Thursday, June 28, 2012

Purpose and Perspective


In Neil Gaiman's The Doll's House, interactions with humanity lead to an apocalyptic revelation for Morpheus, the lord of Dream: the Endless are not the autonomous, godlike figures they assumed themselves to be, but rather servants of the mortal world and subject to their control. Morpheus/Dream becomes a more conscientious, controlled being with tendencies toward human emotions and characteristics after his interactions with a man named Hob, whose life has not been touched by the fear of Death or its embrace. 

In "Men of Good Fortune" (Part Four) Dream enters a tavern with his sister Death, after she implores him to view humans on their own terms, rather than on the terms of the Endless, who (mostly) feel themselves to be superior to mortals. The Endless live apart from humans, and as abstract concepts that can alter their appearance to become tangible, their actions are still separate from the common world of humanity. Dream begins this part of the novel by implying that interactions with humanity are not rewarding experiences, and that he does not see "what purpose [it] will serve." Death, on the other hand, appears to grasp the importance of understanding them. When Dream states the fae consider leaving the physical plane, he appears to also consider the notion and weigh its merits. A conversation dealing with the denial of death leads Dream to Hob, a common man who declares that he will continue to live because he does not recognize death as an absolute. Over the course of several hundred years, Dream continues to meet with Hob, and comes to realize that even when faced with defeat and destruction, humanity remains resilient.

Slowly, the perspective of Dream changes, to where he acknowledges the worth of human lives, and when he finds that Hob has made riches from the slave trade, he asks Hob why he takes "pride in treating...fellow humans as less than animals" (Part Four), a considerable change from his own view of them as pawns in the beginning. The relationship between Hob and Dream may appear with the Endless having the upper hand, but it is Hob who becomes the teacher and Dream the pupil; Dream comes to respect humanity's will to live, its achievements as interesting and admirable. After a few centuries, Hob suggests that Dream continues to meet him because he is lonely, that he seeks a companion with whom to share the trials and triumphs of humanity. Dream angrily denies the statement, yet the next century seems pleased to state that he "heard it was impolite to keep one's friends waiting" (Part Four), then buys Hob a drink.

Throughout this section of The Doll's House Dream transforms from an entity that defines himself by his separateness, his superiority over to humanity, to just another subject of humanity's conscious. He realizes that he and the other Endless are not rulers over humans, but under their control and influence, telling his sister Desire that they "are the servants of the living--we are NOT their masters" (Part Four). Dream comes to the conclusion that existence of the Endless is contingent upon the belief of humanity. Without humanity, the Endless have not purpose and with not purpose comes despair. Dream's outlook is irreversibly changed by his interactions with humanity on their own terms, and he experiences a personal apocalypse when he reaches this conclusion. 

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

What Dreams May Come


In Neil Gaiman's second volume of the popular Sandman series, The Doll's House, abstract concepts such as Dream, Desire, Death, and Despair at times assume the tangible form of human bodies, walking through our world and other dimensions of their own creation. Though each concept differs from one another in myriad ways, they are all inextricably linked by their dependence on humanity to sustain them and their reliance on one another to function. Dream in particular, is versatile in his relationships with the other concepts, functioning as a conduit for Desire and an escape from Despair. 
The Doll's House features sequences of individual character dreams, where desire and escape are illustrated by various scenarios: young Jed who is transported through his dreams to a place where he is wanted by those around him, a real family--of superheroes, nonetheless!--that cater to his whims and love him; Barbie's dreams depict a princess on a quest, one who is taken seriously and has a sure purpose; Ken's full of sex and greed and power. While the realm of Morpheus brings these desires to life, they are not solely the property of Dream; all of the aforementioned aspirations are created by Desire. When the Fates speak to Rose, they warn her to "beware Dreams and Houses" (The Doll's House 18), because the realm of dreams is where desire takes form and comes to life, where desire becomes reality. Outside of nightmares, Despair does not reside in dreams except in the form of escape and avoidance, and Dream funnels this desire for evasiveness into the appropriate setting. 
But although Dream appears as a channel for Desire and Despair, Dream--with the help of Death--also give in to the desires of humanity, those who are truly in control. The abstractions imply at several points in the novel that only through Death do the living gain respite from Desire and Despair, but this is a false notion on their part. After granting immortality (of a sort) to Hob in "Men of Fortune," Morpheus observes the highs and lows of a life free from the fear of death, but also witnesses the pain of humanity when subjected to never-ending life. Hob declares that even Death holds no power when her existence is denied, and in his case this appears to be true, as both Death and Dream allow him to continue on for centuries. When Hob returns centuries later destitute and broken Morpheus inquires as to whether he would like to finally welcome Death: "You still wish to live? Do you not seek the respite of death" (14)? Even then, however, Hob chooses life, his utmost desire. The novel never ends the story of Hob, his tale cut off with yet another meeting with Dream, illustrating that in the end, Desire, Death, and Dream are all just creations of humanity and powerless without its acknowledgment. 

