Books of note: God of Small Things

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The God Of Small Things

Written by Arundhati Roy

Category: Fiction
Format: Trade Paperback, 336 pages
Publisher: Vintage Canada
ISBN: 978-0-679-30941-3 (0-679-30941-1)

Pub Date: June 1, 1998
Price: $22.00

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About this Book

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The international publishing sensation of 1997 -- translated into 18 languages -- a magical, sophisticated tour de force.

The God of Small Things heralds a voice so powerful and original that it burns itself into the reader's memory. Set mainly in Kerala, India, in 1969, it is the story of Rahel and her twin brother Estha, who learn that their whole world can change in a single day, that love and life can be lost in a moment. Armed only with the invincible innocence of children, they seek to craft a childhood for themselves amid the wreckage that constitutes their family. Sweet and heartbreaking, ribald and profound, this is a novel to set beside those of Salman Rushdie and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

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Awards

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WINNER 1997 - Man Booker Prize

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Review Quotes

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"A work of highly conscious art—A Tiger Woodsian début — the author hits the long, socio-cosmic ball but is also exquisite in her short game. Like a devotionally built temple, The God of Small Things builds a massive interlocking structure of fine, intensely felt details."—John Updike, The New Yorker

"A gorgeous and seductive fever dream of a novel, and a truly spectacular début."—Kirkus Reviews

"With sensuous prose, a dreamlike style infused with breathtakingly beautiful images and keen insights into human nature, Roy's début novel charts fresh territory in the genre of magical, prismatic literature—Roy's clarity of vision is remarkable, her voice original, her story beautifully constructed and masterfully told."—Publishers Weekly (*starred review)

"A work that is complex in structure, sophisticated in its handling of time, and bold in its themes. But perhaps what is most remarkable is Roy's deft use of language."—Maclean's

"A compelling tale of forbidden love and its catastrophic consequences, wonderfully vivid—Arundhati Roy's novel has a magic and mystery all its own."—The Toronto Star

"Roy weaves her bold and startling narrative in sequences of luminously rendered scenes—remarkable."—The Globe and Mail

"Drenched with poetic image and saturated with wisdom, the book's rich tapestry is a tour de force in good storytelling, a book to savour and remember."—The London Free Press

"A first novel of remarkable resonance and originality—like Rushdie she is a dazzling stylist, someone who loves the sound and play of words—The God of Small Things is both funny and insightful."—The Edmonton Journal

Biography of Arundhati Roy

Arundhati Roy was born in 1961 in Kerala. Her mother, a Kerala native, was Christian; her father was a Hindu from Bengal. The marriage was unsuccessful, and Roy spent her childhood years in Aymanam with her mother. The influence of these early years permeates her writings, both thematically and structurally.

Roy's mother, who herself was a prominent social activist, founded an independent school and taught her daughter informally. This freedom from intellectual constraint allowed Roy to write, as she puts it acccording to Jon Simmons on his "Arundhati Roy Web", "from within"; the ability to follow her inner voice, rather than having a set of restrictive rules ingrained in her, has been an integral part of her accomplishments as an adult writer. She comments that "When I write, I never re-write a sentence because for me my thought and my writing are one thing. It's like breathing, I don't re-breathe a breath... Everything I have - my intellect, my experience, my feelings have been used. If someone doesn't like it, it is like saying they don't like my gall bladder. I can't do anything about it."

In addition to the style of her writing, its subject matter also reflects the cultural texture of her childhood. Of Kerala she says that "it was the only place in the world where religions coincide, there's Christianity, Hinduism, Marxism and Islam and they all live together and rub each other down...I was aware of the different cultures when I was growing up and I'm still aware of them now. When you see all the competing beliefs against the same background you realise how they all wear each other down." The deep-seated nature of Roy's activism may also be traced back to her early years, and the rural beauty of the landscape in which she spent them: "I think the kind of landscape that you grew up in, it lives in you. I don't think it's true of people who've grown up in cities so much, you may love building but I don't think you can love it in the way that you love a tree or a river or the colour of the earth, it's a different kind of love. I'm not a very well read person but I don't imagine that that kind of gut love for the earth can be replaced by the open landscape. It's a much cleverer person who grows up in the city, savvy and much smarter in many ways. If you spent your very early childhood catching fish and just learning to be quiet, the landscape just seeps into you. Even now I go back to Kerala and it makes me want to cry if something happens to that place."

