Thank you, John - I enjoy your writing and respect the work that goes into it.
Your meditation on the Southern Gothic horror that is "Ode To Billie Joe" struck a nerve. You see I'm re-reading a weird and wonderful Southern Gothic horror novel written by a friend of mine - "Kestrel Waters - A Tale of Love and the Devil" by Randy Thornhorn (2013).
In this tale, the Devil is real, and nearby, and utterly careless about the destruction his presence creates. It feels a lot more real to me today than it did upon my first reading of Randy's manuscript in 2011 or my second read after it was published.
I'm not going to spoil the plot, in case you decide to read it. IMO it's not perfect, but it is original, compelling, and inspiring. I need some inspiration right now, as you seem to do as well.
I first encountered Randy on a political page called "Slap Back The Bully" on FB, when I was mostly in bed for a year recovering from treatment for a stage 4 cancer. He was the moderator, and in him I found a philosophically-kindred spirit. I started posting to the page, he took notice, and eventually asked me to co-moderate it.
Through this interaction I got to know him, his ex-wife, his daughter, his current girlfriend, and I learned about his life - a life that spanned military service, a stint in Hollywood, divorce, and as a writer living in a cabin in the woods outside Opelika, AL - a career path that was shaped by talent and dogged by alcoholism.
He shared short fiction he'd completed, and confided that he was finishing up a manuscript for a novel. He asked me if I'd like to read it and give him some feedback. I was honored and accepted. After it was published he sent me an advance copy, inscribed with: "For John - Keep vamping, keep jumping in. And thank you eternally for helping me climb the mountain. - Randy"
For some reason, one Friday night Randy fell off the wagon, and literally fell in his cabin and split his head open on some furniture. They found his body on Monday, with his dogs curled up next to him.
My friendship with Randy opened my mind and heart to the possibility that the Devil is real, and nearby, and destructive. Randy's life and death also inspired me to keep writing - in the hope that I might improve through sheer repetition - and to drink less.
First, condolences on the loss of your friend Randy. It's so sad to see a friend lose that struggle — as I know from experience. But I'm glad that he did escape it long enough to write his novel, and that it has meant so much to you. I may check it out (but I can't promise that I will, please understand).
As to the reality of 'the Devil,' I can say that I believe that evil is real, so it's really not much of a leap to say that the Devil is as well.
The great writer Ted Chiang (whose brilliant work would be much better known if so many people didn't look down their noses at 'science fiction' — although the movie 'Arrival,' based on one of his stories, did get him a lot of notice, finally) wrote a story called 'Hell is the absence of God' in which the God, Devil, angels and miracles of the so-called 'Old Testament' appear as literal realities in a modern setting. Like everything by Ted Chiang, 'Hell is the absence of God,' is subtle, surprising, deep, and profoundly upsetting. You might want to check it out. (It's in his collection 'Stories of you life, and others,' which was rebranded as 'Arrival' after the success of that movie.
Thanks for the kind thoughts. I have no expectation that anyone will read Randy’s novel on my recommendation - I don’t want to give anyone homework, or make demands on their time.
I second your comments about Ted Chiang. I sought out “Stories of Your Life and Others” and read it shortly after seeing Arrival. Totally worth every minute of the time for a read, and a couple of re-reads since.
It’s interesting to me that the screenwriter for Arrival chose that particular story to adapt - there were so many great ones to choose from.
I hate to burst your bubble, but your comment above landed "Kestrel Waters" onto my Kindle, and it's next on my reading list. (Currently working through a Cory Doctorow cryptocurrency mystery.) :-)
On the topic of grief, another recommendation made around here - Ash Deza's "Only the Living Feel Remorse" (with a foreword by our host) - is what it took for me to realize that what I have been feeling is also a sense of grief over what we're losing in real-time. It sucks, but like all good horror stories, once you can name the *real* monster you're grappling with, its power over you diminishes. That realization - what I was dealing with was grief more so than the terror more directly-affected folks are struggling with - served as the catalyst to break me out of a funk not too dissimilar to what John describes above.
And like you, I've resolved to try and write my way partially through it. While I mainly dabble in horror and sci-fi, I figure that there's a likely a need for folks to name the monsters around us, so that those reading have a template to begin to make sense of the literally unfathomable chaos and unthinking destruction that's going on all around us.
I'll close by asking when the next meeting of the Ted Chiang Fan Club is happening. I'll bring snacks for everyone.
I, too, have been thinking about "Ode to Billie Joe" recently, because of what I think is the flip side of it, a family of songs that goes back to c.1611 and includes "Go Dig My Grave," (which started my rabbit hole), "Died for Love," to "A Forlorn Lover's Complaint" (the 1611 one, and I am sure merely the earliest we know).
In those, a spurned lover ostentatiously kills themself, leaving instructions on what their grave marker should say, specifically noting that they died for love. In "Ode," Gentry turns that on its head, which is why it's so wonderful. The spurned lover kills himself and hardly anyone even notices. The drama of the song is that we all know that the protagonist is the spurning lover, we all know that her family is not paying attention and haven't been paying attention, and on top of that it's obvious to us that it should be obvious to them. It isn't to me casual cruelty, it's obliviousness. It's that they're all in their own little world and not even seeing their own daughter's life.
It's thus, very, very 1967 and of a sort with other obliviousness songs like the Beatles "She's Leaving Home," where the protagonist goes off to a new life, leaving an inadequate note. They don't even notice her planning and execution of her plan. It also goes along with other things like Dylan, "something going on here and you don't know what it is," (though here part of the point is that Mr Jones knows he's oblivious), and much more.
So yeah.
I'm glad you're better, I'm glad you're well and going to write us more essays.
