'Our Fathers at Sea' is a vicious atrocity! Unchristian (and unConfucian! and unDao! and unWicca! and unBuddhist! and... yeah, overall unspiritual!) and plain scary. It damaged for me the enjoyment of this book altogether. Then, most of the other stories were barely comprehensible, so this might have been for the best. At least the 1st story made me think on some difficult subjects.
Our society tends to consist of individuals who are at their most vulnerable at the beginning and the end of our lifetimes. The idea to protect each other at our weakest is not new. It has been mulled over by many and still hasn't been resolved satisfactorily. Which is why we often hear of old people dying of neglect or alone or from easily preventable mishaps or illnesses. We hear of it, we empathise and we do nothing. Nothing worthy of mention, in most cases. We are too busy or are not qualified or have other issues or... whatever.
This story managed to drag casually into discussion a dystopian 'solution' of these issues: we get a society where old people are thrown away like trash! Even this process is called 'crating'! For one thing, I do realise the author probably thought it a good idea to make a poignant illustration of the fact that our society is sort of ill. We try to do our best and still we often fail at it miserably. We cannot develop a consistent view on euthanasia, on who should care for the terminally ill or the mature people. We believe that age is something to be ashamed of. We do it both ways: our children hurry to grow up to become adults scared of the time's passage. For us, the time is not a bringer of maturity but rather a foreboding of the end of our days. Our standards of beauty, health, living, style, you name it - everything is aimed at staying frozen at some point in time. This is not a healthy way to live, as a society or a person. And still, this is what's going on.
Personally, I dislike the casual approach. I don't like the light-handed touch where we can glimpse at this horror in a casual way. One willing to do just that, shoud remember 2 things:
- Cautionary tales have the distressing tendency to cross the line and go on to becoming the new know-how manuals. Just remember the '1984' and 'Brave New World'. Find any similarities to anything, anywhere?
- The Overton window is still open. Things we keep discussing casually might turn out to become the things our grandchildren do casually. We wouldn't want to wake up, one day, in a world where the new norm is to kill off the old people as soon as they become 'too much bother', would we? Even if the killing off would go with nice bells and whistles:
Q:
“And don’t forget the pressure-resistant window,” the son adds. “You’ll be able to see those dolphins nice and clear. How about that, Dad? Dolphins all the way down, keeping you company.” (c)
I don't know how to rate it. Therefore, let's count:
* The writing is cool, clear and readable, in the 1st story. +5 stars
* The storybook is diverse and touches many topics. +1 star
* 'Our Fathers at Sea' is very thought-inducing. +1 star
* The subject of 'Our Fathers at Sea' is beyond unsettling and way too light-hearted for such serious a subject. -1 star
* 'Bodies in Space' - totally uninteresting. It probably was supposed to be innovative and clever. And it wasn't. Instead it was a rambling mix of space, breasts/amoebas (!), flirting, a blinking diode in one's head, techs, blogging, brands (Volvo?), Man/Woman of the Future... A salad of weird stuff. -1 star
* Masturbation session in 'Bodies in Space' - pointless. -1 star
* The Sea Beast Takes a Lover' - the best thing about this story is the heading. The ending was inconclusive. What was that with the refugee? What was that with the miniboat and minimonster? The crew? Did they die? Could we have skipped all this drama and just put it all in a 1-liner 'Everyone died'? -1 star
* 'The King's Teacup at Rest' Didn't get it. -1 star
* 'He Is the Rainstorm and the Sandstorm, Hallelujah, Hallelujah' Didn't like it. -1 star
* 'Rockabye, Rocketboy' Ouch! 'Plug detective'?? Euphemism for (robo)porn? The Rocketboy demise? -2 stars
* The Saints in the Parlor' Blasphemous? For what? -1 star
* 'Andy, Lord of Ruin' Stupid, didn't care about it -1 star
* 'Jenny' Uh? Was it written for shock value? +1 star for writing, idea & structure -1 star for everything else
* 'Rite of Baptism' Unreadable. -1 star
* 'Blunderbuss' Time travel story. +1 star for readability
This should have a total of - (minus!) 3 stars! Since there is no such rating here, this is going to be rated at 1 star, which is rather generous, I think.
