This morning, due to an odd dream, I found myself sleepless
at 2 AM. The dream wasn’t particularly profound, just the day’s junk remixed.
Usually, I can recover from such dreams easily. I pace, try
to do some stretches, then quickly realize I’m too tired to do anything of
consequence. My head hits the pillow and I’m off to dreamland again.
But not this time. So I scrolled through Facebook. Nothing
interesting there, so I decided to check e-mail. Junk. Finally, I decided to
check my crescentseries account, my “writer’s account”, on the minute chance
there might be something juicy afoot.
I don’t check that account very often, maybe twice a month,
because, truthfully, it’s not all that active. Occasionally I get a couple of
quick notes from people I don’t know who took the time to read my book. I
always thank them, and try to answer their questions if I have time.
I had two messages. One was from my e-mail service provider
asking if I’d like to purchase some space in their cloud. Delete. The other was
from some incomprehensible string of characters and had a subject line in
broken English, something about book, world, and gorgeous. I figured it was one
of those advertisements for counterfeit Viagra. I almost trashed that one, too,
except I don’t get junk e-mail on that account because I never buy anything
with it. So I scanned it to be safe and opened it.
It was a legit message. Someone in Moscow (!) had read my
book and had lots of questions, not only about the book, but about this country’s
current political situation.
Holy crap. If I answered every question fully, I was going
to have to explain America. I hate when people ask me to do that. It’s like
when customers at work ask me where a certain store that I’ve never been in is
at the mall. When I tell them I don’t know, they get all indignant. “Don’t you
work here?” they cry. Why yes, I want to tell them, I work in this store and
when I’m done, I rush to my car and hightail it home. Do you hang out where you
work after hours? I’m not an expert on the mall. Likewise, just because I live
in the U.S. doesn’t mean I understand everything about it. Sometimes this place
baffles me too.
My correspondent’s command of English grammar might have
been tenuous, but his knowledge of U.S. history and current events wasn’t. He
knew things many Americans probably wouldn’t know. Basically he asked me if I
thought my book was coming true, and did I think the United States was headed
towards some type of revolution, and when was the sequel to LOVE IN THE TIME OF
UNRAVELING coming out, and what historical events did I use as a model for the
Crescent, and did I think America would survive?
Whew. Maybe I shouldn’t have checked my e-mail. Because
after I read that, my mind was racing.
Do I think my book is coming true?
Literally, no. I’m no clairvoyant. The characters in LOVE
first came to life in the wake of Katrina but didn’t start keeping me awake at
night until after Deepwater Horizon blew. I did what many writers of
speculative fiction do: I extrapolated a future from the present. I knew the
Deepwater Horizon spill would have long-lasting effects we couldn’t even begin
to imagine. I knew the effects of environmental degradation would more
adversely effect the poor and people of color. People of means would devise
some way of escaping the worst of it. I could see corporations trumping
governments and business becoming the model for what little government
remained. Crescent Region is governed by a board of rich white property owners.
Which, incidentally, is how this country began.
When I was researching for a historical “feel”, I read about
the Gilded Age and the period leading up to the Civil War. Because that’s what
the present feels like to me: a combination of the two.
The Gilded Age vibe is obvious. The income equality of the
present is a mirror of that past. And while the barons might not be as bold to
deliver bags of cash to Congress anymore, they do hold secret donor conferences
and audition candidates. It’s glaringly apparent the government doesn’t work for
the “small people”. That’s one reason you’ve got Trump. (Not that he cares for
the common people either.)
The Civil War part is obvious, too. We’re still fighting
that war over a century and a half later. Racism still exists. Folks still fly
the Confederate Battle Flag.
But something else struck me when reading about the period
directly preceding the Civil War. Slavery was so ingrained in American culture,
people could not see or think their way out of it. Otherwise decent people
thought the peculiar institution was as immutable as the laws of physics.
Today most of us (and by "us" I mean descendants of masters; slaves always knew the score) recognize slavery as the great evil that it was,
but we aren’t living in the midst of it. To take a stand against something that
was so woven into the social fabric took unbelievable vision, perseverance and
courage. And even then, it took a blood sacrifice to end it.
I believe there are current institutions and systems that
will seem as evil to our descendants as slavery does to us today. Thing is:
like slavery, these practices seem as immutable to us as natural law. Only the
most visionary among us can even begin to see a way out.
Imagine: there are entire sectors of the economy that depend
on paying people far less than it takes to survive. Recently those sectors have
been shamed into changing their ways, but their stocks have suffered. Think
about that. In order to “work”, the system demands exploitation.
We massacre the environment daily, yet we seem powerless to
stop. Oh, we recycle and drive hybrid cars, but what is needed is a radical
re-visioning of energy use.
Change WILL eventually come whether we like it or not. I
think even the most clueless among us feels that in our bones. That anxiety
about the future haunts our lives. Like animals before an earthquake, we can
feel the rumblings, but because of our fear, ignorance, bitterness, and rage,
we have rendered ourselves powerless to do anything constructive about it.
So: do I think this country is headed towards revolution? I
believe we’re careening towards something and I pray it’s not a bloody mess. I
hope as Papa Z says (or will say, and that’s the only spoiler I’m dropping) it
doesn’t take a war to fix this. Because Lord knows, the Civil War didn’t fix
anything. The required paradigm shift was never completed. You don't raise
consciousness with a hail of bullets.
Will America survive? I don’t know. Something will survive;
I know that. Perhaps the country will split into regions like the Crescent,
Liberty City, and Upper Midwest. Some people will survive and they will
continue to make love, life, and art against all odds, even if they can’t go
out in their bare clothes (and even then, they’ll turn their haz suits into
high fashion).
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, though.
"Back in downtown Chemical City skyscrapers vent nitrogen vapors. Oxygen wages down. So go Harry Bye Suma Fujaba deep in plastic mines chincy moonzoot environs. Plastic mines emit glow don't need lamps don't need power of any sort. Plastic mines alive. It's cheap that way no bills to pay.
ReplyDelete"Most moonzoots last just six hours in the plastic mines no matter if they got wide lapels or not. In tunnels just like ancient burnt out coal mines – except for the glow that is – you shovel brine grey ooze wet onto conveyer quick before tunnel fills bubbling up over the day's boots."
–RAW SUCK
Glad you checked your writers account Fran. Thanks for the updated commentary.
ReplyDeleteGreat blog.
ReplyDeletehttp://grsshoes.com/