Firstly: I could cry. I just spent over an hour on this post, to have it not publish and get lost in the ether. I pray this doesn’t come across as some abbreviated version from distress and anger. 🙁
I’m currently trying to write the impossible. Such as why another Sunday evening post delayed. I want to get some things right; or come across as objective as possible. It may be absurd of me to discuss eating behaviors and diets without inevitably pissing someone off. In my defense, we are living in a hypersensitive, easily aggrieved environment. When did we become this way? Why are people so slighted? Because we’ve all been given a voice, in the most unnecessary places and ways.
On this note, I am disgusted by the recent circumstances in Charlottesville. The display of hate and out of control behavior is promulgated by the media though. Bluntly, the alt-right movement has NOTHING to do with conservatives. The alt right is the alternative to the right! They are communist and anarchist. Just as mainstream Democrats want no association with the militant Antifa, the Right wants none whatsoever to do with this trivial but loud fringe. They are a tiny ant to the Himalayas of our population. They are given a voice by acknowledgement and made more apparent by what then rises up in opposition. Yin to yang, dark to light, black and white. This really is not our population. This is an extreme. All of us are better than this, but the worst of us is on display.
We can’t ignore what came before; we can’t wipe the slate clean. The problem with obliterating history is we are bound to repeat it. Aren’t we supposed to learn from our mistakes? Unfortunately we live amongst the ignorant and ill-advised. Rewriting textbooks will not give us utopia. Destroying monuments won’t destroy the truth. Ignoring perpetuates ignorance. There are ways to ameliorate though, if we could actually have a discussion about it. We could move some structures and monuments to museums. We can concentrate the history without erasing it. There is room for everything to have its place. We must know what came before to rise above it. It is not fair to the generations which descend from us to white wash or blackout. Pun intended. I’m often discussing how we are living in extremes. I’m currently wondering when we will self-correct, steady the boat. I fear we have gone too far.
Evil is evil no matter how small. History does show us time and again the power of one person.
Next: I finished a book a couple days ago which has stayed with me. Rarely does this happen. The title is thematically coincidental but in no way similar to the aforementioned.
It’s about the span of a marriage, but of course, so much more. Despite the 30+ years together, it slowly divulges the insides of these two people who never actually come to know one another in the way the reader eventually does. It’s tragic. The burn has lingered. The husband wants to be an actor and by lack of success finds his throne through being a playwright. It’s also about his wife, the constant supportive cheerleader. She comes out of the gate as no one but turns out to be everything. They are both sordid and awful and descending from provocative families and personal secrets. They are also both tall and beautiful… and haunted. There is Greek mythology, archetypes, Shakespearean themes, literal stage drama. The slow rise was a slog in places, and I did want to bail and give up on the book. As a result of staying the course, I was rewarded with an ending far better than imagined, like none I’ve come across. It kept giving where it could’ve ended. It clarified and shocked and fully bled out.
It came out two years ago. Slowly it made its way to me. Here is The New York Times review and The Guardian on why it was on everyone’s radar at the time of its publication. I had known of it, though only recently gotten ahold of it. [a library loan I will surely purchase for my shelves]
Fates and Furies is about a marriage in which each partner has a radically disparate view, not just of their union, but of the type of narrative constituted by their lives. It’s as if husband and wife each inhabit a different novel, in a different genre – one sunnily domestic, the other gothic. And in fact, they almost did: Groff has said that she originally wanted to publish Fates and Furies as two separate books.
The good husbands in Victorian novels sheltered their wives from the world’s harshness, but now the roles are reversed.
Finally: We are always living in cycles; repeated and replaced; constantly contracting and expanding; playing roles and switching roles. We are fallible humans and forever subject to this nature. Some of us may hope to one day be the subject, be apart of the history told.