From time to time, Turner Classic Movies runs a mini-marathon of what they call "tear-jerkers," the five-hankie movies that make you sniffle, snort and cry. You know the type -- some heroine in distress, a lost love, etc. I will confess: when these mini-marathons come on, I tune out.

Letters by a Half-Moon is a tear-jerker. A Mormon tear-jerker. By definition, I'm not going to like it. And having read it, I can confirm: I didn't like it.

Now, before anyone shouts "unfair," let me say that Smurthwaite knows how to write. He can put his thoughts into pleasant prose. His characters are interesting, his attention to detail admirable. He may have an ability to write a really good book. He has written three; I haven't read the other two, so I don't know if this book is typical.

Here's the plot. John Ashe is a Mormon who has just lost his wife, Callie. The death was rather sudden, unexpected, leaving John a lost soul, looking for meaning in all that has happened. A friend of his owns a cabin in the woods. John decides to spend a few weeks, or months, perhaps, in the cabin, away from the city, to try to find himself. His children call frequenty, making sure he's okay. That's nice.

And so begins page after page of murky introspection and prolonged mourning. John encounters folks at the local Mormon ward -- they're nice enough -- and he befriends his nearest neighbors, the Ransoms. Throughout, John writes letters to his late wife, one more painful than the next.

Once I'd read the first two or three chapters, I earnestly wanted something more to happen. I understand the grief that accompanies the death of a spouse. I know there is a grieving period. We've all lost loved ones, and we all know what it's like.

But I wanted to shake John and tell him, "Enough!" One hundred forty two pages of rumination and introspection (I was tempted to call it "whining," but I'm too nice a guy to do that) was just a bit too much.

Some of us would like the luxury of having a cabin in the woods where we can work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. But we all have to work through our grief, and go on with our lives. John finally gets there, but the journey is painful, for him and for the reader.

I suppose there's a Mormon market for tear-jerkers. I'm just not part of that market. Some may enjoy the book. I didn't.

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Jeff Needle
January 11, 2005