The Gunslinger in the Rye

Along came a spider! Such is the abrupt adage inserted the middle of The Prodigy's "Take Me to The Hospital." I've been enjoying their music rather consistently of late, and not having blogged in a bit, this entry may follow its pattern of non sequitors.

The Gunslinger is book I in Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. Quite a bit shorter than the 6 books that succeed it, this western-fantasy-adventure story is rather curious in its stream-of-consciousness meandering. I haven't read much of SK, but upon some relatives from Vermont visiting recently, it was determined that SK might write a story about maple syrup covered bridges and the monsters within. Just a thought.

Next, I finished an old text covering the history of Russia from the spread of Greek language and culture into the Rus area up to the 1950s. I figure its a good text because not much has really changed in Russia since then, right? Particularly intriguing is a parallel between Tsar Ivan IV (that's Ivan the Terrible, for you Philistines out there) and his secret police "Oprichnina". The Tsar didn't trust the aristocracy (they were out to get him) and so he formed a special police comprised of the proletariat. They were loyal to him and carried out his deeds. Similarities arise when battles were lost, the aristocrats were blamed. Political opponents were charged with atrocities they had nothing to do with. This concept occurred later under Lenin and later Stalin during the formation of the Soviet Union. This is exemplified by the allegorical novel "Animal Farm." Perhaps this is a case of History repeating itself. Perhaps its a case of Stalin knowing history and saw, "well, it worked for Ivan IV, I'll try it too!"

The Catcher in the Rye eluded me until a recent moving sale whereupon I procured a copy on the cheap. Written in the 1950s, the colorful prose and insistence on acknowledging the reader's understanding (you know what i mean?) waxed reminiscent of my late grandfather. So I read the book as though he were narrating, if only he had been kicked out of prep schools out east. The title is explained near the end of the book (not as straightforward as say, War and Peace), but it is basically about a teenage boy caught between the innocence of childhood and the mired duplicitous world of phony adults. His reticence to accept growing up leads to a tail-spinning miasma of confusion. My current state of transition in all things urged me to ponder the ideas postured in this book, as I could definitely relate to some things going on. Perhaps this is a bit troubling.





In other news, I made birdie #2 on a recent golf outing. Exciting stuff, I know!

Down on the farm

George Orwell's story Animal Farm, is widely regarded as a not so deeply veiled allusion to the Communist Revolution in early 20th century Russia. Remember the USSR? That's what he's talking about here.

So for what purpose does it serve in the wake of the USSR's now non-existence?

Firstly, the story tells of how one group overthrows the ruling group (the farmer) by promises of a better life. That better life is transformed into much of the same, if not worse, for the masses, but the new ruling group (the pigs) lives rather high on the hog. (har har har).

Thus, it isn't necessarily an explicit commentary on the ills of Marxism, but how power in general corrupts. Once given power, the rulers will exploit this not only for their own benefit, but to keep the workers in their place, thereby keeping themselves as the ruling elite.

Philosophers disagree on if all power is corruptible, or if that is a mere generalization. Clearly some are power-hungry and seek power for its own abuses, while some at least give the appearance of benevolence in their leadership, but then the pigs of Animal Farm do this too, often by abusing the limited mental capacities of the workers, telling lies and changing stories about the past to make it fit their needs.

When approaching the ethics of leadership, it would seem prudent to observe with a certain amount of skepticism until proven otherwise.