Disoriented By Michael Ritchey Cornerstone, 1999. Hardcover: 280 pages. ISBN: 1-9292810-3-X Suggested retail price: $14.95 (US)
Reviewed by: D. Michael Martindale

Get Thee to a Writers Group, Ritchey

I wish I had never read this book. I approach this review with greater trepidation than any review I have written. I seriously considered never admitting that I had read Disoriented, and not writing any review. But integrity compels me to be honest and forthright with my reactions to any significant LDS book I have read. I would want the same from others when it comes to my writing.

I had every reason to want to like this book. I am excited at the prospect of a developing LDS science fiction genre. I very much want Cornerstone Publishing to succeed. I even hope that I might be published by them one day. I consider Richard Hopkins as close to a friend as is possible with the limited association we've had to date. I asked my wife for Disoriented for Christmas, and she obliged. I began reading with anticipation, all ready to enjoy it.

But this book should never have been published.

Not for any moral reasons. Not for any "faithlessness" toward the Gospel or antagonism toward the Church. Not for any lurid sex scenes or foul language or questionable themes. Author Michael Ritchie simply wasn't ready to have one of his books published yet.

Already in his preface to the novel, I sensed there was trouble ahead. "I wanted my main characters to be good and likeable people. . . ." he says. "Do these kind of people actually exist you ask? Of course they do!"

When I read that, I asked myself, "Now, why would an author feel compelled to tell his readers that his characters are 'realistic, honest they are'?" I soon found out why. Ritchie employs a "by the numbers" characterization throughout the book that conjurs up barely adequate characters to get the plot done. Every major character goes through his obligatory contemplative flashback to fill in his backstory shortly after being introduced. Here is the Returned Missionary of Arrested Development who has immersed himself in his work, but has no love life and feels guilty for not being married. There is the Murderous Villain Abused in Childhood by his mother, whose whole motive in life is now to "make everyone pay fifty dollars every day" (beautifully embossed on the background of the cover art in case you missed the zillions of references in the book itself). Yonder is the Private Investigator Without a Personal Life, who manages to find true love in the end.

And the main character, the Inevitable Girlfriend who draws the Returned Missionary of Arrested Development out of his accursed singlehood? Ritchey's handling of her backstory nearly made the book unstartable. He made a classic mistake that many fledgling writers make, but that any competent writers group would have spotted instantly: he took his exciting opening scene with the main character and, rather than introducing us to her and the book with that exciting scene playing out in real time, buried it in a dreadfully dull frame story as a contemplative flashback, with clockwork interruptions to the action so we could be reminded that the present is really the dull scene of flying from Arizona to Dallas. Only the determined reader will wade through the first three pages of frame story to find the scene that should have opened the novel. You know, the scene that actually makes the reader say, "Wow, I want to read more!"

Which reminds me. Someone needs to take Ritchey's box of exclamation marks away from him. He keeps spilling them all over his manuscript.

But I admit, the flashback-that-should-have-opened-the-book was intriguing, and made me want to read on. In the next section, we're introduced to the Returned Missionary of Arrested Development, who also spoonfeeds us his backstory in a contemplative flashback, so we know up front What He's About. By now I'm recognizing the characterization pattern here, sighing, and telling myself, "Okay, mainstream science fiction started out in the 'Golden Age' with lots of interesting ideas, action, and scientific mysteries, but with pedestrian characterization. I guess I can live with that again as LDS science fiction tries to jumpstart itself." And the action in this section delivered, once you waded through the backstory. The Murderous Villain Abused in Childhood stalks the Returned Missionary of Arrested Development, kills the wrong guy, burns down the building where all this is happening, and barely escapes the police so he can continue to threaten the protagonists in chapters to come. Exciting stuff. (Watch for the Villain's bacsktory in an upcoming chapter, delivered to us whole-cloth in a flashback.)

