Archive for the ‘ essays ’ Category

In a Rut

Lately, I’ve been thinking the scope of my activities is just too narrow.

When I get online, I go to the same cycle of websites every day. I check CNN to see if anything important is happening. I pick out a couple of articles from The Atlantic that seem interesting. I go to io9, my portal of choice for the Gizmodo geeky stuff I want to follow. I go to the forum for my gaming clan. Then I google “Destiny” and see if there’s any news, usually reading Paul Tassi’s near-daily post at Forbes. Then I google “Expanse” to see if they’ve finally released a premiere date for Season 4 (spoiler: they haven’t).

That’s it. Then I’ll end up doing that all over again a few times a day. Whenever I need a break at work, I run that gamut even though there’s nothing new after 8AM on most of those sites. (And once a week, I peek in at National Review to try to force myself outside my bubble.)

Oh, and there’s Facebook.

But Facebook also feels like it’s just the same thing over and over again. There’re left-leaning political posts. The algorithm makes sure I know what Elizabeth Warren and Ocasio-Cortez are up to. There’s going to be a some petitions for me to sign to tell the powers that be that I want to save the bees and stuff like that. There’ll be the daily activity on my AP English teachers’ group and my Expanse fan group. Sometimes I’ll respond to some of that stuff.

But there’s a definite sameness and monotony to all of it, that’s for sure.

Scrolling through just now, I saw the oatmealish paste of pics of “friends” doing “stuff.” A few Memorial Day tributes. A few news items from one ex-student whose reposts always seem to end up in my feed.

Apparently, though, there is a way to shake this up. In–ironically–this weekend’s Atlantic, Joe Pinsker describes his own experiment in unseating Facebook’s algorithm and basking in unfettered randomness. He describes how using tools like Noisify, he has been able to follow in the footsteps of hyper-randomizers like Max Hawkins, a man who has literally let randomizers dictate what he eats, where he shops…even where he lives! Pinsker ended up in Facebook groups on everything from dinosaur fans to rat breeding.

Recently a friend at work told me I should download the Reddit app. Tell it what you like, he said, and it will feed you items of interest. At the time, I kind of smiled and nodded, but some little voice inside was telling me that I didn’t want to have another app offering me more articles about Destiny and The Expanse (Jesus Christ, are those really my only interests?!?).

But maybe I will download it now.

I’ll try it out and tell it nothing. Maybe I’ll use a random number generator–a dice app–to dictate each day how many links to count down and then click. I will commit to diving down the rabbit hole and seeing what sort of weirdness I can get myself into. I will broaden my god-damned horizons!

But first let me check my clan’s forum–see if anyone’s online.

On Endings and Fan Service

Two colossal sagas in the history of geekdom came to a close recently.

We fans have witnessed the end of both the TV saga Game of Thrones and the close of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Yes, I know that technically the continuity of the Marvel universe will go on, but Avengers: Endgame was obviously an ending–it was right there in the titles. Whatever comes next will be fundamentally different.

Anyone who’s paid any attention to both series knows that these conclusions have been received very differently.

Avengers: Endgame has closed out an audacious, improbable, often-absurd twenty-two film cinematic cycle with such aplomb and bombast that fans were blown away. Like all the MCU, such a thing should not be possible. After the dark cliffhanger of last year’s Avengers: Infinity War, I personally didn’t think there was any way that the architects of this sweeping, epic comic-book fantasy could pull it off and stick the landing.

But they did. They really did.

On the other end of the spectrum, Game of Thrones landed with an audible plop.

What went wrong? There’s been a lot of criticism of the writing on Game of Thrones and its seeming decline for several years now. For example: As if the entire story was taking place in a game of Skyrim, all the characters seemed to have leveled up in the last few seasons and gained the ability to fast travel wherever they needed to be.

But this kind of handwavium sloppy writing isn’t confined to Game of Thrones. The Marvel movies–Infinity War and Endgame in particular–are guilty of similar plot contrivances. Tony’s Ironman armor, which was once a merely impossible piece of technology that encased a human being in a flight-suit and weapons platform at once–now seems capable of, well, anything. The “nannites” that he developed sometime after his appearance in Spider-Man: Homecoming can just fashion anything he needs on the fly. And, like Game of Thrones, our characters seem remarkably spry in jumping from place to place–even the ones who don’t have access to mystical inter-dimensional portals.

So, why do we forgive the one and not the other? It’s not because one is a superior spectacle. The production value and cinematography, along with the acting, in the last few seasons of Game of Thrones have continued to be top notch, indubitably superior to the frenetic whiz-bang flashing energy that characterizes the visual palate of the MCU.

