'Ten Years From Now' - A Review

I only occasionally visit ‘The National Organisation For Marriage’ (or ‘NOM’ as they un-ironically call themselves) the same way I occasionally follow ‘The UK Independence Party’ – because it’s a scavenger-hunt for hypocrisy. There is no such thing as a wrong opinion, yet there are bizarre opinions suspended only by flawed logic. And the only way to rid society of said opinions is by exposing the flaws in this logic through critical discourse.

Normally I wouldn’t foul my blog with this nonsense, but NOM has recently penned aliterary work that they’ve shared with the world. Since my blog is supposed to be about art, I may as well review this piece.

‘Ten Years From Now’ is a dystopian flash-fiction told from the first-person perspective of a concerned parent (read: author surrogate) whose sixteen year old daughter has been suspended from school for apparently bullying a transgender student. This could be an interesting tale about how a parent has to explain that the mind is a separate entity from the body, yet the parent does not want to jeopardise his relationship with his daughter. Instead, it’s a context-less spiel about “kids these days.”

The opening shows signs of promise, yet throws its cards on the table by using air-quotes in the sentence “he has chosen to "identify" as a "she"” meaning that the protagonist is transphobic and believes his daughter to be right in her protests, thus making her suspension unlawful.

This would make sense if there was some sort of fictional law introduced, decreeing that those who self-identify as female are immediately permitted to use the female facilities on-campus. Instead, the story draws to current events by saying that “the school district adopted the Ontario, Canada construct.” Said construct only decrees that there are five genders. It does not decree that males are allowed to use female toilets. The logic behind trans pupils being allowed to use facilities assigned to the gender they identify as is that these trans pupils have appealed to an authority to receive explicit permission. Again, if there was a fictional law introduced that changed this, then fine. But there isn’t one. 

The story also suggests that this trans pupil is only pretending to identify as a female so he can spy on the women changing without repercussions. This would make the daughter justified in her protest – but the story is not explicit. It needs to either refute or embrace this possibility, as it’s too strong to leave open.

It’s not even said what stage of the transitional process the pupil is in. Does this pupil still dress like a man? Has this pupil applied to have her passport changed? Has this pupil had any surgery or hormone-treatment? Has the protagonist’s daughter protested against a boy in lipstick, or a woman without breasts?

In fact, if gender “is no longer particularly relevant in the public schools” then that means toilets would be different. If gender is now a binary construct, then toilers surely would not be split into ‘boy’ and ‘girl’ – particularly if, according to the story, the government has now eliminated the expressions ‘boy’ and ‘girl.’ This means toilets would no longer be assigned to a gender, and thus would have to be re-built. I guess every toilet would be contained within some sort of cubicle, as would the showers and changing-rooms.

Thus, the trans pupil would not have been using the wrong toilet and therefore the daughter would have no reason whatsoever to protest. The conflict this whole story is based around is null and void.

Need I go on? The story’s logic has collapsed in on itself within the first four paragraphs.

For a story set ten years in the future, not a single ‘futuristic vibe’ is present. The only hint that we’re in the future is the vagueness of the statement “I read an article on my device.” This probably just refers to a phone or tablet, but there’s the possibility he’s reading on a holographic projection or perhaps cyber-vision goggles. Aside from this, the piece doesn’t feel even vaguely futuristic. The story even says that the school has adopted “the Facebook model,” meaning the world hasn’t moved onto a new plain of communication. The world depicted here is a vacuum where only marriage appears to have significantly changed anything – where if we look to the past ten years, our society has been radically changed by technology, the economy, conflict, and transitions in political parties. These are extremely large constructs. At the start of the story, it appears that changes in marriage laws have only had a partial impact on this teenager’s first-world existence. It’s only when the story draws back at the conclusion to reveal that the world is a barren wasteland of poverty and drugs because the definition of marriage has changed.

Which leads me neatly to the ending. At the last moment, the story forgoes the basic ‘show don’t tell’ rule to dump a vast amount of exposition without any explanation.

The story boldly claims with no justification that “Teenage drug use, criminality, truancy and suicide were on the rise, while educational attainment is declining.” How? “More people are living in poverty than any other time in my life.” How? How is a change in marriage laws more damaging to the economy than the stock market crash of 2008? It’s possible that this law has created a domino-effect, but that effect needs to be explained within the story. And it needs to be explained in a way that doesn’t have our protagonist quote a Fox News article. The line: “I read an article on my device” suggests that the protagonist merely read a random article, rather than “I read an official report” or “I read a government study.” And it’s because of this random article that apparently the world is falling apart. The protagonist has read the article, so therefore the article is true. I read, therefore I am.

