In the first years of the 2000s I attended a talk by Weather Underground member Bernadine Dohrn, a well-known leader of the SDS before she went under. She was brilliant, charismatic, inspiring. Like many people my age, coming up in the 1990s, I came to leftist politics through a kind of worship of the 1960s and the movements that came out of that decade. Yet, though I might not have been able to articulate it at the time, there was also a sense of disappointment when all these middle-class yuppies who just loved Bill Clinton went on and on about their Woodstock experience, their time at the anti-war march, that one time they were in a car with an actual Black Panther. Was it really so radical, when the final result of their involvement in the various movements was 'didn't grow up to become a Republican'? Why did most of them still seem to be so uncomfortable around people of different races? Why were they so into the vicious welfare and criminal justice reforms and other neo-liberal policies of the Clinton era? And then, a few years later, why were so many of them frothing at the mouth trying to get America back into endless imperial war? Bernadine Dohrn, in 2004, seemed to represent a different path out of that late 1960s moment. She was the first person who introduced to me the 'other' Martin Luther King Jr, not the watered-down voice of racial unity without redress of wrongs, but the fiery voice against the military industrial complex and the grotesque maldistribution of wealth under capitalism. She was still fighting, in her way.
Dohrn and Bill Ayers turned themselves in in 1980. By the time they came out of hiding, most of the charges against them had to be dropped due to the wildly illegal activities of the FBI, and she did just a short amount of time, later becoming a law professor. Marge Piercy's novel, Vida, a fictional account of a Dohrn-esque woman from a group much like the Weather Underground, was written in 1979, before the sentencing of Dohrn and Ayers, and before the 1981 attempted bank robbery by several WU-affiliated leftists that left three people dead and evaporated much of any remaining goodwill to the fugitive bombers of the far left. Piercy had no way of knowing what was just around the corner when she wrote this novel, but her finger was clearly on the pulse. The times were changing. The times had already changed, quite a lot. Piercy vividly depicts a group of radicals who are slowly coming to realize that they aren't on the vanguard anymore, and that they might actually be in the process of becoming relics. The novel moves deftly between time periods, capturing the increasing fury of the late 1960s anti-war movement, the first heady years of being underground, and the daily stresses of being a long-term fugitive. (Thank god for pay phones).
There's also quite a lot of political conversation between the characters that reads as achingly earnest to me, having read this book in a time when communist memes and twitter snark are primary means of left communication. Oh, for a communiqué free of irony! I was especially moved by the discussions between Vida and her sister Natalie, who found her calling within the women's movement, much to Vida's Marxist-Leninist dismay, since apparently women's issues were bourgeois. (Later, anti-nuke work earns the same moniker, as does basically the entire ecological movement, which really makes these fugitives political dinosaurs for the 21st century reader.) Of course leftist politics have changed deeply in the almost 40 years since Marge Piercy wrote Vida, but she so deftly depicts her characters and their politics, that though we might now fiercely critique certain aspects of their actions or ideology (oh god, so much toxic masculinity on display), we have to reckon with them as real people, trying to find their way in a fucked society and somehow make it better. This is a powerful, necessary lesson, and lucky for us, it comes in the form of a plot-driven and entertaining novel.