I am soon starting my new job as a tax preparer, and the twelve inches of snow that prevented me from going to my first day of training for the job today, remind me that when my family and I get snow here in the country, we sometimes lose power too. So I'm writing while I can.
The snow also reminds me of the two conflicting ideologies I have: being a minimalist, who also wants to prepare for hard times that may come.
So when it comes to books, I have to figure out a balance between the urge to get rid of almost everything, and the urge to hoard everything. I love books, and if we lose power for a long period of time, paper books are all I have. So there's the urge to collect as many paper books as I cheaply can, in the hope that some of them are good, and in case I don't have any other means of entertainment left.
Older used books, if you know the right places to look, are very cheap, in general. I miss the library book sales half the time (which irritates me to no end that they can't advertise the sales better). But even without them, I recently managed to find dozens of science-fiction novellas from the 1950s through the 1970s in a local thrift shop, for a dollar each. So I stocked up on the ones that looked good.
The problem, though, is that it's nearly impossible to find older books with LGBT characters, much less non-straight romance, even in a genre full of alien species. And I like me some gay romance to warm my little gay heart.
And to make it even more awful, in most straight romance, the author's idea of compatibility consists of, "They're in close proximity to each other, and their genitals don't match." Or, even worse, "They hate each other, and their genitals don't match."
Yet there is some interesting subtext in some of these novels. I am convinced that the one I am reviewing right now, The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner, reflects the late author's struggle with his own sexuality. And in another novel I have read a bit of, Invaders From Rigel by Fletcher Pratt, two "roommates" seem to be a gay couple, one calling the other "old dear," and behaving like he very much cares for Old Dear.
But I want more than subtext. Imagine how straight people would feel if examples of their romance were suppressed for decades, centuries even, or portrayed as decadent, destructive, or wrong--and reading the gay romance in old books was just a depressing reminder that their ancestors had to hide their love. If only we lived in a world where no one had to feel this way.
There are excellent stories out there, with characters who happen to fall in love in matching pairs of men and women. And some characters even go from living as a man to living as a woman, and vice versa. But these books are, nearly all of them, relatively modern, and so relatively expensive. And often, the cheapest option for these is ebooks, which would disappear if we lost access to electricity over the long term.
I can't go out and buy a dozen "gay" books as easily or cheaply as I could a dozen "straight" books. About a month ago, I inquired about LGBT books at a local used bookstore in a small town near me, and the man working there directed me to the feminist section, saying, "You might find some here." I didn't find even one. And I live in Oregon, a semi-blue state.
So I stock up on cheap scifi, mystery, and other books I am curious about, occasionally when I can, while using the rest of my book money to buy books I really want. And the cheap books are almost as easily gotten rid of as they are acquired.
There are also ways to make the most of the heteronormative old books you find. I'm having fun writing a review of a book with very homophobic overtones. I also enjoy reading between the lines, and speculating on what the author was going through at the time, or whether he or she was subtextually writing LGBT characters. It's really fun to dissect a story, criticize it, and speculate about the author.
Writing gay fan fiction, mostly in my head for my own entertainment, is another way I deal with the lack of what I really want to read.
But in most of the books I have, there is always something missing. Stories are not as vibrant, without characters of all kinds of abilities, sexualities, gender identities, races, etc. In the batch of scifi I got, I believe all of the protagonists are male, and almost all are white--the lead in The Wrong End of Time is black (though more "well-spoken" than the bad black characters, meaning understood by the white characters), and the lead in two others (Galactic Derelict and The Defiant Agents by Andre Norton) is Apache. But there is not much diversity other than that, to my knowledge. And these stories really miss out, because of it.
When it comes to minimalism and "stuff," different circumstances in life make me want different things. The snow makes me want to hoard things, especially information and entertainment through books. I have lived through many winters where my only source of entertainment for a day or more are the paper books that I have on hand.
I like to look at pictures of personal and public libraries on Pinterest. I love to dream of having lots and lots of books. But sometimes I think that I'll just get rid of most of the books anyway, especially if they are antique leather-bound books and therefore probably boring to me, terribly heteronormative, or morally appalling in what they do write about homosexuals.
But a more modern science-fiction library, even if most of these paperbacks are written for a straight, homophobic audience? Yeah, I might take that. (I also might cull it down, though.) But I do like having cheap entertainment when there's nothing else to read.
Some people are minimalists, except when it comes to books. I try to keep that in mind, whenever I feel like I have too many. I have a shelf full of cheap scifi, and if I had a lot more, I would probably get rid of some. If they're boring, I won't even read them before I give them away. And I will get rid of them when I'm done reading or reviewing them, too. They are held looser than other books, more easily gotten rid of.
And sometimes I even get rid of the "permanent" books I have on hand, when I'm not using them regularly. Those are more challenging to decide on, and to get rid of. But that's another subject altogether.
The bottom line with books, and with anything, is that you just have to find a balance that works for you. Too much would be overwhelming, and too little would make you feel deprived.
One of the most helpful things I have ever done was to write down the names and authors of the books I'm unsure of getting rid of, so that I can get them back if I want to. I have a special notebook with only that list. So far, I have not had to use it to get any books back, but it does comfort me, nonetheless.
Find the right balance for you--the balance between getting rid of everything and hoarding it all, and the balance between cheap books and desirable books--and write down the ones you do get rid of, if that makes it easier. Your book collection will probably be expanding and shrinking for the rest of your life, so don't worry if it expands temporarily.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Book Review: TWET--What It Gets Right
The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner, page 28.
I am really impressed by this author's condemnation of materialism and keeping up with the Joneses. I just wish that in the process, he didn't seem to condemn the metaphorical Mr. and Mr. Jones just for being a couple.
