Instead, our resident webwright, Scott Allen (you can see his work on my websites, www.hatrack.com, www.nauvoo.com, www.ornery.org, www.strongverse.com, and www.taleswapper.com), put his laptop in the trunk of my Crown Vic and drove me up highway 220 and I-81 twice a week. While I taught three hours of classes, he hooked into the SVU computer system in the office of my coteacher, Robert Stoddard, and worked on our websites.
For some inexplicable reason, it turned out that throughout the semester, I was only able to really concentrate and solve the writing problems of this novel while I was working on my laptop in the car during those drives. So about three-fourths of this novel was written within arm’s reach of Scott Allen. I have never written a book with somebody else in the room until now. I’m just glad he’s even more of an introvert than I am—he was perfectly content to drive in silence for hours on end.
Meanwhile, we got to know every McDonald’s and Subway between Greensboro and Buena Vista. Thanks, Scott, for service above and beyond the call of your official job description—loose as that already was!
This book is dedicated to Robert and D’Ann Stoddard. It’s a wonderful thing when a dear friend from bachelor days marries a woman that becomes as good a friend as he is. Over the past decades, Kristine and I have come to think of Robert and D’Ann as some of the dearest friends in our lives. But until the fall of 2003, we only got to see them when we went to Los Angeles—or, occasionally, when Robert’s job at UCLA took him to Washington DC on a lobbying expedition. Now he teaches at the new LDS-oriented Southern Virginia University (which took over the name and campus of what used to be a women’s college, which had long occupied a onetime resort in the Shenandoah Valley), so we get to see Robert and D’Ann far more often than before—to our delight.
For those who don’t know, Robert was my collaborator on many theatrical projects when we were both in college. Steeped in musical comedy, Robert arrived at BYU in 1969 armed with extraordinary talent as a composer, writer, and performer—and almost as much ambition as I had. Once we started working together, we both produced some of the best work in our theatrical writing careers, though Robert never really needed me—he does brilliant work on his own.
Robert’s ties with my career, as well as my life, are many. For instance, my book Folk of the Fringe began as a project to write a post-apocalyptic musical drama with Robert. We have some of the songs written, and all we’re waiting for is my script for Pageant Wagon.
The very book you’re holding is owed to a collaboration from our college days. I wrote the play Stone Tables, about Moses and Aaron, while I was a missionary in Brazil, and sent it off to Charles W. Whitman, my favorite professor and good friend in the BYU theatre department. Dr. Whitman (sorry, I can never call him by any other name; it would be like giving the Pope a nickname) immediately put it on the mainstage production schedule for the winter of 1973, and wrote back to tell me that Robert Stoddard—with whom I had already collaborated on several projects before my mission—was writing the music for the songs.
Songs? What songs?
I had written the play in verse—still my preferred form. (Yes, that’s right. I also wrote a long set of poetic essays in heroic couplets. I may never recover from my one-sided love affairs with William Shakespeare and Alexander Pope. “One-sided” because, as far as I know, neither one of them has ever bothered to read anything of mine.) Seeing the words so nicely lined up in rows, Dr. Whitman made the connection I hadn’t made. It was Robert’s music—edgy, dramatic, powerful—that elevated the production to real event status at BYU that winter. It was so successful they held it over for a couple of weeks, and were still turning people away from packed houses at the end. I missed all of that, being a missionary in Brazil—they don’t let you go home just because you have a big opening night. But I’ve heard recordings and I knew all of the actors anyway, either before or after my mission.
Years later, determined to get Robert’s brilliant music before the public, I made a deal with Deseret Book (the parent company of Shadow Mountain, which published this volume in hardcover) to record and publish a CD of Robert’s and my music from Stone Tables, to be marketed along with a novelization of the play, which I would write.
That book marked my return to writing adaptations of scriptural stories. That’s what half my playwriting in college consisted of, but in those days I knew I was writing for a Mormon audience. Now, with Stone Tables, I deliberately opened the book to any reader who cared about the story of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam, whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or unbeliever. I don’t require the reader to believe—or disbelieve—that God is speaking to these characters. What matters is that they believe it, and act accordingly.