At age sixteen Roy left home, and eventually enrolled at the Delhi School of Architecture. This training, like her elementary education, proved instrumental in shaping her as a writer. In The Salon Interview, she likens the creation of a piece of literature to that of plans for a building: "In buildings, there are design motifs that occur again and again, that repeat -- patterns, curves. These motifs help us feel comfortable in a physical space. And the same works in writing, I've found. For me, the way words, punctuation and paragraphs fall on the page is important as well -- the graphic design of the language." But despite her affinity for the trade, Simmons reports, she left it after a few years to work on projects for the screen, writing first a television serial, which failed due to lack of funding, and then two screenplays, neither of which brought her great success or fulfillment. She then published a criticism of the acclaimed film "Bandit Queen"; the controversy that followed resulted in a lawsuit against her.

In the aftermath, she vacated the public sphere, focusing her energies on The God of Small Things, which was published in April 1997. About six months later it was awarded the Booker Prize; Roy is the first Indian woman ever to achieve this honor. The book has been a stunning success both in India, and internationally. Roy says that her use of the English language was not so much a conscious decision for her, as a choice imposed on her because "There are more people in India that speak English than there are in England. And the only common language that we have throughout India is English. And it's odd that English is a language that, for somebody like me, is a choice that is made for me before I'm old enough to choose. It is the only language that you can speak if you want to get a good job or you want to go to a university. All the big newspapers are in English. And then every one of us will speak at least two or three - I speak three - languages. And when we communicate - let's say I'm with a group of friends - our conversation is completely anarchic because it's in any language that you choose."

The acclaim that Roy garnered made her an instant celebrity, but the traditional trappings of literary fame were accompanied by a certain amount of notoriety due to the book's controversial treatment of delicate subject matter. Charges of anti-Communism were leveled against Roy because of her portrayal of the Communist characters; the Chief Minister of Kerala claimed that this, and not the book's literary merit, was the reason for its popularity in the West. In addition, Roy faced charges of obscenity and demands that the final chapter of the book be removed because of its sexual content. Roy attributed these hostile reactions not to the "eroticism (which is mild) but rather to the book's explicit treatment of the role of the untouchables in India... The abhorrence was thus as much political as it was moral, and proves that fifty years after Gandhi coined the term Harijan ('children of God') the Hindu caste system is still an important issue."

In the years following the publication of The God of Small Things, Roy has put her talents and status to use as an activist for several of the important issues facing India today. In September 1998 her article "The End of Imagination" appeared in The Nation as a response to the testing of nuclear weapons in India a few months earlier. The article demonstrates both a fervent appreciation for the natural beauty of her country, and a respect for the fragility of life in a world containing bombs that could destroy everything in a matter of seconds. Roy calls for those who agree with her about the evils of nuclear warfare to join her in public denunciation of it.

She has also returned to some of the political territory of The God of Small Things, speaking out against the oppression of the Dalits and appearing at a reception in Kerala to publicly declare herself an advocate of their cause. She also contributed materially, by donating the royalties from the Malayalam translation of The God of Small Things to advance Dalit literary efforts and "help Dalit writers to tell their stories to the world."

Most recently, Roy has been involved in protesting against the Narmada Dam Project. Her article "The Greater Common Good" in Frontline disparages a project that could force millions to abandon their homes in order to provide limited benefits to a limited number of people. She has demonstrated against construction of the dam both in the Narmada Valley, and globally in an effort to heighten awareness and obtain support for the cause. In January 2000 she was arrested during a protest in the Valley, and released two days later.

Roy's concern for the environment and for the people inhabiting it permeates her life; the social conscience that she exhibits may be read into the literature that she produces as a concrete embodiment of this concern.

Sources:

Click here to read Roy, Arundhati. "The End of Imagination."

Click here to read Roy, Arundhati. "The Greater Common Good."

Click here to read The Salon Interview.

Click here to access Simmons, Jon. The Arundhati Roy Web.