Let's see what our Soviet agent thinks of this near-future society, and to a larger extent, what the author thought of our present-day society:
They would take pains to impress him with their loyalty, their right thinking; they would have the proper photographs and flags on display. Small matter if they were afraid of some impersonal, august, omniscient security force, rather than the cold consensus of their neighbors--the effect was essentially the same.
That last sentence tells us that the author is talking about more than a fictional near-future world. Indeed, his fictional America and world is merely an exaggeration of our own--from the garbage filling the ocean, to everyone being armed, to the televangelist being a creepy pervert who tries to grope girls at parties and touches himself while watching others making out, but is still revered by his flock. (Although, to be fair, that last one probably isn't an exaggeration at all.)
The cold consensus of our neighbors--is that what we are so afraid of? I've often wondered if people in subdivisions are more likely than country people, or even city people, to feel pressured into buying expensive cars and boats to impress their neighbors. Country people look out their windows and see nature or their own field animals; city people look out and see strangers coming and going. But the people in the suburbs look out their windows, and see people that they have to live with and put up with, possibly for the rest of their lives.
They see the neighbor next door who always seems like a smugly perfect mom, or the guy across the street who always has to top everyone else with his gadgets. (Or am I just thinking of sitcoms?)
Either way, I have noticed that, in my experience, people living and working in crowded environments--suburbs, large employers such as schools and government organizations, and churches--tend to spend more conspicuously. This is especially true of churches, where the pressure is to put up a "blessed" front so that you look like a good Christian.
My mom had a "good" job for a little while, with a local government agency. But she didn't like it, mostly because of the pettiness of the women working there. She mentioned to me that every one of them had designer purses and expensive cars. With how many people were working there, the Veterans' Administration had become its own materialistic subculture.
I'm sure there are some that resist the urge to buy nice new cars, furniture, boats, and vacations. But they don't talk about it. And living in the suburbs, especially more prosperous or middle-class suburbs, would not make it any easier.
They would strive to be dedicated pillars of their community, set on raising their children to follow in their footsteps, endlessly quarreling with them when they scoffed or asked unanswerable questions.
But he had seen a man under a tree: thin, wearing only a loincloth, one eye filmed with a cataract, who spent the day in ecstatic enjoyment of the sun's heat on his skin, and at nightfall fumbled in the bowl before him and ate what he found. There was always something in the bowl.
After that he had to be Donald Holtzer again, and Holtzer was not troubled by such thoughts.
The spy, "Holtzer," was thinking of a man he had seen in India, who owned nothing but a begging bowl. The man was content, even with so little. And "there was always something in the bowl." The universe, the world, provided for the man. And in a less general sense, his fellow human beings were willing to share. There was enough for everyone. How could Sheklov, even in his alter ego as Holtzer, not be changed after what he had seen? How could he ever be the same, when he had seen the alternative? Or when he knew there was an alternative?
I like how Brunner, the author, has a talent for making a seemingly insignificant sentence, in context, become dramatic and raise the conflict of the story and the inner conflict of the characters. That, at least, is something this obsessively homophobic--and thereby harmfully mistaken--man did right.
I am really impressed by this author's condemnation of materialism and keeping up with the Joneses. I just wish that in the process, he didn't seem to condemn the metaphorical Mr. and Mr. Jones just for being a couple.
Let's see what our Soviet agent thinks of this near-future society, and to a larger extent, what the author thought of our present-day society:
They would take pains to impress him with their loyalty, their right thinking; they would have the proper photographs and flags on display. Small matter if they were afraid of some impersonal, august, omniscient security force, rather than the cold consensus of their neighbors--the effect was essentially the same.
That last sentence tells us that the author is talking about more than a fictional near-future world. Indeed, his fictional America and world is merely an exaggeration of our own--from the garbage filling the ocean, to everyone being armed, to the televangelist being a creepy pervert who tries to grope girls at parties and touches himself while watching others making out, but is still revered by his flock. (Although, to be fair, that last one probably isn't an exaggeration at all.)
The cold consensus of our neighbors--is that what we are so afraid of? I've often wondered if people in subdivisions are more likely than country people, or even city people, to feel pressured into buying expensive cars and boats to impress their neighbors. Country people look out their windows and see nature or their own field animals; city people look out and see strangers coming and going. But the people in the suburbs look out their windows, and see people that they have to live with and put up with, possibly for the rest of their lives.
They see the neighbor next door who always seems like a smugly perfect mom, or the guy across the street who always has to top everyone else with his gadgets. (Or am I just thinking of sitcoms?)
Either way, I have noticed that, in my experience, people living and working in crowded environments--suburbs, large employers such as schools and government organizations, and churches--tend to spend more conspicuously. This is especially true of churches, where the pressure is to put up a "blessed" front so that you look like a good Christian.
My mom had a "good" job for a little while, with a local government agency. But she didn't like it, mostly because of the pettiness of the women working there. She mentioned to me that every one of them had designer purses and expensive cars. With how many people were working there, the Veterans' Administration had become its own materialistic subculture.
I'm sure there are some that resist the urge to buy nice new cars, furniture, boats, and vacations. But they don't talk about it. And living in the suburbs, especially more prosperous or middle-class suburbs, would not make it any easier.
They would strive to be dedicated pillars of their community, set on raising their children to follow in their footsteps, endlessly quarreling with them when they scoffed or asked unanswerable questions.
But he had seen a man under a tree: thin, wearing only a loincloth, one eye filmed with a cataract, who spent the day in ecstatic enjoyment of the sun's heat on his skin, and at nightfall fumbled in the bowl before him and ate what he found. There was always something in the bowl.
After that he had to be Donald Holtzer again, and Holtzer was not troubled by such thoughts.
