Loughbrickland, Irlanda
Agosto 2, 1840

Querido Hermano José:

Acatando la prudente indicación que usted nos dio a los enviados de no dispendiar los recursos como el papel y la tinta en salutaciones y excesivas formalidades, le deseo las bendiciones del Dios Todopoderoso y le comunico que después de sentir el rechazo y la indiferencia de muchos, el Señor ha tocado los corazones de algunos hombres entre quienes escucharon nuestros sermones en Belfast, y ha recibido en Su pueblo a un bendito hombre mediante el bautismo por inmersión, que se llevó a cabo en la tranquilidad del lago Brickland, en un hermoso y pequeño poblado que lleva ese nombre. Se trata del hermano Thomas Tate, de quien daré pormenores en una misiva próxima.

Por ahora me veo compelido a presentar ante usted un asunto peculiar para su consideración especial, dada la singularidad del caso. Justo después de haber oficiado la sagrada ceremonia del bautismo de nuestro ahora hermano Tate, se acercó a mí una joven distinguida por sus modales elegantes y su propiedad para conducirse en sociedad. Me dijo llamarse Maggie Saville, que su tío abuelo había escuchado mi sermón en Belfast y que la había enviado a pedirme que le concediera una plática, aunque sólo fuera por un momento. Su tío abuelo le había encargado hacerme saber que desde hace muchos años lo atormentaban ciertas preguntas muy específicas y que al escuchar mis palabras en ese sermón, supo con certeza que debía buscarme para dar con las respuestas que tanto ha esperado.

Le pregunté a la joven dónde vivía su tío abuelo, dispuesto a acudir en su ayuda, y me dijo que estaba en este mismo lugar, y que me estaba esperando en un mesón, así que fui y subí a sus habitaciones, donde su amable sobrina nos sirvió té y lo procuró, pues aunque se veía un hombre alto y fornido, también se advertía el cansancio de una larga vida llena de trabajos y en su semblante la profundidad de alguien que ha contemplado los rincones más recónditos del alma.

Cuando me vio, el hombre se mostró algo agitado y nervioso. Me habló con una voz grave y ronca, pero no agresiva. Me dijo que su nombre era Robert Walton, y que era un capitán de mar retirado, y que necesitaba con urgencia hallar respuesta a ciertas preguntas que lo atormentaban y le causaban un sufrimiento imposible de describir.

Hermano José: las cosas que este hombre me manifestó haber visto y escuchado sobrepujan la definición de lo que consideramos pecado y los alcances de sentirse extraviado y condenado. Apenas una transgresión que los antiguos griegos llamaban ὕβρις1 podría ilustrar la gravedad de las cosas que me relató, si en realidad han ocurrido como él las dice, y me temo que así sea. Por lo tanto, le dije que me consideraba incapaz de presentar sus preguntas del modo adecuado y que sería mucho mejor que él mismo le escribiera a usted, y que, de ser la voluntad de nuestro Dios, usted le respondería.

El hombre entonces hizo una seña a la joven Maggie y ésta sacó de su valija de viaje el paquete de folios manuscritos que le estoy enviando junto a esta carta.

Habiéndome permitido disponer del tiempo y del sagrado llamamiento con que Dios lo ha llamado, le ruego me disculpe y se sirva considerar leer esta misiva para dar respuesta a las interrogantes que atormentan el alma de este pobre hombre, quien, a sus más de ochenta años, dice resistirse a morir sin antes tener la paz en cuanto al asunto.

Suyo en la hermandad del Señor,

John Taylor, élder de la Iglesia de Dios

Belfast, Irlanda
29 de julio de 1840

Señor profeta José:

Mi nombre es capitán Robert Walton. Mi crianza fue religiosa, como la de la mayoría, pero abandoné la fe cuando conocí la Ciencia y vi cómo se la podía emplear para conseguir cosas hasta ahora inconcebibles, llevarnos a lugares insospechados y librarnos de la esclavitud. Durante mi formación como marinero, además de cumplir con las labores exigentes que el oficio comporta, leí libros de cartografía, astronomía, botánica, y me obsesioné con Aristóteles y sus comentaristas.

Read more

Loughbrickland, Ireland
August 2, 1840

Dear Brother Joseph,

Following your wise instruction to us messengers not to waste resources like paper and ink on greetings and excessive formalities, I wish you the blessings of Almighty God and inform you that, after experiencing the rejection and indifference of many, the Lord has touched the hearts of some men among those who heard our sermons in Belfast and has received into His people a blessed man through baptism by immersion, which took place in the tranquility of Brickland Lake, in a beautiful little village of that name. That man is Brother Thomas Tate, about whom I will give details in a forthcoming letter.

For now, I feel compelled to present a peculiar matter for your special consideration, given the strangeness of the case. Just after I had officiated at the sacred ceremony of the baptism of our now Brother Tate, a young woman approached me, distinguished by her elegant manners and propriety. She told me her name was Maggie Saville, that her great-uncle had heard my sermon in Belfast and had sent her to ask me to grant him a conversation, even if only for a moment. Her great-uncle had charged her with informing me that for many years he had been tormented by certain very specific questions and that upon hearing my words in that sermon he knew with certainty that he should seek me out to find the answers he had so long awaited.

I asked the young woman where her great-uncle lived, ready to attend to his need, and she told me that he was in this very town, awaiting me in an inn. And so I went to the inn and up to his room where his kind niece served us tea and looked after him, for although he was a tall and strong man, one could also see the weariness of a long life full of labor, and in his countenance the depth of one who has contemplated the hiddenmost corners of the soul.

When he saw me, the man seemed somewhat agitated and nervous. He spoke to me in a deep, hoarse voice, but not aggressively. He told me his name was Robert Walton, that he was a retired sea captain, and that he urgently needed to find answers to certain questions that tormented him and caused him indescribable suffering.

Brother Joseph, the things this man told me he saw and heard surpass all understanding of what we consider sin and the limits of what it means to be godforsaken and condemned. Only a transgression that the ancient Greeks called ὕβρις1 could capture the gravity of the things he related to me, if they really happened as he says, and I fear that they did. Therefore, I told him that I felt incapable of posing his questions properly and that it would be much better if he wrote to you himself, and that, God willing, you would answer him.

The man then signaled to young Maggie, and she took out of her travel bag the packet of handwritten pages that I am sending you along with this letter.

Having been granted the time and the sacred calling with which God has called me, I beg you to excuse me and please consider reading this letter to answer the questions that torment the soul of this poor man, who, at over eighty years of age, says he refuses to die without first having peace regarding the matter.

Yours in the brotherhood of the Lord,

John Taylor, Elder of the Church of God

Belfast, Ireland
July 29, 1840

To the Honorable Prophet Joseph Smith:​

My name is Captain Robert Walton. My upbringing was religious, like most, but I abandoned the faith when I discovered Science and saw how it could be used to achieve things previously inconceivable, take us to unimaginable places, and free us from bondage. During my training as a sailor, in addition to fulfilling the demanding duties of the profession, I read books on cartography, astronomy, and botany, and I became obsessed with Aristotle and his commentators.

Read more

For a Latter-day Saint, I’m unusually interested in alcohol.

I’ve rarely felt tempted to drink it; I know myself well enough to know it wouldn’t end well—when the Word of Wisdom speaks to “the weak and the weakest of all saints,” I smile and say thankfully, “That’s me.” And yet the names of unfamiliar spirits can send me down Wikipedia rabbit holes, seeking strange knowledge like the difference between “liquors” and “liqueurs,” or ales and lagers, and why James Bond drinks his martinis shaken, not stirred.

