Review of "Falling From Disgrace" by Tammy S. Dietz

​Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)

What happens when the faith that shaped your whole world also becomes the thing that wounds you most?

Falling From Disgrace by Tammy S. Dietz is not just a memoir about growing up LDS. It is a memoir about shame, silence, survival, and the brutal work of learning your worth outside the systems that denied it.

We have to preface this by saying that this book presents heavy critiques about a sizable international religion (Mormonism). It can also, secondly, serve as quite a critique of organized religion in general. It's a bit like Cult Girls by Natalie Grand, in a sense, a book which presented a scathing portrayal and critique of Jehovah's Witnesses and their religion. Grand had spoken as a former Jehovah's Witness. Likewise, Dietz speaks as a former Latter Day Saint/Mormon.

With that said, if that's something that will bother you or make you personally uncomfortable, then you might have to take that into consideration. However, the author doesn't concern herself with your comfort level. She's not out to sugar coat things. Instead, Dietz concerns herself with telling the truth—HER truth. And that means something. It's authentic, it's genuine, it's raw. It matters.

Falling From Disgrace is a memoir about growing up in a devout Mormon family in Northern California, with Utah functioning almost like a spiritual homeland. Early on, Tammy is sincere, impressionable, and deeply invested in the faith, but cracks start appearing through things like Brigham Young’s polygamy, racist church teachings, rigid gender roles, modesty culture, and invasive worthiness interviews. At the same time, her home life is unstable: money is tight, her mother becomes increasingly withdrawn and neglectful, and shame becomes one of the main ways the family tries to control behavior.

In the meantime, Tammy engages in illegal acts like shoplifting, which ironically takes a back seat to other acts that her church looks more harshly upon like premarital sex and cohabitation. There's a constant tug-a-war between Tammy's wants and desires and that of her parents (particularly her conservative fundamentalist father) and the LDS church.

The church places a lot of emphasis on two aspects of Tammy's life: her sexual activity and tithing. This facilitates her eventual realization that the LDS church might be more interested in money and controlling female members for patriarchal, misogynistic reasons than in actual salvation through Jesus Christ.

Now, just to be clear, we're not necessarily endorsing this idea, but the book does make a strong personal argument for it.

Tammy is basically told that losing her sexual purity is worse than being dead.
It's essentially a ticket straight to hell (or at least the best way to be left out of heaven).

Tammy's crisis of faith and romantic/sexual relationships create a ton of tension, particuarly between Tammy and her father. This is a throughline that runs across the entirety of the book, leading readers to wonder if they can ever reconcile or not. It's good tension and drama. And it's also very relatable. We've all had falling outs and disagreements with loved ones.

Anyway, here in Utah (ironically), it has long been purported that many homeless youth end up that way because they've been disowned or kicked out of their homes for being LGBTQ+ or simply sexually active before marriage. Salt Lake City is the heart of the LDS Church, the location of the temple—the same temple which plays a rather huge part in the background of the book, with the author constantly dreaming of a fairy-tale-like wedding ceremony there.

This book is actually full of engaging real-life romance. One of our favorite pairings is between Tammy and Steve. There is something sweet, youthful, and genuinely affecting about that relationship. It feels like one of those connections that briefly offers Tammy a glimpse of tenderness and possibility in a life otherwise dominated by pressure, guilt, and scrutiny. Of course, this memoir is not naive about romance either. Love does not magically erase trauma, nor does attraction automatically lead to safety or stability. That is part of what makes the relationship material in this book feel so human.

Mike is also a hugely important figure in the memoir, arguably even more so in the grand scheme of Tammy's life. While Steve brings some of the spark, Mike brings a kind of steadiness. He feels like someone Tammy can actually build a life with, not just dream with. That matters. Especially in a memoir like this, where the author spends so much time trying to separate fantasy from reality, religious idealism from lived experience, and institutional promises from actual human care.

The author also isn't shy about sharing an uncomfortable and inappropriate relationship that a teacher, Mr. Bittle, tried to have with her when she was too young and naive to know any better. Mr. Bittle is essentially a predator. He charms her with attention, cards/notes comparing them to Dorothy & the Scarecrow from The Magical Wizard of Oz, asking for/hinting at affection, and trying to her her alone with him on his motorcycle. He seems to be grooming her.

In presenting the story of Mr. Bittle, the author also highlights one of the books key themes: the wrongfully exploitation of girls and women in this type of society (or in society in general). Girls and women are often treated as existing for the needs of men, sexual or otherwise. They are taken advantage of.

In a sense, Mr. Bittle is just one of many predatory male forces. He is exemplary of the larger problem.

This is a fascinating read!

Check it out on Amazon!