Reviews -- Where Nothing is Long Ago



	Where Nothing Is Long Ago Memories of a Mormon Childhood

Irreantum, Neal Kramer
Many readers will already be familiar with the work of Virginia Sorensen; nevertheless, I preface my review with a little information about her career. Sorensen, I suggest, should be considered part of an extraordinary generation of Mormon writers and scholars who first came to prominence in the '30s and '40s. This group included nobelists, scientists, inventors, and scholars in many disciplines. Its writers won National Book Awards and Pulitzer prizes. Its scientists made discoveries worthy of nominations for the nobel Prize in chemistry and physics. Scholars included national players in a variety of disciplines, including Sterling McMurrin, who became a member of the Kennedy administration, and Chauncey Harris, Rhodes Scholar and alter vice-president and professor of geography at the University of Chicago. And we must also include extraordinary men like Lowell Bennion, Hugh Nibley, and Sidney Sperry. I'm just scratching the surface.

Virginia Sorensen must be included in the who's who of Mormon intellectuals. She won two National Book Awards and stands as an example today of a writer of Mormon origins who successfully found a national audience while including something about Mormons in her work. Signature's reprint of this 1963 collection, originally published by Harcourt, Brace, & World, Inc., is a perfect example of this phenomenon.

For me, the most remarkable aspect of these stories is the narrator. Ostensibly a young girl living in either Provo or Manti, depending on the story, this narrator is very charming, bright, and exuberant. She attends Sunday School every week with the bishop's daughter, but she isn't quite a "Mormon." Her parents aren't shy about expressing their disagreements with the local religion, one of her grandmothers is a nonbeliever, and one grandfather is a philanderer. Her father is a man of the world who works for the railroad. No parochial religion for him.

By placing her narrator on the margins of Mormon Utah, one foot inside and one foot out, as it were, Sorensen creates the perfect informant for outside readers. This narrator has no desire to convert anyone to Mormonism, but she has the effect of convincing readers that Mormons are just like everybody else, with a few oddities thrown in for good measure.

It's difficult to imagine what people thought of Mormons in the late '50s and early '60s, but I can imagine that Mormons seemed pretty "peculiar." Sorensen's narrator is so innocent and so wise that she gets away with demystifying Mormons, turning them into the kind of people who live in any small town in America, almost. I suspect that was very positive in its time, if you think it was important for Mormons to be seen as regular folks. Sorensen was doing Utah and the Church a big favor by writing these stories. In fact, I suspect one motive for writing the stories was the desire to pay respect to a warm and wonderful childhood among the Mormons.

This sophisticated twelve-year-old narrator tells delicious stories, filled with youthful humor but also the troubles of life in small towns. I'm tempted to give the endings away, so I'll try to give you just a taste and no more.

My favorite story in this collection has always been "Where Nothing is Long Ago." I am fascinated by its matter-of-fact approach to a dramatic outburst of violence and its aftermath. The central act in the story is only briefly discussed: a prominent member of the community kills another man whom he catches stealing irrigation water. Our curious little narrator, though, offers a running account of adult responses to the dilemma. She shows us funeral preparations for the deceased. She even tries to sneak us into the viewing, though she is not supposed to attend. Sorensen deftly invites us into this very private world. And it is all presented with grace and style reminiscent of Eudora Welty.

"The Ghost" introduces us to the world of race relations in early Utah. This is obviously a story written for its 1963 audience, but its charm again is tied to the narrator. She tells us of her first railroad journey and the friendship she strikes up with the porter in the dining car, who is African-American. He proves to be a great friend; for instance, he brings her steak when her parents specifically ordered ground beef—and he pays for it. But the encounter on the train sets up the real story.

One day, not long after the trip, she is stunned to see a different African-American in Sunday school. She even talks to him as she passes. Once in her seat, she reflects: "Through the bustle of arrivals, I perceived his isolation. The bench stretched empty on either side. 'I wish I could go back and sit by him,' I said with sudden feeling." We are amazed at the innocent goodness of this narrator's impulses. And I suspect we all are rather smug as we recognize them as our own, as well. The story continues with a discussion of how this man and his family got to Utah. Much is made of his ability as a singer. He seems quite agile on his feet, as well.

He and his family stay around long enough for the Halloween dance. But you'll have to read the story to find out what happens when a tall, agile man comes to the dance, decked out from head to foot in a pure-white ghost costume. He dances with almost every woman in town. What if?

I cannot do justice to Sorensen's style. It is matter-of-fact but graceful. It is simple but also intelligent. While reading the book at the rate of one story per night and no more, I was often surprised to see an almost-perfect word or phrase. One minute I was reading the words of a twelve-year-old, and the next minute I was encountering the traces of her more-mature self looking backward. Starling but delectable.

This collection of stories should be part of your library. But you must limit yourself to one serving per day. Just when you think it can't get any better than this, you turn the page and find another helping, even more delicious than yesterday's. Buy one copy for you and one copy for your best friend.

Let me add just another note: This book reveals one of the real challenges Mormons face in trying to define our literary culture. We do not have much respect for our cultural past. As a result, we often end up trying to reinvent the literary wheel, when someone now less known has already done it brilliantly before. We should be grateful for publishers like Signature and others who think we have a cultural past worth preserving, but we should also read these "classics" in order to allow them to distill and clarify our present efforts. One purpose of our criticism should be to introduce current LDS writers to their forebears.