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Imagine Joseph’s workspace in the late 1820s as a circle of mismatched documents: each sheet a sermon, letter, diary-like account—Rigdon’s drafts, Pratt’s notes, Cowdery’s insertions—laid out like a puzzle.

Joseph’s—Mormon’s—redaction process, applied, is a compilation and appropriation of those documents. The seams between “records” are not just textual accidents but borders where authority, theology, and identity change hands.

Let’s break down Ether, as an example of a linguistic-textual reconstruction to see what the original internal narrative would look like before the Moroni abridgment that turned it into “plates found by the people of Limhi.”

If you remove the Moroni redactions and abridgments, the story opens in third-person voice. The natural opening line is probably Ether 1:6, where a narrative hand-off occurs, and the redactor/editor introduces the original author:

Ether 1 5 But behold, I give not the full account, but a part of the account I give, from the tower down until they were destroyed.

6 And on this wise do I give the account. He that wrote this record was Ether, and he was a descendant of Coriantor.

After the redactor/editor introduction, nothing suggests plates, interpreters, or a translator unless Moroni mentions it. Within the Ether narrative proper, the physical plate imagery is absent—the term belongs entirely to Moroni’s editorial frame. The literal word “plates” appears only in Moroni’s abridgments.

I’ve argued elsewhere that Ether is an Ur-text—not mentioned as engraved on plates by its author, only by an editor—and represents a document by Alvin describing the Smith family move from Vermont to New York, where a set of stones is presented to Alvin as part of a visionary experience he had—as described in the book.

Let’s examine Zeniff as the next “record” in this reconstruction project.

Zeniff represents the first major first-person insertion in the Book of Mormon and a clear stylistic break from the surrounding narrative.

Let’s treat “the record of Zeniff” as if it were a discrete source lying on Joseph’s table—written in one voice (Alvin-era layer, c. 1824), later framed and by subsequent editors.

The switch occurs at Mosiah 9:1:

“I, Zeniff, having been taught in all the language of the Nephites…”

Up to this point, the narrative is third-person, told by an external compiler. The sudden first-person declaration marks the start of an independent document—a memoir embedded within a larger history.

Linguistically, the cadence changes: shorter sentences, military detail, fewer theological digressions. “Record” appears within the Zeniff section, always referring to the speaker’s own writing, not a divine archive. It reads like a field report—entries like a line in a diary.

Notable are formulaic phrases reflected in the repetition of connective phrases such as “and again” and “thus” (beginning around Mosiah 10:10–13), which signals the editor’s entrance.

These formulaic openers are characteristic of the compiler’s voice—used elsewhere to transition between moral summaries—rather than Zeniff’s action-driven, first-person cadence.

The narrative pauses to insert a stylized explanation of Lamanite tradition, then resumes the plain “I did arm my people…” diction of Zeniff’s diary, indicating that the redactional shift is cued not only by theology but by these repetitive structural markers that announce an editor at work.

Within these formulaic “and again” shifts, you see references to Nephi and the “plates”:

Mosiah 10 13 And again, that they were wronged while in the land of their first inheritance, after they had crossed the sea, and all this because that Nephi was more faithful in keeping the commandments of the Lord

Mosiah 10 16 And again, they were wroth with him because he departed into the wilderness as the Lord had commanded him, and took the records which were engraven on the plates of brass, for they said that he robbed them.

If you isolate Mosiah 9–22 and ignore the Nephite bridges, you get a text that reads like an expedition journal: 1) Frequent verbs to describe the expedition—went, returned, fought, built, gathered, reflecting the journey mentioned in Ether; 2) Repeated refrains about naïveté, trust, and failure (“I was over-zealous to inherit the land of our fathers”); 3) Minimal theology.

Read as an unedited source, Zeniff is the diary of an over-zealous colonist whose optimism devolves into bondage.

There is a strong contrast with later Alma material, which shifts toward inner conversion and theological language.

In my allegorical reconstruction, “Zeniff” is Alvin chronicling the family’s attempt to rebuild after migrating from Vermont to New York. The “real world” phase of clearing land, forming partnerships with people already living in the area.

Contemporary sources indicate that Alvin Smith and his father, Joseph Smith Sr., traveled to western New York ahead of the rest of the family. In 1816, after several crop failures in Vermont, Joseph Sr. journeyed west to look for better farmland; according to Lucy Mack Smith’s family history, Alvin accompanied him to Palmyra, where they located property and began arrangements for the move. The rest of the family followed after, completing their relocation from Tunbridge, Vermont, to Palmyra, New York, by 1817.

Only later, when Joseph—as Mosiah—lays this account among the other scattered papers, does it become a moral parable about divine justice and deliverance.