The spy, "Holtzer," was thinking of a man he had seen in India, who owned nothing but a begging bowl. The man was content, even with so little. And "there was always something in the bowl." The universe, the world, provided for the man. And in a less general sense, his fellow human beings were willing to share. There was enough for everyone. How could Sheklov, even in his alter ego as Holtzer, not be changed after what he had seen? How could he ever be the same, when he had seen the alternative? Or when he knew there was an alternative?
I like how Brunner, the author, has a talent for making a seemingly insignificant sentence, in context, become dramatic and raise the conflict of the story and the inner conflict of the characters. That, at least, is something this obsessively homophobic--and thereby harmfully mistaken--man did right.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Book Review: TWET: An Alternative Explanation
In The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner, the title tells us that it is about time travel or alternate timelines. The back cover tells us that it is about trying to save the earth from alien attack. But this book is really about a near-future America that has gone off the deep end of decadence, racism, and Cold War paranoia. Those looking for time travel or aliens will be sorely disappointed.
But this book is ultimately, as I have been arguing, about the author's own internalized homophobia. For someone who portrays homosexuality so negatively, and thereby ostensibly doesn't like it...he portrays it a lot! This was published in 1973, and I am curious now to read the late author's later works, and see if he still has this obsession running through them.
I definitely think that the author was working through some personal stuff. And I hope he eventually resolved it, even if he died in the closet.
It is pretty obvious that the "bad," or decadent and racist, people, are the ones tolerant of or engaging in homosexuality. It's an open secret among both the elite, and the street thugs who try to kill a young woman in order to sell her expensive clothes. If we accept homosexuality (and to a lesser extent, straight promiscuity), the author warns, then the oceans and beaches will fill with garbage, gas station attendants will point guns at you every time you fill up, no one will be allowed to be artists or free spirits without hatred and harassment, and most of all, the aliens will blow us all up.
But there is a slight possibility that the author had better intentions than to just slam homosexuals and thereby feel more straight. As I said in previous posts, the homosexuality in this book has a distinctly dated flavor. Homosexuality here is, for a man, cheating on one's wife--not being faithful to one's husband. It is as homosexuality was portrayed often in the 1970s, not as it is portrayed and known today.
And that's the rub: In this terrible, materialistic society, homosexuality is a shameful or semi-shameful secret. It is embraced and accepted, but not very openly. I should say, it is tolerated rather than accepted. Two women at a party demand to sleep with the host because their husbands are making out with each other. And a Soviet spy has a "cover story" of sleeping with a man, in order to explain his occasional disappearances (to his wife, I believe, not his employer--it's unclear, however he does have a wife and has to at least pretend to hide occasional craving for a man).
In this world, as far as I know, there is no gay Pride, no gay marriage, no protections for LGBT people--and anti-sodomy laws are supposed to be enforced in some states.
And because it is so "tolerant" and yet so unaccepting, America has gone down the toilet. The oceans have filled with garbage and the aliens are going to blast us out of orbit, because of the way we treat our LGBT citizens. The white-collar ones have to keep secrets, and the racial minorities have to resort to a life of crime just to make ends meet. This form of tolerant homophobia goes hand in hand with racism and classism. Like certain others, LGBT people are tolerated, so long as they stay in "their place."
I don't think this was the author's intention, but this could also be a message that one could take away from this work. Either the author is telling us that tolerance of homosexuality is literally another sign that the end (via the wrath of aliens, and in a larger sense via the Cold War) is nigh, or he is actually more clever and subtle with his message than I thought.
But this book is ultimately, as I have been arguing, about the author's own internalized homophobia. For someone who portrays homosexuality so negatively, and thereby ostensibly doesn't like it...he portrays it a lot! This was published in 1973, and I am curious now to read the late author's later works, and see if he still has this obsession running through them.
I definitely think that the author was working through some personal stuff. And I hope he eventually resolved it, even if he died in the closet.
It is pretty obvious that the "bad," or decadent and racist, people, are the ones tolerant of or engaging in homosexuality. It's an open secret among both the elite, and the street thugs who try to kill a young woman in order to sell her expensive clothes. If we accept homosexuality (and to a lesser extent, straight promiscuity), the author warns, then the oceans and beaches will fill with garbage, gas station attendants will point guns at you every time you fill up, no one will be allowed to be artists or free spirits without hatred and harassment, and most of all, the aliens will blow us all up.
But there is a slight possibility that the author had better intentions than to just slam homosexuals and thereby feel more straight. As I said in previous posts, the homosexuality in this book has a distinctly dated flavor. Homosexuality here is, for a man, cheating on one's wife--not being faithful to one's husband. It is as homosexuality was portrayed often in the 1970s, not as it is portrayed and known today.
And that's the rub: In this terrible, materialistic society, homosexuality is a shameful or semi-shameful secret. It is embraced and accepted, but not very openly. I should say, it is tolerated rather than accepted. Two women at a party demand to sleep with the host because their husbands are making out with each other. And a Soviet spy has a "cover story" of sleeping with a man, in order to explain his occasional disappearances (to his wife, I believe, not his employer--it's unclear, however he does have a wife and has to at least pretend to hide occasional craving for a man).
In this world, as far as I know, there is no gay Pride, no gay marriage, no protections for LGBT people--and anti-sodomy laws are supposed to be enforced in some states.
And because it is so "tolerant" and yet so unaccepting, America has gone down the toilet. The oceans have filled with garbage and the aliens are going to blast us out of orbit, because of the way we treat our LGBT citizens. The white-collar ones have to keep secrets, and the racial minorities have to resort to a life of crime just to make ends meet. This form of tolerant homophobia goes hand in hand with racism and classism. Like certain others, LGBT people are tolerated, so long as they stay in "their place."
