Book Review - the Nineteenth Wife by David Ebershoff

When I heard about The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff, I was immediately desperate to get my hands on a copy.  I love historical fiction and have a strange fascination with polygamy and other cults.  As soon as it arrived, I sat down to read it cover to cover.   It did not disappoint.

This novel weaves the stories of two women, both the 19th wives of polygamists, and paints a thorough and captivating portrait of plural marriage from its inception in the 1830s to its current existence with fringe groups.  The first 19th wife is Ann Eliza Young, Brigham Young's wife who divorced him and campaigned tirelessly on the lecture circuit to educate America about polygamy.  She was instrumental in convincing Congress to outlaw the practice and forcing the Mormons to renounce it.  Ebershoff fictionalizes her story but also references diverse original sources to bring to life Brigham Young, Ann Eliza Young, her parents and siblings.  The details about life on the frontier as well as the dialogue are authentic and intriguing. 

The other 19th wife's story is radically different from Ann Eliza Young's, and reveals how far from grace plural marriage has fallen.   It is really a murder mystery tale, told through the eyes of Jordan Scott, the wife's outcast gay son.  He is researching the Mesadale Firsts community (fictional but inspired on communities such as the one led by Warren Jeffs) to free his mother from being unjustly convicted of killing his father.  The contrast between the struggles of the Mormon pioneers with their hand-drawn cart journeys to Utah with the present-day Internet and IM technology used by the men of Mesadale to recruit new wives is striking.  Regardless of the advances of technology, however, the hardships of plural marriage to the wives and children remain unchanged.

Ebershoff condemns the practice thoroughly, but he does a great job of showing the fears and beliefs that drive women to choose being a plural wife.  The chapter when he describes Ann Eliza's parents' struggle with Joseph Smith's commandment to embrace polygamy is especially poignant.  It is her mother who tearfully ends up forcing her husband to take on a second wife, in fear of not being with him in heaven.  Once convinced, the husband fully embraced it, taking on multiple wives, and the ensuing strife destroyed their marriage.

Ann Eliza's character is a little murky, one of the hazards of using such a controversial historical figure.  It is hard to believe that she is much of a victim after three failed marriages under her belt in her life.  She is a good illustration of how high and low you could be in early Mormon culture as well as how much women were forced to rely on their own means to provide for themselves.  

The modern sections of the novel do the best job of showing the true victims of "celestial marriage": the children.  Jordan's descriptions of their home life really illustrates their plight: "We slept in triple-decker bunks; or five to a bed, head to foot; or on the couch, four boys elbowing over three cushions; or on the living room floor, on blankets and pillows, twenty kids laid down like tiles.  Shirts and sweaters in plastic garbage bins labelled by size.  Shoes handed down.  Tennis balls and kickballs handed down from one kid to the next.  The only thing in that house that was all my own, that I never had to share with anyone, was a drawer in my dresser, twelve inches wide by fifteen inches deep...  If you're bad at math, that's 1.25 square feet, which was really more than I needed because I didn't have anything to keep inside."

The novel ends on a mixed note.  The 1800s story concludes with the Latter Day Saints renouncing polygamy.  The current day story concludes with Jordan's mother being freed after another killer confesses, but she elects to return to the compound.  Her fear of hell is stronger than a desire to escape a harsh life as a cast-off widow.  The Nineteenth Wife is a thought-provoking expose of polygamy's evolution in America and its presence today.  It's particularly relevant considering all the recent news coverage, but it's also a wonderfully written and captivating novel.

Miracle

Tonight's Sunday Scribblings prompt is Miracle. It inspired this little fiction tale...

It was going to take a miracle. Nothing short of a miracle would solve the unholy mess that she was in. Jane stared at the screen of her cellphone, wishing desperately that the words picture sent would magically disappear, but she knew that even if she pressed clear and made them disappear, it still wouldn't undo her mistake. Why did Verizon make it so easy to hit send?

She and Brandi had just been messing around, killing time during yet another boring Saturday afternoon in Wichita. They were both broke, having already burned through their monthly allowance: Jane on a killer studded jeans skirt and Brandi on a hot tattoo of cool looking Asian symbols.

They'd decided to go to the mall anyway, it was either that or hanging out in the parking lot at the Circle K. The busy mall was marginally less depressing, even when they couldn't do anything other than window shop. Brandi sometimes stole little things from stores, but Jane never got off on that like Brandi. The last time she'd stole a lip gloss from Rite Aid, she'd felt so guilty about it that she'd actually gone back the next day to put it back. The clerk had stared at her the whole time and she'd almost gotten caught, proof of what a total loser she was, probably the only idiot in the world to get caught returning stolen loot.

They'd ended up in Victoria's Secret, laughing at the skanky lace lingerie displayed in the candy pink store. A snooty saleslady, trying to scare them off, had asked them if they needed any help. Jane had bit her tongue hard to keep from laughing out loud when Brandi had looked her straight in the eyes and asked for her help to pick out something special for the two of them for their wedding night. That snooty lady looked so disgusted but the potential of a commission was too sweet to give in to her homophobic fears.

