tend not to fit those patterns. I don’t have any kind of hard numbers to back this up, but American mormons tend to come from middle class homes; the divorce rate is lower among mormons; education is stressed; family unity is definitely stressed; there’s a built-in social circle–I bet there is actually less loneliness during the formative years of mormons’ lives, either because of siblings or because of cultural bonds with friends at school. I’m painting with a very broad brush here, but you get the picture.

But beyond upbringing and cultural surroundings (the “nurture” half of the equation), there are psychological factors as well (the “nature” part). In terms of intellectualism, I think it’s ridiculous to say (as the Slate article kinda does) that mormons aren’t as smart or intellectually curious as average people–my congregation is full of scientists, grad students, investment bankers, and lawyers. But when it comes to the deeper questions of life, the questions of the soul–the questions that make for good lyrics and prose–mormons take comfort in the answers provided by their religion. As they should, right? I mean, aren’t those the questions that people turn to religion to address?

This doesn’t mean that mormons don’t soul-search or engage in self-examination–we just come to different conclusions, I think. Self-improvement and self-control are big themes in the mormon culture. That’s the simple answer to why there are so many mormon CEOs out there. But the self-assured striving that makes for a great CEO makes for a terrible songwriter.

I don’t think these fruits should be chastised. After all, material success and stability is great, especially when it’s grounded in an environment of self-improvement and self-control. But, for some reason, it doesn’t create compelling literature. I guess artists starve for a reason, while CEOs generally don’t?

But, now, I am beginning to see a little more into why the discussion on the Great Mormon Novel takes place. Could it be that we have an anxiety as Mormons? As part of this community, we want our experiences (whether inside or outside the church) to be validated…we feel that the beauty — and perhaps even tragedy — of our experiences is meaningful and can be meaningful to non-Mormons too. [So, I guess I can see why some people say the Great Mormon Novel must actually be a Great Ex-Mormon Novel.]

If Mormons are ignored or, even worse, found irrelevant, this hurts us even more than being persecuted does. If we are persecuted, we can believe that our theology is so powerful that it threatens the outside world. If we are irrelevant, then we risk our religion and culture being no more emotionally weighty than flying space china.

I guess it would be interesting to see if things change soon. Personally, I believe that Seth R, for all he talks about the glory of Mormonism (and he certainly seems to have an intriguing look on things, which pokes through whenever he is commenting on sites not his own) must be the one to write the Great Mormon Novel.

Ok, seriously? I don’t know.