Most of those who share the opinion that Game of Thrones took a nosedive would probably fault the character development. Thrones has thrown some curve balls at characters’ apparent narrative arcs before. Hell, subverting the audience’s expectations of how characters are supposed to develop is pretty much the show’s (and novel series’s) trademark. After all, wasn’t Ned supposed to be the protagonist of the series? Yet, his head ended up rolling into a basket in episode nine of the first season.

What made Thrones great was that characters’ choices always led to consequences that they could not foresee–that’s where the conflicts in the show came from. Because they were nuanced beings in a complex world, the dominos never quite fell how these characters thought they might. Rob Stark’s plans fell apart because he followed his heart at one point, and tried to do his duty at another. Tyrian failed because he underestimated his sister’s animus and because his political capital wasn’t stronger than his own underlying resentment of a world that had served him ill.

But at a certain point, the characters seemed to stop simply being served hands other than what the audience might expect and began to behave inconsistently with the journeys we could see them taking. They were not just thrust into difficult situations; they were forced to behave in ways that didn’t seem to fit who they had been, sometimes just episodes before.

Obviously, the central example of this is Daenerys. For many viewers and fans, she was the hero of the show. Yet, beginning in season seven, the show started hinting that she had dark inclinations and was a tyrant in her heart of hearts. Many of us who had been thrilled for her triumphs–which were again and again framed as heroic by the show’s bold visuals, rousing music, and the structure of the episodes themselves–hoped that these hints were red herrings, that in the end, Dany would be the leader we believed her to be.

But, no, in the end, she did the unthinkable and burned down the very city she had crossed an ocean to possess. With the battle for King’s Landing already won and her enemies surrendering, she just kept burning anyway.

Now, this outcome could have been well done. Dany as an antagonist could have been very interesting. But the showmakers clumsily made her simply a villain, losing all nuance. It’s as though they could not really conceive of a (female) character who was both ruthless and compassionate. They insisted on reducing her to one thing, one variable–and painted her embracing her ambition as morally unambiguous as genocidal rage. The word I read again and again in reviews online was “unearned.”

Again, I think a contrast with the MCU is instructive here. When the plot for Captain America: Civil War called for the Avengers to be divided, there were people on Team Cap and Team Tony–debating which of the two central Avengers was right. And the really interesting thing about that movie was that you could really see how both were right and both were wrong.

If Game of Thrones had played its cards right, we could have seen a similar tension between Jon and Dany, able to see how her ruthlessness could serve the realm and pave the way to the future, but also maybe understand that Jon and Tyrian would have believe they had to stop her.

But instead, we all had to agree that Dany had become a kind of monster and that Jon had to kill her.

Many fans felt betrayed by that turn of events, but even more were disappointed that it wasn’t handled with the kind of careful development that marked the early seasons of the show.

George R.R. Martin, author of the Game of Thrones book series A Song of Ice and Fire, warned us via Twitter back in 2013: “Art is not a democracy. People don’t get to vote on how it ends.”

That’s certainly true of his novels, but some might wonder about the larger phenomenon of Game of Thrones, the show. Is this really art any longer? I mean, certainly a lot of art goes into it. From the art of performance from a truly stellar cast to the painstakingly rendered art of the visual universe built form the labor and minds of dozens upon dozens of designers, cinematographers, computer artists, costume designers, etc.

But is a TV series really art or is it, ultimately, product?

And what does either “owe” to the audience. Some fans felt outraged by the last season of Thrones. Some say the characters “deserved” better. Some said they themselves did.

Is this just democratic critique? Voices made public via Twitter and the web that would have simply been exchanged around the water cooler in previous eras? Or is this something different? Has “fandom” become so entitled that it demands, impudently like a child king, the stories it wants and wants them now!

Why did Gatsby have to die? You shouldn’t have killed him, Mr. Fitzgerald. John Proctor should escape; Miller’s an asshole!

I’m not sure we’ve crossed a line from wishing things had gone differently to believing that they should have gone differently. Perhaps the problem is in this era of hypermedia alongside constant cycles of reboots and recycled stories, we feel that nothing is permanent, that no ending is really ever set in stone. People complained about recasting Harrison Ford for the recent Star Wars movie based on Han Solo’s early years. And lo and behold, someone sicked a deep learning AI on the movie and grafted Ford’s face onto the action of the film. I myself thought that a simple fan edit to the penultimate episode of Game of Thrones could throw some moral ambiguity into Dany’s actions. Clip out her strafing the streets willy nilly and have her just attack the red keep. Make the carnage collateral damage and make Jon Snow’s choice more difficult.

