Despite its more playful tone and approach, this became one Berlin’s most popular works–ironic, given the breadth, depth, and sophistication of a long and prolific scholarly career. He would later admit, “I never meant it very seriously. I meant it as a kind of enjoyable intellectual game, but it was taken seriously.” But he also added this important point: “every classification throws light on something.”[2] Indeed.

As Berlin took license in expanding Archilochus’s statement, it is fun to expand Berlin’s categorizational schemes of great writers and use it on much more mundane historians. Speaking of American history, with which I am most familiar, you can see most historians break down into these types of divisions. Gordon Wood, who always writes on the cultural and intellectual shifts surrounding the revolutionary period, is a classic hedgehog, and very willingly admits as much.[3] Other historians, on the other hand, bounce around to different topics in order to explore various themes of the American experience. For instance, my advisor has written on several diverse topics: while focusing on southern history, he has explored the categorization of the “South” in American historiography, Southern belles in antebellum America, southern thought and culture through the Civil War, and has recently even broadened his focus to write excellent materials on the John Adams family, twentieth century public historians, and now a history of American intellectual life since the seventeenth century. Some other historians make the process more tricky. At first glance, someone like Sean Wilentz—who has written on democratic practice in early New York, the religious figure Matthias in antebellum America, the history of democracy from Revolution to Civil War, US politics since Watergate, and now Bob Dylan—may seem classic fox, but his underlying interest in how democracy interacts with public and religious life make a consistent theme through all his works, making him more like a hedgehog.

Indeed, it seems like in today’s historical world, there has been a blending of the fox and hedgehog approach. The first thing most graduate students learn when they arrive in their PhD programs is to learn what “questions” interest them the most, and then allow those questions to drive your research. This can allow you to even jump different chronological periods because you are just exploring how your “pet” tension plays out in different contexts. Recently, David Farber, professor at University of Temple and well-respected historian of twentieth century America, visited Cambridge and nailed this principle into our heads. It is through fastening onto an organizational theme, he argued, that will make you connect with other department faculty members (thus getting a job and tenure) and reach a broader audience (thus making your work more relevant). It is also through this type of approach that you can reach larger conclusions and address the bigger picture. This approach allows someone like me, who focuses on the first few decades after the American Revolution, to discuss my work with someone like Farber, who focuses on the late twentieth-century, because we are both interested in how “the people” and “democracy” clash together on the popular level.

So what about Mormon history? I think it’s safe to say that we have prime examples of both approaches. However, when I thought about it more I realized that we have more of one than the other, and that this difference “throws light” on the practice, as Berlin would put it.

On the one hand, we do have some hedgehog-like elements found in those who trace a narrow topic or theme. There are historians like B. Carmen Hardy on polygamy, Alex Baugh on Missouri Mormonism, and others I’m sure I’m overlooking who have specific research parameters. But I think we have lots and lots of foxes. It is not rare to see a historian jump from polygamy to the Word of Wisdom, or from twentieth century conservatism back to the western migration of 1846. Most of these movements in topics or periods have little in common other than they include Mormonism. Perhaps this is due to the largue influence of amateur history, for a general person interested in Mormonism, especially if they are Mormons, don’t feel bound to stick with one topic too long. Or perhaps this is also due to the fact that most people who examine LDS history are from that tradition themselves, and thus all aspects of their church’s past seem equally fascinating and important. Or third, perhaps this is due to a presentist perspective of the LDS past that still lingers within Mormon studies, in which it doesn’t seem odd to believe it easy to jump from 1840s Illinois to 1980s Utah, because it is all part of the same tradition and therefore isn’t much different. It is likely a combination of all of these, in varying degrees.

But I think there is another reason this is the case, and perhaps even more dominant. This struck me a couple years ago while reading through Reid Neilson‘s helpful edited collection Global Mormonism in the Twenty-First Century. While I was thrilled to see more treatment of the international church, I was somewhat surprised at the presumed audience Neilson was speaking to in his introduction titled “A Recommisioning of Latter-day Saint Historians.”[4] While I agree that the field of Mormon history needs “to refocus their scholarly gaze from Palmyra, Kirtland, Nauvoo, and Salt Lake City to Tokyo, Santiago, Warsaw, Johannesburg, and Nairobi,” I find it interesting that we expect historians who do “American” Mormon history to change their geographic field of study merely because it shares the “Mormon” subject; the hypothetical group of historians that Neilson is attempting to “recommission” are people willing and prepared to move through historic time and space, with the only anchor being the Mormon religion. I need to emphasize, though, that there is nothing wrong with this approach in itself; a lot of work done by people who cover vastly different geographies, chronologies, or topics do so in exceptional ways, Neilson among them.

