I wanted to get this down before the thoughts and feelings of yesterday fade and I start to over-intellectualize everything.
Civilization did not end yesterday. Just in case anyone failed to notice. Nibiru did not slam into the Earth as some predicted. We did not throw down to North Korea (yet). And there remains football.
And though here in my hometown, the local politics have of late been strained, to say the least, we are not descending into mindless brutality.
Let me offer the picture of two throngs of people gathered to make cultural statements.
Yesterday the first of what we all hope will be an annual event occurred in the Central West End of St. Louis. Bookfest. A section of one street was closed off, there were vendors on the street, a stage where live music was performed all day, and author events held in a number of local establishments. The whole thing got started Friday night with a presentation by Sherman Alexie at the Sheldon Theater in our theater district. It continued then with events for kids, teens, and adults of all ages, featuring over forty of the best writers currently working. Poets, novelists, essayists, we had them all.
And people came.
Hundreds. Venues were filled to listen, to partake, to soak in the rarefied and uplifting gestalt of written arts, performance, and conversation.
We unveiled a new commemorative statue in front of Left Bank Books to William S. Burroughs, completing the four-star authors corner which already included Kate Chopin, Tennessee Williams, and T.S. Eliot.
People came to hear writers talk about craft and content, tell stories, read from their work, engage in the carpentry of culture.
In other words, Making Civilization.
It was amazing.
In other parts of the metropolitan area, others gathered, as they have been gathering since last week, to protest injustice. The response has been considerably different, and some people see this as evidence of the end of our civilization. Maybe not totally, but protest to them is viewed as cracks in the dam, as if civilization is a pool that must be contained by thick walls and held in place, immobile. Immaculate.
I humbly suggest that the protests and our gathering to celebrate the literary arts are manifestations of the same work—making civilization.
Gathering decorously to listen to speakers and then sagely nod, basking in the gloaming of nuanced cultural expression is fundamentally part of angry protest condemning abuse of power and a demand for justice. You cannot, ultimately, have one without the other—that is, Civilization without Justice—and you can have neither of those if people will not show up to build them.
I participated in yesterday’s festivities, I was on the agenda as a writer, but I also work for Left Bank Books and spent a good part of the day doing the business of facilitating the events. I am now adding what I can to the holism that must be felt and recognized in order for our civilization to grow and become better and richer.
It is easy to watch the news and perhaps think maybe fleeing to the country, stockpiling for the coming Dark Age, fearing the people two blocks over who we’ve never met are all rational responses to a process of inevitable decay. It’s a very myopic response. Because while the one goes on, the other things continue and grow and make us better. We are not one thing, even if we are all in this together, and when someone says we have a right to assemble to buy books, listen to music, and enjoy the arts but not to condemn injustice, then a major truth is being overlooked.
Or never recognized in the first place.
I was part of the discussion on science fiction. My copanelists—Charlies Jane Anders, Ann Leckie, Annalee Newitz—all spoke to the life-affirming, onward-building, ever-optimistic nature of science fiction, which says tomorrow Will Be and more often than not Will Be Better. But it’s not just SF—it’s the fact that people came to drink from the font of art all day long. That people showed up who not only knew who Sherman Alexie is but also who William S. Burroughs was and who responded to the resonance we all create by the work we do.
The world is not going to end. We’re in an awkward, in many ways ugly and incomprehensible period right now, but in the mix we have light and joy and deep connection.