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20030218 - Kindred: If All of Rochester Read the Same Book
Writers & Books in Rochester, NY, has this neat concept: If
All of Rochester Read the Same Book
They select a book
to read and a couple months later the author comes through, there's
panels and discussions, book clubs talk about it, local public radio
promotes it, and in general they end up with 40,000 to 50,000 people
in town all reading the same book.
And Octavia
E. Butler rocks. I've read several of her later works--great
science fiction storytelling in a J.G.Ballard "inner space
rather than outer space" mode and a sharp focus on issues of
domination, enslavement, forced cooperation with one's captors,
Stockholm syndrome, body-politics, race, gender, and species.
But Kindred
is brutal in a way that her other stuff isn't quite. A black woman
travels back in time to a plantation in ante bellum Maryland to
make sure her great-great-grandmother is born, by protecting the
plantation owner's son who is her great-great-great-grandfather.
The historical reality behind all of this gives this story have
more immediacy, more pathos, to what happens to the protagonist
than when aliens come and want to take parts of the protagonist's
DNA. I was surprised that I found the book much harder to read than
Samuel R. Delany's Hogg
(a rapist-for-hire carouses about the town with a boy, shit-eating
ensues) or The
Mad Man (an experiment in desensitization and illustration of
the important of context--sex with hobos, scat, and watersports
all make sense by the end of the book). These are real people, not
mere futuristic characters. The brutality was more raw and egregious.
I did see some parallels in the method of Kindred to The Mad Man.
The latter begins with a scene of anarchy, corruption, danger and
extreme perversion. As the book progresses we are 'desensitized'
to things and at the end of the book, a reflected-refracted version
of the opening plays out, and we accept it as comprehensible. Kindred
starts with us at least somewhat understanding the 'base state'
of American slavery, and takes a modern day character and forces
her into that state. As the story progresses, the character is put
into more and more morally ambiguous situations where she has less
and less power, and we see how easy it is to have to work within
the system instead of apart from it. We are slowly desensitized
not to violence, but to acceptance and resignation. The powerlessness
of the protagonist is also our powerlessness to change history.
Congratulations, Writers and Books for taking on such a tough one.
And you, too, Ms. Butler. Antonin Artaud would be proud.
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