The contest is here. The best missionaries-in-peril story wins! Act now!
He Is Ours
You were an island of stretched-out skin
A shock of flesh bath water could not cover
I was thinking about earthquakes and volcanoes
The plate tectonics of your sharp heels
Kicking tremors in the dome of her womb
And the lava is blood
A red river
It hisses and bites at the sea
Who is it?
He is ours—
This continent’s new piece of earth.
I start by acknowledging a point of agreement. (I’m sure Jerry Johnston is a nice guy. I want to be charitable here.) I agree, as Johnston puts it, that “an authentic [Mormon] literary masterpiece” would make some Mormons feel “uncomfortable, exposed and betrayed.” Fair enough. As for the rest of the article … Dude! Come on!
The column presents this argument:
(1) Only a partial Mormon outsider can achieve the perspective necessary to write “great” Mormon lit.
(2) Only a Mormon insider could write lit that qualifies as “truly Mormon.”
Great Mormon lit is impossible. Continue reading “Abandon All Hope: Mormon Lit Can’t Be ‘Great’”
Makes the anti-Mormon propaganda go down. Also: putting the sleuth of Baker Street in his place on completely neutral terms unrelated to century-old tribal grudges. Continue reading “A Spoonful of Detective Fiction”
I like the building where I attend sacrament meeting. The chapel is amphitheater-like because all of the side benches face the pulpit at an angle. Another thing I like about it: the library has been around long enough to be stocked with some pretty good stuff. Continue reading “A Trip to the Library”
This is me losing a game of chicken for the second time in a row. Continue reading “Apropos of Something”
Christmas eve. My dad’s hairy flailing right arm can reach most of the seats in the station wagon. That’s why I sit directly behind him. I stare at his hairy neck and realize that he has transformed himself into a werewolf Continue reading “A Child’s Christmas”