Archive for February, 2010

The Main Thing in Life

Thursday, February 25th, 2010

A recent review of “Roxy” would appear to be suggesting that the subject of teen pregnancy is inappropriate for young adults. The reviewer wrote: “…the heart-warming ending is based on something which is wrong.”

Wrong? Hmm. Gee. How on earth can tears, or a warm heart, be wrong? Oh, before I go on, I should report that the reviewer appeared to sincerely like most of the book:

“It’s a good story – I was very keen to keep turning the pages to find out how things would work out and how the mysteries of Roxy and Maddy’s lives would unravel. There’s a great sense of place too – I swear I could smell the herb fields in Corfu and…” Etc.

In other words, some of life’s problems – teen sex, pregnancy, young motherhood – though valid themes for adults, are too hot for teens. Oh, yes, the reviewer also added that, “Alcohol and pregnancy shouldn’t mix, even in fiction.” Never mind that Roxy, never consumed any alcohol in the story, “…she would have drunk it if she’d liked it,” the reviewer reckoned.

Okay, you get the picture. It’s Roxy vs political correctness. Those of you who know me are bracing for a rant – but no – today I’m leaving my rebuttal in the hands of another writer more talented by far. Colin Higgins.

Higgins wrote that delightfully irreverent little story called “Harold and Maude” which showed up on the big screen in 1978. It’s the story of a romance between a 19 year old boy and an 80 year old woman. He finds her a bit wild, and tells her so. She replies, sweetly.

“Virtue? It’s best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much life. Aim above morality. As Confucius says, ‘Don’t simply be good. Make good things happen.’”

 

I think Roxy can fairly be credited for making a lot of good things happen for her damaged family. Her desire to raise a healthy child is not the least of those good deeds.

I often see political correctness as an attempt to cover up an awkward truth – and it troubles me that young people are in danger of falling into denial of the human condition. But it’s a writer’s duty to speak the truth, don’t you think? And by doing so, remain as human as possible.

 “Oh, Harold,” she sighed, stroking his hair. “You are so young. What have they taught you?” She brushed away the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Yes. I cry. I cry for you. I cry for this. I cry at beauty – a sunset or a seagull. I cry when a man tortures his brother…when he repents and begs for forgiveness…when forgiveness is refused…and when it is granted. One laughs. One cries. Two uniquely human traits. And the main thing in life, my dear Harold, is not to be afraid to be human.”

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Teens Read Too

Saturday, February 20th, 2010

Tomorrow, Feb. 21, 2010, I hope you’ll visit a web site called Teens Read Too, where I’m the guest blogger of the day. In addition to my typically profound post, you have the chance to peer even deeper into my brain as I try to answer a daunting list of questions posed by the site’s moderator.  It’s been fun!  And I’m going pursue one or more of the questions — such as ‘why are teens so compelled by the paranormal?’ — in future blogs.

If you happen to be reading this after Feb 21, 2010, you can still click on Teens Read Too and find my guest blog by scrolling down to Feb. 21.

We’ll talk later.

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A Sad Story

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

A colleague of mine relates a true story on his blog. Vince, a photographer, is walking his dogs down a rainy Vancouver lane when he notices snapshots spilling from a soggy cardboard carton. Turns out to be an entire photo album that’s been chucked out. Shocked and curious that someone would jettison their photo archive, Vince begins to examine this discarded life: a young girl growing up – her graduation, boyfriends, marriage, birth of a daughter, breastfeeding. Vince writes:

“These pictures were so personal and so private and so filled with love that it hurt to see them thrown out in the trash. These pictures were anything but garbage.”

Wait, there’s more. The baby grows into a beautiful young girl, goes to school, becomes pregnant – yes, the family cycle repeating itself. Now there’s a beaming soldier boy anticipating the birth as well, hospital shots, the new baby, everyone shining.

“And then the pictures of the boy in uniform, the handsome young man, were torn out of the album. And the beautiful girl with the new baby was pictured by herself and then the album stopped and I was looking at it in the rain.”

I feel Vince’s reticence – almost shame – at dwelling over this private tragedy. It wasn’t meant for his or anyone’s eyes, and I’m glad he didn’t photograph it. Yet, my mind’s eye still burns with images. How is that such a short story can move me almost to tears? Most full-length movies don’t touch me so deeply.

I guess because…this story is real. Truth is stranger than fiction. Or is it because the incident reveals with such pathos the fragility of human relationships? It’s such a shocking glimpse into human nature with all its vulnerability and imperfection. Is this our fate, too, waiting for us?

Then I thought…what if Vince invented this story? Would it make any difference? Would I feel any less disturbed, sorry, compassionate? Would you? Whatever else I was feeling, I would think the author was a brilliant storyteller.

This is what ‘story’ is all about – transporting us into the heart of another person. That this story accomplishes it so quickly and powerfully makes it – in my opinion – a great story.