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Symptoms of a Dying Planet


As evident in the P.D. James novel Children of Men and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, though there can be multiple symptoms that trigger an apocalypse, the direct cause of such an event is usually readily apparent: in Children of Men the cause of the apocalypse is worldwide infertility, and in Oryx in Crake it is a massive plague that wipes out almost the entire human species. Symptomatic and causal difference is denoted by factors that subtly, or indirectly, contribute to an apocalypse and those that have a direct and immediate, universal effect. An apocalypse is, above all, a change in mindset as everything ever known or thought to be True collapses and ceases to exist. The symptoms of an apocalypse can either contribute to or sustain the devastation, while the cause of an apocalypse is the conspicuous event that led to worldwide change. 
In Children of Men, the symptoms of apocalypse are contributing factors such as social evils, and also aftereffects such as apathy, hopelessness, and despair. These symptoms alone do not cause or sustain the apocalypse, it takes something much greater in scope that broadly influences every corner of civilization--worldwide infertility. We see many of the contributing/sustaining factors of the apocalypse in Children of Men in our contemporary society, but they do not lead to the epic repercussions seen in the novel simply because there is no universal, life-changing cause of an apocalypse to accompany such emotions. Symptoms that sustain the apocalypse include a change in religious theology, governmental regulation of bodies, apathetic perspectives, and hopelessness in the face of extinction: "they live without hope on a dying planet" (58). 
In Oryx and Crake, the cause of the apocalypse is also evident: the plague/disease that quickly infects and kills most of the human species. The symptoms of the apocalypse are once again the follies of humanity: the pride of Crake, the apathy of the world, desensitized society, and a breakdown in meaning regarding language. Each of these symptoms contributes and sustains the cause of the apocalypse, but alone they are not enough to produce universal devastation. 
The symptoms and causes of apocalypse should be thought of in much the same way a fatal disease is viewed: there are warning signs and also symptoms that manifest before/after the disease (such as cancer) has taken hold that signal its presence or warn of its impending appearance. The cause of apocalypse should be thought of like the disease, as the absolute presence and foundation of transformation, that which will turn the world upside down and eventually lead to death, or at least a death of the previous way of life--in the case of the two novels, the plague and infertility that heralds the death of the human species.  

