Innocence is Gone, and It's Not OK

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Reminder: Back when the communists and nazis were friends they divided Poland between them, down the middle.

Hello Reader

Got knowledge of fragility?

Sources:

Anna and the Swallow Man by Gavriel Savit,

Ember, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, 2017

Poppies of Iraq, by Brigitte Fndakly and Lewis Trondheim, Drawn and Quarterly, originally published in French, with help from the Canada Council, 2017

A writer once pointed out that most people move through the world gingerly. That sounds right, based on the ordinary folks I have known, including writers. Then again, my writer peers would never be blazing oblivious extroverts. How could they be? And still do the art they do? 

This week I was with a small circle of writers to discuss our latest book club selection: Anna and the Swallow Man by. Gavriel Savit. Highly recommended. In wartime Poland, the two title characters, innocent girl and mysterious wise man, are trying to survive the holocaust by keeping on the move through forests and towns, using their wits to get past Russians and Germans. Call the bad guys bears and wolves, as the Swallow Man does, in this book of magical realism and flowing literary sentences. It’s marketed as YA, young adult.

My peers thought the novel could be for any age group. This despite dead bodies delicately described. As for readers too young, we thought they wouldn’t “get” the sexual assault scene, and thus wouldn’t be harmed. My peers were mothers and school teachers: They would know children, and they hastened to assure a sensitive lady who had not read the book yet, that the assault scene would be OK. Here’s the aftermath, on page 212-213:

“She cried, of course…Though she would not have been able to tell you so at the time, Anna had broken a part of herself like a piggy bank to pay the (person’s) price, and it felt to her as if she had already failed to…”

The book’s cover, by Laura Carlin, is inspired: A far off view: Under the shadow of a passing swallow, a girl is walking all alone in the snow. The problem with your losing innocence, or even worse, gaining unspeakable knowledge, is you then walk through life always a little cold, a little alone. I can relate. A writer once told me that I was looking out of a mask, through little eye holes, at people. Maybe she was quite mistaken, and only “perceived” so because we knew of each other’s past. It was all so long ago… This year, if I rail against teachers being documented as allowing school bullying, then it’s because I am certain assaults and bullying are a form of losing innocence, and it’s not OK. (as archived February 2019, Bullies and Teachers)

An actual example of an entire society changing its innocence would be here in Canada. We still believe in our sacred freedom of speech, of course, but now we also have laws censoring hate speech, as we are conscious of living in a post-holocaust world. We realize at last that “human rights”are the canary in the coal mine; and we know now that evil unchecked anywhere threatens the world. 

One of my favorite writers knew about the existence of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) long before Veterans Affairs did. In fact, HG Wells knew back in the 19th century. His hero in War of the Worlds, years after the passing of the Martians, is still having flashbacks. Wells knew that, just like individuals, a whole society can be affected. (Like today how folks of continental Europe sees the EU as way to prevent having enemy boots on the ground, while folks of the British Isles, having never been invaded since 1066, sees the EU as merely a trade organization) In Well’s novel, once the Martians had left, people no longer saw a friendly night sky. 

In my opinion it’s OK to face reality, and also to say that reality does not feel OK.

Breaking News regarding assaults and bullying
Being returned to a sixth form bullying environment can (link) cause PTSD-like trauma for a wife and mother (God bless society for slow-w-w-ly becoming ready to begin to face the effects of child bullying)

SIDEBAR

Documented loss of mental health on a national level, in the graphic memoir Poppies of Iraq:

Besides people under oppressive censorship gradually losing their freedom of conversation, until all they had left was trivial gossip, I was struck by this:

Quote

It’s 2016. For a long time my cousins hoped things would get better. They stayed until their parents died, and then, to give their children a normal future, almost all of them left, emigrating to the four corners of the earth. Australia, NewZealand, Canada, the U.S., Sweden, France…… And all have become Islamophobic. 