Stone Tables as a novel worked—to my satisfaction, anyway—and so it was only natural to look for a chance to do it again. That’s when I contacted Deseret Book’s then-competitor in the LDS publishing market, Bookcraft, where publisher Cory Maxwell made a deal with me over the phone for six books, the three “Women of Genesis” (Sarah, Rebekah, and Rachel and Leah) and three others about women in the Book of Mormon. Whereupon Bookcraft promptly sold itself to Deseret Book and these books became Shadow Mountain novels. (Later, TOR, my science fiction publisher, acquired the rights to at least the first two books in the series in mass market paperback.)
Fortunately, Cory Maxwell was acquired right along with Bookcraft, and he is still my publisher for this series of scripture-based novels. Kristine and I consider him, along with his boss, the inestimable and delightful Sheri Dew, to be friends as well as collaborators in the publishing biz.
In fact, just to take this full circle, Sheri Dew, the chief of the creative end of Deseret Book (i.e., she’s in charge of everything that directly affects me except signing the checks), has theatrical roots—and back in college days, she was part of a USO tour of Alaskan military bases where the pianist was none other than … Robert Stoddard. There are twelve million Mormons, but apparently we all still know each other.
Anyway, this network of connections between Robert Stoddard and this book made it obvious to me that this book should be dedicated to him and D’Ann, who know more than a little bit about how two strangers can create a marriage that is more than the sum of its parts. In a book like this, which is about marriage, I couldn’t think of anyone more appropriate to receive the dedication. However, I can assure you that Robert never married any of D’Ann’s sisters.
There are several others who contributed to this novel, besides those already mentioned. My wife, Kristine, read every chapter as soon as I managed to squeeze it out of my head, and made many good suggestions and corrections. I also showed the chapters to Erin Absher and, between her cruises, Kathryn H. Kidd, who were both very helpful, even though they were reading chapters sometimes weeks apart. It’s a good thing they both had Genesis chapter 29 to help them keep continuity.
Parts of the book were also written in the home of my cousin Mark and his wife Margaret, whose generosity seems to know no boundaries—and believe me, I’ve tested them strenuously.
Besides Sheri and Cory, we’ve had other good friends at Deseret Book who’ve been of great help in creating this series. Richard Peterson is the editor who makes sure that errors in this series are rare—though I remain responsible for any that survive. On previous books we’ve taken great pleasure in working with Emily Watts and Kathie Terry, who have both moved on to other work while this book was still aborning. We’ll miss working with them.
And thanks to Tom Doherty, my publisher at TOR and still the best friend a writer’s career could ever have, for picking up these out–of-genre books and keeping them alive in mass-market paperback editions.
It’s probably absurd to thank Mel Gibson, who has no idea this book even exists, but if these books are ever adapted for film or television productions, it will be because he opened the door to serious, faithful film adaptations of scripture with his brilliant and courageous production of The Passion of the Christ. Even though at this writing, Hollywood
seems determined to treat The Passion as a fluke and continue to ignore the huge audience for well-written, well-performed, well-filmed scriptural movies, that might change, and if it does, it will be because he opened the door.
In the end, though, this novel is owed to the people who have taught me what marriage is. My parents, Willard and Peggy Card, created the first of many marriages I’ve had a chance to observe and learn from, but observation is never enough. It wasn’t until Kristine Allen agreed to form a new family with me that I began to really understand how this sort of thing is supposed to be done. Unfortunately, she didn’t get a prophet as a husband—they’re rather thin on the ground, I’m afraid—and nothing about our lives together has been anything like what she might have expected when we made that bargain twenty-seven years ago, but together we’ve faced enough challenges that I might actually know what I’m talking about when I try to write about what marriage means in the lives of women and men.
When it comes to the next book, though, our kids—Geoffrey, Emily, and Zina—won’t have been any help at all. Where are the terrible sibling rivalries that might have prepared me to write about parents trying to raise Joseph and his brothers? Nor has any of them wiped out an entire middle-eastern village in order to avenge the rape of their sister. And as for Judah and his daughter-in-law … let’s just leave that one alone. Mind you, I’m not complaining. The last thing a parent wants is to raise children with lives as interesting as Jacob’s had.