Monday, June 4, 2012

The Doctrine of Unintended Consequences


In Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, events that happened before a worldwide catastrophe are narrated by Jimmy/Snowman, who was privy to the beginning of the plague that left no continent untouched. Interspersed through the daily post-apocalyptic activities that he encounters, Snowman reminisces about his lover, Oryx, and best friend, Crake, and recounts how the entire situation began, reverting to his original name, Jimmy, during these flashbacks. Though many factors contributed to the creation of the plague, idealism was a prominent element in Crake's motivation to bring an end to the current human species. 
As young teens, Jimmy and Crake played games involving extinction, annihilation, and balance--most notably a game called Blood and Roses, a game of strategy which featured players battling against one another using human achievements and atrocities as leverage. In order to stop atrocities (genocides, war, massacres), an achievement (art, literature, architecture) must be given up. For every atrocity committed in human history, there was an achievement that balanced the scale. This idealism on the part of Crake, that there was somehow perfection worth the cost of human life and devastation, attainable only through equilibrium of action, led to his creation of the Children of Crake. When Jimmy first viewed them at the Paradice Dome, he inquired about his inspiration for the new species, one which eliminated all of the traits in humans that Crake found undesirable or impractical (fear, desire, etc.): Crake replied that the Children "represent the art of the possible" (305). In Crake's world, there is always a price to pay, and the price for the perfection of the Children he created was the annihilation of the current species, devoid of any beneficial use after the introduction of his final work of art. Like the game of Blood and Roses, Crake rolled the dice and  decided that the atrocity of human extinction through plague was worth the price of his achievement. 
But what Crake did not count on was that, while he used the word "possible" in his description of the Children of Crake, he did not factor in--or perhaps deliberately chose to overlook--the possibility that humans, other than Jimmy, might actually survive the apocalypse. Crake's attention to detail and strict control over his experiment ended when he took his life in a murder-suicide involving Oryx: without his intervention the world became "one vast uncontrolled experiment…and the doctrine of unintended consequences [was] in full spate" (228). Crake essentially restarted the game of Blood and Roses when he relinquished his control of the outcome of his game. 

Saturday, May 26, 2012

What's Love Got To Do With It?


In Children of Men, the belief in love has been replaced by a general apathy in regards to the human population. Humans have devolved emotionally, or at least become more cynical and selfish, about their lives since the apocalypse began. They lack the emotional and physical connections brought on by the personal and physiological aspects of established relationships-whether that relationship is familial, platonic, or sexual. Sexuality is regulated by the government, with state-sanctioned pornography and prostitution proffered through various pleasure-inducing programs. Sexuality and the body are used as means of control, by pacifying the population with physical release the government assures their complacence. Even though Theo posits "[r]omantic and idealized love has taken over" (7) the senses of the population, these feelings are merely idealized notions of an emotion humans now lack, along with hope and desire. 
Although Love, as the evangelist Rosie continually asserts, is the only hope for a cure in a world doomed to hopelessness and despair, the element of love, which progressively ended when Omega began, becomes confused with sense of purpose, duty, obligation, and responsibility towards the end of the novel; these characteristics are not mutually exclusive to love, but tend to be looked upon with the same fanatic intensity. Love, as we are aware of the concept today, ceased to exist and only manifests through specific characteristics, which does not suggest it is still present, only the sense of purpose created by such emotion. One passage in the novel declares "[m]an is diminished if he lives without knowledge of his past; without hope of a future he becomes a beast" (98); the concept of love allows those still living to forget impending death and extinction in favor of a relationship with those still surviving, even if the emotion is not reality, but construction.
The misguided notion of love in the novel, or at least a cynical variation on my part, is best illustrated through analysis of Theo's character. He declares himself a "selfish son, an unloving father, a bad husband" (218). Theo has shirked responsibility his entire life, even going so far as to declare himself purposefully evading the obligations inherent in responsibility: he gives up on his marriage because he does not want to bear the guilt of not loving his wife or daughter, and killing his daughter; he quits his position as counselor to the Warden of England, Xan, because he dislikes the responsibility and being overlooked; he is conflicted about joining the Five Fishes because he does not want the social or personal responsibility that comes with revolution, however minor. Theo experiences loneliness and isolation through choice and states: "I am 50 years old and I have never known what it is to love…[on a] doomed and joyless planet when man goes to his last rest and all desire fades" (133-134). But when he is introduced to Julian he experiences the first stirrings of obligation and duty. When he decides to help and get her to safety after Rolf has left, his entire view of the world shifts with his newfound responsibility. He finds himself with a purpose, and having never experienced even the vestiges of love, that purpose is mistaken for love. Obligation, duty, and responsibility are all symptoms of purpose, not desire or emotional attachment. When confronted with these strange feelings, the world opens up for Theo and he views it a "a place in which nothing that lived could be wholly alien from him" (222). 
Whatever hope the ending of the novel garners is banished with the realization that Theo's love is not quite what it seems. Love, even the semblance of love, is a dangerous emotion, much more so than apathy, particularly when wielded by one who is unfamiliar with its effects, such as Theo. His burgeoning love with Julian will eventually cause him pain, as he will not be able to bear the loss of her or the child, and the hope that child signifies. Theo lashes out at Miriam before the child is born, questioning the effects on the child if s/he is the only one that will ever be born again: "To what hell are we condemning her? Can you begin to imagine the loneliness of her last years" (219)? True love can blind the unwary and can sometimes lead to unexpected outcomes, but when that love is confused with other emotions it becomes problematic. When Theo places the coronation ring on his finger after killing Xan, dangerous thoughts brought on by his sense of duty and responsibility to Julian and her child surface: "[t]he sense that everything was possible to him, that what he wanted would be done, that what he hated would be abolished, that the world could be fashioned according to his will." (241) The power of position is clearly an enticing notion to Theo, and a "shadow" crosses the eyes of Julian, betraying the idealized notions of romance and love that Theo has latched onto, and indicating that hope for the future is as tenuous as their current situation.