I don't think this was the author's intention, but this could also be a message that one could take away from this work. Either the author is telling us that tolerance of homosexuality is literally another sign that the end (via the wrath of aliens, and in a larger sense via the Cold War) is nigh, or he is actually more clever and subtle with his message than I thought.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Book Review: The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner--A Mind Warped By Internalized Homophobia
A quibble I have with this book is that the plot has nothing to do with the title, other than the aliens threatening to "bomb us back to the stone age," but that is not really time travel, since I doubt that we would then be interacting with actual Neanderthals. It's also rather strange for an alien race to threaten that (or seem to, by broadcasting images of Neanderthals to earth), and the Soviets would interpret the image that way, when that is an American expression.
In my last post, I talked about a "homophobic" joke on page 16 that actually makes two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws. On page 18, we encounter a work crew, all black, who are tearing up a perfectly good road and rebuilding it, because they are on welfare and the government therefore makes useless work for them.
This book is a fascinating look into a mind warped by internalize homophobia, but it's also interesting that in Brunner's semi-dystopian near-future, race and class relations have deteriorated considerably, cars and other products have ridiculously short planned obsolescence built in, the sea and beaches are filled with floating garbage, radiation is so high that it is forecast on the news just like the weather, and everyone is so paranoid that cars have built-in guns and gas station attendants point guns at their customers as a matter of course. Tolerance for homosexuality, and for promiscuity in general, is in the same category as the environment going to shit, higher-class decadence as a contrast for increased overcrowding and poverty, and rampant racism and class differences among the races.
And yet...Brunner is portraying what, for lack of a better term, I will call "1970s homosexuality." In Brunner's world, a typical homosexual man marries a woman, keeps up a pretense of straightness, and yet at parties starts "necking" with another man. Occasionally, he also goes in search of a man to sleep with, while his wife and the rest of society looks the other way and pretends nothing is happening. 1970s homosexuality, at least as it is portrayed here, is just another form of promiscuity, like having a mistress. (In other words, it's like the actual behavior of anti-gay evangelical Christians.)
The author also seems unaware of the existence of bisexuality, since that word is never mentioned.
But homosexuality here is still a secret, even in a world that tolerates it. The author cannot seem to comprehend a world of respected, faithful, out gay couples--much less those I know today who are legally married, raising children together, and very involved in local Christian churches. (Presbyterian and Methodist, in fact.)
The most promiscuous homosexual of Brunner's work could not conceive of being so out of the closet, and so respected by most of society, as we have today. And yet, as awful as our world can sometimes seem, we have for the most part avoided the terrible things that, in this book, came with this tolerance and acceptance as a society.
So...sorry, Brunner, your warnings just didn't hold up.
The tolerance for homosexuality portrayed in this book is also clearly the product of a bygone era. People complain about it a little, but ultimately it's just a nuisance to straight friends and family members. It's a nuisance, instead of just a part of who someone is. It's like a son who annoys his traditional parents by having hair they think is too long. The attitude seems to be along the lines of, "Well, I don't like it, but what can you do?"
And for some people even today, that is progress--unfortunately. But for somebody who is as homophobic as the author, while trying to imagine "degeneration" in society or whatever he calls it, he cannot fathom the kind of tolerance we have today. And yet, the world has not ended.
Brunner also never thought, apparently, that gay people want to be respected in society, as themselves, and not just tolerated. That what we feel is love, and not just lust. That we want to marry our partners and stay true to them. That we're not just being promiscuous.
And maybe that's what would have saved the late John Brunner from his own self-hatred. I am convinced that he was working through some personal things, in this book and maybe others.
Maybe he would have had an easier time if he had known that homosexuality doesn't have to involve cheating on your wife--that it can also involve being faithful to your husband. I imagine that most people did not know that, in the 1970s when this book was published. Perhaps "The Wrong End of Time" is actually an apt description of where Brunner himself was. Too bad he was apparently unable to grow with the times.
In my last post, I talked about a "homophobic" joke on page 16 that actually makes two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws. On page 18, we encounter a work crew, all black, who are tearing up a perfectly good road and rebuilding it, because they are on welfare and the government therefore makes useless work for them.
This book is a fascinating look into a mind warped by internalize homophobia, but it's also interesting that in Brunner's semi-dystopian near-future, race and class relations have deteriorated considerably, cars and other products have ridiculously short planned obsolescence built in, the sea and beaches are filled with floating garbage, radiation is so high that it is forecast on the news just like the weather, and everyone is so paranoid that cars have built-in guns and gas station attendants point guns at their customers as a matter of course. Tolerance for homosexuality, and for promiscuity in general, is in the same category as the environment going to shit, higher-class decadence as a contrast for increased overcrowding and poverty, and rampant racism and class differences among the races.
And yet...Brunner is portraying what, for lack of a better term, I will call "1970s homosexuality." In Brunner's world, a typical homosexual man marries a woman, keeps up a pretense of straightness, and yet at parties starts "necking" with another man. Occasionally, he also goes in search of a man to sleep with, while his wife and the rest of society looks the other way and pretends nothing is happening. 1970s homosexuality, at least as it is portrayed here, is just another form of promiscuity, like having a mistress. (In other words, it's like the actual behavior of anti-gay evangelical Christians.)
The author also seems unaware of the existence of bisexuality, since that word is never mentioned.
But homosexuality here is still a secret, even in a world that tolerates it. The author cannot seem to comprehend a world of respected, faithful, out gay couples--much less those I know today who are legally married, raising children together, and very involved in local Christian churches. (Presbyterian and Methodist, in fact.)
