06.06
I just added a new book to my wish list: The Book of Mammon by Daymon Smith, an LDS anthropologist. Smith recounts his experiences working at the Church Office Building where religious concerns are uncomfortably wedded to corporate ones. As a Mormon, he is concerned that his church is increasingly led more by profit (mammon) than a prophet.
The Book of Mammon reads like an entertaining and informative exposé of the LDS Church’s corporate practices, from the banal to the unusual. It has been receiving rave reviews. C. L. Hanson over at Letters from a broad wrote a review of the book that has further piqued my interest. Informed by the book, she points out an insightful irony:
According to Daymon’s tale, working at the COB has all of the crazy office politics you’d expect at an ordinary fortune-500 corporation. There’s a big difference, though, and it’s not just the church devotionals on company time or opening meetings with prayer. The problem is that they have absolutely no motivation to figure out whether their products are useful to their consumers. Mormons pay 10% of their income per year to the corporation (in order to be eligible for the saving ordinances in the temple), and the corporation gives back manuals, magazines, films, scriptures, garments, etc. — but the direct market feedback that comes from consumers selecting the goods they purchase is completely cut off.
As I’ve said before the private sector and the public sector each have their strengths and weaknesses. In economics, it’s not a question of choosing which one is “right” and which one is “wrong” — it’s a question of optimizing your strategy by using the best of both. The COB has the worst of both because it has the advantages of neither: there’s no market incentive to produce good products, and there’s no public oversight either.
(The biggest irony is how ferociously right-wing the Mormons are, yet they give so much money to a corporation that functions just like the very worst stereotypes of the Soviet government economic system.)
You may also want to check out Daymon Smith’s recent Mormon Stories interview, where he discusses his book, post-Manifesto polygamy, and the history of correlation in the LDS Church.
I loved that particular Mormon Stories series. Very insightful, very interesting. In my excitement, I ordered _The Book of Mammon_ from Amazon.com. A chapter and a half into it, I’m pretty disappointed. Rather than using a fictional story to present his information in an easy-to-read format, Smith’s prose is inflated to the point of being ridiculous. Take a look for yourself:
“A fair bulging daughter of Eve, bursting forth in purple petunia print, something like a magician’s full floral repertoire in its multitude simultaneously abracadabra’ed from every hidden place, waddles and wades between the stretched doors and then us. We all smile and nod, becoming tropes and figures. She reveals just a hint of sideburns like a rosy petal pink dusted across her cheek, and a fortune favored dried flake of scalp descends the mysterious curves of her quivering ear…
Our breaths mingled, and the birds and stars pulsed with anticipation. We looked as we fell, looked to the caduceus burned in the glowing numbers bestride the sealed doors, that singular, reliable worship of descending ordinals to which all submit as their gravic car drives out every separation with the gravic earth, numbers by which mortals supplicate for safe and soft landing, figures for understanding. Forms that describe our collective relationship to the earth along the meter of human craft, stray deities anciently rounded up by Pythagoras and made to weave a lattice for our nascent spiritual natures.”
This small excerpt is representative of the use of language throughout the book. Unfortunately, Smith uses many words to say very little. I’m sure I will overcome my personal annoyance with his writing style and eventually finish the book. There will undoubtedly be nuggets of interesting information couched within its pages. It’s just too bad he couldn’t afford an editor to trim down his run-on sentences, align his tenses, and provide a more readable narrative.
For what it’s worth, I’ve heard the first part of the book is a challenge, but the rest reads more smoothly. Thanks for the excerpt—the writing style is frustratingly bloated.
I’m glad you liked my review!
Regarding the writing style: I think it’s a good book as-is, and is worth reading, but that it could be an excellent book with some substantial editing.
For what it’s worth, the passage there quoted is meant as an ironic recitation of romantic narrative, and is not, I think, indicative of the rest of the book. Why put that in that particular spot? There is a reason for it, but I’ll let you guys figure it out. One must not read it as a journalistic attempt to convey information, but be a bit more subtle, and broad minded, in one’s understanding. But thanks for reading anyway, and I hope you do find the rest of the book less bloated.
I think it’s great that the author actually commented on this post.
I am now nearing the end of Daymon’s book. Mercifully, the writing style does become more straightforward as the story progresses (although Daymon continues to show a love of flowery language even in the easy-reading portions). There are lots of interesting anecdotes and historical tidbits to be garnered in its pages. The book is also frequently very funny – I have laughed out loud on more than one occasion.
However, Daymon’s response here is indicative of one problem I continue to have with his book. Namely, that it is an act of hubris.
Why put that in that particular spot? There is a reason for it, but I’ll let you guys figure it out.” Daymon attempts to justify his overblown language, then proceeds to underline his intellectual superiority by hinting at deeper levels of appreciation known only to him. His implication is that the reader is to blame for not understanding the depths of the author’s genius, rather than accepting responsibility for language that obscures meaning rather than conveying it.
Throughout the narrative, Daymon’s character (Daemon) is unfailingly the intellectual superior of all who surround him. He is always perfectly objective and reasonable, while his coworkers are consistently foolish and judgmental. I was struck by the irony of his writing on p. 305 which condemns the pride of the COB while simultaneously portraying himself as better than everyone else that works there. I wondered briefly if the irony was intentional, but Daymon’s writings here and elsewhere in his book indicate that it was not.
On the very first page, Daymon excuses himself for any “typos, ingrammaticalities, infelicities, and factual errors” by claiming that “every error was planned.” Although such an excuse was likely written with satirical intent, the impression is nevertheless left with the reader that Daymon is absolved of responsibility for any mistakes in his book. His attitude seems to be, “I’m very smart. Even in my mistakes, you’re just not understanding how funny, insightful, or brilliant I am.”
Daymon, if you read this – please try to be “subtle” and “broad-minded” in your understanding of my comment.