But I think this points to—the ”every classification throws light on something” part of this post—the fact that most historians who do work on Mormonism remain, well, “Mormon historians” who look at American history, religious studies, international issues, or gender tensions, as opposed to “American historians,” “religious studies scholars,” “international experts,” or “gender studies specialists” who work on Mormonism. We have lots of “foxes” in Mormon history because when looking for a new project, most historians look for a hole that is present within the LDS tradition, no matter the time and place, and seek to fill it.

It seems the next step in Mormon history (the “Post-New Mormon History,” the “New-New Mormon History,” etc.) is to include more “hedgehog” work that explores central tensions and issues not just in Mormonism, but outside fields. So, besides merely asking what needs more study within the Mormon tradition (which will always remain important and worthwhile), we will also need to ask what “single, universal, organizing principle[s]” the outside academic community is looking for, and address them with the Mormon tradition.

So, I guess I’m trying to say is we need more general hedgehogs to go along with our parochial foxes.

_____________________________

[1] Isaiah Berlin, The Hedge and the Fox: An Essay on Tolstoy’s View of History (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1953), 1-2.

[2] Quoted in Ramin Jahanbegloo, Conversations with Isaiah Berlin: Recollections of an Historian of Ideas (London: Phoenix Press, 2000), 188.

[3] Gordon S. Wood, The Idea of America: Reflections on the Birth of the United States (New York: The Penguin Press, 2011), 1-3. It should be noted that it was reading Idea of America this morning that inspired this post.

[4] Reid L. Neilson, “Introduction: A Recommisioning of Latter-day Saint Historians,” in Neilson, ed., Global Mormonism in the Twenty-First Century (Provo, UT: Religious Studies Center at Brigham Young University, 2008), found here.

• The big buzz this morning is the release of the Pew Forum’s new study on Mormons in America. There have been excellent commentary on the results here, here, and here (just to link to a few), as well as a cordial response from LDS PR man Michael Otterson and a supportive write-up from the LDS Newsroom. Make sure to follow the live-blogging on the Pew’s conference call with the media over at BCC. Our own Matt Bowman is on the advisory panel for the survey, and will be writing up his thoughts later.
• As highlighted in Jared’s write-up, the Church announced today that Elder Jensen will be stepping down as Church Historian in October, to be replaced by Elder Steven E. Snow. All accounts of Elder Snow thus far are glowing, but he will have some huge shoes to fill since Elder Jensen has become a hero in many people’s eyes (including my own). Make sure to go offer your appreciation to a modern-day hero on Jared’s post.
• Matt Bowman’s forthcoming The Mormon People: The Making of an American Faith (Random House) is now available on Google Books, and should be released in two weeks. It’s a phenomenal book, and is already getting rave reviews.
• The first volume of Women of Faith in the Latter Days is now available, and looks phenomenal. Ardis’s review of it made me even more excited about finally getting my hands on a copy.
• Plans are continuing to come together for MHA’s 2012 conference in Alberta, Canada. Make sure to plan early, as plane tickets can be pretty expensive. Those who wish to do the scenic tours to and from Calgary (looks like a blast) need to RSVP ASAP. Also, if you haven’t heard yet, Glenn Leonard has been elected President-Elect for the organization, which is a fitting tribute to a great historian. And finally, the Journal of Mormon History has a new online home at the Utah State University website, where all issues prior to 2009 can be downloaded. (Also, rumor has it that MHA will be launching a newly-designed and more user-friendly website sometime soon.)
• The Restoration Studies Symposium will hold its annual meeting April 13-15, 2012, in Independence, Missouri. The deadline for paper submissions is January 31, 2012. Those wishing to submit papers, with the theme “American Restorationism,” must include a “300-word abstract of your proposal with a 100-word biographical introduction” to rssapril2012 AT yahoo DOT com.

Continuing Signature Book’s strong tradition in documentary histories, this is a fascinating collection of documents relating to LDS temple policy from the end of Nauvoo to the modern day. Building from the earlier two volumes in this series, Devery Anderson presents a plethora of important sources for historians interested in the development of LDS ritual. With a serviceable introduction that outlines the main themes of the book’s contents, and helpful biographical overviews provided in the footnotes, The Development of LDS Temple Worship is a welcome addition to the Mormon history field.

With any volume that covers such a vast amount of time—over one and a half centuries!—there are bound to be transformative themes readily present. With this collection of documents related to the temple, the transformation that stands out more than the rest is Mormonism’s growth from a small, centralized community to a global religion. For most of the nineteenth century, the President of the Church was solely in charge of approving recommends for members who wished to access the temple—a practice that became especially difficult during the “underground” period of the 1880s. But as the Church membership grew, as the number of temples multiplied, and as the end of the “gathering” led to a more dispersed Church body, there became a need for less centralized power and more local control. The ideal of “Zion” transitioned from a static location in the headquarters of Utah to localized congregations spread throughout the Church. Temple policies—and even building ideas, like when the Church in 1968 flirted with the idea of a portable temple on a boat that could visit distant communities—were forced to adapt to a membership quickly spreading across geographies, cultures, and races. The forced balance of continuity and flexibility, which I will talk about below, becomes a central feature of the growing LDS Church as seen through its temple history.