It’s the culture of the thing that attracts me: the history, the creativity; the vineyards from the Renaissance still run by the same families and the beers hand-brewed by monks; it’s the way a beverage (Scotch, bourbon, absinthe) can represent a place or a people or an era; it’s all the bottles in all the cellars of the world, filled decades ago by men now dead, waiting to be opened and emptied in an evening.

And we teetotalers get… Sprite? No, thanks. I’ll just have water.

This essay isn’t about alcohol. It’s about stories, and specifically about Star Wars’ Andor, which recently finished its second season on Disney Plus.

In the opening minutes of Andor‘s first episode, the title character kills two security guards who are trying to rob him. It’s all very gritty—ugly weather, dirty cops, nasty red-light district—and on my first uncareful watch, I rolled my eyes. Few pop culture tropes are as tiring as “that show you love, but dark.”

And then, a bit later, I realized something interesting was going on.

If you haven’t watched Andor, ask yourself: how would Hollywood usually treat these deaths? The guards were bad guys. They worked for the Empire, if only indirectly, and they were telling the protagonist at gunpoint that he had to give them money or go to jail. If they were in the original Star Wars trilogy, the movie would make sure you forgot them immediately—their dialogue would be limited to “Stop right there!” or “You rebel scum,” they’d be wearing helmets to cover their faces, and their voices would be distorted to help you pretend they’re not human. For allegedly antifascist art like Star Wars, it’s an awfully fascist way to treat people.

In Andor, these guys have faces, and their deaths have consequences.

While our protagonist anxiously builds a false alibi, we learn there are detectives on the case—two of them, the inspector and his deputy. The deputy has stayed up all night gathering evidence and thinks he can find the killer in a matter of days, but his boss is about to leave for a performance review where he’ll have to report his crime statistics to the Empire. He knows what will happen if he ends his report with, “And by the way, two of my own were bumped off last night.”

The inspectors’ dialogue deserves an essay of its own. It’s an argument between youth and age, zeal and world-wisdom, between an Imperial true believer and a very mild sort of Rebellion—it’s even a philosophical contest between deontology and consequentialism—and it’s all carried off with a mixture of wit and realism that I can’t remember Star Wars ever achieving before. Both inspectors make good points; each is self-serving in ways he won’t admit, and if you think it’s obvious which decision they should make, then you probably haven’t thought the thing through.

And remember, these are the bad guys—low-ranking bad guys, no less, invested with agency, intelligence, and humanity. And they’re not the only ones.

Read more

When my primary teachers told me that the Holy Ghost spoke as a still, small voice or a burning in the bosom, I was always confused. Since the day I was confirmed, I experienced the Spirit as music—a soundtrack constantly playing to fit whatever circumstances I’m in. A quick-paced brassy theme to warn of danger. A high flute trill to accompany an epiphany. Once, when I despaired at a tough AP World History essay question, the final boss theme from a video game played in my mind. A boss that had taken me days to conquer. I sat for a moment, gathering the resolve I’d used in my many attempts, then tackled the question. I happily received a B+.

No one else can hear this soundtrack. That is, until test day in Spanish 3. I’d confidently turned in my unit one test with five minutes to spare and was packing up my binder. My classmates chatted in a low hum as we waited for the bell to dismiss us—except for Robin, seated in the next row over. They rarely spoke outside of conversation practice, but this time, they leaned over the bar anchoring their chair to the desk and whispered to me. “Do you have to play a fanfare whenever you turn in a test?”

A record scratched through my mind and I nearly dropped my binder. “You heard that?” I hadn’t been humming along with it, had I?

Robin raised their eyebrow with a silver piercing. “Kinda hard to miss.”

“I’m sorry.” My cheeks burned. I must have been humming. The theme song from Pink Panther started to run through my head, though in a lower register than the usual tenor sax. What that was supposed to mean, I had no clue.

“Is that ‘Pink Panther’ on the tuba?”

I just stared in answer. Robin played tuba in band. Of course they’d recognize that instrument.

“Look, you may have accommodations, but headphones will keep you from being distracting.” The bell rang and they shot out the door without waiting for a reply.

This was definitely not me humming.

Read more

Further Light News

We’re currently working on editing issue 2, and that includes finding art to go with each of the fantastic pieces we’ve accepted. If you’re an illustrator or artist who would like to work with us, now’s the time to pitch your portfolio to editor@furtherlightmag.com!

Next month, we’ll have a booth at Storymakers right at the top of the escalator, so come see us on your way to class! Buy a copy of issue 1, pitch us your story or essay idea, or just come grab a piece of chocolate from our resident dragon (she hoards only the good stuff).

Interesting Publications

We’re loving LDS fantasy legend DJ Butler’s new podcast High Low Brow. If you’ve seen Project Hail Mary, you owe it to yourself to check out his discussion of the importance of religion in the book version.

Congrats to fellow LDS speculative fiction magazine Infinite Valley on the release of their third issue featuring stories from three fantastic authors!

We’ve pitched Burgindie’s short LDS horror film “The Angel” before, but now it's finally available on YouTube! Polygamy, mysterious visitors, secret handshakes—this short has deep roots in our culture. After you watch, check out this interview with Barrett Burgin about the film on Saints & Cinephiles.

The BYU English department has put up its fall schedule, and we’re super excited to see Aaron Eastley teaching a course on “Living Stories: How Tolkien and Lewis Lead Us to Christ.” If you’re looking for religious folklore to inspire your next Further Light submission, we also suggest Chris Blythe’s course on “Saints and the Holy Dead.” BYU students, make sure to add them to your registration cart before they fill up!

Meanwhile at Weber State, Ryan Evans is teaching a course on Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy—sounds like fun!

A certain ex-Mormon content creator has been spreading some hurtful assumptions about why Latter-day Saints love to write speculative fiction, but Jasmin Rappleye and Shad Brooks are here with a play-by-play response.

The Daily Wire has an article covering recent releases in right-wing-coded fantasy, which includes a review of Larry Correia’s new book American Paladin. (We also really enjoyed this YouTube explainer of the right-leaning trend on BookTube.)

Read something great that we should know about? Send links to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Interesting Publications.”

Community Events

May 14-16 - Storymakers Conference - Storymakers, held in Provo, is a great opportunity to hone your writing craft and network with fellow writers. And of course we also love the Whitney Awards that promote great LDS writing. If you’re attending, please come visit our booth and chat with us!

June 17-18 - Writers Cantina - Join local Utah authors for a casual and inexpensive event in West Valley City.

August 17–21 - BYU Education Week - We happen to know there will be a track on science fiction and theology that you don’t want to miss!

Got an event we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Community Events.”

Submissions & Deadlines

Apr 26 - Get your art into The Compass Gallery - Time’s almost up to be part of The Compass Gallery’s of fantasy art this summer titled Lore: The Power of Stories. After visiting their Fantastically Human exhibit last year, we know this one’s gonna be great. Submit your art to be exhibited alongside Steve Argyle and Howard Lyon.

May 15 - Submit to LDSPMA’s first-ever anthology - We love LDSPMA’s mission to help Latter-day Saint creators succeed in publishing, media, and the arts, so of course we’re excited that they’re putting out an anthology for this year’s conference theme of “Instruments in God’s Hands.” Send in fiction, poems, or personal essays under 1200 words and say you were there for the first one!

May 31 - Submit to the Mormon Lit Blitz - Participate in the longest running contest for LDS-themed flash-length work. Send your in fiction, poetry, or nonfiction under 1000 words. Published finalists are paid $25 and winners of the contest receive a $125 prize.

July 20 - Write a review of a fake piece of LDS art - Irreantum is collecting new pieces for a special themed issue of reviews of LDS art. The catch is that these works don’t exist yet. Check out this fake review of a (speculative?) novel written by Brigham Young as an example. I’m hoping for a review of a magical installation or perhaps some space-based performance art.

