Resiliency

A somber image indeed, the bitter fruits of World War One.

As a result of the "one book leads to another" trail, I have just completed a very fine history of World War One.  The book is titled "The First World War" by John Keegan.  Aside from composing a sprawling and insightful history of this vast confrontation, the author traces the roots of many 20th Century problems back to WWI.  It is also, as any book on WWI, emotionally draining to read.  

Any reading of the history of World War One brings the reader face-to-face with two inescapable mountains of stupidity.  The first mountain is the incredible lack of foresight and diplomatic wherewithal that allowed the war to begin in the first place.  The second mountain of stupidity was a series of preexisting battle plans, set in stone, and almost blindly adhered to at the opening of hostilities.  The harvest of these stupidities was a death toll that literally defies one's ability to comprehend it.  Study of WW1 reveals many more examples of what Barbara Tuchman famously described as "Wooden-headedness," including outdated tactics and a lack of overall strategy.

Reading the myriad descriptions of the carnage, repeated over and over as the book relates the course of the war, I was struck by the sheer numbers of young men slaughtered.  The kernel of a thought experiment began to emerge in my head, based on a simple question:  How can a population sustain such an immense loss?

Setting aside "The Lost Generation" of dead Englishmen, Frenchmen and Germans, I was struck by the number of Russian war dead.  Through years of reading history, I am familiar, at a layman's level, with the catastrophic losses suffered by the Russian population during World War Two.  How was there anyone left to fight World War Two, given the losses of World War One?  When I started checking sources for total Russian deaths, the question became even more puzzling.

I chose to concentrate on the Russian populace because of the events that followed WWI.  As devastating as the military and civilian deaths of the war, there were a series of population draining mega-deaths that followed.  Below is a brief timeline with the death tolls within accepted scholarly limits.  Many of the gross death tolls for certain events are widely disputed.  For these, such as the cumulative deaths due to Stalin's purges, I have chosen the lowest mid-range numbers that scholars agree on.  Note:  It is interesting to keep that in mind that there are much higher estimates.

World War One

• Russian Military Deaths            1,700,000
• Russian Civilian Deaths      (ascribed to the events below)

Russian Civil War and Volga Famine

• Civilian Deaths compiled          5,000,000   (middle ground estimate)

Stalin's Purges 1930-1953

•  Civilian Deaths compiled       25,000,000   (low middle ground estimate)

World War One

• Russian Military Deaths          11,000,000
• Russian Civilian Deaths            7,000,000

These events represent a death toll of at least 50 million people over the course of 39 years.  Naturally, there is some overlap in these numbers, but it is also important to remember that these statistics do not capture the normal mortality rates of the population, assuming anyone ever lived to a full life span.  It is also important to consider that these are, again, the low range estimates.

Here is where all of this gets interesting for me.  The population of the Russian Empire in 1911 is estimated at 167,000,000, based on census figures from the reign of Nicholas II.  In 1951, the population of the Soviet Union was estimated at 182,500,000, based on Stalin-era census counts.  Somehow, even with 50 million dead beyond the normal death rate for the populations, the overall population managed to increase.  I find it amazing that the population could grow by even one poor soul, much less by more than 15 million.  Taking into account the natural number of births needed to sustain a zero growth population against the natural number of deaths, there had to have been an extraordinary amount of births to make up the difference.  Sixty-Five million new human beings did not simply spring from the ground.  The end result becomes the thought experiment I mentioned.

The core lesson in this, for me, is just how resilient the human species is.  Far too resilient for it's own good I would propose.  One aspect of history is the recitation of countless wars, persecutions and mass exterminations committed by one group of human beings against another.  Added to that are the various plagues, epidemics and pandemics that have done their best to cull the herd.  Despite all of this calamity down through the ages, the herd not only refuses to be culled, but grows exponentially.

Remember, the listed deaths above are limited to the Russian population over a given period of 39 years.  The factor of limitation is used to keep the human mortality on a level that could, possibly, be imagined.  If you care to, you could add to the above all of the world-wide mortality from WWI and WWII as well as the death toll for the "Spanish Flu" (50 million +/- just for the pandemic) and all of the other various wars and genocides since then.

At the end of this little thought puzzle, I am left with two dove-tailed notions.  The first is that no other force on the planet is more adept at killing off human beings than other human beings.  The second notion is that nothing is more resilient than the human drive to survive, propagate, and dominate.  My conclusion is the belief that the first notion, the second, or a combination of the two will be result in the extermination of the species.  Either we will finally manage to kill each other off, which seems less and less likely given all the vigorous attempts we have made, or we will simply crowd ourselves off of the planet.  I suppose it is sort of a "Fire or Ice" proposition, to paraphrase Robert Frost.

