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Who are we?  Where did we come from?  What happens after we die?  These are some of the greatest, most important questions human beings have ever asked.  And, yet, they remain the largest mysteries we'll ever encounter.  Because all of us wonder why we're on Earth, how we came to be here and what happens when our lives end, it makes sense that so many people find Near Death Experiences (NDEs) so very fascinating.  Many books, television shows, magazine articles, movies, etc. have been created in order to examine what people claim to have experienced when they "died."  Even to a skeptic like me, these glimpses into the world beyond can be utterly fascinating.  

Considering the religious fervor that existed at the time The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was founded, it is, perhaps, not too surprising that many early Saints had NDEs.  These were carefully recorded in letters, journals and oral histories passed down from generation to generation.  Marlene Bateman Sullivan has collected 50 of these stories in her new book, Gaze Into Heaven: Near Death Experiences in Early Church History.  She presents the accounts in the recipients' own words, using scriptures and quotes by LDS Church leaders to give additional insight into the topics under discussion.  What emerges is an interesting picture of NDEs from a uniquely Mormon perspective.  

Even though I firmly believe in life after death, I have trouble taking NDEs very seriously.  After all, any kind of dream or vision is open to interpretation.  And who knows what outside factors may have been in play during the person's "experience"—after all, during a low blood sugar episode several years ago, I became totally and completely convinced my husband was trying to kidnap me and smuggle me aboard his alien spaceship.  So, why should I believe a stranger's account of his alleged visit to Heaven, especially if the details feel "off" to me?

Given how I feel about NDEs, I really tried to approach Gaze Into Heaven with an open mind.  And, I have to say that, overall, I did find the book interesting.  Not convincing, necessarily, but thought-provoking.  The biggest problem with the book, for me, was Sullivan's subjective presentation of the material—she spoke about all the NDEs as if they were the iron-clad truth.  A more objective approach, one that trusted the reader to come to his own conclusions, would have made the book a much more palatable read for me.  Also, Sullivan never answered the biggest question I have about NDEs among members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, both in the early days of the church and now—how do they differ from those experienced by non-members?  I'm still really curious about that ...

So, while I didn't always agree with the conclusions Sullivan drew about NDEs, I did agree with this one, which neatly sums up my feelings on the subject:  "...[NDEs] are not meant to 'prove' that the Church is true.  Rather, they are meant to open our eyes to the fact that life will continue, that our sojourn on earth is momentary, and that we ought to refocus our priorities and spend our time productively, with an eye toward the next life" (220).

My husband, who enjoys reading about and learning from NDEs, thinks I'm a terrible cynic on this point.  How about you?  Do you find them inspiring or ridiculous?  Do you think there's anything to be learned from them?  What's your opinion?  I'd truly love to know.

(Readalikes:  I don't normally read books about NDEs, but my husband recommends What's on the Other Side? by Brent L. Top [an LDS professor's perspective on death]; Proof of Heaven by Eben Alexander, M.D. [an atheist neurosurgeon's NDE]; and Embraced By the Light by Betty J. Eadie [one non-LDS woman's NDE])

Grade:  C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for subject matter most suitable for older middle graders, teens and adults

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Gaze Into Heaven from the generous Marlene Bateman Sullivan via her publisher, Cedar Fort.  

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"Daniel shuddered.  Orleans was a living city of the dead (163)."

After five years of devastating hurricane after devastating hurricane, the Gulf Coast region has become a half-sunken wasteland.  When Delta Fever breaks out, sweeping through the already ravaged land, the American government has little choice but to contain the epidemic by any means possible.  First comes sealed borders, a quarantine, then, in 2025, a massive wall is erected around the affected areas.  No one is allowed in or out.  It's the only way to protect the uninfected, the only way to survive the deadly Fever.

Decades later, inside the Wall, in a once vibrant city now forgotten by the outside world, teems a turbulent new society, born from tragedy, death and disease.  Gangs, segregated by blood type, rule the moldering streets of Orleans.  Survival is a daily battle.  Fen de la Guerre, a 16-year-old whose O Positive blood means she carries the Fever, but isn't being eaten alive by it, does her best to keep a low profile.  Blood hunters will do anything to get their hands on an OP, who can be sold as a blood slave to the highest bidder.  Fen won't let that be her fate.  She won't.  