With the progression of the twentieth century came more systematization and formalization. But it would be a mistake to characterize the development of LDS temple rituals during this period as a strict process of boundary reinforcement. While some entrance requirements did indeed grow more rigid (Word of Wisdom and tithing, most notably), others (like sexual purity and garment regulations) actually grew more relaxed. This continued balance of strict and loose boundaries represents the flexible parameters that have allowed Mormonism to flourish in an environment of perpetual tension. If Church guidelines were too rigid, the cost of discipleship might have been too steep for growth and progress; if too permeable, the collapsed distance between the gospel and the world may have become too transparent to prove its necessity. This lesson helps us better understand how average members have “experienced” Mormonism.

This last point hints to what I wish I had seen more of in the book’s document selection and interpretation: a methodological framework that could incorporate a more bottom-up approach. Reading through most of these documents, readers will gain great insight on how Church leaders managed temple ritual, but will only be able to surmise how common members experienced and understood them. To put it simply, there is a lot of policy, but little actual worship. While the scarcity of sources makes it different to approach the collection otherwise, it is the role of the editor to select and frame the documents in a way that provides more point of view than just the ecclesiastical leaders. This, along with some unfortunate reliance on problematic sources (like History of the Church for the early period, and decades-old transcripts of documents no longer available for other periods), the editor’s unwillingness to utilize tools from other documentary histories that deal with ritual studies (mostly outside of Mormon historiography), and the absence of historical contextualization of American religion in general were my main problems with the book.

But enough with this review’s awkward-but-mandatory-negative-paragraph. There is much to find fascinating in this volume. I was fascinating with the significant, if often overlooked, role of George F. Richards in formalizing the rituals and requirements. It was insightful to see how persona problems and experiences amongst individual leaders—especially the death of loved ones—led to a change in policy for the entire Church. And it is important to see the continuity of certain problems and issues that were in place from 1846 and continue to the present day. This balance of new and reinforced tensions makes this volume an important compilation to study.

And therein lies the importance of this document collection: the history of the development of Mormonism’s temple practices is the history of the development of Mormonism. The tensions and paradoxes that have both allowed and stultified the Church’s development are found in microcosm within their beliefs concerning the temple. If the “House of the Lord,” as the temple is commonly referred to, is really meant to be the center of the Mormon cosmos, as it is often described as, then a study of the temple reveals much of the center of Mormon culture. The temple’s role in particular—in being a “guidepost,” a measurement of faithfulness, and a theological center of Mormon doctrine—is part and parcel to what it means to be Mormon in general. Thus, this is an important volume not only for students of LDS ritual, ecclesiology, or lived religion, but for all students of LDS history in any field.

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While I did not feel it necessary to address this issue in the body of the review, I will here acknowledge the elephant in the room: not all will be comfortable with a book that, to paraphrase common complaints, “opens up the doors to the LDS temple.” What goes on in Mormonism’s sacred rituals are considered secret from those not initiated, so many bristle at the idea of them being openly discussed in book form. And indeed, some will feel uncomfortable with this book, regardless of the approach Anderson chose to take. But the approach utilized in this volume, especially its focus on policy, makes the documents selected relatively harmless. This is particularly the case for the twentieth century, as a large number of texts were already in public domain, and this book’s main virtue is gathering them all into one place.

UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN INDIANA CENTER FOR COMMUNAL STUDIES CENTER PRIZE

The Center for Communal Studies at the University of Southern Indiana announces its annual prize competition for the best undergraduate and graduate student paper on historic or contemporary communal groups, intentional communities and utopias.

Prizes

1. Author of the best graduate paper or thesis or dissertation chapter on historic or contemporary communal groups, intentional communities and utopias will receive $500.
2. Author of the best undergraduate paper or thesis on historic or contemporary communal groups, intentional communities and utopias will receive $250.

Submission deadline is 20 January 2012

Submit a copy of your paper as an email attachment to Casey Harison at charison@usi.edu

Prize winners announced late April 2012

Please direct questions to:

Casey Harison, Director
Center for Communal Studies
University of Southern Indiana
Evansville, IN 47712
charison@usi.edu
812.465.7150

Robin Jensen is project archivist for The Joseph Smith Papers and helped edit the first two volumes in the Revelations and Translations series (published 2009 and 2011, respectively). In 2005 he earned an MA degree in American history from Brigham Young University, and in 2009 he earned a second MA in library and information science with an archival concentration from the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee. He is now pursuing a PhD in history at the University of Utah. His first MA thesis explored the initial Strangite proselytizing effort and his second MA thesis explored the sacred record-keeping practices of early Mormonism. He believes that there is nothing better than the smell of old documents in the morning.

