CRYING AND CRYING OUT

 
There is a reason why I call this blog The Emotional Rationalist. Ever since my twenties, when I was reading the books and writings of such popular scientists and thinkers like Bertrand Russell, Jacob Bronowski, Carl Sagan, Francis Crick, and Richard Dawkins, I have always tried to be rational in approaching the world that surrounds us. I have tried to find the facts and face them. I have strived to think critically. I have always wanted, to be mundanely metaphorical, to follow my head and not my heart. Or, more specifically, give considered thought to questions, challenges, and novel approaches to life that have presented themselves. And not give in to knee-jerk, first impression, purely emotional responses.

But the metaphorical heart will have its way. Emotions and feelings are there in each of us and must be acknowledged, even if we choose to deny them. Love is universally considered a good emotion. And yet, it can lead us astray. Hate is widely deemed a bad emotion. And yet, who can deny that it provides a certain satisfaction? I suppose then it would always be best to give each feeling a good think before acting on it. This, at least, is how I have tried to live my life.

Still, I can become a blubbering mass of emotions, usually during filmed fiction, especially those which skillfully manipulate the tears out of you. And I do mean blubbering, as my wife and daughter will attest. They are always ready to shoot me some tissues. But then, I’ve always said, “I cry at movies, so I don’t have to cry at life.”

There has been a lot to cry at in life lately. Trump. The pandemic. The death and devastation now and to come by the Climate Crises. Trump’s insurrection. The war in Ukraine. The potential that our species will expire by its own hands. Emotional tourism can take your mind off these home truths for only so long.

In all these troubles, polarization is disturbingly present. Right versus left. Haves versus the Have-nots. Authoritarianism versus Democracy. Facts versus Myths. And underlining all of these is the main polarization: Knowledge versus Ignorance.

The old saying, “What you don’t know won’t kill you,” is as wrong as can be. But then, as I think it’s also been said, “What you don’t know, you often don’t know that you don’t know.” And that is the worst ignorance of all, except for this: knowing and then ignoring. That is not just ignorance, but arrogant ignorance, ignorance worn as a badge of honor. That is giving in to how you want to feel about something, rather than accepting the facts of that something, no matter how it makes you feel. And it is an all too often proclivity of humans that can be successfully exploited and manipulated, especially by those who would love (an emotion) to have unquestioned authority over you. A functional democracy needs knowledgeable or, at least, informed and rational demos. Tyranny needs only an ignorant, ill-informed, emotional mass.

I have given this thought and concern for years now. As others have as well, I’m sure. And I have found that these concerns have made themselves present in many of my novels. Even when my stories were, ostensibly, focused on other things or written with different purposes in mind. But once these concerns did make themselves present as I composed each novel, they became, in my mind, the actual rationale for the work itself. Which may be a bit of arrogance on my part. But arrogance is an emotion. I could try to deny it, but it does have some nice residual satisfactions. 

  
The impetus to write my novel Journey to Where was to fashion a contemporary scientific romance. That is, a story somewhat akin to the works of H.G Wells and Jules Verne. Novels of fantastic forays into unknown and strange worlds, whether traveling there through time, via a submarine, a sphere covered with anti-gravity paint, or a rocketship. I chose an accidental trip through time. Or Did I? Maybe my protagonists—a group of scientists—end up in a parallel universe. Or perhaps it’s a brand new universe fashioned out of the remnants of their own universe. In any case, they find themselves in a world where dinosaurs never became extinct and are now the dominant two-legged, intelligent (to various degrees) species. Or, actually, two species. The novel offers, I hope, a wide vista, adventure, danger, some humor, and things to contemplate. But it also has a portrait of total authority over the lives of the sentient thinking beings that inhabit the country of Anaraquan. Which translates as Where the Great Quan Rules. It is an authority that hordes knowledge only for its own benefit. An authority that arbitrarily sends people into slavery. An authority dictating who prospers and who doesn’t, who lives and who dies. The novel also proposes the need to defy such authority while acknowledging the damn difficulty in doing so.

Traveling in Space was also written as a variation on a science fiction sub-genre—the First Contact Novel.

I thought it would be amusing to write one from the point of view of the space aliens. Amusing because it would allow me to do a Dean Swift and have a whole shipload of Gullivers to comment on the strange doings of these strange humans. So there is humor as politics, religion, love, and sex is considered. But also horror as genocide is revealed. As hate runs rampant. And the focus is not just on the humans, but the foibles of the aliens are shown as well. And the twain does meet. This has a detrimental effect on the aliens when their leader takes his authority much too seriously.

Creature Feature: A Horrid Comedy began with a simple question.

Where do the ideas for fictional creatures and monsters of horror come from? Vampires sucking blood, werewolves rending flesh, manufactured monsters running amok, giant gorillas and reptiles stomping over the land, etc. The original authors coming up with these ideas were surely not “writing what they knew.” And then another question occurred to me, Why do these creatures and monsters always just wreak havoc, destroying any prospect of having a decent home in a nice neighborhood? Don’t they believe in, if I may put it this way, creature comforts? And so what began as a spoof of old monster movies and the local TV ghouls who screen them became a mash-up of that with political satire. Why? Because I find it much more logical for monsters to gain political power and authority, take over the world, and have lovely places to live. Horrifying, but logical.

Imp: A Political Fantasia is my most upfront political satire. Albeit with, as the title suggests, a fantastic element to it. I have referred to it as “West Wing as done as a Twilight Zone episode.” But it’s also a portrait, maybe only a quick sketch, of the type of personality that becomes authoritarian. A kind, quite frankly, that disturbs and disgusts me. Especially the fact that they are often so successful. Despite this, I was overcome with hope and wrote a Fourth of July Carol. What precisely that means, you’ll have to read the novel to find out.

 

My two Fixxer Adventure novels, Blood is Pretty 

and Hollywood is an All-volunteer Army, were inspired by fiction and life. The fiction was that in words and images portraying such popular and thrilling characters as James Bond, Travis McGee, The Saint, Bulldog Drummond that I had and have a fondness for. The life was mine during two sometimes surreal decades working in Hollywood as a writer and producer. They are two satiric Hollywood thrillers if you can imagine such a thing. Although you don’t have to, as I already did. And you are more than welcome to purchase them on Amazon and give them a read. But in each book, there is a third element making a point. In Blood is Pretty, it is the allure of power and total authority, even when the one seduced isn’t quite sure what to do with it. But, in having it, something will undoubtedly be done. And that something will not bode well. In Hollywood is an All-volunteer Army, I question the power of popular media, especially if it can be manipulated to protect the Haves from the Have-nots.

 
I know, I couldn’t leave well-enough alone. You would think satirizing Hollywood and providing a thrilling adventure would be enough. But I have always found that the precariousness of freedom, especially freedom of thought, has knocked loudly on my consciousness and, frankly, worries me. I could cry every day over the situation. Maybe it is not just movies I cry at so as not to cry at life. Perhaps it is crying out, even softly, in my novels that allow me some solace. 

It’s not quite the same as manning the battlements in defense of freedom and democracy. But it’s what I do. So it’s what I have done. 

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You can check out my books on my Amazon Author's page or the MY BOOKS page of this blog.