The most promiscuous homosexual of Brunner's work could not conceive of being so out of the closet, and so respected by most of society, as we have today. And yet, as awful as our world can sometimes seem, we have for the most part avoided the terrible things that, in this book, came with this tolerance and acceptance as a society.
So...sorry, Brunner, your warnings just didn't hold up.
The tolerance for homosexuality portrayed in this book is also clearly the product of a bygone era. People complain about it a little, but ultimately it's just a nuisance to straight friends and family members. It's a nuisance, instead of just a part of who someone is. It's like a son who annoys his traditional parents by having hair they think is too long. The attitude seems to be along the lines of, "Well, I don't like it, but what can you do?"
And for some people even today, that is progress--unfortunately. But for somebody who is as homophobic as the author, while trying to imagine "degeneration" in society or whatever he calls it, he cannot fathom the kind of tolerance we have today. And yet, the world has not ended.
Brunner also never thought, apparently, that gay people want to be respected in society, as themselves, and not just tolerated. That what we feel is love, and not just lust. That we want to marry our partners and stay true to them. That we're not just being promiscuous.
And maybe that's what would have saved the late John Brunner from his own self-hatred. I am convinced that he was working through some personal things, in this book and maybe others.
Maybe he would have had an easier time if he had known that homosexuality doesn't have to involve cheating on your wife--that it can also involve being faithful to your husband. I imagine that most people did not know that, in the 1970s when this book was published. Perhaps "The Wrong End of Time" is actually an apt description of where Brunner himself was. Too bad he was apparently unable to grow with the times.
LGBT/Book Review: The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner--Useful Bigots
The Wrong End of Time by John Brunner is a science-fiction novella published in 1973, which I picked up at a thrift shop for a dollar. I expected it to be rather heteronormative, but there are surprisingly a lot of mentions of gay people in it. They are not always good, and there are some very problematic portrayals of minor gay characters later on in the book, but I found one "homophobic" joke particularly interesting.
The story is set in a future world, in which America has become so paranoid of the Soviets that it has completely shielded itself from the rest of the world with its defense systems, and in which every car has a gun mounted on the dash board because even the citizens are paranoid. A Soviet agent smuggles himself into the country, trying to do something to bring about world peace before an alien race blows us all up because of our barbarism.
And yet it is not just from the Soviet agent's point of view. There is a man named Danty, whose profession is unknown, who somehow witnesses the agent come ashore. He seemed to have foreknowledge of this event, but doesn't seem to work for the government, because he does not alert anyone of what just happened. He seems to be a "reb," the future label for a loathed loafer. He also seems to have some sort of clairvoyant power, as well as power to influence others psychically. (Perhaps he is working with or for the aliens, somehow?)
Danty witnesses the Soviet agent come ashore and drive off with a man who met him with a car. Danty does nothing to stop it, or to tell anyone about it. He even, perhaps with his psychic abilities, turns off the defensive system that might catch the agent. He leaves it off, even though he doesn't know why he does so. (Perhaps some outside power or spirit influences him--again, the aliens?)
Danty then seems to influence a passing driver on the "superway" to stop for him, even though picking up hitchhikers is illegal and punished severely. The man himself is confused as to why he stopped, which makes me think that Danty had some sort of power over him.
They drive into a gas station, where they meet an attendant, in his tower, with his gun pointed at them, because this is a very paranoid world. A policeman drives up behind them, as the man who picked up Danty, Rollins, becomes sweaty and nervous. Danty comes back from the bathroom, as the cop demands his ID, and Rollins says that Danty is his friend.
The patrolman slapped shut and returned the redbook. "Okay," was all he said, but under his voice, clear as shouting, he was adding: So, a couple fruits most likely. I should arrest that kind on suspicion? I'd be at it all day. Anyway, they'd jump bail and head for a state where it's allowed.
This cop despises gay men enough to call them "fruits" unironically and totally non-jokingly, and yet he just made two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws in the space of a few seconds. (And now that I look at it again, it seems that Danty read the cop's mind.)
A hardened, bigoted cop is just too weary, busy, and fed up with the non-effectiveness of anti-sodomy laws to enforce them. That's...actually pretty enlightened.
There may be problems with that joke I just don't see (please leave a comment about your thoughts, if you want), and the author later portrays people meant to be gay in a very unflattering light, but after thinking it over, I kind of like what happened here. The cop's, and what seems to be the author's, bigotry...works in favor of the "fruits."
The joke is also on Rollins, who is also homophobic, as Danty is amused by Rollins' blushing as he figures out what the cop is probably thinking.
The author, the late John Brunner, seems obsessed with homosexuality in this book. It is portrayed negatively, as a symptom of decadence and promiscuity, yet it is constantly there--especially towards the end, mentioned directly what seems like every few pages. It seems that Brunner was working through some stuff, and this book is a fascinating look into his mind.
Unfortunately for Brunner, he seems to have died with his internalized homophobia unresolved, as I could find no indication on the internet that he ever accepted himself enough to be with a man, or even stop marrying women. There is no indication, either, that he was in fact bisexual, and happened to fall in love with women. But now I am also curious to read some of his later stuff, to see whether he was still fixated on something he ostensibly didn't like.
There is so much homophobic/homoerotic content in this book, and I will be reviewing all of it. And even if he never came out publicly, I really hope that Brunner was able to accept himself privately (if you read this book, you will see how obvious his fascination really is). At least, in a way, it is good that he cannot potentially hurt anyone with his homophobic beliefs anymore...hopefully, I should say, with the fact of his writings living after him.
The story is set in a future world, in which America has become so paranoid of the Soviets that it has completely shielded itself from the rest of the world with its defense systems, and in which every car has a gun mounted on the dash board because even the citizens are paranoid. A Soviet agent smuggles himself into the country, trying to do something to bring about world peace before an alien race blows us all up because of our barbarism.
