These days—with political polarization, Covid-19 and vaccine misinformation, and conspiracy theories dominating the news—cults get a lot of media attention. While some of it is well done, much of it is sensationalized, especially if those covering it are not former members themselves, cult-informed mental health professionals, or cultic studies experts. Generally, media outlets and entertainment venues tend to rely on stereotypical tropes about cults, on victim blame, or on judgments about those who “join” cults.
That is why as a former member and cult recovery counselor, when it comes to fictional depictions of cults, I mentally prepare for the frustrating experience of just another one dimensional, overly sensationalized, and simplified version of this complex problem.
I was pleased to discover that the novel The Contraption is a welcome exception.
When I read author Bart Stewart’s manuscript, I found that not only was it NOT one more trite and superficial account of a cultic tale, but it was also well-researched, nuanced, insightful, and educational. In the spirit of the writing dictum, “Show, don’t tell,” Stewart’s narrative demonstrates how intelligent people can get lured in, indoctrinated, and hooked by coercive groups. He further reveals how the inner workings of high-demand groups take advantage of the human need for social connection, purpose, and meaning. The novel includes an in-depth exploration of the emotional experiences of those who lose people that they love to cults.
The Contraption tells the story of a woman’s recruitment, indoctrination, and entrapment, and her fiancé’s fight to spring her free. The storyline reads like a fictional spy novel, with the first page immediately kicking into action by drawing the reader right into a bizarre recruitment ritual. Then it carries the reader forward, as group recruiters spirit their target, Audrey, away from her family into their “church.” Meanwhile, we meet her fiancé, Mattias, when he learns that she has disappeared. With their wedding date set and plans in motion, he is determined to find her.
The pacing of events is akin to that in Liam Neeson’s iconic action film Taken, which does require readers to suspend belief to some extent. In Stewart’s novel, the quick pacing serves the deeper purpose of engaging the reader into the story, teasing them to turn the page and find out what happens next, all while the author deftly sews critical cult education material into each chapter. Often what happens next is not what one would expect.
In addition to the compelling plot, the characterization is strong. The two main characters are flawed and thereby believable. Audrey is not a lost soul. She is complex and intelligent, and the recruitment machine leverages her idealism. Those of us in cultic studies or cult recovery know that most people who find themselves ensnared by cults are precisely those bright enough to wonder why society is the way it is. They are people who seek answers and information about life. They are not more lost than most other people. Rather they are people who encounter grifters in vulnerable moments. As for Mattias, his determination to save his future wife, while admirable, is unrealistic; he underestimates the enemy and overestimates his ability. This is not your simple “hero-rescues-damsel-in-distress” narrative.
Stewart also demonstrates how untrustworthy recruiters groom Audrey by deceptively playing on her hopes, ideals, and vulnerabilities. As is common in cults, these recruiters have vetted her through a source. But they present as if they have special powers and can see into her soul. She doesn’t join a cult, just as no one else joins a cult. She’s deceived into a belief system.
Once firmly in the clutches of this group, Audrey’s misadventure keeps accelerating, catapulting her into the bizarre cultic world of sacred science that has a revolving door of names and front groups: Church of the Mountain of Transfiguring Radiance; Heart’s Lighthouse Fellowship of Triumph; Clock Tower Executive Management Advisors; God’s Army of Eternal Honor. We see that the deeper she gets, the more the indoctrination shreds her psyche, with all the common cult tricks impairing her critical thinking skills and further isolating her from her life, family, friends, and self.
As is common in cults, these recruiters have vetted her through a source. But they present as if they have special powers and can see into her soul. She doesn’t join a cult, just as no one else joins a cult. She’s deceived into a belief system.
I appreciate how Stewart demonstrates the confusing and ambiguous process of cult recruitment. Since no one joins a cult (in fact, if most people knew ahead of time what they were signing up for, they would decline), concerned family and friends on the outside, who often have no information, are asking themselves: What is happening here? Stewart illustrates this confusion through Mattias’ befuddlement about Audrey’s sudden disappearance and uncharacteristic behavior. At first, he thinks she’s been kidnapped. Then, once he recognizes that she’s been recruited, he is determined to get her out.
Mattias also runs into the familiar (to the cult-informed) societal roadblocks and misunderstandings by law enforcement about coercively controlling situations. He realizes that he’s not going to get help from the typical public safety institutions—they don’t have the tools or understanding. When he goes in search of support and answers he finds them in unlikely places. Stewart uses this part of the book to demonstrate the ripple effect of cultic abuse and damage on larger communities.
Without revealing too much and being a spoiler, I found the ending to be the most realistic part of the book. It leaves the reader in a hopeful, yet uncertain place. The fallout of this experience for our two protagonists is unclear–it’s left to the imagination. This is true to life. You can hope for a former cult member’s recovery. You can hope that a loved one will return to their authentic self, but there is no guarantee nor clear-cut path in the healing process.
You can hope for a former cult member’s recovery. You can hope that a loved one will return to their authentic self, but there is no guarantee nor clear-cut path in the healing process.
In The Contraption, Stewart uses the spy thriller/action novel genre to engage and inform readers about how cultic misadventures work, and why intelligent people can be vulnerable. He provides a critical understanding of how cults entrap thoughtful people and why leaving is not a simple choice. This fictional tale demonstrates his astute insight into coercive control while it entertains—a skill that I like to call “edutainment”.
The mission of his novel is a call for greater public attention to how cults perpetuate damage that ripples through individuals and out into relationships, friendships, families, and communities. The Contraption, the novel, succeeds in that mission. It’s well worth reading, and personally, I’ve got my fingers crossed for The Contraption, the movie!
While the pace of unfolding events in the story does require that the reader suspend a certain amount of disbelief, those of us who study cults and work with survivors know how surreal and bizarre cults get. We’ve heard the stories, and many of us have lived those stories. Stewart exaggerates the pace in The Contraption as a literary device, just enough to entertain for public consumption while providing critical civic education about the vulnerabilities innate to human nature, and the cynical nature of systems that coerce, manipulate, and control for selfish gain. While not a former cult member himself, Stewart has done a lot of research and volunteer work. He refers to himself as a concerned citizen. The mission of his novel is a call for greater public attention to how cults perpetuate damage that ripples through individuals and out into relationships, friendships, families, and communities. The Contraption, the novel, succeeds in that mission. It’s well worth reading, and personally, I’ve got my fingers crossed for The Contraption, the movie!
