TO THE RESCUE BOOK REVIEW
An advance copy of To the Rescue, by Thomas S. Monson, appeared on my desk this morning. I don’t know who put it there. I don’t know why it was left. All I know is I have been privileged to read a tale with a message so radical it just might put readers in a state of shock.
But before I make any comment, I feel I must address some of the criticism I’ve received regarding my past reviews of some 300 books that fall under the category of “LDS Inspirational,” all plucked from my aunt’s bookshelf (I, her caretaker as she lay in a coma for the past 27 months). I haven’t given any of them less than a five-out-of-five star rating and therefore stand accused of lacking objectivity and impartiality. Let me be clear -- I have nothing to gain from writing positive reviews because I WORK PRO BONO! I am prepared to pan any book that deserves panning. It just so happens that as of yet, none of them have…
To the Rescue is no exception.
It is the riveting tale of a young lad (Monson) freshly out of law school in 1922 who faces the challenge of a lifetime: How to retrieve the family cat from the ol’ weeping willow tree in Henderson’s field.
Based on a true story, Monson masterfully relates the tale while drawing comparison to an important gospel message relevant to our day and age.
This book is not for the timid. The cat, for instance, dies a horrific death. So does farmer Henderson, for that matter.
Also, a chapter where Monson travels to Pocatello and witnesses a failed lynching seems oddly out of place, and might have readers scratching their heads in confusion. However, things become clear at the chapter’s end when Monson explains why a brand new noose would, against all probability, snap apart during the key moment in an execution (hint: look up Cain and the curse of immortality).
After the weeping willow incident and throughout his life, it seems as though Monson makes an effort NOT to help others. Indeed, his words and deeds might strike readers as downright sadistic, like in 1938 when he truncheons an assistant for spilling a grape soda on him, screaming, “That cleaning bill is coming out of your pay, you clumsy fart!” Monson tells the story with a tone of glee, as though he is proud of his actions, bragging that he indeed extracts money from the assistant, despite him being an unpaid volunteer! Incidences like this abound throughout the narrative, implying the opposite of what the title, To the Rescue, would suggest...
The reader might suppose as such. But should he?
Herein lies the brilliance of Monson.
On the surface, the title might appear as an ironic jab at the rampant do-goodery plaguing modern-day America, led by liberals and progressives who haven’t a clue how the system really works.
But his attack is much more sophisticated than that, and truly indicative of a person who takes counsel from on high.
His subtle admonition to us all: Ignore people and their problems. Even go so far as to create obstacles for your friends and loved ones. Make their lives miserable. Then leave them alone to work things out for themselves. By so doing, you afford them the opportunity to overcome adversity and grow (unlike the family cat).
Such a sentiment is bound to be met with derision. Foolhardy critics will stand at the periphery and sling their mud - they always have and always will.
Sadly, radical ideas put forward by inspired men (Monson) are instantly rejected, only later to be embraced years after there is time to give credit where credit is due...
(I don’t want to be indelicate, here, but I feel I must remind the reader that seven current members of The First Presidency and The Quorum of the Twelve are hendecagenarians - their time with us might be limited - and Monson is senior most among them.)
Regardless, he tirelessly strives to rescue the world with his revolutionary ideas and yet can rely on no one to applaud his efforts (except we, the elect).
And we can help by buying his book. A list price of $34.99 might seem high. But Deseret Book is offering it at only $29.74. What a deal! Now go buy a copy. Its fate will be the same (thrust upon a dusty bookshelf), whether or not your aunt is in a coma when you hand it off to her for her 93rd birthday. In fact, buy a copy for all your aunts! Do the math:
[All faithful LDS nephews and nieces (7,573,812)] X [All their aunts - coma or not - (1,997,617)] = [(15,129,575,606,004) units sold!]
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a prophet had a best seller instead of that pervert, Stephen King?