What happens when a High Priest becomes addicted to crack cocaine? Should an unemployed bank teller take in a homeless protestor from the Occupy movement? Do gay people have positive near-death experiences or unhappy ones? Is there a way to splice the empathy gene into the genome of every human? Can a schizophrenic woman on anti-delusional drugs keep her belief in an intangible God? Will a childless biochemist be able to find fulfillment by taking part in a mission to Mars? Should a meek stay-at-home Mom become involved in an international protest against fracking? Not every Latter-day Saint has a mainstream story to tell, but these soul-searching people are all still more than just "Marginal Mormons."
When people stereotype Mormons, I often caution them, explaining that with 14 million Mormons in the world, you get every kind of Mormon imaginable. Townsend's short stories demonstrate this. His stories here include psychotic Mormons, gay Mormons, criminal Mormons, DINK Mormons, corrupt politician Mormons, drug addicted Mormons, and more.
And in describing these nonstereotypical Mormons, I'm not claiming that all these characters represent dark and evil alternatives to the ideal. Some of them have malicious motives, but many of them are striving to get through the day by managing problems that are greater than their resources to address them. Many of these stories include dialogue between characters or within a character's mind, showing struggles, conflicting values, doubt, weaknesses and other very mortal aspects. These Mormons live in a fallen world and wrestle with their fallen natures. Sometimes they even show progress, triumph and change. Sometimes they stagnate or devolve.
A few of the stories actually contain fairly tame conflicts, like the single woman answering the phones at a bank. She just hates her job and prays way too much as a coping device. It's not that gritty. It's a rated G story, but the collection of short stories demonstrate each of the MPAA rating scale all the way to NC-17.
While I appreciate the author's ability to show that the members of the Mormon church are sometimes far more complex than official images or stereotypes, I do wonder who is willing to consume stories with such images. Most devout Mormons will recoil with horror at tales that discuss sexual intimacy in and out of the bounds of marriage, criminal activity, drug and alcohol use and ulterior motives. With the first curse word and the first exposed breast, the devout will close the book and hurl it against the wall.
But then those who like to read gritty, contemporary fiction might be exasperated with details about Relief Society, home teaching, missions and LDS theology. The characters are fully acculturated Mormons, and each story draws on exacting detail from the Mormon subculture. Fans of cutting-edge fiction might find these church culture details too unhip, causing them to abandon the collection.
But maybe there are Mormons who like experimental fiction or contemporary fiction fans who are curious about religious subcultures? There have to be readers who enjoy the tension caused by such a juxtaposition. I trust that Townsend can find such an audience, even if it's a niche market that might be small and very hard to access.
Yes, there are people (including Mormons) whose lives include a wide range of behaviors and attitudes that include those narrated in this collection. I used to watch a lot of art house films that ran the gamut of the human experience: drug traffickers, prostitutes, addicts, outlaws, and the severely mentally ill. But then after watching Natural Born Killers, I decided that I had completed a grand tour of the darker side of life and wanted to focus on films that contained more hope, even if they were pretty lies.
During my 50 years of talking with all kinds of Mormons, I've interacted with many who live on the fringe. And most Mormons have one aspect of their life that pushes them to the borders of acceptable Mormon behavior, which is often questionable behavior by most social standards. Hell, I have had my moments where I've lived too near the wilderness of unruly human behavior and recoiled from my own dark heart, leaving me to mutter, "the horror, the horror."
Knowing that people often live in ways that are less than ideal, I admit that many of these stories ring true. But I don't know if I want to peal back the stereotypes and dwell with the darkness, the conflicts, the misery and the mayhem that the natural man exhibits. Can I focus instead Hawthorne's world by day in the town square and turn a blind eye to the antics that occur by night in the woods? I think I prefer my fiction to show a version of humanity that's a little higher than the angels, even if it's a window dressing version of our species. So like Blanche Dubois, I want a paper lantern to put on the bare bulb, and Townsend's stories cast a lot of harsh light.