So I’ve been into some books as of late, just something I always promised myself to do but never had the time. As I’ve tread through the pages of some of the most wondrous works, Kafka, swift, Dostoesky and Orwell I’ve noticed an alarming trend. The hero ( a mockingly absurdist titile) is always a social misfit, a trouble unable to coexist in a world of false faces, weird logic, and the devious empowerment of high society and government. The hero always exposes the fraudulent world representing humanity, hope, and generally common sense. However, as I’ve already mentioned, these heroes are misfits.
In almost every case we, the reader, are brought to identify with these abnormal visionaries and learn to be sympathetic with their outsiderness. We, the reader, learn from the heroes follies of the problems of our world. We learn about good, evil, politics, control and we see the problems in a new light. A light which inside each of our isolated existences appears to make sense. We understand these miscreants and we understand the worlds they preside in as if they were our own. Didn’t you feel the cold grey hard cinder blocks being piled around you as you enjoyed 1984?
Herein lies the dilemma. Can we all really be Winston Smith, the Idiot, or Meursault? I mean these books sell, more than that, they are immortal, they are read in schools, they are everything. and everywhere. But if that is the case how can the world still be a the beck and whim of the diabolical demon? How can we keep on keeping everything down if we alll understand the outsider? It perplexes me to think that anyone who has read these books is anti-sympathetic with the hero, yet have these works had absolutely no effect on our behaviour? Are these works beautiful for their collective expression or are they merely celebrated in jest as of the words of madman. Maybe the are appreciated simply for being completely different, insane if you will, from the standard thought processes related to the human condition.
It is just a little paradox running through my brain right now. How can so much intellectualism be awarded merit yet so easily disregarded in practical terms. All the best literature runs the same vein. They all say the same thing and they are all proffering warnings. Warnings that seem to be lost along a shelf of dusty books. At least Orwell’s work won’t make it to the next generation ( copyrighted off of kindle as far as I know) so they won’t have any excuse for nt undstdn @ txt or subtxt. Anyways I feel as many of those characters did and I’ve spent all my time working towards a better existence. Mostly because I am crazy but also because I’ve nothing better to do with my time. Ps I’m going to try to approach this subject again but really wanted to see what would happen if I started randomly jotting some points on the subject)
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