As an aside, but important later, this is the first mention, in this adjusted chronology, of the recurring “sets of four” persons:

Mosiah 9 5 And it came to pass that I went again with four of my men into the city,

Let’s back up before going forward and explain why I think even Alvin was working from a pre-existent text, rendered in my view as a redacted Spalding/Rigdon text—the original “Book of Lehi/Nephi.”

Inside the text, Zeniff’s remark “having been taught in all the language of the Nephites” (Mosiah 9:1) informs us that he’s educated in the standard Nephite record-keeping system.

Zeniff/Alvin speaks of writing, record, wars, lands, and people, but never refers to engraving on plates or to any material medium for his record. Zeniff/Alvin is positioning himself as a writer who can translate between the older record (the “Book of Lehi/Nephi”) and the newer material he’s composing.

The phrase “language of the Nephites” becomes shorthand for participation in a shared archive—which is, in my mapping, Rigdon’s foundational manuscript.

Looking at it from this point of view, the verse signals continuity: Zeniff isn’t just recounting events; he’s writing within the same “language” as the earlier record, linking his own story to a tradition that precedes it.

In the book, earlier in internal chronology but later in authorship, passages in 1 Nephi 1:17 and Jacob 1:1–4 describe the “large plates of Nephi” as the official chronicle of kings and wars. Zeniff opens his journal by aligning his journal with that older archival tradition—acknowledging an earlier source that predates his own record, but never refers to it as “plates.”

In redactional terms, Zeniff is situating his writing as a continuation of an existing textual lineage rather than a stand-alone journal.

That makes his book the first explicit in-universe redaction—a record-keeper consciously entering an inherited book—not referenced by Zeniff/Alvin as plates—extending an Ur-text that was produced by another author—who I believe was Rigdon.

4th Nephi 1:6

6 And thus did the thirty and eighth year pass away, and also the thirty and ninth, and forty and first, and the forty and second, yea, even until forty and nine years had passed away, and also the fifty and first, and the fifty and second; yea, and even until fifty and nine years had passed away.


Mormon: (Chisel, chisel, chisel, chisel, chisel and chisel some more). Yes….yes. Let's put it all in there.

Mormon: How many filler years this time?

OLIVER: Something like two-sixty, give or take.

Mormon: Got it (Chisels: “And thus did the years pass away…”)

OLIVER: Oh—don’t forget to mention the three witnesses.

Mormon: Definitely. Adds credibility.

OLIVER: And maybe a reminder they’re not keeping the law of Moses anymore.

Mormon: (nodding while chiseling) Perfect. Law’s out, witnesses in.

OLIVER: Nailed it.

Years pass…

MORONI: (reviewing the final plates) Let’s see what Father left me… hmm says here “And thus did the years pass away.” (flips plate) “And thus did more years pass away.”

MORONI: (groans) The old man could summarize a century and still miss the point. (picks up chisel) Fine. I’ll just add: “And I, Moroni, write a few more things.”(mutters) because apparently, eternity needed an appendix.

In the process of making it up, how do we decide if Zeniff's writing is different because Joseph is just trying to make it sound like an independent character talking, or because he's actually brought in an external draft from somebody else? I think most novelists try to make their characters sound different from each other (whether or not they are successful).

There is an interesting question here either way you go. Why the stitched together journal accounts? The Bible isn't written that way. Was other pseudo-Bible writing done like this? I don't recall manuscript found being like this.

Gadianton wrote: ↑

Sat Nov 08, 2025 1:48 pm

In the process of making it up, how do we decide if Zeniff's writing is different because Joseph is just trying to make it sound like an independent character talking, or because he's actually brought in an external draft from somebody else? I think most novelists try to make their characters sound different from each other (whether or not they are successful).

There is an interesting question here either way you go. Why the stitched together journal accounts? The Bible isn't written that way. Was other pseudo-Bible writing done like this? I don't recall manuscript found being like this.

Response (part 1 to address “how do we decide):

That’s good insight and feedback, thank you, Gad. You’re making me think and explain my position.

I like it.

(Pre-script: I’ve now spent about two hours working on this response, and can’t decide if I’ve provided an acceptable answer… bah)

Thesis statement (sort of): the distinct shifts in tone and structure within the Book of Mormon—such as Zeniff’s journal, Abinadi’s inserted scripture, and other stitched-together records—can be best understood through two explanatory lenses: Joseph Smith as author consciously crafting variation to simulate multiple voices, and Joseph Smith as editor compiling, adapting, and reusing existing textual material.

Evaluating both perspectives side by side shows the book behaves like a hybrid artifact—a work of literary invention and textual compilation simultaneously—a scripture about the very act of discovering and assembling scripture.