While obvious, it should bear mentioning that any posts/comments by Robin are not endorsed by the Joseph Smith Papers or the Church History Library.

I am especially lucky to count Rob as a collaborator and one of my good friends. As everyone who is familiar with his work already knows, we are all in for a treat with his blog contributions.

Continuing a tradition from the last two years, this post will give a quick run down of what I thought were important articles and books in Mormon history from the past twelve months. I like this format because it not only allows discussion of different media of publication, but it also encourages us to contemplate broader themes that are currently “hot” in Mormon historiography.

As with previous years, I am posting this in early December and will thus miss those books published later this month. Further, the selection process was purely subjective and represent my own interests; please add your own suggestions in the comments.

And finally, a bonus: for the first time, I will venture to give my vote for various MHA awards. Following the general criteria found on their website, I will name the works I thought deserving of prominent categories.

Enough with the introduction. On with the list!

_____________________________________________

All Hail Apostle Pratt!

• Terryl L. Givens and Matthew J. Grow, Parley P. Pratt: The Apostle Paul of Mormonism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).
• Gregory K. Armstrong, Matthew J. Grow, and Dennis S. Siler, Parley P. Pratt and the Making of Mormonism (Norman, OK: Arthur H. Clark, 2011).
• “Roundtable Discussion: Perspectives on Parley Pratt’s Autobiography,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 1 (Winter 2011): 151-205.

I’m biased, but I would say that Parley Pratt is finally receiving the scholarly attention he has long deserved. Givens’s and Grow’s biography is, of course, the jewel of Pratt’s renaissance, but the articles found in both the JMH roundtable (not that I’m biased or anything, but it does include JIers Ryan T., David G., Matt B., Jared T., and myself) and the edited collection (including brilliant chapters by our own David G. and Jordan W.) are provocative in their interdisciplinary approaches. Pratt, never one to shy away from praise, is likely smiling at this recent outpouring of scholarship devoted to his life and thought.

Sam Brown Single-handedly Reorients the Study of Early Mormon Thought

• Samuel M. Brown, In Heaven as It Is on Earth: Joseph Smith and the Early Mormon Conquest of Death (New York: Oxford University Press).
• Samuel Brown, “The Early Mormon Chain of Belonging,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 44, no 1 (Spring 2011): 1-52.
• Samuel Brown, “Early Mormon Adoption Theology and the Mechanics of Salvation,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 3 (Summer 2011): 3-52.

Mormonism and Broader Issues

• James B. Bennett, “‘Until This Curse of Polygamy Is Wiped Out’: Black Methodists, White Mormons, and Constructions of Racial Identity in the Late Nineteenth Century,” Religion and American Culture: A Journal of Interpretation 21, no. 2 (2011): 167-194.
• David Holland, Sacred Borders: Continuing Revelation and Canonical Restraint in Early America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).
  
• Patrick Mason, The Mormon Menace: Violence and Anti-Mormonism in the Post Bellum South (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).

These volumes exemplify what I believe is the future of Mormon studies: using Mormonism as a case study to examine broader issues. We’ve had reviews of all three works (see here, here, and here), each of which garnered grand praise. The books by Holland and Mason, especially, reached immediate “must-read” status for the rising generation of Mormon scholars.

Insightful Works on Women and Gender

• Catherine A. Brekus, “Mormon Women and the Problem of Historical Agency,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 2 (Spring 2011): 59-87.
• Amy Hoyt and Sara M. Patterson, “Mormon Masculinity: Changing Gender Expectations in the Era of Transition from Polygamy to Monogamy, 1890-1920,” Gender & History 23, no. 1 (2011): 72-91.
• Jonathan A. Stapley and Kristine Wright, “Female Ritual Healing in Mormonism,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 1 (Winter 2011): 1-85.

Important Stand-Alone Works

• Reid L. Neilson, Exhibiting Mormonism: The Latter-day Saints and the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011).
• Jeremiah John, “The Site of Mormon Political Theology,” Perspectives on Political Science 40 (2011): 87-96.
• Patrick Mason, “God and the People: Theodemocracy in Nineteenth-Century Mormonism,” Journal of Church and State 53, no. 4 (Autumn 2011): 349-375.
• Jonathan Stapley, “Adoptive Sealing Ritual in Mormonism,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 3 (Summer 2011): 53-118.
• Jonathan A. Stapley, “Last Rites and the Dynamics of Mormon Liturgy,” BYU Studies 50, no. 2 (2011): 96-128.

JIers in Print

• Matthew Bowman, “Matthew Philip Gill and Joseph Smith: The Dynamics of Mormon Schism,” Nova Religio 14, no. 3 (2011): 42-63.
  