I won’t try to argue. I’ll continue to love them as they are, as people I care about.

Unquote.

As for Arabians becoming Islamophobic, to paraphrase what a “good German” said after Europe was reduced to rubble: 

“All that is needed for Islam to cause phobia is for “good Arabs” to do nothing.”

Here are two old poems, by Lutheran Pastor and former U-boat commander, Martin Neimoller which I would wager have never been translated into Arabic (as Arabs do surprisingly little translating)

"Thus, whenever I chance to meet a Jew known to me before, then, as a Christian, I cannot but tell him: 'Dear Friend, I stand in front of you, but we can not get together, for there is guilt between us. I have sinned and my people has sinned against thy people and against thyself.'" 

And this poem,
which, after being recited live with different versions, (like Bob Dylan's live presentations of All Along the Watchtower) is now classic:

First they came for the Jews

and I did not speak out

because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists

and I did not speak out

because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists

and I did not speak out

because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me

and there was no one left

to speak out for me. 

Link

https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/martin-niemoeller-first-they-came-for-the-socialists

As for my knowledge of horror: My perspective, in this world of woe, means I don’t get paralysed. Not me. I feel it’s perfectly OK to do like the missionaries, 

working in starving nations, when back here on vacation, 

who would “eat, drink and be merry,” without guilt, 

who would gladly embrace our “merely first world problems,’ 

…and maybe embrace a nice Mars poem too:

Poem

The Martians are Gone, and It’s Not OK

Martians gone, six years past.

Rubble cold, red weed dust.

Mother is gone, and it’s not OK.

If I look up at the starry night,

it’s not friendly.

If I contemplate the cosmos,

there’s no God.

The planets revolve unheeding;

they’re not for us.

I never taught my mother

to honor me

or know my friends were not bad,

not stupid.

Mother is gone,

and it will never be OK.

Sean Crawford

August

2019

Calgary

Summer Blog Reflections

essaysbysean.blogspot.com

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Hello Reader,

May I reflect?

You probably know the drill: Another 25 weeks, another 25 posts, meaning: Once again I give myself permission to indulge in blog reflection. My last reflection was in February, My Blog and War of the Worlds. At the time I noted that, since Christmas, every second post had been, along with an essay, a chance to paste in a couple poems about that novel of HG Wells. This pattern has continued.

Back then I noted that posting Mars invasion poems was to use up “page-space” to give me “time-space” to write fiction. Now I can tell you: Fiction is still hard for me. Poetry used to be hard: Back when I started on my Mars poetry manuscript I had to drive out to Strathmore to “get away from it all” in order to find the courage to write. Not any more! So I’m sure I will get courageous for doing fiction soon. But let me say this: I will always be sympathetic, not arrogant or judgmental, to anyone who claims “writer’s block.” At most I will show them “tough love.” But first I will have to show such love to myself.

As for my essay blog: 

Historically, besides being a chance to spout off my observations about the world, it was also a chance to practise getting better at writing. I remember once, years ago, a lady in Public Relations liked my essay, saying she could spot “how you made your piece sing.” Yes, for that piece I had counted syllables and balanced clauses. Not now. What concerns me lately is what someone, either a writer (Gordon R. Dickson) or a Zen master had said: If you are practising, say, “the way, or “do,” (karate-do) of knife throwing,” for a circus say, and if you start throwing badly on purpose for the sake of entertainment, then your throwing will not improve and when you try to return to “the way” you will have lost your way.

As for me, “badly on purpose” 

would be writing for computer screens. The quality stuff by big name essayists, that makes it onto good non-glossy paper, is never written for the screen. Paper is a separate medium, a medium that rewards big paragraphs of balanced clauses, because paragraphs of decent size will look decent on paper, to be read by decent people with their decent attention spans. Not by folks who click and skim and savour their backspace button. I have disparaged such skimmers before, most notably in one of my top ten (by hit count) essays, No Links is Good Links, archived July 2012.

