Ashfall

By Claire Booth 

 

This week, there was a convergence of events in my little corner of the world. One was small—I chose to read a particular book; and one was big—my state is on fire.

Let’s start with the big one. California had a series of lightning storms last weekend that sparked hundreds of wildfires. Dozens of those have exploded into conflagrations that have forced people to flee their homes, shut down major interstates, and sent flames roaring through an old-growth redwood forest.

These fires have also made ash fall from the sky. The sky is brown, the sunlight is dark orange, and the temperature is in the triple digits. It feels like a warped version of the natural world.

Which brings me to the small thing. It involves a book, of course. One that had been on my want-to-read list since it came out in 2015. Regular life and keeping up with books in my own genre of crime fiction meant I never got around to it until a few weeks ago.

The Fifth Season falls within the fantasy genre. It’s the first book in a trilogy by N.K. Jemisin that imagines a seismically active Earth thousands of years in the future. Volcanic eruptions and earthquakes are common and trigger other environmental disasters. Like ash, falling from the sky.

This was a nice bit of timing for me here in Northern California, but there are plenty of reasons Jemisin’s books would be applicable to you, wherever you live. Everything from The Fifth Season’s world building to character development to the shifting points of view make it a master class in storytelling. And then there’s her voice. That’s the amorphous** something that makes a particular writer’s work her own, that makes a reader fall in love. It’s an unmistakable stamp that—when it’s strong and unique—is what lets readers recognize the author’s work even if her name’s not on the page. It’s the thing that takes a reader by the hand and says, “Come with me, I’m promising you a journey, and I won’t disappoint.”

And let me say this. I opened up The Fifth Season and after the first page, I thought, “okay, this is very promising.” By page three—that’s what, barely 750 words?—I was all hers. I had no idea where she was taking me, but I had complete trust in her to do so. Jemisin had taken my hand.

Jemisin won the Hugo Award, one of science fiction’s top awards, three years in a row—for every book in the trilogy. It’s the only time that’s ever been done. 

Because writing at that level book after book, about the same characters, is hard. There was even a faction of the fantasy/sci fi community that actively fought against her because she’s an African-American woman. Neither of those demographics have been historically welcome in the fantasy/sci fi genre.

I’ve now devoured the second volume of the trilogy and am readying myself to return to Jemisin’s ashfall for the third book. Now if only the real life ashfall would stop.

 

Learning About Life from Reruns

by

Scott D. Parker

 Late Sunday evening, after the wife and I watched a new-to-us show, Glitch, on Netflix, we turned off the steaming service and landed back on regular cable TV. This being a weekend, the channel was still tuned to MeTV, the channel that shows classic TV. I love Saturdays because it’s westerns all day. During our Covid-19 era, Sundays have become The Brady Bunch day right after I stream my church’s service.

That Sunday evening, the show being broadcast was The Dick Van Dyke Show. It was "Show of Hands," a season 4 (1965) episode in which Rob and Laura and their son, Ritchie, accidentally get their hands stained with black ink. This being episode 28 of the season, it was probably late spring 1965. What gave the show its comedic element was that they were to attend an awards show specifically, although not explicitly, on the in-show’s treatment of the equality of African-Americans in society.

The acceptance speech Rob gives—after he admits the truth about why he's wearing gloves and takes them off to show his black hands—basically said that to treat each other equally is the right thing to do. The characters on the show all laughed at Rob's predicament. This episode led directly into the next.

Tired though I was, I sat and watched these two episodes. The wife did, too. We started chatting about us being latch key kids in the 1970s. That is, we school-aged kids would go home after school to an empty house because both parents would be working. Sure there was homework, but there was also the freedom to do what you wanted with no parent telling you 'no.'

Not having the plethora of entertainment options available in 2020, we'd zero in on TV and the reruns being broadcast. Here in Houston, that was mostly Channel 39 and Channel 26, the two independent UHF channels. Here's where we'd get a steady diet of shows from the 1950s (I Love Lucy) and the 1960s (Dick Van Dyke, Gilligan's Island, The Brady Bunch, Bewitched, I Dream of Jeanie, etc.). Day after day, we'd consume these shows, memorizing them, laughing at them.

And learning from them.

It was my wife who made the observation: Because these shows we watched in reruns were intended for adult audiences (or at least the entire family), they were not specifically geared to children and their tastes. That was for Saturday morning cartoons and PBS. Watching and seeing how adults interacted with each other, we learned about adult life. Sure, it was often over the top and overly funny, but the common thread was there. Adults got into situations, worried about what to do and the consequences, and made decisions. If it was the wrong decision, they learned. If it was the right one, someone on the show also learned. 

We kids absorbed what we saw and internalized it without even knowing it.

Now, don't get me wrong: entertainment geared for kids is perfectly fine. And yes, lots of it is imbued with lessons to learn. But when you have a diet consisting only of kids entertainment, how do you learn about the adult world? Yes, I know, learning about life from TV is not really how you do it. You get out there and live life, learning along the way. But entertainment plays a role, too. Movies, TV, books, music: it's all in the mix. 

Seeing Old Shows With Fresh Eyes

What's fun about catching an episode of an old show like the Dick Van Dyke Show we saw as an adult is the ability to see the content with fresh eyes. Sometimes, your adult self sees old episodes you remember as a kid and you go "Boy, was that silly" or "How did I even like that?" Often, as we're eating lunch on Sundays and The Brady Bunch (actually, the Brady Brunch where MeTV sequences four episodes with a common theme) is on, the wife will remember and (sometimes) chuckle, while the boy rolls his eyes. I simply grin and keep watching. it's the historian in me.

Then again, you catch an episode like "Show of Hands" and you realize a subtle, powerful message was being delivered not only to adults in 1965 or the kids who might also be watching in 1965, but to folks in the 1970s and beyond. Especially kids. 

We were learning and laughing at the same time and didn't even realize it.

Danger Is Sweet

I’m on a little road trip this week, on vacation, and I’ll be back with a post at the usual time and in the usual place next week.

In the meantime, here's a sign I saw on a twisty hiking path with many steep ledges. I thought, yes, it may be an accurate sign, but isn't it true, in essence, nearly everywhere?

Besides, you don't have to be a daredevil (and I am certainly not) to know that sometimes, as Dorothy B. Hughes says in one of her books, "Danger is sweet”.