• Christopher C. Jones, “The Power and Form of Godliness: Methodist Conversion Narratives and Joseph Smith’s First Vision,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 2 (Spring 2011): 88-114.
• Max Mueller, “Changing Portraits of the Elect Lady: Emma Smith in Non-Mormon, RLDS, and LDS Historiography, 1933-2005,” Journal of Mormon History 37, no. 2 (Spring 2011): 183-214.
• Max Mueller, “Playing Jane: The History of a Pioneer Black Mormon Woman is Alive Today,” Harvard Divinity Bulletin 39, nos. 1&2 (Winter/Spring 2011), found here.
• Stephen C. Taysom, “Approaching the First Vision Saga,” Sunstone 163 (2011): 12-22.

JIers Invade The New Republic

• Matthew Bowman, “Generation Gap: Jon Huntsman, Mitt Romney, and the Two Very Different Strains of Mormonism they Represent“
• Matthew Bowman, “Mormonism’s Surprisingly Deep Affinity For Progressive Politics“
• Max Mueller, “Has the Mormon Church Truly Left its Race Problem Behind?“

It takes talent to published scholarly articles. It takes even more talent to translate those scholarly insights into public essays that are digestible for a general audience and still sophisticated enough for the respected periodical The New Republic. Kudos to Matt and Max, even if they’re accomplice to a broader liberal plot to destroy the Church.

Documentary Sources

• Devery S. Anderson, The Development of LDS Temple Worship, 1846-2000: A Documentary History (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 2011).
• Andrew H. Hedges, Alex D. Smith, and Richard Lloyd Anderson, eds., The Joseph Smith Papers, Journals, Vol. 2: December 1841-April 1843 (Salt Lake City: Church Historian’s Press, 2011).
• Robin Scott Jensen, Richard E. Turley, and Riley Lorimer, The Joseph Smith Papers, Revelations and Translations, Vol. 2: Published Revelations (Salt Lake City: Church Historian’s Press, 2011).
• Reid Neilson, ed., In The Whirlpool: The Pre-Manifesto Letters of Wilford Woodruff to the William Atkin Family, 1885-1890 (Norman, OK: Arthur H. Clark, 2011).
• Nathaniel R. Ricks, ed., “My Candid Opinion”: The Sandwich Islands Mission Diaries of Joseph F. Smith, 1856-1857 (Salt Lake City: The Smith-Pettit Foundation, 2011).

Documentary histories have always been Mormonism’s forte, and this year is no exception. Anderson’s volume on temple worship provides valuable insights into the progression of LDS theology and practice, especially the routenization of ritual. (I have a review of this volume that should be finished over the break.) Neilson’s work offers an important glimpse into a specific family’s struggles through the tumultuous 1880s, as seen through their correspondence with Wilford Woodruff. Ricks’s edited edition of Joseph F. Smith’s book is similarly fascinating and important. (See Nate’s reflections here.) And finally, the JSP team is hitting their stride with phenomenal volume, each seemingly topping the last in quality. Next year, plan on seeing the first two volumes of their History series—be very excited. They are truly setting a new standard for documentary editing, and are worth all the hype (and wait!) over the years. (And if this post were done a couple weeks later, it would likely include John S. Dinger’s The Nauvoo City and High Council Minutes [Signature, 2011], which is due this month.)

Quality Edited Collections

• Newell Brighurst and Craig Foster, The Persistence of Polygamy: Joseph Smith and the Origins of Mormon Polygamy, Volume 1 (Independence, MO: John Whitmer Books, 2011).
• W. Paul Reeve and Michael Scott Van Wagenen, eds., Between Pulpit and Pew: The Supernatural in Mormon History and Folklore (Logan, UT: Utah State University Press, 2011).
• Stephen C. Taysom, Dimensions of Faith: A Mormon Studies Reader (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 2011).

Dialogue’s Roundtables and, well, Dialogues

• “Finding the Presence in Mormon History: An Interview with Susanna Morrill, Richard Lyman Bushman,and Robert Orsi,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 44, no. 3 (Fall 2011): 174-187.
  
• Grant Underwood et. al., “A Retrospective on the Scholarship of Richard Bushman,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 44, no. 3 (Fall 2011): 1-43.

Contributions from Seasoned Scholars

• B. Carmen Hardy, “The Persistence of Polygamy,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 44, no. 4 (Winter 2011): 43-105.
  
• Armand L. Mauss, “Rethinking Retrenchment: Course Corrections in the Ongoing Campaign for Respectability,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 44, no. 4 (Winter 2011): 1-42.
• David Paulsen and Martin Pulido, “‘A Mother There’: A Survey of Historical Teachings about Mother in Heaven,” BYU Studies 50, no. 1 (2011): 70-126.

All of these scholars (save the youthful Pulido) have published many foundational works in Mormon studies and are now retired from their respected departments. It’s commendable that they are still offering quality scholarship.

Contributions from Kofford Books

• Davis Bitton, Knowing Brother Joseph Again: Perceptions and Perspectives (Salt Lake City: Greg Kofford Books, 2011).
• Brant Gardner, The Gift and Power: Translating the Book of Mormon (Salt Lake City: Greg Kofford Books, 2011).
  