GOD OF SMALL THINGS

Listen Now: [5 min 0 sec]

Real MediaExplain these links

All Things Considered, June 16, 1997 · Linda talks to Arundhati Roy, author of the novel, "The God of Small Things." It's the story of fraternal twins who grow up in Kerala, India. Roy's language and structure for the book are unusual. She says that the structure ambushes the story; the plot is revealed at the beginning of the book and then the narrative goes back to reexamine events in greater detail. (STATIONS: "The God of Small Things" is published by Random House.)

A cultural identity narrative that explores the individual's struggle in India to defy the constraints of the caste system. With excerpts from Arundhati Roy's Booker Prize Winner "The God of Small Things" and clips from "Swades."

Category: Film & Animation

Tags:

caste system india development arundhati roy the god of small things swades

Wall Street is laying people off; others pay 6g's to be interns!!

Students pay to take first steps on Wall Street

5:00AM Monday January 07, 2008
By James Doran

American university students used to get paid for spending three summer months in an office opening mail and making coffee for some of the world's richest bankers. Then some did it for free. But now a growing number are paying thousands of dollars to secure the best internships on Wall St.

The University of Dreams, an internship agency in California, charges as much as US$7999 ($10,380) to place university students in summer jobs on Wall St.

And if you want a cheaper option, you can pay US$6000 for an internship with an investment bank, such as Goldman Sachs or Merrill Lynch, in a lesser-known location. The organisation can even arrange to send students to Barclays in London.

A decent internship is crucial to securing a job at a top Wall St bank these days.

Indeed, working for free at a big-name firm is key to jump-starting a top-flight career in many industries, from media to technology or finance.

The University of Dreams, which has 46 staff and 1200 students, builds relationships with Wall St banks and other top companies, such as Google and General Electric, and claims that CVs sent in on behalf of its clients always make it to the top of the pile.

For the banks, the service helps human resources departments overcome the problem of sifting through millions of CVs sent every year by eager students.

And University of Dreams is not alone. For the budget-oriented, Fast Track Internships of Texas offers a similar service, costing just US$699 for unpaid work or US$999 for paid placements.

And if politics is your dream and you have US$3500, then the Washington Internship Program is the place to send your CV.

- OBSERVER

Crosspost: Judith Moriarty Home is where you put your stuff

HOME IS WHERE YOU PUT YOUR STUFF

A CHRISTMAS STORY

by Judith Moriarty

"In Manhattan the income gap between the rich and poor is greater than in Guatemala, and within the U.S. is surpassed only by a group of 70 households near a former leper colony in Hawaii". NY Times

What is a home? It is easier to understand homelessness by taking a minute to define a home. A home is a space of our own that is considered to belong to us. We may not have a whole house or a whole apartment or even a whole room, but we have our own space. It is secure: we know where we are going to sleep tonight; we know that 'home' is going to be there when we get there. It is safe. Although no safety is perfect, we have a way to lock our home, to control who comes in when we are there and when we aren't. We can leave our belongs at home and have a reasonable expectation of finding them safe when we get back. We are sheltered from rain and cold. We have a means to warm ourselves. We have a bed. We have a way to store and prepare food. We have cold and hot running water, a toilet, and a shower or bathtub to wash ourselves. We can come and go at our own choice. Home is where you put your stuff.

While the media portrays (deliberately ) the homeless as 'losers, drunks, addicts, the mentally ill, and parasitic segment of society - too lazy to work'; this is a rather shallow simplistic view! It lumps everyone suffering a crisis into the same stereotype. True, many are homeless due to drinking, drugs, mental illness and poor work ethics. But then, many are drunks and dope addicts, who aren't homeless. At one time people were identified as the 'worthy' and 'unworthy' poor. A family down on their luck; due to a death in the family or crisis of unemployment etc, were seen as 'worthy' of intervention. The able bodied, who found themselves homeless, were seen as bums - or lazy ner' do wells. FDR's New Deal - and WWII saw many government housing projects built. These were seen as a stop-gap measure, until people could recoup their losses/ and for veterans returning from war. They were mostly occupied by whites. These folks went on to gainful employment, and in many instances became homeowners. The project, during the 60's onwards, became dumping grounds for the poor (mostly minorities). Repairs and maintenance were disregarded. These 'hives' became despairing hovels filled with crime.