Jane wasn't too homophobic herself, but she definitely wasn't a lesbian, still she enjoyed a good prank so she went along with Brandi's joke. Next thing she knew, they were naked in a dressing room, putting on matching pink see-through camisoles and posing for the camera. They were laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their faces. It was amazing that they'd been able to even take the picture, but they unfortunately had. Then they took a whole bunch more, pretending to be lesbian lovers. They sat on the floor, among all the discarded outfits, with the frigid and annoyed saleslady right outside the door and reviewed their photoshoot. It was during their next laugh attack that she had hit clicked "yes" to the send to all command.

Now she was going to have a lot of explaining to do at Thanksgiving sitting around the table with her grandmother and her aunts. She would never be able to look her cousins in the face again after they saw that picture. She prayed that no one would be cruel enough to put it out on the Internet or she might actually have to become a lesbian because no guy would ever date her again.

A Losing Proposition

Gary and I were sitting in his sister's car, AC blasting to ward off the DC September heat, sharing a Dean and Delucca prociutto sandwich when he turned to me with a conspirational smile. I smiled back, already excited to join him on whatever off the wall adventure he was about to suggest.
"Dude, I have the best idea!"
"Great! What is it?"
"Well, you know how neither one of us has a girlfriend or a boyfriend right now?"
"Don't remind me - I'm trying hard to forget it..."
At that point, my heart was beginning to beat a little faster. I'd never really thought of Gary in that way, he'd always been a really fun buddy who was always game for a party. But he was decent looking and I was crazy lonely. I was beginning to wonder if today was going to be the first day of a glorious relationship - one that could lead to marriage and kids one day.
"So dude, I was thinking that maybe we should hook up, you know, while we don't have anyone else."
"Are you for real! You mean, just hook up, no relationship, no commitment, just until something better comes along?"

Gary turned to me, still smiling, still proud of his stroke of inspiration.

"Yeah, so what do you think?"
"What do I think? I think you're an a**hole, that's what! Take me home, I'm done hanging out."
"What? You don't think it's a good idea? I thought you had nothing to do all afternoon? Why do you want to go home?"
"Just take me home."
"Are you pissed?"
"..."
"Why aren't you talking? Are you mad at me? What did I say? Why are you mad?"
"Look - I'm not mad - just take me home."
"But, I thought we were going to go to the music store?"
"Just take me home ... NOW."

And that day marked the end of a beautiful friendship.

The Fiction Friday prompt for today was: Write about a failed proposal.

The Beach House Review

Jane Green's latest novel brings together a diverse cast of characters in a big old house in Nantucket. The owner of the house, Nan, is an eccentric old widow who likes to swim nude in strangers' pools during the off-season. In oder to keep the house when her money runs out, she decides to take in boarders thus bringing together Daff, the lonely divorcee, Daniel, the confused recently separated husband, and Michael, a jeweler from Manhattan. The bulk of the story takes place on Nantucket's gorgeous relaxed summer scene.

With the exception of Michael Crichton, I'm not usually a fan of popular fiction. I'll occasionally pick up a James Patterson or a Mary Higgins Clark for the pleasure of a gripping plot to read on the plane, but I often get frustrated by the writing. Jane Green's novel was no exception, but when I persevered, I got hooked by the plot. Once I stopped looking for great sentences to keep in my writing notebook, I started turning to the Beach House like a guilty pleasure, the same way I watch Gossip Girl on tv.

I then feverishly burned through the rest of the book, eager to see whether Nan would manage to hang on to the house, if Daniel would find happiness, and if Daff would stop being lonely. I stayed up until 1AM last night when I finally finished it.

I give it two stars because although I enjoyed it, it's really not my kind of book, but that doesn't mean The Beach Housemight not be your ideal beach pick.

I'm giving away a copy of the Beach House at Chefdruck Musings. Click over to enter to win!

Tutu Monstrosity

Jane sat on the hard slatted bench, fidgeting nervously with her shirt buttons. The bench was digging into her legs, undoubtedly making unflattering red marks that would soon be visible to the other moms when she stood up. She looked around, glancing at the wall clock, wondering how much longer she was going to have to wait. She was just thinking that she'd never noticed how grating the peptobismo-pink walls of the dance studio were, when Miss Patti opened the door with a flourish. She beckoned the mothers in with a smile meant to be dazzling but that came off as forced.

Jane quickly removed her pumps and stepped into the brightly list studio. She smiled at Lindsey. Her baby looked so adorable in her black tutu with pink tights - she was the exact image Jane had pictured during pregnancy when she'd dreamed of having a daughter. Jane congratulated herself for having done such a good job with her hair today - not a strand was out of place in the pink chignon pocket. All the little ballerinas looked beautiful, but Lindsey was clearly a cut above the rest as she beamed back at her mother with a broad smile. Even though she was only four, it was already clear that she had a dancer's lean build.

