Great stories sometimes crop up where you least expect them. I certainly did not expect to find one when I picked up Orson Scott Card’s A War of Gifts. At first glance, it seemed to be everything I hate in a novel. A thirteen dollar price tag for 126 pages of loosely-packed text. A layout designed to appeal to a young-adult audience. A storyline targeted only at diehard fans of a well-established series. A Christmas story, ostensibly meant for seasonal marketing. A title and cover blurb suggestive of specious right-wing histrionics about the Left’s “war on Christmas”. Normally I would consign such a book to the dust bin without thinking twice. But this was by Orson Scott Card, after all, so I decided to give it a chance. I was pleasantly surprised.
True, A War of Gifts takes barely an afternoon to read. But in that short space Card manages to create in Zeck Morgan a very sophisticated character, and to imbue his fairly complex storyline with several layers of allegorical meaning.
Zeck Morgan is a genius child who has grown up in a Puritan Christian cult of which his father is the prophet and leader. The cult, called the Church of the Pure Christ, is based in Eden, North Carolina. The name of the town is significant because in Zeck’s eyes it is a paradise. Although Zeck has scars and open wounds on his back from his father’s use of corporal punishment to “purify” his son, Zeck truly believes that his father is the holiest man in the world. When soldiers come to take young Zeck away to Battle School, he refuses to go on the grounds that he is a pacifist. When they take him anyway, he spends all his time there defying them in the hope that his teachers will give up and send him home.
Eventually, aided by Ender, Zeck comes to understand that his father taught pacifism only to talk himself out of compulsively beating his son, and that Zeck wants to go back home not out of love for his father but out of fear that his father will turn his violence on his mother. Eden was in fact never truly a paradise, but rather a place of ignorance. His mother had actually wanted him to go to Battle School, because she knew that he could only awaken and thrive if finally he was freed from his father’s influence. Latter-day Saints will hear echoes here of their Church’s teaching that the Fall from Eden was not really a Fall at all, but rather a fortunate and necessary awakening (2 Nephi 2:22-25; Moses 5:11).
There are other echoes of LDS teaching in the story, found in a surprising place: on the lips of Card’s arrogant, legalistic cultists. They teach, for example, that women deserve respect because they suffer to bring souls into the world (38), that ministers should be unpaid and should work to earn their living (20), that discipline is important for children’s souls (24), and even that Genesis was simply the best Moses could do in explaining Darwinian evolution to a pre-scientific culture (40-41). Yet Card is not, by placing these doctrines on hypocrites’ lips, polemicizing against the content of the teaching. Rather, he approves the doctrines but rejects the way they are flaunted in order to prove the superior holiness of the community. Card clarifies the sin of the community when he has Zeck proudly clarify that the cultists are not “fundamentalists”, but “Puritans” (41).
So why does Card place LDS doctrine on the cultists’ lips? Perhaps because he is polemicizing against self-righteousness and hypocrisy in the Mormon community, and wants Mormons to see themselves reflected in this fictional sect. Certainly when we are told that Zeck’s unhappy mother “always smiled when she knew people were looking … to show that the pure Christian life made one happy” (13), the scene is one that echoes a common liberal Mormon criticism of conservative Mormon culture.
Does the book intend to comment on the “war on Christmas” so lamented every December by conservative talking heads? Perhaps. But if it does, then it does not do so in a straightforward way. Certainly Zeck becomes angry when the leaders of Battle School forbid him to practice his Christian faith but do not forbid observation of traditions about Santa Claus (67)—basically the same complaint raised by the Religious Right. But the narrative seems ambivalent about whether the complaint is really a valid one.
For Battle School’s Santa-observers, the complaint is an illegitimate one because Santa Claus is not a religious symbol but an international and cultural one (72). The acts of love and generosity Santa inspires are especially distinct from Zeck’s Puritan brand of religion in that the former bring people together whereas the latter drives them apart (78-81). Card clearly sees fundamentalism as a divisive, false kind of religion that is often simply a cover for our own vices (114-17). When Zeck manages to rile some Muslim students and to get them to pray in open defiance of the rules, other boys chastise him for promoting potentially destructive religious sectarianism (93).
On the other hand, there are hints in the story that Card does see religious and cultural traditions as being on the same footing in at least some respects. As long as religion is peaceful and committed to values like love and generosity—which he indicates even Islam is capable of embracing (90)—religion, like culture, is part of what makes human life worth living. It makes us who we are, and gives us a reason to go on living (74). It is a good thing, and it should not be suppressed.
In the end, War of Gifts offers no clear verdict on the much-bewailed attempt of some Leftists to take Christ out of Christmas. If there is a “war on Christmas” that the novel clearly condemns, it is actually the attempt of some Rightists to make a Satan out of Santa. That crusade Card satirizes without mercy (17-19).
Cramming all this complexity into so few pages is no small feat. Whether it is worth thirteen dollars for three hours of enjoyable reading of course remains an open question, but if nothing else, A War of Gifts demonstrates Card’s dedication to his craft. For any other author the plan of this book would have been a recipe for drudgery. In Card’s hands it was a labor of love.