Today many of these projects are being torn down or left vacant. Vouchers for housing have been cut, with many of the working poor left with no place to secure affordable housing. Even in the best of times a person (family) could be on a waiting list for years before there was an opening. The crisis in America (all communities) today is affordable housing. New York City sees an approximate 10,000 families suffering homelessness (not counting single people) each night. Meantime the un-homeless, contrive different programs, consisting of rules -regulations - and policies, which even a legal student couldn't decipher. Everyone is agreed that society needs (besides its bankers - brokers - professionals - etc) laborers, clerks, mechanics, janitors, window washers, nursing/hospital personnel, teachers, etc. With rent in many urban areas (even rural America) running upwards of $750.00 to $1000.00 a month (not including utilities) its not hard to see why those making $15,000 to $25,000 a year can easily find themselves homeless.

Once upon a time in small town America; steel mills, paper mills, textile plants, manufacturing plants, the auto industry, sheet metal shops, tool and die shops, farming etc; had people, while not living opulent lives, able to afford the necessities of life. Rents - fuel - medical care - prescriptions - schooling - taxes - cars and homes were affordable. People weren't made to choose between food or buying exorbitant prescriptions. But then the pharmaceutical, insurance companies, and HMOs weren't writing the legislation! One could afford a visit to the ER or doctor's office. A Department of Education didn't exist; throwing down mandates from Foggy Bottom (Washington) demanding more and more draconian policies, regulations, testing and social engineering (putting the costs on beleaguered tax payers). It takes money to create obedient, illiterate, passive, group-think drones, for a future in a Wigget factory or the military.

This 'mudslinging', identified as 'debates', has shown how far removed those running for office are from the people. NOTHING of any merit (either party) has been accomplished. It's a game for clowns and opportunists, with each (except for a few) trying to grab the golden ring, on the gaudy, maniacal, carousel, that represents today's politics. Only in America, do we see the few with their multi-millions, and backers of special interests, able to secure media attention. If the truth be told, the owners of the world have already chosen the next puppet. All this campaigning is mere theater. Note how the few, with any credible message, have been quickly marginalized. Government is now corporate owned and corporate controlled - with the herd encouraged to vote (feminists) for the first woman, or the war crowd, with their law and order mentality, for a Guiliani (911 brought him fame and fortune). Our energy policy ( plotted behind closed doors by oil men) sees oil that was at $28.00 per barrel in 2000 now close to $100. The golden ring means many things to many people. Especially good fortune!

The majority of those running for office are well heeled and have long ago lost connection with work-a-day citizens (or the poor). The Clinton's arrival in Foggy Bottom now sees them as multi-millionaires. President Bush, who failed in every family backed business, is now sitting on easy street. In a land of 300 million, we're supposed to believe, that per chance Ms.Clinton wins, (she will - it's in the bag) we'll have us 28 years with a Bush or Clinton in office! What's wrong with this picture? Many of those in Congress/the Senate; including the various candidates, have secured lobbying jobs for their offspring (family members). Trent Lott is jumping ship. It's reported that he's now going to 'cash in' (work for a lobbying firm for big bucks). That's what its really about --------self interested - grasping greed. The only thing this gang of hustlers managed to accomplish, is voting themselves yearly cost of living raises, and tax payer subsidized health care. President Bush/Vice President Cheney (Washington politicians) aren't worried over the cost of hospital care.

No drone in some cubicle reports to their physicians, that such and such a procedure isn't covered. They are not demanded to have cash in hand when seeing a dentist. Never be poor and have a toothache! You'll die before receiving aid. Any medical crisis or ache or pain sees Washington politicians (bankers - Federal Reserve officals, lobbyists, corporate robber barons etc, being afforded the best of medical care. President Bush advises (having a physician on hand at all times) that Joe citizen and his family go to the ER. True! Try being poor or homeless and getting medical help in Super Power nation, U.S.A. Try being a senior citizen, or a struggling family, trying to secure special medications, chemo therapy, or hospital care. Strom Thurmond once spent a month in a hospital resting up! Today the poor will die on an ER floor (Los Angeles) of a perforated bowel, while staff walks around them! Today the poor are made to sit from morning to evening in a free clinic for help (most of these are being closed). Mostly though, people just die. They die in freezing, rat infested tenements, in abandoned homes, in their cars, and under bridges. They die in rural America, in homes without heat. They die in shelters and on city streets (dumped there by hospitals.) . They die in decaying, unheated tenements owned by slum landlords.