The mystery of this science fiction story is why the environment of the Earth is deteriorating in inexplicable ways. (Thank heavens it didn't turn out to be gobal warming or the ozone layer this time.) The science fictional premise is that particles of matter have a sort of intelligence to them, and the Returned Missionary has figured out, at least in theory, how to manipulate matter at the most basic level by "disorienting" the intelligence of the matter so it can be controlled.

Any Mormon worth his salt will see the origin of this premise, and perhaps most Mormons will buy the premise as a result. But everyone else will raise a skeptical eyebrow, saying, "Oh yeah?" Desperately needed feedback number two from the competent writers group: you didn't make your science fictional premise plausible enough.

But the action and the mystery kept me reading as I endured marionette-style behavior from the characters (Returned Missionary needs to say this; Inevitable Girlfriend needs to do that). I half-expected to look up and see John Cusack's character from Being John Malkovich pulling the strings. But the book was good enough, all the way up until Returned Missionary gives his life to save Inevitable Girlfriend--now his wife -- from Murderous Villain in a wonderfully flashy, science-fictional way.

Then the book gets BAD!

"Holy cow!" I told myself. "He's killed off the protagonist already. What's he going to do now, follow him into the spirit world? (Snicker.)"

Yep.

He meets his father and receives the mission call to end all mission calls (save the whole world). One of those "You're needed for a mission in the spirit world" kinds of deaths, you see. "But Father," he pines, "I want to be with my wife. Can't you arrange things so I can be with her again?"

"Already have," says Father.

And here we come face to face with desperately needed feedback number three: everything's too easy in this novel. Practically every crisis Ritchey generates in his plot is resolved in the next paragraph or two. Returned Missionary wants to go back to his wife? Voila! He goes. Inevitable Girlfriend needs to be converted to Mormonism so Returned Missionary can marry her in good conscience? Abracadabra! She already believes most of he concepts of LDS theology, and becomes the ultimate Golden Contact. Inevitable Girlfriend's family needs to believe that her dead husband has returned from the dead as a disembodied spirit that only she can see and hear, and honest! she's not crazy? Presto chango! They're all inclined to believe that sort of thing anyway, and eat it up.

Oh, and somewhere along the way in the spirit world scene, most of the science fiction mystery is cleared up, and now all the mystery that's left is what corrupt government official did what. (Of course it's corrupt government officials. Isn't it always?) In other words, the main thing that kept me reading disappears in chapter 8 of a sixteen-chapter book. Desperately needed feedback number four: keep escalating your tension, don't defuse it.

From then on, I read out of a sense of duty. Nothing worked for me; nothing was believable. The characters were cardboard and murkily defined. The dialog was often embarrassing. Things bothered me that I probably wouldn't have even noticed had I been enjoying the book. Scenes that were supposed to affect me emotionally only evoked snide comments from me a la Mystery Science Theater 3000.

The tragic thing is, the novel could have worked, if Ritchey knew how to write. In this review, I've only hit the highlights of the flaws in this novel. In truth, I wanted to sit down with the manuscript and mark up page after page with comments -- I wanted to be in Ritchey's writers group critiquing the thing. Every page would have bled with red markings by the time I was finished. Ritchey is in desperate need of feedback from a good writers group. He needs to learn how to jump right into the action from the first sentence, weaving in the characterization as he goes. He should be forbidden to utilize flashbacks until he has learned his craft. He needs to learn how to write effective dialog, how to escalate tension without losing it, how to nurture multifaceted characters, how to make speculative premises sound plausible, how to write about spiritual things without sounding hokey, how to avoid point-of-view violations, and umpteen other skills of an accomplished writer. He can learn these things -- he has the basic talent mulling around waiting for development. There were lots of moments peppered throughout the tedious writing that could have shined if not ensconced in dreck. Someone just needs to tell Ritchey he's got more developing to do.

Cornerstone issued Michael Ritchey his journeyman papers long before he completed his apprenticeship. Disoriented was not ready to be published. Ritchey, find a good writers group and workshop your next manuscript through them. I predict you'll come out the other end an author worthy of publication.

-- 
D. Michael Martindale
dmichael@wwno.com