Jane tore her eyes away from her daughter, and turned her attention back to Miss Patti who was addressing the moms from the front of the room. Jane couldn't help but reluctantly admire the woman's toned body as it reflected on all sides in the mirrors around the room. She had to be at least sixty, and her butt and thighs were carved like marble. The definition in her black-spandex clad buttocks became even clearer as Miss Patti bent over to pull out of a cardboard box a sample costume the girls would be wearing at their recital.

It was hard to tell because it was still wrapped in plastic, but it did not seem to be pink. Jane felt a twinge of disappointment which quickly turned to fury when Miss Patti proudly held up a leopard-skin monstrosity. She started gushing about how much fun the costume would be and how well suited it would be to their tap number, but Jane had trouble hearing her over the roar in her ears. There were also a couple of girls crying. The rigid smile on Miss Patti's face grew even tighter as she interrupted her speech to address the growing anarchy. "Now now girls, you are going to be the hit of the recital! You will be wild! This is nothing to cry about. This costume is much more fun than a boring old pink outfit."

Jane swallowed hard, trying to control the tears she could feel brimming on her eyelids. She couldn't cry in front of Lindsey, who was actually oblivious to the commotion, chatting with a little friend. Jane had to have a good attitude, but she felt so powerless to help her daughter. With just a few weeks to go before the recital, it was too late to order more costumes and she couldn't deprive Lindsey of the chance to perform.

She glared at Miss Patti, wondering what on earth had possessed her to pick such a hideous outfit. At that moment, Miss Patti met her eye and her smile faded for a moment as she winked coldly at her. Jane suddenly realized that she was the one to blame. It seemed like her blog wasn't as anonymous as she'd thought after all. Miss Patti must have read her post poking fun at her the other day. She must not have found it funny.


Today's Fiction Friday Prompt: Write about a leopard print dress.

Night is my Playground

Photo courtesy of Photo Bucket - Rema XO.
I'm a little late with my Fiction Friday post. The prompt this week was: Pick a character who loves the dark, and tell us why. Avoid the obvious choices: stealth, monsters, sex, and anything else you immediately thought of.

At night, I am finally safe; safe from the harmful rays of the sun. I wait, hiding behind my blackout curtains, until I see the neighbor's lights wink at me as they blink on one by one, beckoning me out. The twilight of sunset is pure torture for me, as even the sun's weakening rays could cause me irreperable harm, blistering my skin within minutes. I've succumbed to the temptation a few times, desperate to see some natural colors, but have the scars as memories.

When night finally falls, like a comforting blanket, I flee from the home that is my daytime tomb. I walk miles and miles every night, hungry for the stimulation of real sights and sounds, not filtered through the tv screen. If I feel the need for real distance, I'll even ride my bike and cover thirty or forty miles. I can't drive a car as I was not able to take the test at night. Even if I were licensed, I don't think I would chance getting behind the wheel. There are just too many fluorescent lights on the highway, at rest stops and in the toll plazas.

Although the night is my prison, I don't hate it or resent it. Night is my time. Night is my domain. It's the only time when I can pretend to be normal for a few hours. In the darkness I can't see the scars on my hands or the pity in other's eyes as they look at my freakish face.

At some point, every night I make my way to the train tracks, my chosen spot, my favorite spot. I have a little flashlight to guide my steps through the field. Next summer, in early August, when the field is still full of lavender, I'll make my way to the railroad tracks for the last time. I like to imagine that my last sensations will be of the warmth of a summer night coupled with the delicate aroma of flowers. Then the blackness of night will wrap around me forever.

Free Food for Millionaires Review

Free Food for Millionaires is a sprawling novel depicting the life of Casey Han, a first generation Korean immigrant who navigates the choppy waters of the New York investment banking world. Casey is the oldest daughter of Joseph and Leah, whose lives are split between running a large dry cleaner in midtown Manhattan and participating actively in their Catholic church. Through her hard work and good grades, Casey earns a fully-paid scholarship to Princeton, but she struggles to find her identity amongst all the old money. That struggle carries on after graduation as she begins her career.

I would have loved Free Food for Millionaires, if it had ended around the middle, around page 300. I'm a quick read, and I don't mind a hefty book, but it has to be worth my time. This novel started out with a gripping plot and well-drawn characters, even with the author's confusing point of view shifts. But the author did not know when to stop. She drew out the story by devoting chapters to minor characters such as Casey's mom Leah and Casey's friend Ella.

When I finally reached the end, it was anti-climactic, one of those endings, without giving too much away, that just peter out mid-scene, vaguely hinting at what the future might hold. It seemed that, after watching Casey struggle to make money and have a successful career for close to 600 pages, the author wanted us to conclude that she did not belong in that world and did not deserve love.

I was disappointed by Free Food for Millionaires. I loved getting a a glimpse of the investment banking world and of New York Korean culture. I enjoyed being reminded of the how hard it was to forge my own identity after college. But I wish the story had been tighter, more concise, and ended sooner.

You can also read my review at Dear Reader, and see other responses to it.