Q: The night before we load you into the crate and watch as the helicopter carries you off to the undisclosed location to drop you into the Atlantic Ocean, we eat dinner as a family. (c)
Q:
Just follow your heart. (c)
Q:
I remember once, not long after we crated Mom, we took you and the kids down to Ainsdale... (c)
Q:
It’s our lake, yours and mine, and now mine and my sons’. For all the fighting, all the hurt feelings, the years of not talking even before you lost the ability to speak, we still end up here, you and I, looking at a lake full of stars. (c)
Q:
You showed me how controlling the water level prevented them from maturing into frogs, and how nice it was to keep tadpoles as they were, blindly swimming around until they died and we replaced them with new ones. (c) This reads ominous.
Q:
“Daddy’s gone,” she says, and I feel the relief whistle out of me like an untied balloon. You’re gone. I don’t have to crate you. I’m so happy I dive into the lake, where the dream lets me breathe freely, the warm water hugging me close until I wake up. (c)
Q:
I remember one of the clowns made me a balloon giraffe, and your father asked, like some do, not to be taken, to be held over till the following year. Next year, he promised, he’d be ready. I don’t remember what you did, if you wept or tried to argue with him, or if you simply stood by like I am now. I remember that he had the good sense to ask only once, but even that small moment of pleading caught me off guard, and I couldn’t shake it for weeks after. (c)
Q:
I’ve heard of this—reports of dolphins gathering at the undisclosed location. I want to ask the son privately if this is just something cheerful he’s decided to say, or if he has actual evidence of dolphins, if he knows someone who can confirm it. (c)
Q:
I wish that Avery had drawn a few dolphins swimming alongside the crab and the starfish, to give you a better sense of just how comforting this whole business is going to be. (c)
Q:
I wonder if we shouldn’t take Ernest to see more live theater, maybe a show now and then down at that little dinner theater place in Phillipsburg that Rosemary’s always talking about. Maybe it’s the sort of thing that would help him locate something different and good inside himself. (c)
Q:
Besides, I want to send you off with something forward-looking. Something hopeful. (c)
Q:
None of the fathers are asking not to be taken, which is rare. (c)
Q:
Nozzle heads hang from the ceiling inside the crate, waiting to release anesthetic gas when you reach critical depth. I wish Avery could see these. I don’t know if he knows about them, but he should, to understand that we’re not monsters. That we care what happens to you after you drop. (c)
Q:
We should be gathering around one another as a family, relying on our shared love and support to light a path out of this parking lot and back to the happy lives we’ve worked so hard for. (c)
Q:
I will study this drawing often in the weeks to come, meditating on its many perfections. I will feel sorry that I am the one looking at it, that it is here with me and not with you, rolled out before you on your tray as the floodlights show you dolphins and marlins, sea breams and hammerheads, and all the other guardians of the undisclosed location, whose waters, we are told, are calm, and patient, and deeper than we can know. (c)
Q:
The Winsome Bride has been sinking for months. As far as we can tell, the beast has mistaken us for one of her kind and is, in her own fashion, pitching woo. She lowers us patiently, tenderly, as a mother might drown her child. Her love-struck tentacles have hamstrung our rudder, bent our keel, noosed up our figurehead. (c)
Q:
The mermaids have appeared earlier than usual today because of the books. ... The mermaids are blue-skinned and black-eyed, but apparently literate enough to tackle the Brontës and Isaac Asimov. The volumes that have not sunk or disintegrated bob coquettishly in the water beside them. The mermaids pluck them out at random and leaf through them dreamily. (c)
Q:
Spooning me from behind, she looped her arms over my shoulders, spidered her small legs around my waist, and held me. For that whole night she held me so firm and tight I almost strained to breathe, but for the first time since the creature took up its amorous cause, I felt the maddening anticipation ease, squeezed out of me like a bellows. In my ear, soft as cotton, she sang a steady hush, her breath rising and falling with the waves, harmonizing with the wind, and though the creature’s grip was so firm upon us that neither wind nor waves held any sway, and though her legs and arms felt strong enough to crush the breath inside me to diamond, for that brief moment I felt returned to the sea I knew. (c)
Q:
They pray for guidance, and safety, and certainty. They pray for revelations, and the wisdom to rightly interpret them. They do not know if this is the correct action, but they have faith. They serve a mystery, the Voice that can’t be heard outside the wordless barrows of the soul. They can only hope they hear it correctly. They fear that it might leave, and that it might stay. They want it to fill them up and drown them out. It is the exaltation of being relentlessly tested, the torment of being inescapably loved. (c)
Q:
All time travelers share the same secret fear: that one day their collective lack of self-control, their inability to resist looking, touching, taking, will purge them from the ranks of having ever existed, robbing them of a life, a death, and a birth all at once. Honestly, when they really think about it, it’s a miracle it hasn’t happened already.
These are the thoughts that keep time travelers up at night. (c)