August 31 - Submit to Further Light issue 3 - Though we’re just starting to nail down issue 2, we’re already collecting some great submissions for issue 3. We hope yours will be among them!

October 1 - Send in an academic paper to LTUE - Got something clever to say about your favorite science fiction or fantasy property? Submit an essay to LTUE’s academic track to share your thoughts with everyone (and get free conference admission and snacks in the green room—seriously, those mini eclairs are worth it).

Got an opportunity we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Submissions & Deadlines.”

The window glass has rippled
a century of moons.
It does not see out clearly
nor clearly show the room—

a pine table, a wooden chair
pushed under the table; the far
dingy drywall where Jesus
kneels in a calendar,

his fingers tightly interlaced;
a woman holding a letter
who’s trying to write I’m sorry
but failing over and over.

Read more

“My dear boys about to become men,” he said, fixing them all with eyes that seemed to jump around the room like frying bacon, “because manhood follows boyhood as surely as boyhood precedes manhood, it is necessary that you, being boys, and thus men-to-be, must prepare to be the men you will become before you cease to be the boys you are now—it is good to see your smiling faces. Before becoming men—while you are still boys—it is incumbent upon you, and incumbent upon me as your teacher, and incumbent upon our society—as it requires men—to decide and embark upon your path of manhoodian labors, in which you will spend the rest of your days, and to do so in a sensible manner with the proper instruction and opportunities for observation and so forth. And so, in these coming months, you will be given opportunity to meet with and visit with and talk with and sit with and listen to and so forth, under all the men in this great city, even Zarahemla, whom this year are seeking boys to become men under their tutelage as apprentices of their craft, that their superiority of skill and knowledge may pass fully unto you, the new generation, that things will come to be as great or even greater than they are now.”

Jarom paused, pulled from somewhere within his stool a finely carved wooden mug, took a sip of water, then brushed down his beard before continuing. “But that is not all of course. It is well enough to learn to be a man from another man—or other men, as in the case of an apprenticeship in leading warriors into battle, or in dungmongering, an occupation often underappreciated by those who just get their food at market and never think about where it actually comes from. But also you must learn to be a man from yourself. For a man should not be any man, a man should be his own man, the only man that a man can be, at least fully, you understand.” Jarom frowned and looked sternly at them, as if he were worried they might willfully misunderstand him. “And so you will plot your future with care and ambition and so forth. Your opportunities are grand this year. Enom the silversmith is looking to take on up to two apprentices. Importers and tailors are looking for apprentices. Of course, as always, half a dozen lawyers or so. And the highlight this year, great Mulek, son of Amaron of the great house of armorers, making the greatest armor this nation or any nation has ever known, and all the great things they’ve done for us keeping people alive and so forth. Of course,” and here he chuckled, “you’ll have to beat our young Hagoth for that position, so . . . heh. Anyway.”

All the other rich men’s boys looked over at Hagoth who looked at his hands and tried to think of something other than his father, armor, or the gas he was struggling to keep inside his body. Why hadn’t anyone reminded him that drinking goat’s milk for breakfast gave him the poots?

“Today we will start by visiting Mikal, who leads the temple guardians, then Boron whose imports allow our best men to look their finest. And, speaking of clothes, we’ll see someone who makes them, someone who sells them and,” he chuckled, “the local boatmaker.”

Hagoth had no idea Zarahemla still had a boatmaker. His father Mulek hadn’t made fun of him in months and besides, what did Zarahemla really need a boatmaker for, anyway? Hagoth had only been to the sea—and on a boat—once, in Morianton, when he was three, before his mother died. It was his first memory—and the only one of her. She was telling his father to shut up. He treasured that memory. Boats were great. But in Zarahemla?

Boron, for instance, didn’t use boats. He didn’t even “import.” Basically he snuck into Lamanite lands, killed birds, then sold their feathers. “It’s exciting, it’s dangerous, it’s profitable, and you can always keep a feather for yourself. No better way to impress the ladies. You’re all old enough to know what really matters.”

All the potential masters, like Boron, met them dressed in their best finery until the boatmaker, Lehonti, who came to his shop door dressed in a holey sackcloth tunic and worn woolen pants—reminding them that no matter what the clothing hawker had said, wool was not traditional finery.

Read more

I don’t think it would be incorrect to say that Wind and Truth is Brandon Sanderson’s most controversial book to date. Part of this is the sheer length of the volume: the more-than-1300 pages stretch the patience of even hardcore fans of epic fantasy. Though previous volumes have also been behemoths, this one also felt it, with a plot that rushed readers from one side of Roshar to the other and yet seemed at the same time to drag on and on. Many readers of Wind and Truth noticed a certain repetitiveness to Sanderson’s language, leading to the thought that Sanderson’s editors ought to have done more cutting. An irritating increase in modernisms also placed this book out of sync with previous works in the series. Characters who were “courting” in previous books are now said to be “dating” and eventually become “exes.” In a society where the majority of people don’t have watches or clocks, a character tells another to wait “just a sec.”

One particularly awkward example of this trend is the insertion of the modern concept of “therapy” into the book’s medieval/early Renaissance-ish setting. While these characters have always been identifiable as suffering from mental illness, the in-world language tended to be archaic— “battle shock,” “melancholia.” In the previous volume, Kaladin invented the idea of group talk therapy but never referred to it as anything other than being a different kind of “surgeon.” In Wind and Truth, however, the term “therapist” appears as the punchline of a joke at an otherwise climactic moment. Granted, it’s introduced by Hoid, a character who has reason to know more modern terminology, but the contrast has been jarring to many readers. If the goal of fantasy is to be immersive, the sprinkling of modern language in this book breaks that immersion.

Do these imperfections mean Wind and Truth is doomed to be remembered as a rushed and forgettable mid-season finale in the Stormlight Archive? During the last year, I’ve wrestled through the book a second time, and I’ve come to believe that if we can look beyond some of its rough edges, the fifth volume of the Stormlight Archive may be one of the most profound books in the series. Wind and Truth asks many questions that, to me, seem directly attached to deeply Latter-day Saint theology. And it answers these questions in ways that are particularly insightful into how faith operates in the modern world.

Read more

Further Light News

Thank you to everyone who sent in submissions for issue 2! We’ve had so much fun over the last few weeks reading your stories, essays, and poems. Our editors met last night to make decisions on which submissions to include, so keep an eye on your inbox for decisions coming soon. And of course, our submissions box is currently open for issue 3, so keep sending us your work that combines the speculative with the sacred.

Thanks to Theric Jepson for this great review of issue 1 for the Association for Mormon Letters. Our subscribers and contributors have already received their print copies of issue 1. Want your own copy? Check out our list of retailers where you can find Further Light. Want to buy a copy in person? We’re going to have a booth at the Storymakers conference on May 14-16. Come check out our print issue or pitch us on your essay or story idea. We’d love to chat with you!

Interesting Publications

Some updates from our Further Light authors:

• We are looking forward to the release of the final volume of Orson Scott Card’s Alvin Maker trilogy, Master Alvin, on April 28th. Meanwhile, we’re enjoying this wide-ranging interview about the series, writing, and life with Youtuber iSamwise.

• Congratulations to DC Wynters who was part of a successful Kickstarter for Ruins: A Space Opera Anthology.

• Theric Jepson has a new poem out called “Glitter sifts from sky, sifts hell from beauty or beauty” in the latest issue of the engine(idling.

• JS Absher published several poems including “Mystic Neighborhood,” an honorable mention in the 2025 James Applewhite Poetry Prize, and “A Flower for the Scrapper” in the latest issue of LDS literary magazine Irreantum.

Here’s a different kind of religious speculation: Ethan Unklesbay asks, “What if the restoration was Catholic?”