I’m learning something from it every time I recall it. If you haven’t done so yet – check out Vince’s account for yourself.

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A Gift Blog

Thursday, February 11th, 2010

Sometimes a blog is a real gift — such as today’s dispatch from Seth Godin.  It’s about the power of gift giving. I’ve long had a respect for the act of giving and receiving gifts, so I thought it worth reviewing right here on ‘The Meaning of Life Blog’.

Godin points out that when a gift is ‘freely given and gladly received’, an imbalance is created. In the resolving of the imbalance, a chain reaction of goodwill is started. The chain creates all-important human connections. Godin suggests that a healthy community is one that’s infused with this kind of selflessness. The gift also has a selfish aspect to it, of course, since it feels so good to give.

Feeling good and selflessness would appear to be contradictory, but they’re not, are they? Whatever helps us to detach from an excessively self-centred worldview is going to feel liberating. We’ve all had altruistic experiences that prove this without a doubt.

Then, why does it feel so awkward to give freely and often?

In a materialistic society, letting go of things that we’ve worked hard to acquire seems, on the surface, absurd. Our identities are built around the things we’ve acquired – from iPhones to our powerful egos. Yet, who will deny that wellbeing is a by-product of releasing our grip, be it physical or psychic. It’s like a law of nature. Truly religious people have been trying to make this point since the dawn of time.

“Surrender, yield, renounce,” they say. We should try to be less of who we’ve been trained to think we are. Let go and fall upwards.

Give.

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What the Mockingbird Proves

Tuesday, February 9th, 2010

After all these years, I finally got around to reading “To Kill a Mockingbird”, by Harper Lee. The book’s unique characters held me in thrall. Who would have thought to invent a character who (without religion) is all light and goodness? He serves to contrast the general level of bigotry that’s typical of our so-called “religious” society.

Here’s the book’s theme: “I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard,” says Atticus, the young protagonist’s father, “but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

The rationale for the mockingbird’s special status is explained by a neighbour: “They don’t do one thing but sing their heart out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

Atticus is the only lawyer in the small Alabama town who will defend a black man facing a rape charge. As the only moral person in sight, it’s pretty obvious that Atticus is the human mockingbird. His truth ‘sings’. On some deep level, the townspeople need him as a touchstone to maintain their basic humanity.

But the story is told from the point of view of Atticus’ young daughter, Scout. She’s on a journey to becoming a mockingbird, herself. But it’s a rough ride. As we all know, people on the leading edge of human evolution tend to get crucified. Atticus comes very close to getting strung up himself. This is the story of how one small island of sanity survives in a sea of ignorance.

Fine, but so what? (I’m glad I asked that.)

If you know this blog at all, you’re just waiting for me to introduce some deep thought, so here it is. A good story promises to prove a thesis. Many of the best stories show (often unwittingly) that the natural drift of our human potential is toward knowing, understanding, and compassion. It may be a slow journey; it’s definitely not easy; and it may be tragically nipped in the bud by a dark age…but it would appear to be our destiny, nevertheless.

Most conventional stories – because they climax with a hero’s ‘growth’ – are more or less in the service of this principle. The sooner we get a grip on the concept of life’s meaning being a state of consciousness – as opposed to some high falutin ‘purpose’ – the sooner we will quit squandering this valuable lifetime.

Now…I’m off to the library. What other books did I miss in high school?

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Love the Opposite

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010

Imagine yourself a highly scrupulous person, who discovers that the truth lies in the opposite of what you’ve always believed. Well, how do you feel?

I’m writing a story about such a person, a comedian, who tries to kill himself. It’s not depressing at all, I promise you. It’s not even illogical – in fact it might be the most logical thing he’s ever done. It’s an act of love.

Here’s a person trying so hard to prove his love for his soul mate that he unwittingly discovers who he really is. Of course, this might describe the character development of the hero in a great many stories. When protagonists dig deep to get what they want, they often find themselves mining the dark side of their personalities. It’s a frightening journey, to say the least.

Eventually, my hero comes to his senses and gives up on the idea of corporeal martyrdom. But only because his point of view continues to expand. He has been so misguided throughout his life, that, at the end, he barely recognizes himself. I could have allowed him to keep digging through two more novels, if I hadn’t decided to put him out of his ecstasy in the final pages. (The story doesn’t end there, though.)

Now here’s something to consider – the theme of ‘truth being the opposite of what we believe’ emerged from my writing the story. I don’t even know if it’s true. I doubt that many good writers set out to make a philosophical point. They set out to tell a good story. And in my story, the protagonist realizes that in the passionate ignorance of his youth he developed principles to protect himself from pain. By realizing this later in life, he is able to right the ship, so to speak.

Another of his epiphanies is, ‘having a soul mate means finally having someone to die for’ (a la “Romeo and Juliet”).

I think that the human journey is remarkable for the possibilities that exist for us to discover who we really are. Fictional heroes are always showing us how it’s done.  You can believe them or not.

Happy reading!

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