• Charles Harrell, This is My Doctrine: The Development of Mormon Theology (Salt Lake City: Greg Kofford Books, 2011).

Building off of a great year where Mark Staker’s Hearken O Ye People won MHA’s best book award, Kofford Books continues to publish provocative works by insightful amateurs. And by the looks of their forthcoming page, they have ambitious plans for 2012.

_________________________________________

My picks for a handful of  MHA’s awards are as follows. (Drumroll please…)

• Best Book: Sam Brown, In Heaven as it Is on Earth
• Best Biography: Terryl Givens and Matthew Grow, Parley P. Pratt
• Best First Book: Patrick Mason, The Mormon Menace
• Best Article: Stapley and Wright, “Female Ritual Healing in Mormonism” (Stapley also gets recognition for “Adoption Sealing Ritual,” which is equally deserving of the award)
• Awards of Excellence (2 Articles): Patrick Mason, “God and the People”; Chris Jones, “The Power and Form of Godliness”
• Silver Award for Women’s History: Catherine Brekus, “Mormon Women and the Problem of Historical Agency”

Of course, there is room to quibble on these awards. Any of the three books mentioned above, as well as Neilson’s Exhibiting Mormonism, would be worthy of “Best Book” in most years; indeed, I vacillated with my decision several times over the last two weeks. Further, there are numerous articles worthy of the article awards, so it was very tough to determine winners.

I said it above, but it is worth saying again: this was an extraordinarily strong year for Mormon history. The field is progressing in remarkable ways.

At the January 2012 meeting of the American Society for Church History, I’ll be on a panel called “Teaching Mormonism in a Digital Age.” In my comments I’ll be considering the impact of the “bloggernacle” on Mormon studies, specifically in regard to the current generation of graduate students. I have designed the following questionnaire to get a better handle on why people read Mormon blogs and what they get out of them. The questionnaire is for any graduate student, full or part time, LDS or non-LDS, in any academic field. The informed consent form on the first page will explain more, or you can contact me at patrick.mason@cgu.edu with any questions. Thanks for participating.

The link to survey is found here.

Though they haven’t held a “bloggernacle event” or “virtual launch” yet, the Joseph Smith Papers just released the most recent addition to their foundational series. Journals, Volume 2 (1841-1843) covers the first half of Smith’s Nauvoo journals, and includes many great gems that will help future researchers of this important period in Mormon history. While there is much to cover in the actual journals—I’ll leave that to J Stapley, who I hope will do another excellent review of the overall text like he’s done for the other volumes—I just want to comment on a single section of the introduction; in fact, only about seven pages of the introduction.

Introductions in documentary editing collections are supposed to be short, efficient, and, often, bland. They give a general background to the period in which a text is written, an overview of the people involved, and a description of several key issues that make better sense of the edited document. The job of the document editor, most practitioners will tell you, is not to push specific interpretations or make detailed arguments, but to present the documents as a foundational work for other interpretive scholars. The Joseph Smith Papers have largely followed this scholarly practice, and have (rightly) focused on a specific objective: provide transcripts (and in some printed cases, as well as online, high-resolution images) of Joseph Smith’s “papers,” and allow other historians to come to their own conclusion.[1]

However, the introduction to this most recent volume breaks, albeit slightly, from this tradition—a break that, at least in this case, is cause for celebration. I am not envious of the editors who had to write this particular introduction: in a little over twenty pages, they had to update their readers on what happened between 1838 (when the last Journals volume ended) to when Willard Richards became Smith’s journal keeper in December 1841 (including settlement in Nauvoo and Joseph Smith’s trip to Washington DC), give an overview on ecclesiastical developments that took place in the early 1840s (including the growing power of the Quorum of the Twelve), touch on doctrinal developments (including baptisms for the dead), summarize continued legal problems with Missouri, explain Smith’s growing roles in Nauvoo’s city government, introduce the Church’s new emphasis on the Temple and participation in Masonry, discuss Smith’s financial and business endeavors, detail changes in Smith’s inner family, and briefly mention the creation of the Relief Society. No lack of important information, there! Thus, most of these crucial matters could only be granted a paragraph each, leaving most of the details and information to future scholars who will draw from these texts. Given this horrendous lack of space, it would have been actually understandable if they skimped on one of the biggest accusations against the institutional LDS Church: an avoidance of a deep discussion on polygamy. A single paragraph, with (hopefully) a frank and honest discussion, probably would have sufficed, especially given that there are only a handful of explicit references to polygamy in Smith’s journals.

