Previous | Next 

Currently in books

Bruce L. Guenther

Sweeter Than All the World Rudy Wiebe. Toronto: Alfred A. Knopf, 2001, 438 pp., $35.95.

The Russländer Sandra Birdsell. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart Ltd., 2001, 352 pp., $34.99.

It is a marvelous coincidence to see the publication of two new fictional explorations of the Mennonite experience written by Canadian novelists who have been recognized for their considerable literary skills. Both novels are inspired by the stories of their authors’ Mennonite heritage.

Rudy Wiebe, professor emeritus in the Department of English at the University of Alberta, is no stranger to the Mennonite Brethren world, even if historically it has been more by way of infamy than by affirmation and acceptance. His fictional treatment of the Mennonite experience has often generated controversy among Mennonites. Some will recall how Wiebe lost his job as the inaugural editor of the MB Herald during the early 1960s after the publication of his first novel, which was titled, rather ironically, Peace Shall Destroy Many. The reaction among Mennonites over the first novel was pale in comparison to the furor created by a subsequent novel, My Lovely Enemy, which was published in the early 1980s. Despite the often ambivalent reception by his fellow Mennonites – Wiebe remains an active member of Lendrum Mennonite Brethren Church in Edmonton – he has continued to write and has been rewarded with numerous accolades and awards from the Canadian literati.

Wiebe’s prose is no stranger to grand, sweeping narratives spanning multiple continents and centuries. Central to this novel is the story of Adam Peter Wiebe, a wealthy medical doctor who embarks on an emotional journey to discover his roots. The stories of a variety of characters spanning 500 years of Mennonite history drawn from sixteenth-century Danzig, eighteenth-century London, nineteenth-century Russia, and twentieth-century United States and Paraguay, weave in and out of Adam’s life creating a tapestry depicting a heritage of conviction and hardship that stands in dramatic contrast to Adam’s aimless, affluent and adulterous self-indulgent existence. Adam is not a particularly likeable character. The novel is a creative exploration of the interrelationships between personal identity, religious faith and historical particularity. The fictional Adam might well serve as a kind of prophetic warning to many contemporary Canadians with Mennonite roots who are afflicted with historical amnesia and who have thereby unwittingly exchanged their Anabaptist/Mennonite heritage for a mess of pottage.

Like most Wiebe novels, this one too is not an easy read. The complexity of the historical and genealogical details enriches the sense of context for various characters but makes it difficult to accelerate the momentum of the story. The sluggish pace is aggravated by a constant stream of new characters, many of whom the reader meets only once, and many of whom have no apparent connection to the life of the main protagonist. While the limited role given to some of the characters creates more of a collage of independent narratives, making the novel feel a bit roughly hewn, Wiebe is nevertheless successful in crafting a range of haunting and evocative images. Despite its potential frustrations for readers who are looking for a simple, straight-forward story, the organizational structure of the novel forces the reader to experience the same kind of gradually growing but fragmented awareness as Adam Wiebe, who slowly begins to explore the relationship between the lives of his ancestors and his own.

Sandra Birdsell’s novel, which was nominated for the prestigious Giller prize, is situated within a much narrower slice of the Mennonite story than Wiebe’s – it features much the same era as Al Reimer’s novel, My Harp is Turned to Mourning. Birdsell suspends the reader with dread and anticipation from the outset as the novel begins with a newspaper clipping describing the brutal massacre of several families on a Russian estate in 1917.

Central to the novel is the story of Katya Vogt who, as an older woman at the edge of death, offers her memories and reflections on a carefree childhood at the beginning of the twentieth century in Russia during which she was largely oblivious to the escalating conflicts in the world around. As the daughter of a farm worker she observes the dynamics created by betrayal, discrimination, loss, hypocrisy, forgiveness and love. Her transition to becoming a young woman takes place during the tumult of the Bolshevik revolution.

Unlike the vast amount of historical detail in Wiebe’s book, Birdsell includes only small glimpses of the circumstances that precipitated her characters’ desperate experiences. The author’s keenly observant eye aids in the creation of exquisitely crafted characters that are recognizable and real. The recollections offered by Katya are often deceptively simple: by highlighting the details of what happened, but leaving unsaid the relational implications for the imagination of the discerning reader, she mimics the practice of many Russian Mennonites who speak only reluctantly and sparingly of sensitive and painful subjects.

Readers of the MB Herald will be interested in the dramatically different approach of the two novelists to the place of religious faith in the lives of their characters. Wiebe does not shrink from it: he captures well the bold verbal cadences of an Anabaptist faith that was central to the lives of many (not all) of his sixteenth-century and Russian Mennonite characters, and that frequently resulted in gruesome suffering.

Such bold affirmations stand in contrast to Birdsell’s oddly tepid treatment of religious faith. Church leaders are occasionally featured but remain on the periphery. Their religious rhetoric invariably serves as a facade for self-interest and hypocrisy (as undoubtedly was the case for some Mennonites). Her most authentic characters are those that maintain a distant relationship to the Mennonite church. Katya’s baptism, which occurs after much of her suffering, and which was arguably one of the more central events in the lives of many Russian Mennonites, plays only a minimal role in shaping her response to events.

Although these novels are as different as their respective authors, they will undoubtedly be of interest to many adult Mennonite readers. Readers should be warned that both contain graphic imaginative depictions of some of the horrific sufferings endured by Mennonites during the sixteenth and the early-twentieth centuries.

Bruce L. Guenther is Assistant Professor of Church History at MBBS-BC/ACTS. He is a member of Bakerview MB Church in Abbotsford, B.C.

Previous | Next 

Last modified July 19, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
Masthead and usage information.