Thank you, John - I enjoy your writing and respect the work that goes into it.
Your meditation on the Southern Gothic horror that is "Ode To Billie Joe" struck a nerve. You see I'm re-reading a weird and wonderful Southern Gothic horror novel written by a friend of mine - "Kestrel Waters - A Tale of Love and the Devil" by Randy Thornhorn (2013).
In this tale, the Devil is real, and nearby, and utterly careless about the destruction his presence creates. It feels a lot more real to me today than it did upon my first reading of Randy's manuscript in 2011 or my second read after it was published.
I'm not going to spoil the plot, in case you decide to read it. IMO it's not perfect, but it is original, compelling, and inspiring. I need some inspiration right now, as you seem to do as well.
I first encountered Randy on a political page called "Slap Back The Bully" on FB, when I was mostly in bed for a year recovering from treatment for a stage 4 cancer. He was the moderator, and in him I found a philosophically-kindred spirit. I started posting to the page, he took notice, and eventually asked me to co-moderate it.
Through this interaction I got to know him, his ex-wife, his daughter, his current girlfriend, and I learned about his life - a life that spanned military service, a stint in Hollywood, divorce, and as a writer living in a cabin in the woods outside Opelika, AL - a career path that was shaped by talent and dogged by alcoholism.
He shared short fiction he'd completed, and confided that he was finishing up a manuscript for a novel. He asked me if I'd like to read it and give him some feedback. I was honored and accepted. After it was published he sent me an advance copy, inscribed with: "For John - Keep vamping, keep jumping in. And thank you eternally for helping me climb the mountain. - Randy"
For some reason, one Friday night Randy fell off the wagon, and literally fell in his cabin and split his head open on some furniture. They found his body on Monday, with his dogs curled up next to him.
My friendship with Randy opened my mind and heart to the possibility that the Devil is real, and nearby, and destructive. Randy's life and death also inspired me to keep writing - in the hope that I might improve through sheer repetition - and to drink less.
First, condolences on the loss of your friend Randy. It's so sad to see a friend lose that struggle — as I know from experience. But I'm glad that he did escape it long enough to write his novel, and that it has meant so much to you. I may check it out (but I can't promise that I will, please understand).
As to the reality of 'the Devil,' I can say that I believe that evil is real, so it's really not much of a leap to say that the Devil is as well.
The great writer Ted Chiang (whose brilliant work would be much better known if so many people didn't look down their noses at 'science fiction' — although the movie 'Arrival,' based on one of his stories, did get him a lot of notice, finally) wrote a story called 'Hell is the absence of God' in which the God, Devil, angels and miracles of the so-called 'Old Testament' appear as literal realities in a modern setting. Like everything by Ted Chiang, 'Hell is the absence of God,' is subtle, surprising, deep, and profoundly upsetting. You might want to check it out. (It's in his collection 'Stories of you life, and others,' which was rebranded as 'Arrival' after the success of that movie.
Thanks for the kind thoughts. I have no expectation that anyone will read Randy’s novel on my recommendation - I don’t want to give anyone homework, or make demands on their time.
I second your comments about Ted Chiang. I sought out “Stories of Your Life and Others” and read it shortly after seeing Arrival. Totally worth every minute of the time for a read, and a couple of re-reads since.
It’s interesting to me that the screenwriter for Arrival chose that particular story to adapt - there were so many great ones to choose from.
I hate to burst your bubble, but your comment above landed "Kestrel Waters" onto my Kindle, and it's next on my reading list. (Currently working through a Cory Doctorow cryptocurrency mystery.) :-)
On the topic of grief, another recommendation made around here - Ash Deza's "Only the Living Feel Remorse" (with a foreword by our host) - is what it took for me to realize that what I have been feeling is also a sense of grief over what we're losing in real-time. It sucks, but like all good horror stories, once you can name the *real* monster you're grappling with, its power over you diminishes. That realization - what I was dealing with was grief more so than the terror more directly-affected folks are struggling with - served as the catalyst to break me out of a funk not too dissimilar to what John describes above.
And like you, I've resolved to try and write my way partially through it. While I mainly dabble in horror and sci-fi, I figure that there's a likely a need for folks to name the monsters around us, so that those reading have a template to begin to make sense of the literally unfathomable chaos and unthinking destruction that's going on all around us.
I'll close by asking when the next meeting of the Ted Chiang Fan Club is happening. I'll bring snacks for everyone.
Great, twisty essay.
I really liked the essay.
I, too, have been thinking about "Ode to Billie Joe" recently, because of what I think is the flip side of it, a family of songs that goes back to c.1611 and includes "Go Dig My Grave," (which started my rabbit hole), "Died for Love," to "A Forlorn Lover's Complaint" (the 1611 one, and I am sure merely the earliest we know).
In those, a spurned lover ostentatiously kills themself, leaving instructions on what their grave marker should say, specifically noting that they died for love. In "Ode," Gentry turns that on its head, which is why it's so wonderful. The spurned lover kills himself and hardly anyone even notices. The drama of the song is that we all know that the protagonist is the spurning lover, we all know that her family is not paying attention and haven't been paying attention, and on top of that it's obvious to us that it should be obvious to them. It isn't to me casual cruelty, it's obliviousness. It's that they're all in their own little world and not even seeing their own daughter's life.
It's thus, very, very 1967 and of a sort with other obliviousness songs like the Beatles "She's Leaving Home," where the protagonist goes off to a new life, leaving an inadequate note. They don't even notice her planning and execution of her plan. It also goes along with other things like Dylan, "something going on here and you don't know what it is," (though here part of the point is that Mr Jones knows he's oblivious), and much more.
So yeah.
I'm glad you're better, I'm glad you're well and going to write us more essays.