But we got more than a paragraph; much more, actually. What the editors gave us were seven pages—i.e., about a third of the entire introduction—of discussion on the origin, documentation, and controversy over polygamy. And it’s not just the length of the discussion that’s surprising, but also the content. They openly discuss controversial issues with the practice, using terms like “conjugal relations” (xxv) and “polyandrous marriages” (xxvii), and refuse to shy away from facts that the Church has in the past ignored. They admit that Smith likely consummated some, but not all, of his plural marriages, they list several plural wives who were already married to other men at the time of their sealing to Smith, and they detail the secretive nature of this controversial practice during the period. While they do spend most of their time on the problematic nature of the documents that outline polygamy[2]—and, if I were forced to make one critique, I would say that they spend too much time trying to discredit John C. Bennett—I found their discussion surprisingly fresh and detailed.

Of course, these details aren’t new. Indeed, a cynic might say this publication deserves more of an “about time” shrug than a celebratory post. But as an optimist, I find in this introduction an important sign of change in how the Church handles its history—or, perhaps more correctly, an important sign of the continued change that has taken place over the last decade. These volumes go through a horrendous gauntlet of review before they can be finished, a review process that includes not just external, academic reviewers (a list that includes several prominent documentary editors), but also a group of internal, ecclesiastical reviewers, including a number of the Brethren we sustain to lead the Church (and whom others accuse of hiding our history). The fact that this introduction passed this review of Church leaders, is found in a book sponsored by the institutional Church, is printed through a Church-controlled press (Church Historian’s Press), and is marketed by the Church’s conservative merchandise arm (Deseret Book), should, I think, be cause for celebration. Kudos to the Joseph Smith Papers Project for providing this great project, to the volume’s editors for producing responsible and credible scholarship, and to the Church for encouraging this change.

The charge of the Church hiding its history is finally becoming less credible.

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[1] Note: this practice has not been followed in many documentary edition projects within Mormon studies, especially by those edited by historians who lack academic or professional experience.

[2] I do have to give a Colbert-style “wag of the finger” to them for problematizing Smith’s “happiness” letter to Nancy Rigdon; I rely on that letter for an insight into Smith’s polygamous vision in several of my articles, darn it!

Applications for these positions are to be completed online, and are found through this link.

Craig Harline, professor of history at Brigham Young University and noted Reformation scholar, has long been noted as a skilled author whose prose and approach reach a much broader audience than is typical for academic books. Whether it’s a Reformation archbishop, a seventeenth century nun, or a comprehensive history of Sunday, Harline is widely respected for making historical stories accessible for general readers.

But while finishing his book on conversion in seventeenth-century Europe—focusing on a family whose father was a Protestant minister, whose son was a convert to Catholicism, and how they balanced these tough issues of tolerance—Harline considered ways to make the book more relevant to contemporary readers. He narrates how he came to this conclusion in the epilogue to the book: during a chance meeting with some family friends at a local restaurant, he learned about their college-age daughter’s recent choices and the grief and disappointment it brought to their close-knit family. Trying to bring comfort to the troubled parents, Harline shared the story and lessons of his current book-in-progress. Satisfied with the (albeit limited) relief that this brought, he felt justified in his desire to use his book “to show explicitly how the distant past could possibly have meaning in the present, and vice versa.” History, he concluded, was too often seen as “something mostly suitable for school, or hobbyists, something to be discussed recreationally..rather than as something that might inform present experience” (269-272). Hoping to reverse this trend, and hoping to better reach people an audience like his friends with the wayward child, Harline re-envisioned the overall framework and methodology of what is now published as Conversions: Two Family Stories from the Reformation and Modern America (Yale UP, 2011).

In seeking to make his work much more relevant, Harline offers a narrative style quite foreign to a traditional historical monograph. For one thing, he places himself directly into the text, narrating his time in “hot and muggy” summer archives, how he raised his hands “in triumph” when he found the seventeenth-century journal of Jacob Rolandus, and then his joy in being able to crack the journal’s written code (7-12). In some points of the narrative, Harline sounds more like a journalist than a historian. Further, he uses other unconventional methods within the book that promise to make traditional historians squirm: not only does he not employ endnotes (a bibliographic essay is offered instead), but he never even uses quotation marks, choosing instead to place all direct quotations in italics; in most cases, Harline merely paraphrases or summarizes a scene’s layout or a character’s thoughts like a typical novelist would. Take, for example, the following except narrating the buildup to Jacob’s escape:

There had been some close calls these past weeks, as might be expected with more and more friends learning of Jacob’s plans and needs: which of them might let something slip? Just days before, the local sheriff had approached to ask about rumors that Jacob was thinking of going off to war with Vlierden: there was nothing to it, said an undoubtedly shaken Jacob. Stay at home and keep studying with your father, said the suspicious sheriff.

Today was nerve-wracking too, for while Jacob sat in church listening to his father’s sermon, as he did every Sunday with his mother and sister, his mind was filled not with the mysteries of heaven but rather with the decidedly earthly matter of finding a horse. Just yesterday he thought he’d found one, but this morning had come word that it wasn’t available after all. yet he had to leave tonight, as he couldn’t bear to stay another day. Besides, he had to meet young Vlierden at the border the next morning, or never. (4)

Harline is an eloquent writer, and passages like this demonstrate why it is often easy to forget this narrative is based on documents nearly four centuries old.