————

Let’s approach this from an analytical modeling point of view—let’s identify facts and assumptions and develop the competing hypotheses you’ve presented to compare.

While we may never know with 100% certainty how the book was produced—from the naturalistic point of view—we can assess what we can understand and develop a comprehensive explanation.

So let’s take a look:

1. The book consistently presents itself as a found and edited record, not a single authored narrative.

The book almost seems to have a self-awareness, demonstrated in its constant references to earlier writings (“I found this record,” “I did abridge,” “for this cause did Benjamin keep them”) and in the frequent shifts that signal when new material is inserted—Zeniff’s first-person “journal,” Abinadi’s long quotations from the Law of Moses and Isaiah, and other examples often mentioned by reviewers of the book—resemble embedded source documents, with remarkably visible stitches at the seams.

The reuse of KJV text—complete with later translator glosses and 17th-century errors—points to temporal composition rather than ancient recordkeeping.

This method is repeated in the JST of the KJV: scholars, including Thomas A. Wayment and Haley Wilson-Lemmon (BYU, 2019) have identified parallels between Adam Clarke’s Commentary on the Holy Bible (first published in the early 1800s) and Joseph Smith’s Bible revision.

By extension, that methodology could—by some daring prospective doctoral candidate—be applied to the Book of Mormon itself.

I haven’t seen any scholarly work that applied the principle to the book—the studies might be out there, but I haven’t really stumbled across them, or looked very hard in the first place.

Clarke’s commentary was a popular English-language reference in the early 19th century and often sat on ministers’ and lay preachers’ desks, including those in Joseph’s religious environment.

2. The text itself doesn’t even seem to want to hide the process; rather, it dramatizes it.

When the Book of Mormon says a record “was found” and then shifts tone or style, that’s the internal evidence of what it claims to be doing—a compiler finding, quoting, and integrating earlier writings.

Whether read literally (as an authentic recovery of ancient records) or literarily (as Joseph or his circle enacting the idea of discovery), the message is the same: the book openly displays its own assembly, unapologetically presenting itself as a collage of prior revelations (without proper source documentation, I might add—I’ve spent countless hours in the Turabian world, and think Joseph should have to be held to the same rigor. Hmmph)

3. This “finding of texts” isn’t entirely consistent: the beginning of the book, Nephi, says:

1 Nephi 3 And I know that the record which I make is true; and I make it with mine own hand; and I make it according to my knowledge.

This means we don’t have to be constrained to a single model of “Joseph copied everything.” There are autobiographical moments.

(As an aside, I think it is funny that Nephi has to confirm, almost to himself, that the record is “true”—is he convincing us or himself?)

Let’s use a structured analytical approach to compare what you’ve presented as a thought project: we’ll frame two competing hypotheses to explain the Book of Mormon’s textual behavior.

Hypothesis A (Author Model) holds that Joseph Smith alone generated the narrative voices, intentionally varying diction, tone, and perspective to simulate a record composed by many hands—a literary technique similar to contemporary “found-manuscript” fiction.

Many features, like Zeniff’s change in tone or the alternation between narrative and quotation, are consistent with what 18th- and 19th-century novelists did to create realism and multiple voices. Joseph Smith, working in the idiom of King James–style prose, could consciously vary diction and point of view to simulate the discovery of independent records. His reuse of the KJV text and phrasing from Adam Clarke’s commentary suggests he was drawing from a familiar textual toolbox — repurposing known scriptural language to give authority and texture to each voice.

Hypothesis B (Editor Model) posits that Joseph acted more as a compiler, incorporating pre-existing drafts, biblical material, and commentary language (notably from the KJV and Adam Clarke) into a unified narrative.

The Book of Mormon’s explicit self-description as an abridgment of found records, and the way its voices sometimes diverge sharply in tone, supports the possibility that it integrates earlier textual fragments or collaborative material. The book’s structure—full of seams, editor’s notes, and nested quotations—mirrors how multiple drafts or influences could have been woven together. Even if Joseph was the principal author, his process was clearly curatorial: selecting, copying, adapting, and reframing pre-existing language, much like the ancient editors the narrative depicts.

Evaluated side-by-side, the author model explains diversity as creative simulation, while the editor model accounts for textual seams, insertions, and dependence on external sources.

The preponderance of evidence suggests a hybrid process: Joseph functioning simultaneously as author and editor, inventing variation while curating and adapting earlier textual matter to construct the book.

Part 2: to address your secondary question that shifts from authorship mechanics (“Who wrote what?”) to literary precedent (“Why does it look like that?”).

Yes, the Book of Mormon’s stitched-together journal format—Nephi’s memoirs, Zeniff’s record, Mormon’s abridgments, Moroni’s appendices—is unusual among ancient scriptures.