Check out this article about Anthony Bourdain in Narnia, possibly the weirdest but most endearing fan fiction I’ve ever stumbled upon.

Have you seen the film Eternity yet? It’s not a Latter-day Saint production, but the premise sure feels like it: a woman dies and has to choose whether to spend her afterlife with her first husband who died young in the Korean War or the man she raised a family with. We were pretty positive about it over on Pop Culture on the Apricot Tree, but Henry Sorensen deals with some of the negative aspects of the worldbuilding from an LDS perspective in his Substack review. Definitely put this movie on your watchlist and let us know your opinion.

Of course, we love Tyler Johnson’s essay in Wayfare about how the world needs more of the childlike optimism embodied by Harry Potter in an age where we all think the worst of each other.

Has anyone else been watching Starfleet Academy? We’d love to see something written about the LDS implications of episode 7, in which the couple is not married but “sealed” in an intimate ceremony for family, which leads to them becoming king and queen, because of course ruling is a two person job. The concept is so Mormon-coded we want to know if someone LDS was involved.

Read something great that we should know about? Send links to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Interesting Publications.”

Community Events

May 14-16 - Storymakers Conference - Storymakers, held in Provo, is a great opportunity to hone your writing craft and network with fellow writers. And of course we also love the Whitney Awards that promote great LDS writing. If you’re attending, please come visit our booth and chat with us!

June 17-18 - Writers Cantina - Join local Utah authors for a casual and inexpensive event in West Valley City.

Got an event we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Community Events.”

Submissions & Deadlines

Ongoing - Submit to Bountiful Journal - There’s a new LDS literary journal hoping to promote the works of students and emerging authors. Check out their wishlist which includes personal essays, fiction, and poetry.

Mar 29 - Submit a poem to Wayfare’s Behold the Man! - Only five days left to submit your poem “about or related to Jesus of Nazareth.” See this page for more details. Winners will be honored at Wayfare’s summer festival. And yes, we checked: your poem may include speculative elements.

Apr 26 - Get your art into The Compass Gallery - This one is for our artist friends: The Compass Gallery is hosting another exhibit of fantasy art this summer titled Lore: The Power of Stories! After visiting their Fantastically Human exhibit last year, we know this one’s gonna be great. Submit your art to be exhibited alongside Steve Argyle and Howard Lyon.

July 20 - Write a review of a fake piece of LDS art - Irreantum is collecting new pieces for a special themed issue of reviews of LDS art. The catch is that these works don’t exist yet. Check out this fake review of a (speculative?) novel written by Brigham Young as an example. I’m hoping for a review of a magical installation or perhaps some space-based performance art.

August 31 - Submit to Further Light issue 3 - Though we’re just starting to nail down issue 2, we’re already collecting some great submissions for issue 3. We hope yours will be among them!

Got an opportunity we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Submissions & Deadlines.”

Sister Thomas waved her hand. “I’d love to stay and help, Pam, but Jared and Omner have basketball practice and little Tiffany has her piano lessons and Sariah wants to be picked up at the high school in half an hour. You know how life is. Toodles!” Her designer sweats disappeared rapidly through the glass door of the church kitchen.

Pam sighed. Another lime gelatin salad. How many was that now? Twenty three? She set the pan on the counter next to the fridge. She wasn’t sure how many would actually fit in the fridge. She’d have to do some juggling.

“Sister Jensen? I hate to bother you, but . . .”

Pam stopped her eyes from rolling with a supreme effort of will at the sound of the breathy voice. She’d recognize it anywhere. But, charity suffereth long, and all that. She pasted a smile on her face as she turned around. “Yes, Sister Love?”

Nyra Love waddled to the cabinets, one hand spread across her extremely pregnant belly. “I just need a pitcher of water, you know, for the little ones, when they come.” She smiled her vapid smile, like a brain-damaged hamster. Her soft voice grated on Pam’s already stretched nerves. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no problem, Nyra. Are you sure you should be helping tonight? Wasn’t your baby due Sunday?”

Nyra Love giggled. “Oh, no. I was due last Thursday but the doctor says all first babies are late. It’s my responsibility to be here, it’s my calling, to serve in the nursery at Relief Society weekly enrichment meetings.” A frown crawled over her face. “What are we supposed to call them now?”

“Just call it a birthday dinner. Do you want help?” Pam wedged Sister Thomas’s gelatin offering into the fridge with the other green masses. All had carrots. A few sported pineapple tidbits or canned pears. Sour cream covered two with a thick layer of ‘frosting’.

Nyra pressed her hand to her belly. “Oh, that was a strong one. Nothing to worry about, Sister Jensen. It’s only Braxton-Hicks.” She waddled from the room, a plastic pitcher clutched in her free hand.

Pam shook her head as she began arranging fresh fruit. Rainbows sounded fun, especially for March. Blueberries, kiwi, pineapple, mandarin oranges because they were easier than orange slices, with a border of strawberries. But that left out violet. What fruit could she add this late, though? It would mean yet another trip to the store. She eyed the carefully carved pineapple boats sitting empty next to the trays. Maybe she should just mix it all and fill up the boats. A faint gurgle across the kitchen caught her attention. She paused, glancing over the simmering crockpots of ham. “Must have been the lids rattling.” She popped open a container of strawberries. If she mixed it all up, the sisters would never notice purple missing and if they did, well, that was their problem. Boats with mixed fruit it would be. And maybe one tray with a rainbow, for fun.

Read more

Not even the devils are evil by nature
                 —St. Thomas Aquinas

I see them from my perch
Atop the ever-burning church

That stands next to the square
In uptown Dis. They aren’t aware,

It seems, that they are being
Watched. Malicious eyes farseeing

Through ashen mist and gloom
Peak out of every smoldering tomb

They pass. I watch them meet
A tortured shade down on the street,

Stopping their hurried walk
To introduce themselves and talk.

Although I am not near
Enough to hear their voices, cheer

Erupts out of their faces,
Irrupting in the hellish places

They pass—the residue
It leaves is something I once knew.

I dig around my mind—
They’re wandering preachers, nuns, some kind

Of monks. No, missionaries!
And as they rove about, each carries

A bag of pamphlets, books
They give to anyone who looks

Them in the eyes too long.
They always say that they “belong

To the Church of...” what?
I can’t recall the name. I shut

My eyes to concentrate.
What is that word they say they hate,

But really love? It’s Moron,
Right? No, that’s not it. Or mon-

Ist, maybe? No. What is
That word? The Devil says that his

Epiphanies all come
When he stops straining, so I hum

A little tune and try
To dream of other things. But why

Is it so hard to think
With them nearby? A twisted kink

Is tangling up my thoughts
Into a mass of Gordian knots.