This summarises the whole problem with the piece. We read what the protagonist is thinking, and therefore it’s supposed to be true within the world created. He says that Christian Unions are being disbanded all over the country, therefore it must be so. The possibility that the protagonist could be mistaken, jaded, or a bigot is never bought into question – which is a huge flaw considering that, like it or not, this protagonist is expressing a view only present in a minority. An average reader will be quick to dismiss his views because they are not the norm. In order to make us sympathise with this characters unorthodox views, he must be presented with more distance and more characterisation.

We don’t know the person speaking. How old is he? Where does he live? What’s his job? Does he have a wife? Because the story is so short, and the story attempts to cram so many ideas without explaining them, we have no sense of character. There is no room for character. I can only assume he’s an author surrogate because there is so little characterisation. There is absolutely no context here, and as such I’m inclined to immediately disagree with the person speaking because I have no clear mental picture and no sense of time or place.

Finally, the story goes as far to say that the President him/herself is planning enormous changes, and as a result taxes would be raised. Never in the history of politics has a president outright said that taxes are being raised – and this will never happen because it would be career-suicide. Never, ever will the president step out in front of the nation and say: “Hey, there’s a huge reform in healthcare, education, and law-enforcement coming up…and guess that’s paying for it? IT’S YOU!!” This is the sort of vision only conjured up by a writer with no idea about politics or even reality.

So, in conclusion: I wouldn’t try to submit this for publication, guys. Regardless of the extremely flawed views presented, this is just a really bad piece of prose – failing on every single level possible. Stick to the political rhetoric…

I'm Evil...according to Hollywood

For some reason, us English are regarded as pure evil by Hollywood. If you have a received dialect then apparently you enjoy drowning kittens on weekends. This is all a little alienating considering I have a rather unfortunate accent that sounds like a Bond Villain talking dirty. The only way I could be a hero is if I was Sherlock Holmes, which actually makes sense considering I can only function in society if I’m on an adventure or on drugs.

I’ve always joked that if I carried on acting (and if I was actually any good at it) then I would have eventually ended up playing a villain in a Hollywood blockbuster. But it’s actually true. So many actors here struggle with living in such an insignificant country, clawing their way through endless Shakespeare, and finally bursting into Hollywood…only to play some cackling git in the loudest film of the summer. And then it’s back to the theatre for them as they attempt to salvage any dignity they still have.

Remember Star Trek: Into Bland Title? The sequel that copied Wrath of Khan then removed everything good about it – right down to replacing the Cuban Khan with Scar from The Lion King. Or The Avengers with Loki, the lone English hero beating off a group of self-entitled, self-justified, and over-muscled gits? Or Superman, the all-American one-man holocaust, fighting the English General Zod?

Or Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which concerns English legend, is set in England, and concerns Englishmen…yet Robin Hood is played by Kevin Costner, and the villain is bloody Snape.

Or lets us not forget Star Wars, where the evil Nazi-like Empire are all English whilst the buff Rebel Alliance are all American. (“So, what makes you want to join our totalitarian regime?” “Well, my accent sounds like Vincent Price winning on the scratch-cards.” “When can you start?”) Although, this is much better than the prequels where the heroes were mostly upper-class white people whilst the antagonists were mostly rebel Indian stereotypes.

Heck, even Smaug from The Hobbit had to have an English accent just in case the audience had any pretence that the hulking death-machine who murdered innocents might be the good guy.

I was even playing Deus Ex: Human Revolution, which was at first doing a good job keeping its heroes and villains ambiguous when WHAM! EVIL ENGLISH GUY! It’s even infecting my games!

It’s not the fact that we’re always evil that annoys me. OK, it does annoy me, but at least we own playing villains. What bothers me is that we’re never the hero.

You’re only going to see an English hero in a Bond movie. Or in a Tolkein-esque fantasy setting…because Medieval England evokes so much wonder with all its muddy hills and grey castles. Daniel Craig has proven you can have a hunky, grizzled hero who’s also distinctly English. Hollywood seems to think that England is entirely populated by skinny, slightly effeminate puppet masters – despite one of their most popular franchises proving otherwise.

“Oh, but a lot of Blockbusters concern either America or American themes.”

THEN WHY ARE THE VILLANS ENGLISH!?! If they concern America, then the villain should be American. Are the villain’s English just to make us not feel left out? Because I’m able to read stories about cultures I barely understand, and I can identify with everyone perfectly…unless they’re badly written, but that’s another topic.

“Oh, but we Americans are passionate whilst you English are more reserved.”