And yet it is not just from the Soviet agent's point of view. There is a man named Danty, whose profession is unknown, who somehow witnesses the agent come ashore. He seemed to have foreknowledge of this event, but doesn't seem to work for the government, because he does not alert anyone of what just happened. He seems to be a "reb," the future label for a loathed loafer. He also seems to have some sort of clairvoyant power, as well as power to influence others psychically. (Perhaps he is working with or for the aliens, somehow?)
Danty witnesses the Soviet agent come ashore and drive off with a man who met him with a car. Danty does nothing to stop it, or to tell anyone about it. He even, perhaps with his psychic abilities, turns off the defensive system that might catch the agent. He leaves it off, even though he doesn't know why he does so. (Perhaps some outside power or spirit influences him--again, the aliens?)
Danty then seems to influence a passing driver on the "superway" to stop for him, even though picking up hitchhikers is illegal and punished severely. The man himself is confused as to why he stopped, which makes me think that Danty had some sort of power over him.
They drive into a gas station, where they meet an attendant, in his tower, with his gun pointed at them, because this is a very paranoid world. A policeman drives up behind them, as the man who picked up Danty, Rollins, becomes sweaty and nervous. Danty comes back from the bathroom, as the cop demands his ID, and Rollins says that Danty is his friend.
The patrolman slapped shut and returned the redbook. "Okay," was all he said, but under his voice, clear as shouting, he was adding: So, a couple fruits most likely. I should arrest that kind on suspicion? I'd be at it all day. Anyway, they'd jump bail and head for a state where it's allowed.
This cop despises gay men enough to call them "fruits" unironically and totally non-jokingly, and yet he just made two very good arguments against anti-sodomy laws in the space of a few seconds. (And now that I look at it again, it seems that Danty read the cop's mind.)
A hardened, bigoted cop is just too weary, busy, and fed up with the non-effectiveness of anti-sodomy laws to enforce them. That's...actually pretty enlightened.
There may be problems with that joke I just don't see (please leave a comment about your thoughts, if you want), and the author later portrays people meant to be gay in a very unflattering light, but after thinking it over, I kind of like what happened here. The cop's, and what seems to be the author's, bigotry...works in favor of the "fruits."
The joke is also on Rollins, who is also homophobic, as Danty is amused by Rollins' blushing as he figures out what the cop is probably thinking.
The author, the late John Brunner, seems obsessed with homosexuality in this book. It is portrayed negatively, as a symptom of decadence and promiscuity, yet it is constantly there--especially towards the end, mentioned directly what seems like every few pages. It seems that Brunner was working through some stuff, and this book is a fascinating look into his mind.
Unfortunately for Brunner, he seems to have died with his internalized homophobia unresolved, as I could find no indication on the internet that he ever accepted himself enough to be with a man, or even stop marrying women. There is no indication, either, that he was in fact bisexual, and happened to fall in love with women. But now I am also curious to read some of his later stuff, to see whether he was still fixated on something he ostensibly didn't like.
There is so much homophobic/homoerotic content in this book, and I will be reviewing all of it. And even if he never came out publicly, I really hope that Brunner was able to accept himself privately (if you read this book, you will see how obvious his fascination really is). At least, in a way, it is good that he cannot potentially hurt anyone with his homophobic beliefs anymore...hopefully, I should say, with the fact of his writings living after him.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
LGBT/Others: Practicing What To Say (And Trying Not To Argue)
I practice a lot, what I want to say to my homophobic uncle and others. I have been literally shouted down by him before, and that feeling was humiliating, like what I thought didn't matter. For many years, I felt like I had to hold everything in, so now I want to say what's on my mind, when I can. It's hard, in the moment, to actually do that, so I try to anticipate situations and prepare myself to respond the way that I want to.
I have found that it's best to practice as short an answer as possible, over and over. I have tried, "I am gay," "That's my business," (if he says anything about my relationship with God), and especially, "You don't have to be in my life." If he has a problem (and I don't know if he would make problems for me), I can say over and over, "You don't have to be in my life," or "I don't need you in my life," until I make my point. And I can always hang up or walk away, too.
If he tries to say, "As long as you don't marry another woman," or something to that effect, I could say, "Or, I just be myself. And you don't have to be in my life." If he says he won't come to my wedding, I could say, "Well, then, you don't have to be in my life. If you would hurt me that way, you don't have to be in my life."
And one of the most effective arguments I have ever found is, "People--teenagers from Christian homes--kill themselves for being gay; it's not a choice. I wish it were!"
I have also been practicing, "Yes, God DID make Adam and Steve--God made everyone!" No one can argue with that logic!
I know that shrimp is called an abomination four times more than homosexuality in the bible ("I've seen you put an abomination in your mouth!") I know that Jesus, in healing the centurion's "servant," likely healed his gay lover, without asking if they were a couple, or telling them not to have sex, or even telling them not to "sin."
I know that the church, in the middle ages, had "brother-making" ceremonies that were basically gay marriages between men. And I know that the church was probably not too stupid to know what was likely going on, sexually. I know that the word "homosexual" has only been around since the mid to late 1800s, and that the verse on all kinds of sin that mentions "homosexuals" used to say "masturbators."
I have also practiced quoting my favorite bible verse: "Who are you to judge another man's servant? To his own master he stands or falls," and here is my favorite part, "And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand."
But all of these arguments, ideally, I will not use. I try to shut down conversations, even in my own mind, in which I have to deal with crap that straight people don't. I deserve to be treated like an equal person, so I try to ignore the thoughts that make me defensive about something that harms no one and brings a lot of love and joy to people and their children.