Maybe I’ve been below
Too long? Come on, I know

This word... I’ve got it! Mormon!
Now they approach the demon doorman

Read more

Lewis’s Space Trilogy is unique in the world of science fiction. Consisting of Out of the Silent Planet (1938), Perelandra (1943), and That Hideous Strength (1945), it follows the protagonist Elwin Ransom as he encounters righteous aliens and wicked men on Mars, prevents the corruption of a paradisiacal Venus, and continues fighting against the forces of evil on Earth. The worldview in this trilogy is explicitly Christian, relatively pessimistic regarding human nature, and even in some ways medieval. Its emphasis on human fallibility and divine glory contrasts sharply with depictions in many works of science fiction of humans as heroes in an indifferent or hostile universe. The books are certainly “soft science fiction” with scientific accuracy deemphasized and supernatural elements introduced. In fact, while reimagining the story of Adam and Eve in Perelandra, Lewis deliberately sidestepped questions about the historicity of Genesis and the means of creation, describing Ransom as having “a sensation not of following an adventure but of enacting a myth.”1 Later, Ransom speculates that the novel’s characters representing Adam and Eve may have descended “on the physical [as opposed to the spiritual] side” from sea creatures and wonders about the nature of “the man-like things before men in our own world.”2 But these were not the most important questions for Lewis, who saw myths as a source of deeper truth than historical facts. This doesn’t mean that he always disbelieved in the literal truth of supposed myths. He accepted that inspired scripture could contain genres other than history, but he also accepted the miracles in the Gospels as historical and saw the incarnation of divinity as Jesus as being the incarnation of myth as historical fact. Lewis insisted that the “quality of the real universe” is more like the “divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic reality” of George MacDonald’s works of fantasy rather than the mechanical cosmos that many infer from modern scientific discoveries.3 Lewis’s treatment of the creation and Fall narratives should be evaluated on the philosophical and theological ideas that it conveys; speculating about how any of it really worked on a physical level is beside the purpose of the Space Trilogy. For this reason, I’ll focus on a subject that should interest Latter-day Saint readers more than Lewis’s response to scientific materialism: the way his story in Perelandra addresses questions related to our own unique theology.

Perelandra begins with Ransom, already an experienced interplanetary traveler, being transported in the nude to the planet Venus (called “Perelandra” in the book’s fictional version of the Adamic language) by the “Oyarsa” or governing spirit of Mars. He knows only that he is to serve some purpose there in the struggle between good and evil. For a while he explores the planet alone without meeting any other characters. It’s a glorious and colorful paradise whose golden sky is compared to the background of a medieval picture, traditionally representing heavenly light. The land consists of flexible islands floating like mats over the waves of a great ocean.

The first allusion to Genesis comes when Ransom encounters trees with delicious fruit. “Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat.”4 Throughout the book, fruit is used as a symbol of the good things provided by God and enjoyed by humans. One of the fruits comes in two varieties: a bland, banana-like kind of berry and a kind that looks the same externally but is extremely delicious. Ransom feels inspired to refrain from seeking out the better-tasting ones and eating only that kind, lest the pleasure of eating them be spoiled. Latter-day Saint readers may be reminded here of the similar metaphor in D&C 29:39 and Moses 6:55 about “tasting the bitter” in order to “know the sweet.” Both of these use the sense of taste to represent the way that positive experiences can be enhanced by contrast. But the meanings of Lewis’s plain fruit and of the Restoration scriptures’ bitter taste are subtly different. The verses in D&C and Moses are often associated with the doctrine of “opposition in all things” from 2 Nephi 2 and interpreted to mean that goodness is intrinsically dependent on evil, and specifically that to fully enjoy positive experiences one must know evil and have negative experiences. Lewis, however, considered joy to depend not on sorrow but on restraint and obedience. By eating the bland and the delicious berries in their natural proportion, and by showing similar restraint in eating other fruits, Ransom showed gratitude and humility towards the God that provided the fruit and was fit to fully appreciate it. In Lewis’s view, people’s inability to “know the sweet” without “tasting the bitter” is a consequence of our ungrateful, fallen nature; if we had not fallen we would not need bitterness as the healthy do not need medicine.

Having thus already learned theological lessons from the planet itself and its vegetable life, Ransom encounters for the first time a humanoid inhabitant: a green-skinned, nude woman referred to as the Green Lady who it becomes apparent is Perelandra’s equivalent of unfallen Eve.

Read more

To me Earth was always the bright planet,
The blue gleam in a starward window.
But as my feet dragged slower in the moondust
That we had forced to yield us unexpected life,
I could not stop thinking of Earth.
My legs were curious to climb a hill,
My ears to hear the buzzing of a fly.

Read more

Aasim Beaver sat on his haunches, his wide tail tapping the ground. This new wind didn’t carry the smell of cedars or date palms. It smelled of danger and darkness.

It smelled of death.

His tail tapped faster. They should all be in their homes, preparing for whatever was coming. Not gathered like fools discussing the health of local mushroom colonies or squabbling over territories. But Nahar loved these little gatherings, and now that she was pregnant, he wouldn’t let her come alone. He would protect his family at all costs.

He could not fail again.

Nahar rested her tail gently, but firmly, atop his to still it and urged his gaze back to the gnarled stump in the center of the crowd of animals. A wizened brown hare with a half-severed ear ended his rant with a thump of his hind leg, then hopped off the stump.

A mongoose—this season’s community chair-mammal, according to Nahar—scurried atop the stump in his place.

“Thank you,” she squeaked, “for that important reminder that scent markers make good neighbors. Remember to mark what’s yours and respect what’s not.” A tendril of icy air rushed past her, and she shivered. “If there’s no further business—”

“What of my parents?” a deep voice asked from beyond the circle of gathered creatures. Two sharp, ridged horns pierced the lengthening shadows as an adolescent gazelle stepped forward.

“That’s the boy I told you about,” Nahar whispered to Aasim. “He called on the council last week for help finding his parents. They disappeared one night and haven’t returned. He’s busy caring for his younger sisters, poor dear. Otherwise he’d go looking himself.”

The mongoose wouldn’t meet the gazelle’s eyes. “Yes, um . . . you see . . . .”

“Won’t be no search,” the wizened hare grumbled. All ears flicked toward him. The mongoose shot him a disapproving look which he met with a defiant thump.

“Boy’s grown. He don’t need hoof holdin’. He needs the truth.” He turned to the gazelle. “Wolves got your folks. That’s the sorry truth. Makes no sense riskin’ our lives to look for bones. It’s best you move on.”

The gazelle reared and struck his hooves into the forest floor as his voice charged through the night. “It wasn’t wolves!”

Aasim grabbed Nahar’s paw to pull her away. He wouldn’t risk her being around if a fight broke out.

Directly overhead, a branch snapped. Every creature stilled, eyes and ears searching, assessing.

More branches shuddered, drawing closer. Aasim tugged at Nahar, but she resisted and pointed at a giant heron hopping down towards the clearing. “It’s only Traveler.”

Nahar often mentioned the news-bringing bird, claiming he was harmless. Aasim didn’t trust outsiders, however. Especially those with snake-like necks and beaks as sharp as human spears.

The heron perched on the lowest branch, looming over them. “The boy is right. Wolves are not behind these disappearances.”

“These?” The mongoose quivered atop the stump. “There have been more?”

Traveler bobbed his head. “Two water buffalo a day’s flight from here, brother and sister. And a pair of owls, too. There’s never blood, no sign of struggle, no saying good-bye.”

“What happened to them?” the gazelle asked.

“Not what. Who.” The heron leapt from his branch to the center of their gathering and lowered his voice. “The Double-Snatcher.”

Read more

Further Light News

The ebook and print version of our first issue is set to debut this week on February 12! You can preorder copies via Bookshop, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and wherever else you purchase books. Remember that if you’re a paid subscriber on Substack, you’ve already paid for your print copy. We’ll be gearing up to mail out subscriber copies next week.

Want a preview of the new stories you’ll read in issue 1? Check out this review from Tangent Online.

Like what you’ve seen so far and want to join in the fun? Only a few weeks left to make your mark as part of issue 2! Besides what’s listed on our usual Call for Submissions page, we’d specifically like to see more fiction in the genres of space opera and secondary world fantasy. Don’t be afraid to do something wild, with gospel concerns underlying the worldbuilding of course. We’ve also extended our requested fiction length up to 8,000 words; if you’ve got something even longer that might be a good fit, please send us a query at editor@furtherlightmag.com.

We are always in need of interesting nonfiction, so compose your thoughts about the gospel and your favorite tv series or novel, especially if it’s not Brandon Sanderson. Still send it in if it is about Sanderson; we love the Cosmere, but we also need some variety in subject matter.