But even more than introducing himself into the narrative or utilizing the novelist’s prose, Harline’s most imaginative (and perhaps controversial) technique was to use a “modern” story to magnify the ”historical” tale. This Harline does by alternating the chapters on the Rolandus family with the story of Michael Sunbloom (not his real name), a friend of Harline’s whose life is filled with several similarly major conversions and transitions: first from Protestantism to Mormonism, a move that infuriated his parents, and then later embracing his homosexuality and entering into a long-term monogamous relationship with another male—a transition that initially destroyed his familial relationship but eventually led to full reconciliation. Such a collapse of distance (mid-seventeenth century Europe and late-twentieth century California) is traditionally avoided by academics, as accusations like “presentism” and phrases like “the past is a foreign world” typically restrict historians to their period of study. But Harline directly challenges this anxiety with his own guidelines:

The trick to seeing your connection, of course, is to see through all the differences that can blur it. You don’t ignore those differences: they are real, and wondrous, and give you an eye-opening glimpse into how other human beings have done things. Instead, you study these differences thoroughly, until you begin to see that many may not be so different after all: they just need to be looked at in new ways. (19)

Annette Gordon-Reed, in her award-winning Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family (W. W. Norton & Company, 2008) argued for a similar approach:

Historians often warn against the danger of “essentializing” when making statements about people of the past—positing an elemental human nature that can be discerned and relied upon at all times and in all places. Warnings notwithstanding, there are, in fact, some elements of the human condition that have existed forever, transcending time and place. If there were none, and if historians did not try to connect to those elements (consciously or unconsciously), historical writing would be simply incomprehensible…Therefore, we should not be afraid to call upon what we know in general about mothers, fathers, families, male-female relationships, power relationships, the contours of life in small closely knit communities, as we try to see the Hemingses in the context of their own time and place.” (31-32)

Such a narrative requires the historian to be more transparent about their person views and background. But, to Harline, this is a good thing. “The whole [comparative] process reminds you again that the study of the past is not about the past but about life, including your particular life,” he explains before introducing Michael. “In fact when a story from the past seems fantastic it’s probably because that story is somehow about you as well” (18). After finishing his story of Michael, and in the middle of an extended justification for including the narrative in the first place, Harline shared his “growing conviction that to care deeply about the past you have to be a little self-absorbed: you have to find your story in someone else’s story, if it’s to have any meaning for you. The process doesn’t have to be narcissistic, but it has to be personal–and in the best possible world, a personal story should have some universal quality to it anyway” (268). This certainly places the historian in a much more vulnerable position than is typically expected.

This approach could easily be abused, and I imagine all of us have experienced a botched example of collapsing the past and the present. But when done right–and I believe Harline pulls it off beautifully–it can make the work both fascinating and relevant. The narrative is fluid and readable, and I had trouble putting the text down. Harline is at his best when, after finishing the two stories, he ruminates on broader issues of tolerance, resting his judgements on a broad base of research and reflection (243-251). The reader can easily discern the depth and breadth of Harline’s research, which makes his conclusions even more powerful. I viewed this section as being a ”public historian” at its best.

Academic historians will (and have) take(n) issue with Harline’s use of sources—both the difficulty to trace his use of the Rolandus sources, and his use of interviews and memory in Michael’s story. But I imagine Harline won’t be too troubled with those critiques: they are trying to hold him to a traditional academic framework that he is consciously trying to challenge. He was more concerned with making the story relevant—by closing the distance between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries, by lessening the gap between the ivory tower and main street, and by making his book significant to his friends in the restaurant with the wayward child—than with following the static blueprint of an increasingly isolated academic world. He implies that it is one thing to be accessible—many books are accessible, but they still aren’t read—and quite another to be immediately relevant, specifically showing what makes the topic significant for today’s readers.

And since much of Harline’s book is about finding “personal meaning,” I’ll end my review by pointing out the message that I found most poignant. While much of the narratives focused on issues of conversion and tolerance, I was taken back by the lesson of empathy: the ability to place yourself in the other’s shoes. (And certainly this is a key component of tolerance.) Throughout the text, there are instances of those unable to understand those who they are arguing with, but the triumph came, at least in Michael’s story, when people were able to drop their preconceptions and willingly embrace another’s point of view. And, personally, I hope that this book succeeds in bringing its many audiences to become more empathetic: average Americans empathizing with those of different faith traditions in a post-9/11 world, academics empathizing with a general public often unwilling and unable to comprehend scholarly tomes, and, perhaps most pertinently for the author’s immediate context, traditional religious believers empathizing with a homosexual community that they rarely understand.

And that’s an academic approach I can empathize with.