But it’s at home in early-19th-century literary and religious culture.

Where the Bible’s redactors blend sources into a seamless narrative, Joseph’s text teveals the process of compilation: prophets finding, quoting, and preserving prior writings—in real time.

I’d argue this self-referential structure parallels 19th-century “found-manuscript” fiction and antiquarian pseudo-biblical works (e.g., The Book of Jasher, The Manuscript Found), which built authenticity by pretending to recover ancient records.

What’s different about the Book of Mormon? This book makes the act of recovery part of the revelation itself—its theology and its literary method are the same: truth is not newly created but found, abridged, and restored.

So whether Joseph was consciously crafting realism (Author Model) or curating existing fragments (Editor Model), the stitched-journal form makes sense—it’s the natural expression of a culture obsessed with rediscovered scripture and of a writer who wanted revelation itself to look like the recovery of lost words. The methodology is repeated with the book of Abraham, reflecting the consistency of application.

Additional thoughts swimming around like little fishies in my head:

The Book of Mormon keeps reminding us that it’s a collection of found records, not one long story.

It constantly pauses to advertise that someone is copying or abridging something—Nephi writing on his own plates, Mormon explaining he can’t include “a hundredth part,” and Benjamin passing the records to his sons.

Those moments make the compiler “part of the story,” deliberately revealing the process of putting old writings together instead of hiding it.

You can see the same pattern in the sudden voice changes. Zeniff’s first-person journal, Alma’s missionary notes, and Moroni’s final letters all sound like pieces that were dropped into a larger framework.

Even the long scriptural quotes from Isaiah or the Law of Moses feel like recovered texts being reused for a new audience.

The book doesn’t smooth these seams—it highlights them, turning the discovery and preservation of records into part of the message itself.

My favorite transition is Abinadi’s shift into quoting the Law of Moses (Mosiah 12–15).

It is a moment where an inserted text feels completely natural, almost like the narrative inhales and exhales into scripture without breaking rhythm.

Unlike other insertions—such as Zeniff’s journal or Nephi’s Isaiah chapters—Abinadi’s quotation flows naturally from the dialogue.

It’s framed as him teaching rather than editing, so the change isn’t jarring, and shows that this section managed to blend sources rather than just stitch them together.

In my reading, where Abinadi represents Alvin, Alvin was the better redactor—the one who knew how to blend voices instead of just stitching them together.

For reference, mostly because I like the transition, and it represents one of very few literary moments in the book that I consider well written:

Mosiah 12 33 But now Abinadi said unto them: I know if ye keep the commandments of God ye shall be saved; yea, if ye keep the commandments which the Lord delivered unto Moses in the mount of Sinai, saying:

34 I am the Lord thy God, who hath brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.

35 Thou shalt have no other God before me.

36 Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing in heaven above, or things which are in the earth beneath.

37 Now Abinadi said unto them, Have ye done all this? I say unto you, Nay, ye have not. And have ye taught this people that they should do all these things? I say unto you, Nay, ye have not.

I read this as Alvin challenging his family—allegorically of course.

And then, remarkably, Abinadi/Alvin specifically states that he is reading from a textual source:

Mosiah 13 11 And now I read unto you the remainder of the commandments of God, for I perceive that they are not written in your hearts; I perceive that ye have studied and taught iniquity the most part of your lives.

12 And now, ye remember that I said unto you: Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of things which are in heaven above, or which are in the earth beneath, or which are in the water under the earth.

13 And again: Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them; for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth generations of them that hate me;

14 And showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me and keep my commandments.

15 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.

16 Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

17 Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work;

18 But the seventh day, the sabbath of the Lord thy God, thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates;

19 For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, and the sea, and all that in them is; wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.

20 Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.

21 Thou shalt not kill.

22 Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt not steal.

23 Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

24 Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, nor his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor’s.

25 And it came to pass that after Abinadi had made an end of these sayings that he said unto them: Have ye taught this people that they should observe to do all these things for to keep these commandments?

Abinadi’s readings of the Law of Moses and Isaiah in Mosiah 12–15, and described by himself specifically as reading, unmistakably reflects the language of the 1769 Oxford/Blayney edition of the King James Bible, not any earlier form.

The phrases, spellings, and rhythms match the modernized Blayney revision—the same text printed in American Bibles of Joseph Smith’s day.

Even small translation quirks, like the 1769 renderings of Isaiah passages that Abinadi cites, appear word for word.

A comprehensive comparison can be found here:

https://faenrandir.github.io/a_careful_ ... s-project/

These details show that the scripture Abinadi “quotes” could not have come from an ancient Hebrew or brass-plate source but from the Bible known to the Smith family: the late-eighteenth-century KJV in circulation across early-nineteenth-century America.