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Those
Pernicious Novels
By Davis Bitton
George Q. Cannon strongly discouraged
the reading of novels. Here is an editorial the 31-year-old wrote
in 1858: "Works of fiction have been sent forth like an overflowing
flood, and the public taste has become so vitiated thereby that
everything virtuous, truthful or heavenly is unpalatable, and
is rejected with disgust."
Forty-one years later we hear him continuing the warning. "From
the character of a man's reading," he wrote, "one may
tell just what he is full of. Is he filled with sickly sentiment,
heated imaginings, dreamy unrealities — this condition being
brought about by his reading? If so, he is more than likely to
be a devourer of novels — love stories, exciting adventures,
tales of impossible "heroes" and all that goes to make
up the fanciful and the exaggerated in literature.
“The actual business of life — its everyday trials
and victories, its experiences framed in joy or sorrow, its rebuffs
and its welcomes, its frost and its warmth — all this seems
to him commonplace, if not even vulgar. He either becomes a prey
to disappointment — one of the large class who believe the
world has some grudge against them and will not give them a chance
— or he plods along without ambition because things are
not such as his imagination has pictured them."
Cannon warned Latter-day Saints against spending their time reading
fiction and gave stern instructions to his children to stay away
from such reading.
How to Deal with Ancient Counsel
What do we do with such counsel? One mind-set would take the counsel
as a command and never again read a novel.
A second response would be to ridicule Cannon and other leaders
who said the same thing. Did they not know how pleasant it is
to read a good novel? How could they deprive people of such an
innocent amusement? More severely, we might charge them with narrowness.
Hadn't they taken literature courses? How many good novels had
they read? There were already a good many that we now consider
"classics."
A third strategy would be to place the attitude into a broader
framework by citing other examples of opposition to novel-reading
at the time. "Novels not regulated on the chaste principles
of friendship, rational love, and connubial duty," said Sarah
Wentworth Morton in 1789, "appear to me totally unfit to
form the minds of women, of friends, of wives."
In 1823, Timothy Dwight wrote the following: "The consciousness
of virtue, the dignified pleasure of having performed one's duty,
the serene remembrance of a useful life, the hopes of an interest
in the Redeemer, and the promise of a glorious inheritance in
the favor of God are never found in novels."
When Latter-day Saint leaders warned of the dangers of novel reading,
they were not alone. They had been anticipated not only by many
clergymen but also, for different reasons, by educational reformers
who disparaged the value of literary studies. Too often we consider
our history in isolation, as if it were sealed off from the larger
currents.
But as a Latter-day Saint living in the early twenty-first century,
I want something more. I want to respect my leaders, and I want
to make sure I understand a principle before trying to apply it.
This requires careful heed to explanations and the exercise of
historical empathy.
A Salt Lake Daily Herald editorial of 9 May 1880 provides some
helpful explanation.. The fiction of the recent past, we are told,
was "neither very good nor very bad ... not particularly
corrupting nor specially benefitting to the youthful mind."
At least, says the editorialist, "a sense of right generally
pervaded the novels and dramas ... Virtue was usually triumphant,
and ordinarily villains got their deserts." But now, he continues,
"there are few redeeming traits in most of the cheap stories
circulated so generally among the youth of the country."
Such literature was characterized by "course brutality"
and vulgarity, its heroes were "vicious and revengeful,"
and it had a tendency to "elevate everything evil at the
expense of all that is good."
The editorialist is aware of a spectrum. On one extreme "the
absolutely obscene literature that finds its poisonous way into
so large a portion of society" was so patently vile and harmful
as to require no further proof. But there seemed to be a shifting
line of acceptability. A large body of writing claimed to be respectable
and moral — that is, it was not filled with appeals to prurient
interest, did not openly advocate antisocial behavior, and could
not be banned. Nevertheless, it exercised "a hurtful and
immoral influence."
This "vile truck," this "pernicious literature"
had a "poisonous effect." By encouraging disrespect
for law and parents it fostered uncouth comments to respectable
citizens, the destruction of property, and even theft and violence-the
"hoodlumism" that plagued towns and cities in late nineteenth
century.
Even with such explanation, we may find the moralistic critics
unconvincing or at least too sweeping. Remembering the shocked
reaction of some to Flaubert's Madame Bovary and the
"realistic" fiction of the late nineteenth century,
we may consider the sensitivity of the critics too fragile, their
insistence on didacticism too stifling.
But is it not equally naive to assume that the stories that occupy
our imagination for hours and hours have no influence on us? What
we fill our mind with both reveals and forms our character. Those
who have denied that glorification of crime and immorality in
"fictional" settings-drama, movies, stories and novels-influences
behavior are often the same people who peddle advertising on the
assumption that readers and viewers will indeed be motivated to
act by what they see.
To enlarge our awareness of the temptations besetting young people
in the late nineteenth century it is useful to consider an 1880
mail campaign. Early in the year the Chicago police raided several
establishments. Among those arrested were two young women, Sarah
Fisher and Mary Lucas, who took each other's pictures in the nude
and labeled them "Parisian Beauties." Circulars advertising
this material along with such novels as Three Fast Widows
were sent throughout the country to young people. Even in territorial
Utah young men and women found such unsolicited advertising in
their mail boxes. Our ancestors were not so protected and innocent
as we sometimes suppose.
Modern Parallels
We will be helped in understanding the intent of President Cannon's
warning, it seems to me, if we look for modern parallels. Are
there currently any materials vying for the attention of young
Latter-day Saints that might be considered destructive of gospel
ideals?
The question readily prompts not one but several answers. We can
start with sensational fiction, often written to formula, filled
with explicit sex and violence. But Satan has upped the ante.
What about movies and videos? What about the vile lyrics in some
songs considered popular?
And what about the Internet and the vivid images it brings in
front of vulnerable people in the privacy of their own homes?
For someone to say "I don't read novels" — therefore
remaining scrupulously obedient to the counsel of those past leaders,
in the technical sense — while filling the mind with images
and ideas far more destructive — reminds me of the person,
if such there be, who does not smoke, drink alcoholic beverages,
or drink tea and coffee but feels free to use crack cocaine or
ecstasy because they are not mentioned in Section 89. The Word
of Wisdom, after all, is "a principle with a promise"
— we don't observe it if we ignore the principle.
What He Said
What I hear George Q. Cannon saying is something like this. The
amount of time available to us is finite. Choosing how to use
it is crucial.
Doing good in the real world is more important than amusing ourselves,
but a balanced life will find time for recreation and the stimulation
of the imagination in reading and viewing. How many plays did
Cannon enjoy at the Salt Lake Theater and in Chicago, New York,
and London? We discover that some of his children read novels
by Louisa Mae Alcott and Charles Dickens. He was not calling for
a total prohibition of imaginative works.
But to ignore the basic values being purveyed is not being responsible.
If it is wrong to contaminate our bodies with toxins, how can
it be right willfully to pollute our minds with poisonous smut
that wounds the Spirit? "If there is anything virtuous, lovely,
or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things."
Ah, there is a principle with a promise.
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