Feeling annoyed, I wonder how many self-infantilized skimmers are like addicts who say “I could read something dense (quit using) if ever I wanted to.” And I wonder if my generation was conditioned to only have a short focus time, a time equal to the minutes between television commercials. As for the still younger generation: A rich globe-trotting successful blogger, Mark Manson, recently (July 2019) lamented that he couldn’t compose a piece without “self interrupting” to check his electronic devices. My nearest equivalent, when I was a mature student his age, was to study in the student bar, not in a blank white study carol, where I would lift my head periodically to gaze upon the neon lights.

Now I’m reflecting that I really need to make a Major Change, somehow, but I don’t know How, or What… The Why would be to switch my interest to writing fiction…. if that’s even possible for me. I don’t know yet… Most of my library is nonfiction… (Note: Respect for my readers means I won’t change to putting dense paper-sized paragraphs on their pixel screen)

On a lighter note,

Robert Heinlein wrote a 1940’s book (I won’t loan my precious copy) of practical advice on getting involved in politics. He began, right on page one, with a two or-three paragraph story of wisdom from a famous African-American. Not just to begin passing on advice, but to filter out any racists who wouldn’t read any further. No need to encourage civic-minded racists. 

Last week I happily followed Heinlein’s example. Because my post was so personal, I thought: No need to encourage reading by cold strangers who wouldn’t know I like to write concisely… so I wrote non-concisely for two paragraphs, with one paragraph being especially big and dense, to filter out zombie-eyed strangers, sending them hurrying off to their little backspace buttons. I suppose my regular readers were amused.

On a blog note,

I still refuse to inconvenience my fans by having, for my portal, a “home page.” As it happens, by the current technology of blog stats features, portal hits can’t be counted: Therefore I still can’t collect statistics (hits) on how many people are landing on my latest essay of the week—although I could if only I hid them behind a portal. As for stats of the last 25 weeks, some pages did better, some poorer … I can’t say whether it all means anything. It could all just be coincidence, and from folks landing based on page title, not substance. 

Also, a certain old joy has been obliterated due to a very frequent spam deluge, blasting my stats monitor. Gone is the joy of seeing my “evergreen” posts still being read, although you would otherwise would think their posting dates are too old to attract search engines. Having those evergreens covered up now is so demotivating.

Shall I start posting re-runs? If so, then my selections would not be by (hit) popularity, but by whether a piece sparked any comments. That would be the most objective criteria for re-runs, I think, while I look for ways to free up time for writing fiction. Why yes, of course spam counts as a comment!

On a topical note,

If you have an idea for an essay-topic, or if you want me to re-think an old topic, then let me know soon, as I may be transitioning away from essays towards re-runs, poems, Free Fall, or very-short “just-the-facts” pieces. Anything to free up fiction time.

On a personal note, 

The British pound has finally sunk enough for me to start snapping up pounds sterling. Hurray! I have already walked everywhere The War of the Worlds takes place, and walked in the footsteps of Jack the Ripper and Doctor Who, but I would love to go again to the misty British Isles.

I won’t blab about “my so-called life” just now, as I have a “do first, then boast” philosophy. If you want to know more, well, I’ll be self-indulgent again in 25 weeks.

Sean Crawford

August

Calgary

2019

On a foot note: 

My last 25-poster was February 2019, My Blog and War of the Worlds.

Comments note:

A lot of my proudest writing has commenting on other people’s blogs, although I never save my work. While I don’t have anything to contribute about, say, computers or economics, this week I was able to comment several times on a thread by John Scalzi regarding writer Robert Heinlein, and several times on Penelope Trunk’s thread regarding how society is bloody useless for domestic violence. No “me too” movement there.

So I’m pleased that my life has meant accumulating a little knowledge and a little bravery for public writing. Not like if I spent all my years in my mother’s basement watching a dim screen while outside the sunny river flows by without me.