Interesting Publications

Of course, the current biggest news out there is the announcement of Apple TV signing on to produce adaptations of Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere works. Have I been able to stop smiling since the announcement? Not yet . . .

Over at Wayfare, Gabriel González Núñez’s “Documentary Appendix 1” proposes an alternate version of the restoration, exactly the intersection of speculative and religion that we love.

Nathan Tolman’s “The Borrowed Life” features an accountant discovering his superpower: jumping into the consciousness of other animals and even people. We love the thoughtful ending to this story, published by Still Small Stories.

YouTube channel Religion for Breakfast recently released a comparison of sacred groves in fantasy and real-world religions. Fandoms mentioned include the Legend of Zelda, Avatar (the blue people one), Game of Thrones, and Princess Mononoke. He ends with several challenges for fantasy authors. Will you take one up (and submit it to us)? How might sacred groves have continued to develop in a science fiction era?

Two recent speculative novels with an LDS slant caught our eye:

• Beth Buck’s Worlds without Number is a sci-fi romance about a former LDS missionary and Relief Society president working as a researcher in space who meets an attractive alien man. Kidnapping and enemies to lovers ensues.

• One Day a Year by J. Lamont Jones posits a boy who can travel back in time but only on Pioneer Day and falls in love with one of Brigham Young’s daughters.

Have you read them? We’re looking forward to checking them out!

Read something great that we should know about? Send links to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Interesting Publications.”

Community Events

Feb 12-14 - Life, the Universe, and Everything 44 - Utah’s longest running science fiction and fantasy symposium. It’s not too late to buy tickets! Issue 1 of Further Light will be for sale at the Hemelein Publications table, located by the elevators. I (Liz Busby) will be presenting some of my research on the Stormlight Archive, along with other panels. You can also catch panels with some of our issue 1 authors, including DC Wynters (“Harmony and the Problem of Evil”), WO Hemsath (“The Double-Snatcher”), and Orson Scott Card (“The Man Who Came Back from the Lunar Colony” and “From a Spirit to the One Possessed”). Plan your schedule using their online tool, and be sure to stop by to say hello!

Feb 27-28 - StoryCon 2026 - A national convention celebrating the power of story held in Salt Lake City. Several LDS speculative authors are speaking including Brandon Sanderson. Tickets are now sold out. We’re so excited for those who are going!

Mar 14 - Story-X at BYU-I - We’ve become aware of a new conference mashup between a comic-con and an academic symposium being held at BYU-I this spring. While the submission deadline has passed, we encourage everyone to attend and make the event a success, as the organizer has assured us they want it to become an annual thing.

Got an event we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Community Events.”

Submissions & Deadlines

Feb 28 - Submit to issue 2 of Further Light - Less than a month remains until we start reading for our second issue! We need your fiction, poetry, and essays to make the magazine happen. Come be part of the conversation around Latter-day Saints and speculative fiction!

Mar 29 - Submit a poem to Wayfare’s Behold the Man! - This contest is for poems “about or related to Jesus of Nazareth.” See this page for more details. Winners will be honored at Wayfare’s summer festival. And yes, we checked: your poem may include speculative elements.

Apr 26 - Get your art into The Compass Gallery - This one is for our artist friends: The Compass Gallery is hosting another exhibit of fantasy art this summer titled Lore: The Power of Stories! After visiting their Fantastically Human exhibit last year, we know this one’s gonna be great. Submit your art to be exhibited alongside Steve Argyle and Howard Lyon.

July 20 - Write a review of a fake piece of LDS art - Irreantum is collecting new pieces for a special themed issue of reviews of LDS art. The catch is that these works don’t exist yet. Check out this fake review of a (speculative?) novel written by Brigham Young as an example. I’m hoping for a review of a magical installation or perhaps some space-based performance art.

Got an opportunity we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Submissions & Deadlines.”

He was just resting there, his horn sitting in his lap as though he’d been playing for the quarters passers-by would drop in his hat, overturned on the sidewalk at his feet. The nearest street lamp was burned out, but in the glow from the lamp down the path a ways, I could see that his coat was worn and his trousers were shiny at the knees.

It was impossible to tell how old he might be. But of course he wasn’t just some old Black musician, down on his luck and years removed from his days with Benny Goodman—he was the archangel Gabriel, and he was sitting on my bench.

Read more

Read more

Fantasy is not frivolous. While the genre has often been reduced to formula, fantasy is a means by which authors explore profound questions of the soul. Weronika Łaszkiewicz calls the genre “a modern heir to that mythological tradition in which the fantastic [is] used to question the nature of the material and the spiritual world.”1

This modern inheritance is prominently exhibited by Latter-day Saint authors, who often weave religious ideas and themes into their stories. As one example, Latter-day Saint conceptions of humans’ ability to become gods appear in as diverse works as Orson Scott Card’s Xenocide, Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight, and Charlie Holmberg’s Star Mother. The prominence of these stories and their religious content in the public imagination is significant for two reasons. First, while Latter-day Saints form a very small minority in the United States, authors from this tradition (such as those named above) are some of the most popular in the science fiction and fantasy genres. These authors have routinely made bestseller lists and, in the case of Brandon Sanderson, have had a major impact on the structure of the publishing industry as a whole.

The second reason is more subtle: Many Latter-day Saints are uncomfortable with the idea of everyday members engaging in theology. Theology is defined as “the study of religious faith, practice, and experience.”2 The topics of theology are generally seen by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as the purview of the Church’s leaders, particularly the President of the Church, the First Presidency, and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. When members outside of these leadership positions study and write about these topics, it is often seen as an intrusion on the exclusive privilege of those leaders.

This attitude is revealed by Dave Banack’s 2013 article “What Mormon Theology Looks Like,” where he writes, “the admission that LDS doctrine is firmly in the hands of the Church as an institution and that theology is a largely separate activity makes Mormon theology less threatening.”3 Banack (and Adam S. Miller, whose book is the topic of Banack’s article) makes a distinction between doctrine (the official teachings of the Church) and theology as defined above to delineate the territory where everyday members may operate. In this framework, a Latter-day Saint has no ability to change the official teachings while still being able to engage in theology. Such a distinction is necessary because of Church members’ deep respect for prophetic/institutional authority and the widespread assumption that said authority has exclusive claim to theological matters.

Despite this hesitance among some, the literature of the Latter-day Saints is full of theology. Fantasy provides a context in which Latter-day Saints can engage in discussions that might otherwise be seen as suspect or subversive. Fantasy worlds, whether secondary or not, provide a sandbox where authors can reason about God, faith, and religion without direct application to our own reality. Sometimes, these theological experiments lead to different conclusions than those taught by the institutional church.

As an initial example of this thesis, I examine the theological content of Brandon Sanderson’s Wax & Wayne series. Weronika Łaskiewicz reviewed the series as a whole in her book Fantasy Literature and Christianity. In contrast, I focus on one theological theme in the series: the problem of evil. Sanderson addresses this perennial Christian problem in a series of dialogues between the main character of the series, Wax, and the god called Harmony. These dialogues not only incorporate elements of Latter-day Saint solutions to the problem of evil, but also move beyond them to engage in meaningful dialogue with the broader religious community.

Read more

Leaning against the dubious cover of a crumbling chimney, Field Agent Nils Lund ejected the empty magazine of his Browning-Odgen automatic pistol and slapped in a new one.

The Paris slum La Vilette snaked in all directions, rooftops twisting maze-like limned but dimly by the sliver of moon. Streets below were lit not at all. The gas streetlamps of the La Vilette had been ripped up years before while residents awaited electrification. They still waited. French planning.

He racked the slide.

“I thought Paris was the City of Lights,” Lund told his French associate who also served as his minder.