These Washington hucksters aren't worried over their pensions (also seeing yearly cost of living raises) or heating their homes. Besides their lucrative salaries; they receive all kinds of perks - from medical to housing allowances, fees for their offices, and exotic vacations, which they call 'fact finding missions'. They don't care because they don't have to. How many 'debates' do you see being held in an empty steel mill - paper mill - abandoned downtown Detroit, the empty Magtag factory, a shelter, or soup kitchen? They voted these trade deals, which have emptied America of livable wage jobs. That's why they stay away from the real America! They are serving their corporate sugar daddies by ignoring the slave labor that is being imported (thanks to NAFTA's failure) to America.

These candidates voted for the bankruptcy laws that are now impoverishing middle Americans in a crisis. Corporations are safe to in declaring bankruptcy and that's all that counts. They voted (Hillary told Silicon Valley she'll bring in more) for hundreds of thousands of guest workers (professionals) to replace American workers. And people wonder why homelessness is increasing at such a drastic level? Today in America, from Seattle - Oregon - to New Orleans, people are now being housed in tent cities! Detroit is filled with thousands of vacant buildings (hotels) and people are living in tents! Why aren't these newest housing projects of the 21st century being shown on the news as we spend 2 billion a week on war (estimated cost 1.6 trillion+). With winter blasts upon us, try to imagine yourself in that abandoned car - a tent - or living under a bridge. Try to imagine yourself watching (New England) the crowds from the city zooming by, on their way to exotic ski lodges - spending hundreds of dollars a day; to ski down a mountain - drinking, and gouging themselves on exotic meals. Workers at these various resorts are imported guest workers. It's hard to imagine living in a land of such wealth under such deprivation. It's adsurb. Maybe that's why people avoid looking at the homeless? When I'm looking at you (laying in a doorway) I begin to see me? Who are the homeless?Today, many folks are only a few paychecks away from joining the 'unworthy poor' (new label when you lose out in the race). Millions of homes are in foreclosure; due to the greed of bankers - mortgage companies and politicians, too busy feathering their own nests to deal with the crisis. Who are the homeless? They are the foster children whom its assumed reach instant adulthood at age 18. It's the numerous abused and battered wives, (children) who've escaped a house of mayhem and possible murder. With institutions closed down over the past few decades, its the mentally-ill. Regional crisis centers were supposed to open, but it never happened. People haven' t stopped becoming mentally ill - its just that now, we jail them or they end up on the street (those without family).

We spent the money meant for the mentally ill/housing etc; on raises for Washington - billions for war - exotic vacations - golf courses - space stations - crumbling levees - studies of the sex lives of beetles - bridges to nowhere - a museum for Woodstock - and mercenary forces ($1,200 a day) etc. There just wasn't any left over for everyday people! Who are the homeless? It's Virginia a senior citizen I found on a park bench, who lost her home due to the catastrophic illness of her husband (he died). When she went for help she was offered a bus ticket out of town (greyhound therapy). Who are the homeless? It's the homeless veterans ( approximately 192,000) of all wars. It's James (Korea) who I found under a bridge (his nephew had stolen his SS checks). It's Billy the young man I found in a city park in a johnny-coat soaked with urine. Billy with club feet, spina bifida, and a colostomy, had been dumped on the street by a hospital. Who are the homeless? It's Martha crippled with arthritis, Danny a foster boy, Henry and Joe, WWII veterans, Mr. Elliott, beaten to death in his wheelchair (WWII naval photographer) by an illegal immigrant dishwasher, looking for crack money. The stories go on and on. No the homeless are not all ner' do wells on welfare having a half dozen kids! There are numerous lazy, drunken, drug addicts of wealth. You don't hear the label 'worthy or unworthy rich'. President Regan, from the warmth of the White House said that the homeless preferred the great outdoors. Depending on the luck of the draw in life; the rich or well connected citizen, is protected from the harsher elements of being set outside the city gate. Wealth and a proper family name (or profession) exempts them from being labeled (except as eccentric). If you're a starlet - gladiator sports star - relative of a politician - or Al Gore's son etc; you don't end up in jail . You end up in a $48,000 seaside rehab center to escape the 'stress' of a life. Forget all the advantages these folks were offered.The stress of being coddled, pampered, and excused, from any and all responsibilities, takes its toll - so we are told? Drunk or no drunk, heck instead of ending up in a shelter you could find yourself in the White House. It's all in how the life's cards are dealt ! Most of the rich and famous you see on the nightly news, involved in numerous drug or drunken events, would be laying in the gutter today if not for money!