Saturday, May 19, 2012

Children of Men


Apocalyptic scenarios in both literature and film tend to focus first on the foundational upheavals of society: the social and political structures. Only after illustrating the universal catastrophes, the tangible disorder, can the narrative then focus on the psychological ramifications that in turn become an apocalypse themselves. In Children of Men, P.D. James has constructed an apocalyptic world where humankind is no longer able to procreate, and no amount of scientific intervention or testing has found conclusive evidence for a cause of the unexplained infertility. The myriad array of apocalyptic experiences and events in Children of Men all lead to the same question: what happens in a world when there are no longer children to continue the race of humankind?

As the title of this blog "The Mausoleum of Hope" suggests, apocalyptic experiences are inevitably accompanied by a profound loss of hope or faith in the future. But like the work the postscript is derived from, Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, a prevalent theme in apocalyptic literature, especially Children of Men, is Time. The main character of James's novel, Theo Faron, is an Oxford historian, a member of arguably one of the most notable and distinguished educational institutions in the world. He has spent his life lecturing and studying, immersed in learning from the past in order to ensure a better future. But with the advent of Omega comes a startling revelation, not only to Theo but the entire world: to record for posterity, to study and produce scholarship pertaining to history, is now nothing but ceremony, a disingenuous reflection of action from past centuries now that there is no one who will need the information disseminated after such research. Theo laments that "[h]istory, which interprets the past to understand the present and confront the future, is the least rewarding discipline for a dying species" (11), particularly when that species has no future. Time, once so assured, now moves inexorably to the end for humankind; their time has run out. 

The apocalyptic revelation that accompanies the political and social upheaval in Children of Men is the dramatic loss of hope. After over two decades of testing and anxious wait, it has become evident that humankind has reached its limitations in terms of scientific and medical intervention. A faith once placed in the gods of medicine is broken by the inability to find a cause or cure, and hope for a future is then universally lost. Though Theo consistently references the evangelical pastor Rosie and her call for Love as the everlasting principle of humanity, it is apparent that the apathy, willingness to remain ignorant to the plight of others, and the mass suicides of the Quietus specifically stem from the loss of that one, simple emotion: hope. Always underscoring the absence of faith and hope for the future is Time, which every second leads towards extinction. According to Theo in his diary, society "can experience nothing but the present moment, live in no other second of time, and to understand this is as close as we can get to eternal life" (9). The apocalypse of Children of Men is more than just the tangible changes in society and politics; it is also psychological in nature.