So I try to visualize myself walking past a protestor holding an anti-gay sign, maybe even shouting at me, and getting myself a fancy coffee drink or another treat, on the other side of him or her. I walk on past, and go about my life, without arguing. This visualization is not easy, but it really does help.
Also practice saying whatever phrases you want, as quietly and softly as possible. You probably won't get in a shouting match, if you're not used to getting in shouting matches with this person or in general.
After realizing that addressing his bullying of me when I was a child was more important to me than coming out right now, I have been practicing saying, "You hurt me," for when I am ready to say something. And it's harder to whisper it, because whispering is more realistic to me than yelling or being confrontational.
But whispering or saying something softly also does something else: It lets you know that you will be heard and listened to, even if you can't shout someone down. And it doesn't matter whether the person you will talk to, actually listens to you. If it is safe to talk or come out, then know that you are enough of a listener for yourself. What matters is that you treat yourself as if you are important.
And yet there's a limit to how much practicing I can take. Now that I have a handful of short phrases to say, I try not to get sucked in, in my mind, whenever I am reminded of something he or someone else has said, or what I anticipate they could say.
It doesn't matter if you "win" the argument. Let them know that there will be no arguing--that your life, love, and relationship with God is not on the table for debate. That if they are unpleasant to be around, you simply won't be around them. Practicing shutting down the argument, is even more important than knowing what to say. And especially, practice shutting down the argument in your own mind. That may be the hardest thing of all to do, but it must be done, if you are to have any peace in your life.
I have found that it's best to practice as short an answer as possible, over and over. I have tried, "I am gay," "That's my business," (if he says anything about my relationship with God), and especially, "You don't have to be in my life." If he has a problem (and I don't know if he would make problems for me), I can say over and over, "You don't have to be in my life," or "I don't need you in my life," until I make my point. And I can always hang up or walk away, too.
If he tries to say, "As long as you don't marry another woman," or something to that effect, I could say, "Or, I just be myself. And you don't have to be in my life." If he says he won't come to my wedding, I could say, "Well, then, you don't have to be in my life. If you would hurt me that way, you don't have to be in my life."
And one of the most effective arguments I have ever found is, "People--teenagers from Christian homes--kill themselves for being gay; it's not a choice. I wish it were!"
I have also been practicing, "Yes, God DID make Adam and Steve--God made everyone!" No one can argue with that logic!
I know that shrimp is called an abomination four times more than homosexuality in the bible ("I've seen you put an abomination in your mouth!") I know that Jesus, in healing the centurion's "servant," likely healed his gay lover, without asking if they were a couple, or telling them not to have sex, or even telling them not to "sin."
I know that the church, in the middle ages, had "brother-making" ceremonies that were basically gay marriages between men. And I know that the church was probably not too stupid to know what was likely going on, sexually. I know that the word "homosexual" has only been around since the mid to late 1800s, and that the verse on all kinds of sin that mentions "homosexuals" used to say "masturbators."
I have also practiced quoting my favorite bible verse: "Who are you to judge another man's servant? To his own master he stands or falls," and here is my favorite part, "And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand."
But all of these arguments, ideally, I will not use. I try to shut down conversations, even in my own mind, in which I have to deal with crap that straight people don't. I deserve to be treated like an equal person, so I try to ignore the thoughts that make me defensive about something that harms no one and brings a lot of love and joy to people and their children.
So I try to visualize myself walking past a protestor holding an anti-gay sign, maybe even shouting at me, and getting myself a fancy coffee drink or another treat, on the other side of him or her. I walk on past, and go about my life, without arguing. This visualization is not easy, but it really does help.
Also practice saying whatever phrases you want, as quietly and softly as possible. You probably won't get in a shouting match, if you're not used to getting in shouting matches with this person or in general.
After realizing that addressing his bullying of me when I was a child was more important to me than coming out right now, I have been practicing saying, "You hurt me," for when I am ready to say something. And it's harder to whisper it, because whispering is more realistic to me than yelling or being confrontational.
But whispering or saying something softly also does something else: It lets you know that you will be heard and listened to, even if you can't shout someone down. And it doesn't matter whether the person you will talk to, actually listens to you. If it is safe to talk or come out, then know that you are enough of a listener for yourself. What matters is that you treat yourself as if you are important.
And yet there's a limit to how much practicing I can take. Now that I have a handful of short phrases to say, I try not to get sucked in, in my mind, whenever I am reminded of something he or someone else has said, or what I anticipate they could say.
It doesn't matter if you "win" the argument. Let them know that there will be no arguing--that your life, love, and relationship with God is not on the table for debate. That if they are unpleasant to be around, you simply won't be around them. Practicing shutting down the argument, is even more important than knowing what to say. And especially, practice shutting down the argument in your own mind. That may be the hardest thing of all to do, but it must be done, if you are to have any peace in your life.
LGBT: When Something Is More Important Than Coming Out
I have often thought that I wanted to come out to my homophobic uncle, who bullied me horrendously when I was very small. And if he objected, I would say, "You tortured me when I was a child! You made me want to die, when I was six years old! You don't have to be in my life, and you can't talk to me about God, when you were the devil!" (I called him the devil, all those years ago, because I realized that it wasn't that he didn't care how much he hurt me; he did care--the more he hurt me, the happier he became! Just like the devil.)
I also fantasized about saying, "You probably think being gay comes from someone's childhood. Well, I guess you would know--you were the man who hurt me the most!" (I am female.)
But then I started to wonder if coming out was an excuse to say how much he had hurt me. And I realized that coming out as bisexual wasn't as important to me as telling him exactly how much he had hurt me, that I was still trying to heal from it.