Homeless for Christmas: It was a cold - sleety night in a large corporate Ct. city. Gentrification had torn down neighborhoods (affordable housing); to make way for glass towers and a huge windowless mall, consisting of upscale boutiques and specialty stores. The homeless were not permitted to roam its various floors seeking warmth during the days. I had written a play, "Homeless for Christmas" which I put on in the pocket park entryway. The manger scene consisted of Anna (Mary) a Native American Indian ( homeless due to sexual abuse) - Carlton ( Joseph) from Jamaica, and Matthew (Baby Jesus) my three month old nephew. Alicia (littlest angel) stood behind them in her white gown with tinsel halo. Mary was attired in an old lace curtain and Joseph in an Indian blanket. The three Wise Men, could be seen approaching from the far end of the park, with their shopping carts, bearing gifts for homeless Jesus. They were three homeless veterans. As the crowd of homeless folks sang. ' Away in a Manager' the three veteran Wise Men presented the Holy family with gifts of canned food, a blanket, and a bouquet of poinsettias . A few shoppers stopped for a moment but then rushed on to buy those last minute gifts in the climate controlled mall. When the play ended, we passed out (the vets and myself) toys to the numerous homeless kids and those from the tenements. Disney had donated $10,000 worth to me. This was their way of saying they were sorry. A month before they had come out with a homeless doll called, ' Steve the Tramp'. Steve carried a large board (with plastic nails). On the package it said, "You'll smell him before you see him". I organized a protest at the mall (called all the media). I made a huge poster depicting Mickey Mouse with huge bulging blood shot eyes holding a spiked board. My sign read, "Mickey Rat - You'll Smell Him Before You See Him". Disney took the doll off the market immediately and had a truck deliver tons of toys! Protests do work ( at times). I have to say they (Disney) have to be commended for their prompt action.

After our gala play and Disney toys event, the kids returned to the decaying tenements (far from the mall) . The remainder of my homeless crowd returned to the dingy shelter. There's nothing sadder during the year than to spend Christmas at a shelter. There's something about the hustle and bustle, holiday crowds, festive lights and Christmas caroling; that makes the humiliation, the hopelessness, the alienation, all the more painful. I could relate, as I remembered when my dad (factory closed) relocated us from the mountains of Pennsylvania to Connecticut. He had secured a job in a Catholic hospital as their boiler room engineer. We arrived in Ct with nothing but our meager suitcases of second- hand clothes. I hated Ct from the first moment I saw it. I promised myself when grown that I'd leave. I did. We had to stay in a single-room occupancy hotel until my dad could save enough to get us an apartment. That took some months. I remember that Christmas. I pushed aside the cheap plastic curtains on the one window and watched the shoppers laden down with gifts. I had decorated the plastic tulip plant on our dresser with some tinsel, from the manger scene at a nearby church. It's a surreal kind of feeling being on the outside watching others go about life's routines - joys. You feel like your watching a movie - unable to join the happy actors on stage.

