This is going to make me seem really religious.

Dorothy Allred Solomon: The Sisterhood: Inside the Lives of Mormon Women

I read this because Dorothy is an acquaintance, and I liked her last book. I never expected it to be quite so . . . the only word I can think of is propagandized. It feels very carefully weighed to keep her from incurring disfavor with the higher-ups of the Mormon empire. Dorothy is a clearminded, well-spoken, progressive woman, so the last thing I expected was a book extolling the many virtues of her religion, one with which I find serious fault. To wit: it is batshit crazy, to the tune of treating God like a space alien.

At the same time, what seems to more closely reflect her real opinions peeks through in the chapter entitled "What Would Jesus Do?" Everything up until that point seems like a trade pamphlet for the church. It is as if, having recited the company line, she now is free to say what she really thinks, namely that the lives of Mormon women aren't completely rosy. In fact, the Mormon hierarchy has been downright unjust to the women who are responsible for a large part of the church's prosperity. It could be that the earlier chapters are even a nod to the oppressive male hierarchy; much mention is made of other progressive women who have been excommunicated for outspokenness. What is more likely is that Dorothy starts and ends the book with praise of her church to avoid any negative portrayal. Knowing her, I am sure that the last thing in her mind is to stir dissension or portray the LDS church in anything approaching a negative light; she simply had to speak her truth.

And an interesting truth it is. I found discussion of the possibility that the Holy Spirit might be female--a thought which, if taken to its natural conclusion makes her the bride of God, the heavenly Mother--fascinating. And I had never thought of Eve as a noble character, one who willingly took the fruit so that mankind could be brought into existence. All this is. of course, heresy, but Dorothy sums it up nicely in the end. "Sure, it may be as people say it is. It sure seems that way sometimes," she seems to say. "But the benefits outweigh the brain damage, so here I remain."

Ezra

It is only appropriate that this was written by a copyist. It reads like 13 chapters of recitative.

Nehemiah

Maybe I was just mentally exhausted when I read this, but I didn't get much out of it either.

Esther

Now here is something I was able to sink my pencil into. The story is a familiar one, but underneath it is a fascinating countertext. The story is set in an overwhelmingly patriarchal society. When Ahasuerus' queen doesn't do as he commands, he has her stripped of her royalty as an example to all other women who were thinking of disobeying their husbands would "give honor to their husbands, high and low alike" (1:20). Pleased with himself, Ahasuerus prepares to select another quenn, one who, presumably, will do as she's told.

Esther the Jewess is one candidate for this position and although "she was given whatever she asked for to take in with her from the harem to the king," she took nothing "except what Hegai the king's eunuch, who had charge of the women, advised" (2:13-15). Perhaps it is this chutzpah which snares the King, but whatever the reason, she is chosen as the new, obedient Queen. Right?

The charm of Esther lies in the fact that, in this machismo-driven society, the wmoen still give all the decisions. Not only does Esther use a variety of tactics to influence the King--"Then Esther approached and touched the top of the scepter," for one example (5:2)--but also her uncle Mordecai, who "went away and did everything as Esther had ordered him" (4:17). And she is not the only power behind the penis. The villain Naaman's wife, Zeresh, tells her husband what to do, telling him how to exact his revenge on Mordecai. Esther even personally enacts the climactic piece of legislation that saves her people: "The command of Queen Esther fixed these practices of Purim, and it was recorded in writing" (9:32). Whoever wrote this, I bet she was smirking while she did it.

Job

For some reason, this one reminds me of Gilgamesh, Beowulf and other epics. It has a mythic quality to it, despite the relative lack of action. I once made the mistake of taking this obvious allegory literally, and looking at it now, I wonder some things that I was never willing to wonder then. For instance: it is clear that Job is an everyman of sorts, an allegory for the human race. What then do his friends represent? What are Bildad, Zophar and Eliphaz meant represent? Most importantly, who is Elihu? I find him especially interesting in light of his climactic role in Job's epiphany. As Elihu finishes his speech--one in which he invokes the winds, the thunder and all other manner of weather in the defense of God--Job is not given any chance to respond as he was with the other three. Instead, God jumps right in: "Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind" (38:1). Waitaminnit. Answered? Job didn't ask anything. And whaddya mean out of the whirlwind? This is especially interesting in light of Elihu's earlier comment: " . . . his heavy shower of rain, / serves as a sign on everyone's hand . . . from its chamber comes the whirlwind" (37:6-9). So Elihu reminds Job of all the weather phenomenon that speak to God's righteousness, and God immediately speaks to Job from the heart of that phenomenon. Everything seems to suggest that Job's epiphany is internal, a personal revelation of such magnitude that it seems God himself is talking. Beginning with Chapter 38, the dialogue is either entirely within Job's head, or of such a personal nature that it might as well be. As David says later, "The heavens declare the glory of God" (Psl 19:1). Job's response is only right: "I have uttered what I did not understand" (42:3).

BTD: 39ish