“And I thought Mormons had magic bullets,” M. Dupin growled back at his Deseretan charge, knowing full well what bullets Lund had in his pockets. He’d frisked Lund often enough.

The fat, mustachioed Frenchman fumbled in the dark to reload the cylinder of his revolver. Some of that was due to the gun having to be loaded wrong-handedly; the cylinder on a Lebel swung out on the right side, the rifle-length 8mm pistol cartridges were long and clumsy to load. 8mm. Leave it to the French to be needlessly unique. The overly slender reed-like barrel of the Lebel made it look like a toy and it had the stopping power of a spit wad.

“I, at least, hit our prey,” Dupin boasted, jamming the last round in.

Dupin had not, but what would be the point of arguing with the fat man?

As for the whipcord-lean Deseretan, Lund had grouped the entire contents of his magazine of ordinary copper bullets—seven in all—dead center into the thing they were chasing. Alas, his bullseyes had accomplished no more against the creature than Dupin’s six wild misses.

That the Frenchman had missed was only to be expected. Dupin was an amateur, after all.

All of the secret agents of France’s Rue Morgue were amateurs. Amateur part-time secret agents. The Rue believed that all that was needed to face down a supernatural menace was elan. Elan and simply being French. Training and proper equipment were superfluous.

Lund snorted. If French elan truly overcame all obstacles, the Rue would not have needed to turn to a hated Mormon for help—a Mormon agent trained up to the exacting standards of the independent Republic of Deseret’s Correlation Department.

Lund peeked around the edge of the chimney. The creature was still on the next rooftop over, its great bulk blending into the thickening fog.

Down on the street, a cat screeched and a dustbin lid clanged. Shrill police whistles tweetled. Shoe leather slapped cobblestone, echoing in all directions. The flics—the Parisian police—undoubtedly rushing to-and-fro, blue serge cape aflutter, nightsticks drawn like cavalry swords for a charge and haring off after what they thought was the creature.

“It’s down on the street!” Dupin cried, trying to peer over the coping. He fumbled with his cased baton.

Now he’s getting it out!

“The police have it cornered, certainement!” Dupin insisted.

“The police are chasing a cat, certainement,” Lund said. The Frenchman was supposed to be a private detective of some note. Couldn’t he even follow sounds?

“The creature will get away!” Dupin insisted.

Lund plucked the cased marshal’s baton from the fat fingers of his French minder. The Rue Morgue marshal’s baton was the sole piece of arcane equipment the French agency issued its agents. If Lund had used his baton on the creature earlier instead of his pistol, they might have just captured it then and there.

“It’s not getting away,” Lund said. He extracted the baton and tossed the empty gutta-percha case away. It clattered off the cobblestones down in the street, which would no doubt turn the flics back this direction in their snipe hunt.

One could only hope.

Lund gave the baton a couple practice strokes. It felt good in his hand. Solid. Fashioned well. Eighteen inches long and one inch thick. Plated with silver and chased with fleurs-de-lis. Underneath, the rod was iron. A very special iron. The same selenite meteor that Charlemagne’s mystic sword Joyeuse was fashioned from. Much about the Rue Morgue was a sad joke; their batons were not.

He’d need it for what needed to be done next.

Ordinary bullets wouldn’t stop the creature and Lund had been sent to France without the usual Departmental load out of runed rounds. The “magic bullets,” as the Dupin had so sneeringly called them. Without access to arcane ammunition—Curse his boss for being right. Resupply, indeed!—Dupin’s baton would have to serve.

Provided Lund could shake his watchdog.

The creature was fifty-feet straight ahead, crouching as Lund was behind a chimney. Lund could hear it scraping against the brick.

“Listen!” Lund exclaimed. “It is down in the street!”

Dupin, already distracted by the snatch of his baton, fell for it. He faced away from Lund and hung his whole fat face over the coping to stare downward into the dark.

Lund tensed his legs in just a certain way, activating the hidden springheel jacks on his boots. Tensile coils of rarefied air lifted him noiselessly a good thirty yards in the air. To Dupin, it would seem, once he turned around again, like Lund had simply vanished into the fog.

The Deseret agent landed catfooted on the other side of the chimney, less than an arm’s length from his crouching quarry. Man-shaped the creature might be—seven feet tall and four-hundred pounds—but it was no man even though it wore an ankle-length greatcoat and an enormous floppy-brimmed hat.

Gaston Leroux. Or rather, what Gaston Leroux had become.

Lund stabbed the borrowed baton into the small of the creature’s back. Blue eldritch lightning lit up the Paris rooftop.

Read more

In some ways, this magazine began back in the fall of 2007 at BYU when I first took a course on the Literature of the Latter-day Saints. Though that class mostly centered around realistic fiction and poetry, as a proper nerd, I convinced my instructor to let me write my final paper about the history of Latter-day Saints in science fiction. I spent hours in the library digging into articles about Orson Scott Card and Battlestar Galactica, as well as discussions of Mormon cameos in novels by Robert Heinlein and Piers Anthony.1 This was just as the pop culture world was becoming familiar with the name Stephenie Meyer and long before most people had heard of Brandon Sanderson. My brief glimpse into the world of the LDS fantastic electrified my imagination. I had grown up reading Card’s novels and enjoyed the idea that he was one of us—as all minorities take pleasure in the hometown boy who made good—but until that point I had never really thought about the potential of science fiction and fantasy as a particularly Latter-day Saint genre. For me, the connection was now clear: unlike the polygamy novels we read in class which seemingly dealt with only angst, complication, and doubt, or the devotional novels that skimmed the surface of what it meant to be a good Latter-day Saint, our fantastic literature was able to dive into the revolutionary perspective of the Restoration, the way that our unorthodox view on so many theological questions opened up an expansive space for human potential, to examine the implications of what it means to believe radically.

Every few years since then (at least it seems so to me as someone who had a vested interest), a major news outlet discovered the prevalence and success of fantasy and science fiction writing in Utah and felt compelled to investigate, often because a major motion picture based on a novel written by a Latter-day Saint was about to be released. These reports usually gestured at the uniqueness of our theology—our belief in other inhabited worlds, in modern revelation, in human potential and theosis—as somehow priming us to write about the fantastic. Some pointed to our conservative culture and saw genre fiction as hearkening back to a simpler time where our values were more accepted, avoiding dealing with the more realistic and depressing themes of “real” literature. Some even concluded that for people writing about aliens and magic, we were disappointingly boring and family-oriented and liked an inordinate amount of salt on our food.2 Of course, there is truth to all of these things (especially the salt one—my grandmother kept a saltshaker in her purse for emergencies). But these outside perspectives never seemed to capture that vision I had glimpsed as an undergrad of how the fantastic could bring Latter-day Saint theology from the background to center stage, giving the author and the reader room to really examine the immense possibilities and intense implications of the Restoration.

Of course, all through this time there have actually been Latter-day Saints—authors, fans, scholars—writing about how genre fiction illuminates the gospel and producing fantastical stories with a deeply Restorationist worldview. But their work has been scattered through various blogs, academic and literary journals, and fan websites. I could find them because I was constantly prowling the internet for just such things, but to the average Latter-day Saint, none of it was accessible.

This magazine was born out of a desire to have somewhere clear to send people when I talk about Latter-day Saints and speculative fiction and they ask where they can go for more. The goal of Further Light is to be a center of gravity for all things about Latter-day Saints and the fantastic. In these pages, we hope to move beyond the standard question of why there are so many Mormon characters in science fiction, and instead show how a science fiction story can be radically transformed when its Latter-day Saint characters are deeper than the aesthetics of a nametag and a smile. Instead of asking why so many LDS authors turn to writing fantasy, we will explore what we learn about the Restoration perspective on the divine by examining it through the lens of myth and subcreation. Instead of asking why not instead write something realistic and faith-promoting (as some unfortunately still do), we will unearth when Latter-day Saint speculative fiction actually got started by publishing works from earlier authors that show that Latter-day Saint fiction has in some ways always been speculative fiction.