Not the cheeriest of blog posts, I admit, but I'll leave you with Frost's thoughts on the matter:

Fire and Ice
Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

The Rev's Summer Reading

Howdy Friends and Neighbors.  Reverend Squeaky-Eye coming at you from Vienna, Austria.  Yeah, I know there is a Vienna, Virginia, as well, but I ain't there.  Anyhoo, when a Brother or Sister has the time to enjoy the finer things in life, I believe that one of the finest is cracking open a good book.  Of course, you can crack open the Good Book if you so desire.  Lots of fine stories in there as well, but we are speaking of temporal literature.

Since I have wrested the reins of the blog from Marco, I feel the need to share some mileposts on the literary exploration, maybe offer a few tips for your summer reading.  Hell, you can even read these books in the wintertime if the fancy strikes you. 

First off, let's start out with a tale of two monsters.  Diving into some of the classics of literature is a fine way to spend a lazy day or two.  Sometimes the journey is rewarding and sometimes you might find a dead end.  So it is with these two classic tales of horror, Frankenstein and Dracula. 

Mary Wollstonecraft nee Shelly began writing Frankenstein in 1810 and it was published in London in 1818.  The idea of the book came from a trip to Europe in the company of her soon-to-be husband, Percy Shelley, and Lord Byron.  While in Switzerland, the travelers amused themselves by concocting ghost stories.  Mary Wollstonecraft's story became the germ for the novel. 

This spring I read the original unabridged version of the Frankenstein.  I understand that this is the granddaddy of the Gothic horror novel, but I'm here to tell you that the thing fell flat for me.  It's not the language, because the Reverend speaks fluent Gothic, nor is it the style.  The fault, Dear Brutus, lies in the characters.

First off, Frankenstein is the creator of the "monster," not the monster himself.  Hopefully you've seen Mel Brooks' "Young Frankenstein" so you have some idea of the story.  So, our pal Frankenstein sets off for University.  He studies hard, has a brilliant mind and a solid work ethic, but also some very serious moral flaws.  Intrigued with the possibility of creating life, he stitches up an eight-foot long cadaver from various bits and pieces.  After a good deal of trial and error, he manages to breath life into the creature (I am going to forego the use of the word "Monster" from here on out.  Hopefully you will see why).  Okay, groovy, we've got the mad scientist and we have the experimental creature.  This is your good old basic horror formula.

But wait.  Here's the problem.  Frankenstein is a whiny little bitch.  Sorry, I really can't find any other way to express this.  I make this claim based on his actions.  So, back to the story.  The creature is animated.  Yay!  But what does Frankenstein do?  He hides in bed for about four months.  That's right.  He leaves the poor creature alone and animated, without a stick of guidance, and he runs off to bed and pulls the covers over his head for four months.  Oh Boo-Hoo.  What a sissy!  If one wants to play omnipotent god-games, one had better be ready to deal with the consequences, but Frankenstein ain't up for it.

So what of our creature?  The poor being leaves the laboratory (say it with me now La-Bore-Ah-Tory.  Isn't that fun?  Think Marty Feldman) and wanders about, being scorned, reviled and generally abused by everyone he meets.  He is like a little infant in an eight-foot tall body, but without a decent parent to care for him.  Eventually the creature finds a hideout behind a little cottage in the woods.  Through a small peep hole he is able to see and hear the family in the cottage.  In this way he learns language through observation.  That ain't no small feat, folks.  Watching the family interact, he learns what kindness and caring are.  Pretty clever creature, what? 

Things happen and our creature is forced back out into the cold world.  After more mistreatment, he vows revenge on Frankenstein.  I, for one, cannot blame him a whit.  So he tracks the Frankenstein family down in Geneva, Switzerland, where he starts doing dastardly deeds.  There is the inevitable meeting between creature and creator, Frankenstein now out of his little-boy bed and wanting revenge.  At the meeting, the creature demands that Frankenstein create a companion for him, a bride.  Fair enough, thinks I.  The poor creature has no one and, as he logically points out to Dr. F, didn't ask to be brought into the world.  The creature is emphatic that if Dr. F doesn't come through with the bride, the shinto will hit the fano.   Frankenstein agrees.  He almost does it, but in the end he backs out on his deal and breaks his word, making him a liar and a deal-breaker as well as a coward and a sissy.

Now the creature is pissed, righteously pissed.  He throws off any shackles of restraint and commences a wholesale revenge on the entire Frankenstein family.  Still, Frankenstein will not come clean to anyone.  Guilty bastard.  Frankenstein flees to all sorts of places with the stealthy and cagey creature hot on his trail. 

The story finally winds to a close when Frankenstein figures he alone has to do something about the creature and begins pursuing him.  The creature leads him a merry chase and so we end up at the tragic conclusion, which I will let you read for yourself.

From my viewpoint, the only redeeming character in the story is the "Monster."  He shows logic, moral understanding and, when thwarted, a wrath and determination that is admirable.  He is a not-to-be-messed-with sort of eight-foot walking vengeance machine.  And, here's the thing, the vengeance that he deals out is justified!  Damn straight, the "Monster" is the good guy.  End of review.

