. . . continued from 7/30/2020 . . .
Parable of the Sower (published in 1993) is very much a response to the golden age of neoliberalism. NAFTA and GATT had come into force, the economy was picking up, and history officially had been declared at an end; Seattle, 9/11, and the Great Recession hadn’t happened yet. It was an era of withdrawal from government, withdrawal from civic life. Everything, it seemed, was to be fee-for-service, and if you couldn’t afford the fees, well . . . I’ve got mine, jack. The 90s were the decade of rich folks in gated communities and jet-setting cosmopolitan entrepreneurs as the heroic protagonists of the moment. In Parable, we don’t see the latter, but we do know of the existence of the former. In fact, there’s an entire town that’s being walled off and taken over by a corporation that will be in charge of security and economy alike. Some of Lauren’s neighbors view it as an escape; Lauren and her father view it as a trap, an invitation to latter-day debt slavery. There were a few Lauren Olaminas (and Octavia Butlers) who could see how the story was likely to unfold; who could see that privatization and marketization meant the proletarianization of the middle class and the immiseration of the proletariat; who could see that globalization (a.k.a. unfettered capitalism) would accelerate environmental deterioration; who saw that climate “change” and global “warming” were increasing threats to economy and society alike. But the majority weren’t hurting too bad yet, not enough to kick too hard. The majority of carbon dioxide in earth’s atmosphere was put there since Parable was published. It’s getting to where its effects are starting to be noticeable. But not like in the novel. Not in North America, anyway. In the novel, there’s a new U.S. President elected in 2024, Charles Morpeth Donner. He wants to get things back to normal again, to restore America’s greatness, to put people back to work. He wants to suspend environmental and worker-protection laws “for those employers willing to take on homeless employees and provide them with training and adequate room and board.” Lauren reflects: What’s adequate, I wonder: A house or apartment? A room? A bed in a shared room? A barracks bed? Space on a floor? Space on the ground? . . . And what about those suspended laws? Will it be legal to poison, mutilate or infect people — as long as you provide them with food, water, and space to die? Suffice it to say that President Donner (“Donner” — get it?) doesn’t solve the US’ problems, and is succeeded by something much worse. It’s interesting to me that Lauren doesn’t seem to blame the people who started creating her world before she was born. The title “Parable of the Sower” comes from the story of the same name in the Christian New Testament. A farmer casts seed abroad; some lands on pure rock, some on poor soil, some on weed-choked ground, but some lands on good, fertile soil. These last, of course, are the ones that sprout and grow to harvest. It’s about spreading a message and finding people who are ready to hear it. But there’s another parable I’m reminded of, “The Parable of the 10 Bridesmaids” — or “Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins,” or some combination thereof. The bridesmaids are adjured to have their lamps lit when the bridegroom arrives — and the bridegroom is delayed. Five bring enough oil to cover the delay; but the other 5 run out and have to scramble. When the groom finally shows up, the former enter into the feast; but by the time the latter return with their store-bought oil, the door is locked, and they're shut out. It’s a dies irae kind of parable. But it could also apply to earthly disasters, as well.
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June 2021
Kristin Prevallet Author/Editor
I'm a writer & teacher in Lawrence, Kansas who actually believes the scientists. I wrote a book of poems called Of Some Sky that seems to have something to do with all this. |