One can speculate about charismatic extremists who might thrive in the shadow of a hateful president who is greedy for control of an entire country. In his new novella, Christopher Wilde has done so in a fashion that is absorbing, realistic and deeply frightening.
Wilde’s book documents the rise of a revolutionary hero and an actuarial genius named Atwood, a woman on a mission. Atwood is the sexy blond wizard at the tip of a lethal spear and at the head of a nationwide movement of millennials. They blame baby boomers for bringing children into a world of want and sucking the life from them to sustain their self-centered selves. Atwood claims that boomers selfishly control the wealth, the jobs, the health care system and the government. She accuses them of trashing a perfectly nice planet. Narcissistic to the core, boomers elected the worst of their own as president. The world contains what young adults need, but the boomers refuse to share. So, she declares war.
Atwood tells her followers: “Look around, baby boomers are behind nearly every bad thing, from climate change to that minimum wage internship that you know will never lead to a high-paying job. They are pulling our puppet strings, making us dance for dimes, and berating us when we fail their impossible tasks. I’m tired of acquiescing to a shambling bunch of sociopaths. … The boomer administration looks down from their golden towers and sees … young people who aren’t racist, who aren’t afraid of sex or drugs, who believe in investing in the people of this nation. They want to cull you, they want to force you into a great war and reduce your numbers.” Week to week, her audiences grow in size and enthusiasm. They shout a mantra, in contempt of their elders, a shout that becomes louder as their story moves forward: “Boom the boom.”
The picture that Mr. Wilde paints is of a society divided not by race, gender, religion or ideology, but by age and opportunity. The pages of his story fold along a line that he marks indelibly, even though you knew it was there. The line separates the youngest of the baby boomers from the oldest of Gen Y. About thirty-five years ago, I listened to a professor emeritus tell his audience of three thousand college kids dressed in graduation robes that, unless we made changes, we would be the last generation of Americans who could assume we would live better than our parents. He was exactly right. We didn’t make changes and young adults — our children — are already struggling. Mr. Wilde seems to have heard that message and presents it as an entertaining parable set in the near future.
Atwood’s story is told in the first person by a narrator, a young man whose name is never revealed. She selects the narrator as her guard and assistant, then as her lover. She eventually makes him a general in what becomes her army. He becomes loyal and devoted to her and is left to wonder why: “What really had come to define me could have been stamped on my back in white, spray-painted lettering on an olive green background, like an army footlocker: Property of Atwood. She had made me her man and I had pledged heart and soul to her command. I was the puppy she had picked out of an abused litter and raised like a killer pit bull. She walked proudly with me trotting at her side.”
Atwood’s movement begins a second civil war. Millions of boomers, identified by the grey in their hair, are murdered in their beds by a self-righteous army of trained warriors. For those of us over a certain age, the violence and the loathing are a bit, um, unsettling. It is enough to make one wonder about the strident intolerance that is often displayed proudly by those in positions of authority. How is it affecting our young adults? There was a time when civil rights leaders had a prominent voice and reminded us of the benefits of love for thine enemy. The sound of those voices, and the peaceful impact the voices seemed to have had, is hard to find in 2017. Our chief executive’s limited vocabulary is broad enough to connote a need for bloody revenge and a resentment of intelligent accomplishment. He has given aid and comfort to those who demonstrate disgust for persons who dare to operate on common sense and good faith. In such an atmosphere, Mr. Wilde’s story makes the rise of a venomous hero such as Atwood appear to be a risk that is all too real, just one more thing for a well-read mind to fret about. Mr. Wilde deserves a tip of the hat for raising the questions he does. He deserves far more for his imaginative presentation of a mindset that may be only a possibility. He seems to have considered every facet and every crevice of a large, igneous rock as it is loaded into an improvised cannon that might be aimed at our heads.
Wilde has added a valuable entry to the genre known as social science fiction, a field that reached its zenith between the 1940s and 1970s when Kurt Vonnegut, Isaac Asimov and George Orwell were in vogue. He may become one who sparks the genre’s resurgence. We are ruled by a minority that attaches itself to the methods that Orwell and company warned us about. This probably puts the vocal, educated and sizable group between the ages of eighteen and forty in a mood for a book just like ‘The Loyal.’ Many in that group must have wondered what curse was put upon them when they entered this world. A large majority of us, regardless of age, are certainly ready for whatever it takes to neutralize the dark forces that appeared defeated as recently as summer 2016. All of us could take some inspiration from a character who is outraged at the status quo and seeks to change it (albeit, too aggressively).
One could fault Mr. Wilde for some of his writing. Exactly halfway through ‘The Loyal,’ he launches into an extended exploration of Atwood’s opinions and her declarations. He describes generalized crowd reactions at her speeches, movement among factions in each crowd. A stump speech needs only to be heard so many times before it drones. Many of Atwood’s ideas get repeated or broken into thousands of tiny pieces, each of which gets consideration. The result is a ponderous middle featuring descriptions of dubious value. Regardless, the end of the story intelligently rephrases the narrative of a generation that could rise up, and violently.