Of course, selfishly, my hope is that the existence of this magazine will also incentivize the creation of new Latter-day Saint science fiction and fantasy, work that engages with the edge cases of our theological knowledge and pushes on the gap between our culture as it exists and as it needs to be. Speculative fiction is a great tool for asking questions that don’t have tidy answers, and I believe that our work doesn’t have to be didactic in order to take faith seriously. I hope that the weirdness of science fiction and the mythic quality of fantasy create a place where faith and complexity can exist side by side, where we can wrestle with the angels of the Restoration, where questions don’t always lead to a loss of belief but a deepening of it.

The pieces in this first issue represent a wide range of genres, tones, and styles. They range from alternate history to magical realism, from an analysis of popular authors and streaming series to riffs on classic literature, from humorous and hopeful to dark and uncertain. As you read, I hope you find your mind and faith expanded and enjoy this first step in our journey towards further light.

Liz Busby
Editor-in-Chief

Issue 1 Cover and Contents Reveal

And now the moment you’ve been waiting for! Here is your first look at the cover of issue 1 of Further Light, with art by Emily E. Jones, and the online publication schedule for our first issue. Note that the cover will continue to develop as we move towards publication, but we wanted to get things rolling with our online version this week.

About the Artist: EMILY E. JONES is a freelance illustrator currently residing in northern Utah, after receiving her Bachelor of Fine Arts from Brigham Young University in 2022. She aims to enchant with a variety of both traditional and digital illustrations, many of them whimsical and fantasy-themed. Emily has always been an avid reader as well, and loves to tell visual stories based on the books that inspire her! Her favorite things are cats, pastries, not-too-long hikes, playing piano, and finding wonder in the everyday. Find more of her work on theartofemilye.com.

Issue 1 Publication Schedule:

Jan 13 - “Opera of the Abyss, Part 1: Murder and the Rue Morgue” by Lee Allred
Jan 20 - “Harmony and the Problem of Evil” by DC Wynters
Jan 27 - “Ivy” by Sadie Marie Hutchings
Feb 3 - “Commitment” by Brian K. Lowe
Feb 17 - “The Double-Snatcher” by WO Hemsath
Feb 24 - “The Man Who Came Back from the Lunar Colony” by Orson Scott Card
Mar 3 - “A Latter-day Saint Reading of CS Lewis’s Perelandra” by Cameron Price
Mar 10 - “The Fallen” by DA Cooper
Mar 17 - “Charity Never Faileth” by Jaleta Clegg
Mar 31 - “Journey Before Destination, Faith Before Certainty: Experiencing Belief in Wind and Truth” by Liz Busby
Apr 7 - “Young Hagoth Plays It Safe” by Theric Jepson
Apr 14 - “Rented Room” by JS Absher
Apr 21 - “Music of the Spirit” by Annaliese Lemmon
Apr 28 - “Why Andor’s Grown-Up Heroes Matter to Faithful Adults” by Alan Hurst
May 5 - “Carta del Cap. Robert Walton a José Smith”/”A Letter from Captain Robert Walton to Joseph Smith” by R. de la Lanza
May 12 - “From a Spirit to the One Possessed” by Orson Scott Card
May 26 - “Voices from the Dust” by Jeanna Mason Stay
Jun 2 - “Grandmother’s Rocking Chair” by Nephi Anderson, with introduction by Kent Larson
Jun 9 - “Aslan or Qslan? Insights into Latter-day Saint Cosmology from the Sci-fi/Fantasy Divide” by Jeffrey Thayne and Jacob Ross
Jun 16 - “Death” by Carol Lynn Pearson
Jun 23 - “The Mothers” by Chanel Earl
Jun 30 - “The Enemy Has a Body: A Confidential Memo” by Jordan Lake

Can’t wait to read your new favorite story? Subscribe now to get the print edition containing all 22 pieces as soon as it’s available!

Subscribe now

January 2026 Newsblotter

As part of Further Light’s mission to gather together a community who is interested in the conversation about LDS speculative fiction, we publish a free monthly-ish roundup of news, events, and interesting publications. If we missed something that you think should be included, please drop us a note!

Interesting Publications

Fantasy fans might recognize a few of the locations Nephi visits in Mario Montani’s “Tres Jornadas Intertextuales de Nephi”/“Three Days of Nephi’s Intertextual Travels” from Wayfare Magazine.

YouTube channel Marvelous Wonder put together a compelling explanation of the temple endowment through the Superman movie Man of Steel (2013).

Elissa Nysetvold wrote about KPop Demon Hunters as “the feel-good Christian movie of the year” for its portrayal of the need for redemption.

Further Light editor Jeremiah Scanlan wrote about belonging, building community, and his experience at Dragonsteel Nexus for Wayfare Magazine.

Saints & Cinephiles published an interview with Michael Bahnmiller, who produced the cinematic album Kaladin inspired by The Way of Kings. Someday we'll get a movie of the Stormlight Archive, but until then, Kaladin is the next best thing. We enjoyed learning about all the effort that went into conceptualizing and producing the album.

Read something great that we should know about? Send links to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Interesting Publications.”

Community Events

Feb 12-14 - Life, the Universe, and Everything 44 - Utah’s longest running science fiction and fantasy symposium. The Guests of Honor are Ron Clements (writer and director of The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and my brother’s favorite Treasure Planet), Charlie N. Holmberg (writer of many fantastic fantasy romance series), and Matt Dinniman (of Dungeon Crawler Carl fame). LTUE is a great place to meet favorite authors, form a writing group, or pitch your novel. Registration is $90, with a special $15 ticket for students. We hope to see you there!

Feb 27-28 - StoryCon 2026 - A national convention celebrating the power of story held in Salt Lake City. Several LDS speculative authors are speaking including Brandon Sanderson. We’ve never been, so if you go, be sure to tell us about it!

Got an event we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Community Events.”

Submissions & Deadlines

Jan 31 - Submit your temple-themed work to Irreantum - Their Temple issue is collecting through the end of the month.

Feb 1 - Submit to Still Small Stories - Fellow LDS Substack publication Still Small Stories is open for submissions. They are definitely open to speculative work and pay $50 per story, so make sure to send something in!

Feb 28 - Submit to Further Light issue 2 - Send in your work to be included in Further Light’s second issue! Besides what’s listed on our usual Call for Submissions page, we'd specifically like to see more fiction in the genres of space opera and secondary world fantasy. Don’t be afraid to do something wild! We are also always in need of interesting nonfiction, so compose your thoughts about the gospel and your favorite tv series or novel, especially if it’s not Brandon Sanderson. (Still send it in if it is about Sanderson; we love the Cosmere, but we also need some variety in subject matter.)

Apr 26 - Get your art into The Compass Gallery - This one is for our artist friends: The Compass Gallery is hosting another exhibit of fantasy art this summer titled “Lore: The Power of Stories”! After visiting their “Fantastically Human” exhibit last year, we know this one’s gonna be great. Submit your art to be exhibited alongside Steve Argyle and Howard Lyon.

July 20 - Write a review of a fake piece of LDS art - Irreantum is collecting new pieces for a special themed issue of reviews of LDS art. The catch is that these works don’t exist yet. Check out this fake review of a (speculative?) novel written by Brigham Young as an example. I’m hoping for a review of a magical installation or perhaps some space-based performance art.

Got an opportunity we missed? Send information to editor@furtherlightmag.com with the subject line “Submissions & Deadlines.”