I wouldn’t be making this post if I wasn’t passionate. And no, I’m not passionate about my country; I’m just passionate about the fact that according to the majority of popular culture, I’m evil. You need to meet more Englishmen, hypothetical strawman I’ve just invented!

No, I’m not evil because I’m English. I’m evil because I kill anyone who uses the word ‘literally’ incorrectly.

The Word ‘Literally’ Is Now Banned

I’m banning ‘literally’ from all discourse. Yes, me – the guy you’ve probably never heard of who has absolutely no authority in the world.

Controversy was stirred last year when the dictionaries changed the definition of the word ‘literally’ because people have been using it incorrectly for so long that societies elite threw their arms up and said: “Fine! If everyone else is going to be wrong, then let’s all be wrong together!”

Coming from a middle-class English background and a secondary school that began like Matilda’s school but eventually turned into the mess that is modern UK education, this confused me. From my pseudo-Dickensian childhood, I always assumed that the dictionary doesn’t change for you – you change for the dictionary. The only words that were altered were words of a sexual connotation (such as ‘fetish’) that were changed just so the headteacher doesn’t get sniggered at during assembly.

Alas, ‘literally’ can be added to the list of words such as ‘sick’ and ‘epic’ as meaningless filler words used when we feel a banal sentence is too short and not banal enough.

For example: “I am literally stuck on this essay.” So the essay is stuck onto a part of your body? You just need to say: “I’m stuck on this essay” or “This essay is really hard. I think I’m stuck.”

But I’ve realised that even when ‘literally’ is used correctly, it makes no sense. An example of the correct use of the word would be: “I’m literally nailed to this chair. Can you call an ambulance please?” Unless you’re communicating with someone who can’t see you’ve been nailed to a chair, it’s pretty obvious that you’re not using hyperbole.

Has anyone ever said: “I am figuratively dying of this hangover?” No! Because it’s clear that person isn’t dying of a hangover, otherwise they would say: “Can you please call a doctor?”

The majority of us are perfectly able to understand figurative expressions. If we didn’t, then we would actually use the word ‘literally’ correctly. Figurative speech is so ubiquitous in modern rhetoric that we clearly don’t need to specify what’s literal – and we don’t, because  people are using ‘literally’ to describe figurative events.

Or maybe we all just need to go back to school…

The Peril of Re-Writing

Rewriting is not the same as revising. Rewriting is when you tear the page up and start all over again.

Or, at least, that’s how I do it. I get a strange pleasure out of spending ages writing something, printing it off, opening a new word document, and writing it all over again. Granted, I usually highlight sentences and sections that I definitely want to keep – so that I don’t accidentally lose those moments when a perfect line smacks me from nowhere. But chances are that the second draft will be completely different to the first. 

One thing I hate about modern technology is that once the story is done, I can’t do what Roald Dahl did and have a massive bonfire where I burn all the first drafts so that society never has to find out that I’m actually crap at this writing lark and get by through constant revisions and peer-feedback.

Because it’s all very well and good to just go ahead and write a story, then throw it down declaring it a masterpiece. Unless you're Mozart, who apparently wrote without needing to draft or revise (though, I’m hoping that one day someone’s going to stumble across thousands of sheets filled with really awful music and Mozart drafting his suicide note in the margins) then it’s not going to be a masterpiece. More likely than not it’s going to be more unpleasant than having your prostate examined….by Hitler. 

Your first draft of anything is going to be rubbish, because what you give birth to will be a blob of antimatter. A twisted, uncontrollable mess. Buried in there somewhere will be a fine piece of writing, the real problem is bringing it forth. Anyone in the world can dig for diamonds, but you need the tools to dig…and once you’ve found the diamond you need the skill to cut it. Everyone has a novel in them, but it takes an effort to commit it to paper – and afterwards you need to rewrite and rewrite until you’ve extrapolated all the goodness found therein. 

A lot of writers say that once you’ve completed the first draft, you should leave the novel for a few weeks before returning to start again. Honestly, I would only leave it a day. The longer you leave it, the more bulbous the blob of antimatter will become. Finish the first draft, take the night off, get drunk or watch a film or play a game or have intercourse or do whatever you do to relax and clear your mind after a long day. 

Only distance yourself from the novel once you’re pretty certain it’s there. Once you feel you have a perfect representation of your talent as a writer, then put your work in a drawer and forget about it for a few weeks. Return, and if you still think this is what you’ll be remembered for – then great! Do a quick proof-read and send it off for the world to see. If not, start again. 

Just keep starting again. No matter what.