Therapy

Philip Roth’s fiction shares many qualities with effective psychotherapy.  Both require a big leap of faith, both are self-absorbed, unconstrained by reality, seemingly unorganized, undirected, and ultimately very revealing.

I’ve read most of his fiction, and he remains one of my literary heroes. Somehow I missed The Ghost Writer (the first in the Zuckerman trilogy), and if you can place yourself on that couch, be open to his unconscious as well as your own, it’s a great read.  Who else would consider the quandary in which Anne Frank would find herself had she lived to see the publication of her diary?  Who else has so much to say on being Jewish in 20^th-century America?  Who else so effectively and simultaneously looks back to his narrow past and forward to a wholly different future?  Who else so carefully considers (obsesses about) the writer, his role, his obligations and responsibilities, his shortcomings and limitations? Who else can do this in such a short book and in such a creative way?

I’m the first to admit that Roth is not everyone’s cup of tea, but neither is Pamuk, or Yan, or Naipaul.  And Roth has serious academic credentials and literary street cred.  Can we get political correctness out of the way and just give him the Nobel already? Please.

Amateurs

I read the New York Times semi-regularly.  I find quite a few articles to be interesting and informative.  Then I come across an article about a subject I know well.  If I have a good amount of technical and factual knowledge about the subject, I’m often aghast at the inadequacies of the article, what it got wrong, what critical points were omitted, how clumsy and hodge-podge it all seems.

The same with legislation.  Yes, our lawmakers do the best they can given the limits of the system in which they work, but when I read legislation in the telecom industry (that I know fairly well) I just can’t believe how amateurish it all seems.  These people really don’t know what they’re doing.  The process of making legislation is scary, and the resulting sausage is just not very good. Where are the adults?

Paul Theroux makes a similar point about terrorism in his mid-70’s novel The Family Arsenal.  The book takes place in London and concerns the IRA terrorist bombings that plagued the city at that time.  I very much like Theroux’s travel writing, and many of his novels profit from his special ability to blend place/time with character/plot.  For him they are pleasingly inseparable.  The Family Arsenal is not so strong in this aspect, or maybe I just don’t find London in the 70’s all that interesting.

But Theroux is very effective at demonstrating that most terrorists are not professionals deeply motivated by a political cause.  Most are young people with serious unresolved issues looking for a convenient outlet for their violent tendencies.  They latch onto a cause because it’s there, for a time they lend their energy and get their thrills from the action, and then they move to other outlets, get distracted by mainstream life, or they actually find at least partial resolution for their personal issues.

The book is a little writerly for my taste. Theroux takes himself seriously, and sometimes he misses the mark. But there is much to appreciate here.  Especially these days when young people from Europe and America are travelling to the Middle East to fight for ISIS, we would do well to consider what their motivation might be.  Do they really believe in the cause, or are they just unhappy in their own personal way, frustrated, and looking for acceptance, excitement, and an outlet for their anger?

I guess we’re all amateurs at the game of life, though it is possible to gain real professional expertise in specific areas.  And when we do, we realize how much we’ve differentiated ourselves from others. I’d like to think that there really are no professional terrorists, but rather just amateurs dabbling at destruction.  That would at least give law enforcement a small leg up.  But that may just my own lack of expertise talking.