Good-bye, I Love You By Carol Lynn Pearson Random House, 1986. Hardback: 227 pages. ISBN: 0-394-55032-3 Suggested retail price: $15.95 (US)
Reviewed by: Jeff Needle

(I will acknowledge that another review of this book is already in the archive. I found my observations were a little different from those expressed in that fine review.)

Let me say at the outset that I know nothing about poetry. I've tried to read poems of all kinds. Robert Frost is okay; Walt Whitman confuses me. As did any good flower child of the 60's, I sat and listened to the poems of Ginsburg and the like, nodding my agreement at the deep thoughts, delighted that I was hearing things that I could not possibly understand, but knew, if I stayed the course, would one day become clear.

The worst of the lot, in my opinion, were the religious poems. Honestly, I've tried. Helen Steiner Rice left me drowsy. Carol Lynn Pearson's poems were, well, uninteresting. Yes, I know folks just drooled over the thought of a new book of Pearson poetry. But I'm just not built to understand poetry. Even when it rhymes, it doesn't much appeal to me.

And so, while you will likely never see me review a book of Mormon poems, I was intrigued at the thought of reading a book about a Mormon poet. I was particularly intrigued by the blurb on the cover of the book: "The True Story of a Wife, Her Homosexual Husband and a Love Honored for Time and All Eternity." Whew.

The first surprise about the relationship between Carol Lynn and her husband Gerald was that Carol Lynn knew of Gerald's homosexual impulses before they were married. This would likely have been a deal-breaker in a normal Mormon relationship. But Gerald assured Carol Lynn that he was "cured," and all was well. This would soon prove to be untrue.

By now the couple has three children, with one more to follow. How would they resolve the difficulty of a loyal Mormon wife (and a Relief Society President, too!) living with a man who now acknowledges that he cannot control his homosexual feelings? A move from Utah to California offers some release, but they ultimately divorce while remaining friendly. Carol Lynn continues to support Gerald, and is with him when he succumbs to the ravages of AIDS.

Carol Lynn's devotion to Gerald, and his affection for her, are never in doubt. Throughout the ordeal, there are arguments and recriminations, but they are always overcome by their love for each other. Even as Gerald pursues various gay relationships, Carol Lynn continues to support him, meeting his lovers and attending events sponsored by the gay community. (They live near San Francisco, so there are ample opportunities.)

One interesting undercurrent bears reporting here. Throughout the book, Pearson reflects on the rule the Church played in her trials. At one point, she is told to read "The Miracle of Forgiveness" by Spencer W. Kimball. Kimball's harsh rhetoric sends her into an even deeper despair. "Degenerate!" "Revolting!" "Abominable!" These are the words Kimball uses to describe homosexuality. But this, she muses, is not the man she married. Yes, he's involved in a lifestyle contrary to the standards of the Church. But none of these words describes Gerald.

She comes to believe that she will have to go outside the "organization" of the Church to find any kind of redemption. She explores alternative metaphysics while maintaining her presence in the Church.

Reading between the lines, one cannot help but see the conclusion she comes to: the institutional Church may not be able to help her, but the people who populate that institution will come to their aid when needed. Several horrific episodes of "institutional" involvement are recounted: a bishop who tells a gay man that, if he can't change, he might just as well be drowned in the Great Salt Lake. That young man went out and killed himself. And then the story of a gay man who was subjected to "aversion therapy" at BYU, where electrodes were attached to his body while he viewed gay videos. Upon being aroused, they would send an electric current through his body. He finally abandoned the effort, with nothing to show from it except burn marks on his skin.

(I'm accepting that these stories are true, although I've not verified as much.)

Near the end, when Pearson gets to the point where she needs help from her church family, she spots several ward members weeding her yard, a thankless job in the hot sun. She reflects:

I felt tears stinging at my eyes. Well, of course, that's what they would do. People who won't even drink coffee have a hard time understanding homosexuality and AIDS, but they don't have a hard time understanding suffering and need. (218)

And that's the rub -- the people of the Church embraced Carol Lynn and Gerald, loving both them and their challenges. They brought them food, changed Gerald's dirty diapers when he couldn't tend to himself, mowed their lawn and tended their children. But, in Carol Lynn's view, the institutional Church did nothing to help them. There they could only find condemnation.

What Carol Lynn seems to have missed is the fact that it was this very institution that gave its members the values the Pearsons so deeply admired. The Church strongly teaches the importance of selfless service and a deep caring for the neighbor.

I have mixed feelings about this book. One cannot help but admire Pearson in that she tells her story frankly and openly, hiding none of her feelings, self-doubts and self-recriminations. I wondered how she had the strength to go through the ordeals she relates. The final scenes, tending her husband through the death process with a sense of peace and finality, nearly moved me to tears.

But alongside all this, I had this strange sense that Pearson was indulging herself in a steady supply of self-congratulation. She never misses an opportunity to explain to us how wonderful her poems are, how much in demand she is, and how admired she was by those who knew her during this period. With each verbal pat-on-the-back, I was more uncomfortable. And from the outset of the story, there was this sense that she saw herself as a "fixer" -- someone who could "fix" whatever was wrong with Gerald. She ultimately came to one of two conclusions -- a) she really could not fix the problem; or b) there never was a problem, that homosexuality is not a choice, but an integral part of some people, and we ought not to be about the business of trying to fix them. I'm not clear which conclusion reflects Carol Lynn's thoughts.

So why did she write this book? Perhaps it was a synthesis -- a celebration of the life of her beloved Gerald, a diary of the difficult times they shared, an attempt to reinforce feelings of self-worth and value. I will not attempt to judge her motives, only to understand what her motivation was.

Estrangement in a religious setting is often defined by the mores of the group. When the beliefs and practices of a group are violated, the offender can be driven away by institutional rigidity. This is what happened to Gerald. Toward the end, he refused a priesthood blessing. His anger toward the Church was evident. Carol Lynn expressed her anger by exploring "New Age" ideas -- in particular, ideas about healing and self-development that are outside the scope of normative Mormon teaching.

Reading this book taught me lessons in how harsh rhetoric can inflict real injury on people who are hurting. It reminded me that rules and standards are designed more to instruct than to soothe, and that, at times, the righteous holding up of those standards can block the rays of God's love and forgiveness.

The challenge facing the Church today is in somehow balancing the need for certain standards with a compassion that reaches out and embraces even the worst of us.

-- 
Jeff Needle
jeff.needle@general.com