Page 192

Page 192 - Connie Willis wrung her first tears out of me. Damn you Willis! So while I write this I'll play Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind." It happened to be playing on my stereo when I was at My Most Balling Point of Willis' Doomsday Book, so now the song always depresses me.

Here's a funny passage from Blackout (not the teary part.) One of our heroines, who knows that a certain department store will be bombed that night, wonders if the other stores will open the next day:

Of course they'll be open, she thought. Think of all those window signs the Blitz was famous for: "Hitler can smash our windows, but he can't match our prices," and "It's bomb marché in Oxford Street this week." And that photograph of a woman reaching through a broken display window to feel the fabric of a frock.

(Sounds like the kind of sign I'd put up if my store was in a similar situation. ...And then get in trouble for my inappropriate humour.)



One of the best things about Connie Willis is the way she sees people. In Doomsday Book she did such a good job of writing about ordinary people in extraordinary situations, and Blackout is all about that. I can also see how part of her inspiration from the book came from 9-11. Hmm... on my computer here I've got something about the people holding hands before jumping from the building, that's very similar in tone to Connie Willis' books:

MARGOT ADLER, NPR Correspondent: I think that the power of that image is it doesn't give an answer. It takes us in two opposing directions. On the one hand, we are all alone at the end. Life is fleeting. There's no one to help us when we face the abyss. And there wasn't. No one came for them. And on the other hand, they reached for each other. They said that in that moment when they're facing the absolute ultimate, there are other human beings to reach out, to be there, to help them, to help us.

Sometimes I stop reading and google up info or pictures about things - Dunkirk, the Blitz, etc. I can't help but think about Haiti all the time, though. As awful as the pictures and stories are of the London blitzkrieg, or the bombing of Berlin, more people have died so far in Haiti than in those two city bombings combined. Which probably says a lot for how much richer and secure people were in 1940s London and Berlin than they were/are in 2010s Port au Prince. You could apparently see such differences in London too:

Those who lived in the poor areas such as the East End suffered particularly badly. Houses in these areas were in a bad state of repair to begin with and were destroyed easily by the bombs. By 11th November 1940, 4 out of 10 houses in Stepney had been damaged. (Holnet)

I'm sure there are innumerable heroic Haitian stories taking place every minute, and will be captured by Haitian writers like Evelyne Trouillot--whose description of the aftermath of the earthquake sounds very much like the descriptions of the blitzed out Londoners:

Après la stupeur des premiers moments, l'instant d'immense désolation qui déclencha les plaintes, provoqua la démence et la peur, l'humour reprit le dessus. Un humour souvent salvateur, porteur de courage et de dérision vis-à-vis du malheur. Le courage de regarder la mort et de continuer avec dans les yeux une tristesse incommensurable mais une détermination qui s'installe sous la plante des pieds pour en soulever un, puis l'autre, et initier la marche.

J'entends l'humanité survivre dans les voix autour de moi, railleuses envers le malheur, envers soi-même, comme pour dire à quoi ça sert de pleurer, tu es vivant, oui ou non ? Des voix pleines de compassion pour soulager un autre et l'aider à porter sa peine. Des voix qui protestent et réclament plus de justice, plus d'efficacité dans la distribution de l'aide. Des voix pleines de dignité qui disent que la vie ne peut être accueillie à genoux, mais debout, toujours debout, il faut vite se relever et lui faire face.