READER’S GROUP
GUIDE
The stories of the women who went before us teach us something of our own lives, and never more so than in Orson Scott Card’s novel Rachel and Leah. In this fascinating work of historical fiction, Card paints a vivid picture of the intertwined lives of four complicated women. Here we meet Leah, the oldest daughter of Laban, whose “tender eyes” prevent her from participating fully in the work and social structure of her father’s camp; Rachel, the spoiled younger daughter, who is from Leah’s perspective the petted and privileged beauty of the family; Bilhah, an orphan who is not quite a slave but not really a family member and searching to fit in; and Zilpah, who knows only how to use her beauty to manipulate men and who longs for something better than the life of drudgery and servitude into which she was born.
Into their lives comes Jacob, a handsome and charismatic kinsman who is clearly fated to be Rachel’s husband. But that doesn’t prevent the other three women from seeking for a way to be a part of his life.
Card captures vividly the anguish, the fear, and the techniques women probably had to employ to succeed in the Old Testament world. Beyond that, his portrayal of the power of religion—especially of the word of God—infuses the book with an epic feeling that transcends most fiction.
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The questions that follow were created to stimulate thought and discussion about Rachel and Leah. We hope this guide will enrich your experience and be a helpful starting point for meaningful discussion.
1. It’s interesting that the first chapter of a book titled Rachel and Leah would feature as its focus a different woman entirely. Why do you think Card began this story with Bilhah? What does this show us about how our lives in mortality are intertwined with the stories of others?
2. In chapter 3, Rachel describes to her father a vision she has had, and he dismisses it as too vague and unclear to be real. Later events prove the truth of the vision. Have you ever had spiritual experiences with meanings that were not fully clear until later on? Why does God teach us in this way at times?
3. What is your first impression of Jacob? Is he someone you would be interested in knowing better, after seeing his encounter with Rachel at the well?
4. With the introduction of Zilpah in chapter 5, we have now met all four of Jacob’s future wives. Was it a surprise to you to see how young they all were when Jacob first joined Laban’s household? What feelings from your own adolescent years are you reminded of by their squabblings? What changes in their attitudes and behavior took place in each over the seven years leading to the first marriage? Which of the four women would you be likeliest to identify with?
5. In chapter 8, Leah summons the courage to ask Jacob to help her find in the holy books answers to her deepest questions. He tells her he knows “what it means to be alive when God seems to have no purpose for you.” What experiences might he have had to make him feel this way? Have you ever experienced such feelings yourself? Have the scriptures had answers for you?
6. Leah’s questions in chapter 11 about her handicap raise the issue of God’s love for us and his willingness to intervene in our lives. What purpose might Leah’s suffering serve for her? How does God’s scriptural invitation to “walk with me” affect Leah? What difference would it make in our own questioning if we would accept that invitation?
7. Zilpah tells Leah, “I’m always happy,” to which Leah retorts, “You can’t just decide to be happy.” Whom do you believe? Is happiness a choice? Is anger? What can we learn from Leah and Zilpah about how much control we have over our feelings and emotions? Jacob makes a statement that holds one key: “Everyone wants to be happy, even if everything they choose to do keeps them from happiness. The trick is to get them to understand what will make them happy.” What is it in your experience that contributes to happiness?
8. In chapter 22 we meet Choraz, the third brother of Rachel and Leah, and his wife, Hasseweh. What do you make of Hasseweh? Have you ever met someone who resembles her? What might her motives be in trying to frighten Rachel out of marrying Jacob? What does this show about how the adversary exploits our weaknesses?
9. What do you think of Laban’s plan, in chapters 27 and 28, for sparing Rachel from the marriage that is frightening her so?
10. The book ends on a somewhat somber note. Card plans to write a sequel to be titled The Wives of Israel. If you were creating the sequel, what would you have happen with each of these characters and their relationships with each other?
11. What aspects of Card’s writing do you most admire? Is there anything in his style or his portrayal of these people and the era in which they lived that makes you uneasy?
Rachel and Leah (Women of Genesis) Page 32
