Mitt Romney, DON’T READ THIS!
Actually, Mitt and Ann and their 5 square-jawed sons could probably relate to some of the characters in “Godforsaken Idaho.” Lapsed Mormon Shawn Vestal’s unsettling and often harsh short story collection doesn’t so much tackle his former religion as it does refract it. He’s neither condemning nor condoning anything in its doctrine; he’s just writing what he knows, which in this case means deeply flawed, imperfect people trying to figure out life in rural Idaho. They’ve lied, cheated, and stolen, but Vestal is not quick to judge anyone. He’s more interested in the human frailty that got them to that point and the major ripples caused by those seemingly minor crimes that perpetuates that same frailty. Sometimes they break, and sometimes they don’t, but what binds them all together – and what endears this collection to a girl in Williamsburg who has never laid eyes on Idaho (and, admittedly, probably never will) – is their humanity. Whether we like these people or not, Vestal at least helps us to understand them.
In my favorite story, “Families Are Forever!” Brad accompanies his edgy, caustic girlfriend Gina to meet her kindly Mormon parents. The title of the story comes from a slogan painted on her parents’ walls, but to lone wolf Brad it initially reads as a threat. They’ve really only come to ask her parents for more money, but something about the warmth of her father and the quaint, simple day he spends wedding the garden with her mother produces a completely unexpected reaction in Brad: He’s happy. He likes these people that his girlfriend can’t stand, and he’s so desperate for their approval that he just starts lying. About everything. He envisions and life and just starts speaking it into existence, wanting to be good enough and in the process doing a bad thing. But Vestal fleshes Brad out and elicits an unexpected sympathy and affection for him because who hasn’t casually fudged the truth about themselves, especially for (and often to) someone we love?
I literally heard myself say on a date once, “Oh, you play lacrosse? I LOVE LACROSSE.” I do not love lacrosse. (It’s the one with the sticks, right?) But here was a handsome, put-together guy sitting across from me, seemingly possessing everything I wanted (first dates really screw with your head) and, like Brad, I leaned in. Figure out the details later, after he’s fallen too hard for you to be upset when you tell him that the You he fell for doesn’t like lacrosse. Or his home-brewed lager. Or a dozen other things you fibbed about because you just wanted this to work. Because underneath all of those tiny micro-lies – the ones you only told because you liked him and wanted him to like you - you’re still the person he fell in love with, and that’s all that matters. And like Vestal’s characters, it gets a little weird at first, but then on the way home from all the aspirational lying you both sort of decide that it’s going to be okay because maybe the lie will end up being much closer to the truth if you can just get past it and keep going.