Saying that seems harder, emotionally, than saying that I am gay or bi. He seems much nicer now, especially for him, but am I just supposed to pretend nothing happened, because he is nicer? I have been hurting from this, much longer than I have been hurting--and fighting my own arguing inner voices--because I knew I was not straight.
He has said before that "if you're gay, don't come out," as if he didn't know how cruel that was. But all my life, I have been living under this unwritten rule, that I can't say anything about his abuse, and especially about the incident when I called him the devil and he almost got in a physical fight with my mother over the way he threatened to "bust your ass" to me.
There is still a part of me that is afraid of him. I still remember being held upside down against my will, "tickled" on the ribs as I fought for breath against the physical pain. I felt like I was dying, like I was drowning. My mom thinks I have PTSD from it. I do too.
He lives with my grandparents, unfortunately. So if I go to visit them, I usually have to see him too. And I see him on holidays and birthdays, too. And I am tired of dreading seeing him.
So I feel like I should focus on getting ready to "come out" as someone who is still healing from his shit. And that is much scarier to me than simply coming out. I'm not sure when I'll be ready, but I'm going to try to love myself until I am.
I feel better about actually coming out as bisexual/gay, after hearing what my two aunts, his sisters, said recently. (I don't like either term very much, since it implies either 50-50, or 100%, and though I like both, I just see myself as happier with another woman.) They seemed to say neutral, or maybe even positive things, about a gay person they knew. Here is their exchange:
Aunt 1: "She said that she had a hard time with her son being gay, at first, because she thought she couldn't have grandchildren."
Aunt 2: "Well, she'll just have to do what I do, and love on other people's children."
And no, I have no idea whether Aunt 2 was implying anything about her own children, my cousins. At the very least, she thinks that one of them won't have children, or that she will have to wait a while.
So it seems that my aunts, for the most part, will not really care. That has made me feel a little better. In a strange way, it took off some of the internal pressure I feel about coming out (though I know I shouldn't feel this pressure).
And if it weren't for the unaddressed bullying, I would not care, at this point in my life, how my uncle reacted to my being gay. Perhaps by addressing the bullying, I can eventually also feel free enough to come out. But the bullying is harder to acknowledge and address.
Sometimes I think I want to call him, and talk. Yet I don't know if I should interrupt my everyday life to do that. And that subject never seems to come up at family gatherings.
And I still feel scared, scared to rock the boat and break an unwritten taboo in the family. But I used to be more scared. So maybe I won't always be this scared.
I am going to focus on "coming out," calmly (like I usually talk to him, not angrily), as being hurt by him. And, for the hardest part, in the meantime, I will try to break the habit of putting myself down for being "too weak" to say something (as if I wasn't trained since childhood to fear him, even if he isn't as much of a threat to me now).
I also fantasized about saying, "You probably think being gay comes from someone's childhood. Well, I guess you would know--you were the man who hurt me the most!" (I am female.)
But then I started to wonder if coming out was an excuse to say how much he had hurt me. And I realized that coming out as bisexual wasn't as important to me as telling him exactly how much he had hurt me, that I was still trying to heal from it.
Saying that seems harder, emotionally, than saying that I am gay or bi. He seems much nicer now, especially for him, but am I just supposed to pretend nothing happened, because he is nicer? I have been hurting from this, much longer than I have been hurting--and fighting my own arguing inner voices--because I knew I was not straight.
He has said before that "if you're gay, don't come out," as if he didn't know how cruel that was. But all my life, I have been living under this unwritten rule, that I can't say anything about his abuse, and especially about the incident when I called him the devil and he almost got in a physical fight with my mother over the way he threatened to "bust your ass" to me.
There is still a part of me that is afraid of him. I still remember being held upside down against my will, "tickled" on the ribs as I fought for breath against the physical pain. I felt like I was dying, like I was drowning. My mom thinks I have PTSD from it. I do too.
He lives with my grandparents, unfortunately. So if I go to visit them, I usually have to see him too. And I see him on holidays and birthdays, too. And I am tired of dreading seeing him.
So I feel like I should focus on getting ready to "come out" as someone who is still healing from his shit. And that is much scarier to me than simply coming out. I'm not sure when I'll be ready, but I'm going to try to love myself until I am.
I feel better about actually coming out as bisexual/gay, after hearing what my two aunts, his sisters, said recently. (I don't like either term very much, since it implies either 50-50, or 100%, and though I like both, I just see myself as happier with another woman.) They seemed to say neutral, or maybe even positive things, about a gay person they knew. Here is their exchange:
Aunt 1: "She said that she had a hard time with her son being gay, at first, because she thought she couldn't have grandchildren."
Aunt 2: "Well, she'll just have to do what I do, and love on other people's children."
And no, I have no idea whether Aunt 2 was implying anything about her own children, my cousins. At the very least, she thinks that one of them won't have children, or that she will have to wait a while.
So it seems that my aunts, for the most part, will not really care. That has made me feel a little better. In a strange way, it took off some of the internal pressure I feel about coming out (though I know I shouldn't feel this pressure).
And if it weren't for the unaddressed bullying, I would not care, at this point in my life, how my uncle reacted to my being gay. Perhaps by addressing the bullying, I can eventually also feel free enough to come out. But the bullying is harder to acknowledge and address.
Sometimes I think I want to call him, and talk. Yet I don't know if I should interrupt my everyday life to do that. And that subject never seems to come up at family gatherings.
And I still feel scared, scared to rock the boat and break an unwritten taboo in the family. But I used to be more scared. So maybe I won't always be this scared.
I am going to focus on "coming out," calmly (like I usually talk to him, not angrily), as being hurt by him. And, for the hardest part, in the meantime, I will try to break the habit of putting myself down for being "too weak" to say something (as if I wasn't trained since childhood to fear him, even if he isn't as much of a threat to me now).
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