When her tribe is attacked one night, Fen loses everything—her home, her best friend, and her (always relative) safety.  She's left with no one, except a newborn baby.  Fen's not sure how she's going to survive, let alone keep a squalling infant safe.  She's better off leaving the child behind.  If only she could, if only she hadn't promised to protect the baby girl.  But she did.  Fen knows the only way to guarantee the baby's safety is by getting her out of Orleans, smuggling her over the Wall into the safer, cleaner Outer States.  The only question is how she's going to travel so far with a baby, few provisions, and a jungle full of enemies thirsty for her blood.  

When Fen meets Daniel Weaver, a scientist from over the Wall, it fills her with new hope—and new fear.  If she helps Daniel, he'll help her.  Or so he says.  But if there's one thing she's learned from living in Orleans, it's that she can only rely on one person: herself.  If Fen can't save the child, no one can.  And if Fen can't save herself, then she—and her two companions— are doomed to a fate much, much worse than death.

I'm a big Sherri L. Smith fan, so when I discovered she had a YA dystopian coming out, I knew I had to read it.  I hoped this very skilled writer would come up with something different than the usual post-apocalyptic fare and guess what?  She did.  While the world she's created has all the grim realities of other dystopias, it's got an even sharper edge to it—the blood trade.  It's a chilling plot element, one I'm not sure I've seen before.  That, along with the whole walled-dystopian-society-inside-the-normal-world and the teen-girl-trying-to-survive-with-a-baby-in-tow thing just made Orleans a much more original story than most of the YA dystopians I've read lately.  Plus, Smith's an all-around good writer.  She's given this story a vivid, haunting setting; a tough, unyielding heroine; and a relentless, pulse-pounding plot.  It's not a perfect book (Daniel's pretty bland; the baby's way more complacent than any I've ever encountered; etc.), but overall, Orleans sucked me right in and blew me clean away.  I loved it.  

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Ship Breaker by Paolo Bacigalupi, as well as other YA dystopians) 

Grade:  B

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), violence, and references to sex (including rape)

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of Orleans from the generous folks at Penguin Young Readers.  Thank you! 

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Melody Brooks hates being treated like an idiot.  Just because the 10-year-old can't walk or talk doesn't mean she can't think.  In fact, with her photographic memory, plus a sensory condition that makes her experience the world more fully than other people, Melody is probably the smartest kid in her elementary school.  Too bad no one but her will ever know it.  Most people, especially other children, can't see past Melody's wheelchair—they don't realize she's not just a gawk-worthy freak, but a real person with feelings, thoughts and ideas. 

Without a way to communicate more complex sentences than "I'm hungry" or "I have to go to the bathroom," Melody's not sure how to share all the things brimming inside her mind.  And it's making her crazy.  She has so much to say, she just needs a way to get it all out.  When an opportunity's presented that will allow Melody to do just that, she's ecstatic.  A little terrified, too.  What if people don't want to hear her thoughts and feelings?  What if her classmates just make fun of her more?  Can Melody find the courage to express herself, even if she says things no one else wants to hear?  

I read Out of My Mind by Sharon M. Draper not just because I loved its premise, but also because my 11-year-old daughter's been raving about how amazing it is.  The book didn't blow me away quite as much as it did her—still, Out of My Mind offers an important and thought-provoking story about the assumptions we often make about people, especially children, with special needs.  It also says a lot about the need for caring, positive teachers, doctors and therapists as well as parents who believe in their children no matter what limitations they might have.  Out of My Mind is a novel for any child who's ever felt misunderstood and for any adult who's ever wondered what goes on inside the heads of the kids they're rearing and/or teaching.  Really, it's a story for all of us.   

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of Wonder by R.J. Palacio)

Grade:  B

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for subject matter most suited for kids 10 and over

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of Out of My Mind at Deseret Book.