A shelter is a place where nobody owns anything and no spot is special. It is dreary and joyless. The noise is deafening and the stench from unwashed humanity unbearable at times. If despair had an odor it could be found in a shelter. Christmas (small town America) was onc a time of neighbors on downtown streets. In the luminous glow of Christmas lights, children played catching snowflakes on their tongues. There was a hushed silence, as neighbors gathered around the Nativity in the park and sang 'Silent Night'. Today the parks are empty. Many Nativity scenes in the climate of political correctness (ACLU with nothing better to do) are gone. All religious language is now banished. Christmas is now the Holiday Season; with grotesque elves - cartoon balloon parades - and safe secular songs. It's now secular holiday with the focus on retail sales. The biggest issue now, is how to choose amongst all the toxic toys imported from China!

Perhaps it's the deprivation, the poverty, the degradation or just plain awfulness, of a small family huddled in the darkness of a stable, that is abhorrent to some in today's materialistic world? There was no room in the Inn, but there was room in the stable. The Inn is the gathering place of public opinion, the focal point of the world's moods, the rendezvous of the worldly/moneyed, the rallying place of the popular. The stable is a place of outcasts, the ignored, the forgotten, the almost impossible things. Divinity is always were we least expect to find it. I remember a past Christmas at the shelter. The faces; white, black, and some gray ; from weariness or illness. They were etched in stoic longing and loneliness. The remnants of the donated food (office parties) lay untouched on plastic trays. The muted sounds of "Joy to the World", echoed forth from a blurred black and white TV. Some covered their ears, some wept, some hummed along, eyes closed. Perhaps they were remembering a time long ago when they belonged and were loved? Teresa, her bruised face swelling from a beating on the street, lay in a crumpled heap on the bench. As I put a blanket on her thin shaking body, I wondered that she hadn't been killed as yet? (Note - Teresa was murdered five months later for her canning money - near the city's yacht club). Henry, an elderly Black gentleman, brandishing his cane through the crowded community room, looked like an escaped scarecrow on the lam. In a whirlwind of decaying leaves, falling off his outlandish attire, he demanded better service or the Mayor would hear about it.

Martha, eyes rolling back in her head, clutched her Christmas package of socks and gloves in her crippled hands, all the while sining her own song that had no beginning and no end. Margaret (middle aged) her dirty blond hair pulled back in a severe bun - thumped her Bible damning everyone to hell for their sinful, slothful ways. Having no dentures she'd worked diligently one night cutting strips from a two liter Pepsi bottle. With a razor blade, she cut the appropriate notches, so that it had the appearance of teeth. She painted them with white- out, then affixed the flexible strips to her upper and lower gums with denture adhesive. As long as she didn't eat she was fine. Richard, pacing back and forth, became more and more agitated with each dire warning from Margaret. He finally turned, and in his affected French accent, pronounced that the finer hotels he was accustomed to staying at, would never allow such rabble in their establishment. Richard had existed on a family trust fund for years. It ran out and he was left stranded on the streets. Daniel, a small fastidious man, like a nervous ferret, hovered in the shadows of the outer hallway. Daniel felt that as long as he kept his distance, he wouldn't be identified as being a part of the unwashed and unwanted. Frank with his thick coke glasses was once a prosperous businessman. He suffered a mental breakdown and now imagined himself a secret agent for the CIA. Every morning at 4:00am, he would leave messages near the transformer at the train station. In turn, he told me, he'd get directions for his next job from the obituaries in the New York Times.

In a world of liposuction, health clubs, marathons, gated communities, designer clothes, decorators, tented wine parties etc, those seen as flawed are relegated to the outer darkness. In a throwaway society, life's rejects (seconds) are tossed - much like litter. We're a disposable society. The intimacy of small town America is gone. We now exist in isolated cocoons: of poverty - wealth - war - prisons - raging protests, and daily messages of fear. I suspect, that should the nation suffer a crisis , that only the homeless will survive. It'll be just another day for them. Christmas ends: All was silent in the shelter as the midnight service drew to a close. A last burst of song washed over the heaps of broken humanity from the Washington Cathedral choir ---------"Then pealed the bells more loud and deep; God is not dead; nor doth He sleep! The wrong shall fail. The right prevail. With PEACE on Earth, good will to men!" JM

The March Toward Despotism

I found this entertaining video at Daily Kos. It runs a bit over 8 minutes. If you look at the bottom of the screen, you will see additional videos on related topics.