Dracula, the original vampire novel, was written by an Irishman, Bram Stoker, in 1897.  This, Brothers and Sisters, is a whole different kettle of fish.  The bad guy in this one is Count Dracula, an undead fiend that is a serious bad-ass.  And this bad-ass wants to get to London.  He is sick of hanging out in the dreary castle in Transylvania.  So, what does he do?  He acquires, by guile, a bright young lawyer to school him up.  Jonathan Harker travels to the dark realm of Transylvania, goes to the castle despite the warnings of the locals, and gets sucked into the Count's evil trap.  Months later he is rescued.  I'm not saying how, but he does.

Dracula does, in fact, figure out a way to get to Old Blighty and starts causing all sorts of mischief.  As the tale unfolds, a hardy band of opposition forms, including a very brave woman character.  The fight is on and it is engrossing, exciting and fun to read.  The characters have their flaws, carefully developed by the author, but the good guys are good, the bad guy is bad, and the story is great.

I don't want to spoil this one for you.  If you were of a mind to set aside time for a summer classic, use Frankenstein to prop open a door for some fresh air while you immerse yourself in Dracula.  

__________

There are a few other fine books that I would throw out there for your summer enjoyment, if you were of a mind.  Here are some of the memorable tomes from my reading list this year:

We are Pirates by Daniel Handler

What, the Lemony-Snicket Guy?  Yes, the very same, and it ain't no kids book.  This is a quirky and dark novel set in San Francisco.  It can be disturbing and it is, indeed, dark.  It is also rewarding and full of interesting twists.  The characters are wonderful and the threads of the story interweave in delicious surprises.  If you are up for quirkiness, this one is solid.  By the way, credit where credit is due:  A tip of the Rev Lid to Marco's genetic envelope for bringing this one to our attention. Atta Boy!

The North Waters by Ian McGuire

If one is into the darkly profane mixed with a historical thriller, here is a marvel of a book.  This novel is NOT for everyone.  When I say that is is dark and profane, I mean deeply so.  Think of Joseph Conrad drinking absinthe in a very seedy waterfront bar on a moonless night.  Dark, damn dark.  The story is set aboard a whaling ship off of the coast of Greenland.  It is well researched, well written, and the story is wild.  The entire novel is set in the present tense, giving the reader the sensation of being right there for all of the grisly action.  It is one of the most interesting page-turners I have read in the last year.  

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 2000, this collection of short stories just jumped up on my radar.  Yeah, I know, but so many books, so little time.  Finely crafted stories that are centered around the interaction, or at times clash, of cultures, these gem-like vignettes are profound and moving.   The plots revolve around people from the Subcontinent of India and their interactions with each other, whether in new cultures or in the old world.  The author has a fine and subtle voice, and these quiet tales bear fruit.  

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Speaking of classics, I think every summer should have a few sprinkled into the reading schedule.  I can here you saying "But Reverend, I read that in school when I was...."  I know it's true, I read it in school as well.  And I'm here to tell you that I just read it again, forty-some-odd years later, and it was a grand literary jaunt.  Mockingbird ranks right up there in the running for greatest American novel and it is a much better novel to read as a voluntary adult than as an indentured student.  Trust me on this one, you will not be disappointed.  

Look Who's Back by Timur Vermes

This author has cojones cast from solid brass.  There is no other explanation possible for the creation of this satirical novel.  A German writer, Herr Vermes posits a modern world where Adolph Hitler wakes up from a long nap, very much alive, in the field near his old bunker in Berlin.  I know, I know, Hitler ain't supposed to be funny.  But this novel is very funny, bitingly so.  It is also provocative.  The satire is pointed, razor sharp, and painfully funny.  Many, many people will have good reason to be offended by this book.  I figured if a German cat has the chutzpah to write it, I could man-up and read it.  I was glad that I did.

Last, and sadly maybe least:

Barkskins by Annie Proulx

I love Annie Proulx.  MS Proulx is the amazing writer who created The Shipping News, a wonderfully brilliant novel.  Barkskins is a sprawling epic that follows two families over three centuries.  I am sorry to say that for all of the author's brilliance and skill, of which there is ample, the story itself did not work for me.  Actually, it is the characters that didn't work for me.  When they die, and they die in droves, there were very few that I was sad to see go.  The writing is skilled and the story meticulously researched, but it left me with the feeling that I had just read one of Michener's Research-and-bake epics, albeit by a finer writer.  At over 700 pages, this novel is an investment in time.  I would recommend reading The Shipping News.

So, there you have it folks.  If one of these literary adventure doesn't do it for you, you can always read Serial-Z, Marco's own foray into the Post-apocolyptic genre.  You can find it at:

Serial-Z.blogspot.com

As always Brother and Sisters, "Ciao for Now"