I have always enjoyed stories of heroism and courage. As a devout coward myself, I wonder at the lengths to which some will go to follow that inner guidance, or in the case of the handcart pioneers, the "Fire of the Covenant."

Lund has enjoyed wide success with his fiction work. His earlier books, fewer in pages and less polished, have been resurrected by the publisher as they try to capitalize on this author's popularity. And, of course, "The Work and the Glory" has sold very well. I've spotted the series at non-Mormon bookstores, too!

"Fire of the Covenant" tells the harrowing and gruesome story of the ill-fated Willie and Martin handcart companies. The members of these companies were immigrants from Europe who, moved by the words of Brigham Young, and motivated by the inner witness of the spirit, set out from their homelands to settle in far away Utah. The prospect of spending the rest of their days among fellow Saints was both pleasing and motivating.

Lund's design is to take us from one stopping place to another, chapter by chapter, first of the handcart companies themselves, and then of the rescue parties, and finally of the entrance into the Salt Lake Valley. These places are located on maps found on the inside back and front covers.

It should be noted that the list of characters occupies the first seven pages (!) of the book. I nearly abandoned the reading before I started -- I don't do well keeping track of so many characters. But then I thought, if these people can pull handcarts 1500 miles across the wilderness, I can bear up under reading more than 700 pages that purport to tell their story.

By keeping the story centered on two fictional families, Lund assists the reader by maintaining a continuity that is fairly easy to follow. The central characters of the present work are the McKensie family from England, and two young boys, Eric and Olaf Pederson from Norway.

Mary McKensie is a widowed member of the Church who announces one day to her children that they are going to Zion. They are very excited at the news, except for Maggie, who is the eldest child and is involved with a young man, a non-member. She ultimately decides to make the journey, but not until receiving an inner witness that this is God's will for her.

Eric and Olaf Pederson are sent to Zion ahead of the rest of their family. Lacking sufficient funds for the entire family to travel at the same time, the Pedersons send their children on the migration, promising to follow, with their other children, in a year.

Other families, from England and from Scandinavia, join in the journey, consisting of a rough ride aboard ship to the eastern coast of the United States, followed by train and boat rides to the furthest point of the railroad. And then they would begin their trek, pushing and pulling handcarts all the way to Zion.

Why handcarts? It all has to do with finances. Under normal circumstances, the Perpetual Emigrating Fund would have been able to finance better transportation for the emigrants. But, according to the Encyclopedia of Mormonism:

The PEF used Church assets and private contributions to assist individuals commensurate with their inability to pay. With limited funds, fewer individuals could be assisted than wished to participate. Those receiving priority included individuals with skills urgently needed in the West, those whose relatives or friends had contributed to the PEF, and those with longest membership in the Church. Cost-cutting measures, including group contracting, doubling up families in wagons, and organizing handcart companies, were also adopted to make the available funds stretch as far as possible. (Encyclopedia of Mormonism, entry for "Perpetual Emigrating Fund")

Now, under normal circumstances, this would be a difficult trip. The old and inform would likely not survive. But these immigrants have an addition burden or two. First, they're starting out late in the season, meaning they'll encounter colder, and more treacherous, conditions along the trail. And second, it appears that the friends in Salt Lake City never received word that the settlers were on the way, and thus preparations, such as re-supply wagons, had not been made.

Lund takes us through the difficult trek, writing in a readable and entertaining style. Along the way, there are births and deaths, friendships developing and romances blooming. Maggie McKensie and Eric Pederson become a "couple" along the way, and their romance forms a backbone to much of the story.

Now, the Willie and Handcart companies really did exist in history. Sufficient writing exists to document the story. But how much of Lund's book is really history? Admittedly, he invents the families that form the core the book, and this is an acceptable literary device. We all recall Scott Card's "Saints" and the amalgamation of several women into the one central character.

Lund muddies the literary waters in his preface when he states that, while the "story" is not fiction, the book itself is a "novel." Well, I guess that clears things up. He emphasizes that the events actually happened, but perhaps not to the people who are named in the book, and not in the order in which they are presented in the book. His list of characters separates those who are fictional from those who are historical, but footnotes to the historical characters make clear that it is possible that the events as related in the book may not have happened as he describes. Here's an example:

John Jaques: Having Brother Jaques as one of the check-in agents for the Thornton group is a device of the author to to introduce Brother Jaques to the readers. He was not actually there for that sailing... (footnote on p. 107)

How many of his readers will actually read the abundant footnotes? Not many, I'm guessing. And I admit that this is not a major point. Misunderstanding the role of John Jaques does not affect the story as a whole. But was this "device" really necessary? I didn't find it added anything to the story.

And that's essentially how I felt about so many of the diversions throughout the book. I actually read the notes! I realized that those who skip the notes and retain certain details of the book will be ill-served in the effort. Subsequent studies will be affected by what they read in Lund's book.

But how does the book fare as a work of fiction? As a novel, the book succeeds well. I will admit that, about half-way through the book, I was feeling the fatigue of the pioneers. My feet were not bleeding, but my mind was already full of the story. So much death, so much sickness.

And, worse, so much guilt. I found myself disturbed by Lund's depiction of the attitude of the Saints toward those who either dropped away during the trek, or elected to wait until the spring to make the journey. These folks are depicted as lacking faith, of disobeying their priesthood leaders, of denying the prompting of the Spirit. Given how much death there was along the trail, I wondered if perhaps these vilified Saints didn't have the right idea after all.

A purely secular viewer of the experience might be tempted to ask, "Whose hare-brained scheme was this? To pull handcarts through snow and sleet across 1500 miles of wilderness? To suffer disease and death? Why would anyone do such a thing?" Removing the sacred from the equation, the whole notion of such a trek seems reckless and irresponsible.

Lund infuses his people with a sense of purpose and direction, but these same people lack a sense of sympathy for the "weaker ones" who opt out of the trek. And even among those who continued, any questioning or doubt was met with condemnation. I don't know how historically accurate this is, but I wondered that Lund wasn't willing to extend his fictionalization of history in a more compassionate direction.

To his credit, Lund tells his story in a way that emphasizes the importance of community and selflessness, whether it be among those on the trek, or those sent out to rescue the immigrants. In the midst of all the sickness and death, friendships and romances thrive, courage and strength are found among the weakest, and the will to live triumphs over nature's best efforts to destroy.

My feelings about Lund have not changed. I think he's a good writer. He can tell a good story, and he gets better as his perpetual writing machine grinds out one massive work after another. I only wish he would pay more attention to historical detail. I like the idea of creating fictional characters around which to spin a tale. I dislike having to play a shell game with history to make the story more entertaining.

Jeff Needle
jeff.needle@general.com