Yeah, that’d fix it.

Whether this pattern is the democratization of art wherein everyone is commentator if not creator, or if we’re simply seeing the excesses of an overly entitled generation of fans too used to a digital world that force feeds them what they like and more of it, only time will tell.

Of course, when everyone agrees you did it well, like Marvel, then it doesn’t seem to matter.

 

Assorted Musings on Endgame:

  • It may all be sound and fury signifying nothing, but damned is it entertaining. A self-referential nerdgasm that bends back on itself like a mobius strip of easter eggs and comic mythology dense enough to collapse space-time itself, a phrase that used to mark media and narratives as too obtuse for mass consumption but is now exactly the kind of thing people would talk about in this absurdly glorious (gloriously absurd?) film series. But to really appreciate some great moments, you’ve got to have been along for so many little things:
  • There’s Carol Danvers taking a head-butt from Thanos and looking schoolmarm stern as if the menace of the entire 22 movie cycle was a particularly disobedient welp. (Oh, who is Carol Danvers? Didn’t you see Captain Marvel? You had to in order to understand why she’s suddenly with the Avengers in the first five minutes of the movie–hell, you had to wait for the after-credits scene for her movie to understand that.)
  • And there’s Captain America back in an elevator with all the bad guys. But you wouldn’t know they were bad guys unless you were taking notes during his second movie when we found out they were all secretly Hydra agents who have not yet–at that point in the time stream–revealed their evil allegiance. Did you think Cap was going to pummel them to escape the elevator? No, he just pretends to be one of them by whispering “Hail Hydra.” (But you don’t really get the significance of that unless you followed the recent Secret Wars comic series, or at least paid attention to the press that buzzed around the gimmicky, attention-getting twist in the series.)
  • Pyrrhic Victory, much? Think about the world the Avengers have actually “saved.” The psychological trauma of the snap is hardly erased by the return of all the folks who were dusted. Think about what suicide rates must have been like after the snap? Hawkeye’s family may be intact because he went on a morose murder-spree, but how many other wives and husbands moved on and remarried while their significant others were disappeared? Those are some awkward “Homecomings.” And think about poor Peter Parker. Yes, from the trailers for his next movie we see that all the characters whose names we knew were conveniently also missing for five years and are still teenagers, but think about that Monday back at high school. Half the class is “new” to the other half. That’s a lot of social awkwardness. “Hey, that’s my usual seat?” and such. What about food production? Society would have ramped down agricultural production. There will have to be rations while everyone retools. The job market is going to be utterly bizarre. “This is my office!” People will have moved. Houses will have been abandoned for years. The whole economy will have adjusted to a smaller population and now, suddenly, there are going to be mouths to feed, people who want to work and to have roofs over their heads. The world–hell, the entire universe–has a lot of sorting out to do. Poor Antman missed out on all his daughter’s middle school years…wait, maybe he lucked out there.
  • My favorite part has got to be Thanos’s ship turning its guns skyward. I was like, “Oh, yeah, here she comes.”

Assorted Musings on Thrones:

  • Honestly, I’m still too aggrieved to geek out about much of anything in the Thrones finale. But part of me can’t blame Dany for going rage-monster. I mean, poor Missandei. And wouldn’t you be pissed off if it took you like ten minutes to conquer King’s Landing even though your stupid advisors were all like, “Oh, don’t attack it yet, let’s go drag a wight from the north to not convince the evil queen that we’ve got to kumbaya and everything.” Losing her two dragons and her best buddy/hair-dresser was completely unnecessary. She could have taken King’s Landing in the first episode of season six without losing half her army at Winterfell and then marched north to defend the realms of men with the throne in her pocket and all three dragons. Maybe it was realizing all that that made her just decide to fuck it and burn the place down.
  • Oh, but anyone who’s surprised that neither Jon nor Dany ended up on the Iron Throne wasn’t paying attention. I 100% knew that neither of them would rule Westeros. Doesn’t mean I wanted one of them to turn into a homicidal maniac, sheesh.

The New Game

“None of you understand. I’m not locked up in here with YOU. You’re locked up in here with ME.”

-Rorscach in Watchmen
(and, also, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez)

 

Look, here’s the Truth: Donald Trump didn’t win the 2016 election. Yeah, yeah, whine all you want. It’s true and this is how history will remember it: He was installed by Russia.

Just wait and see. Any day now will come the revelation that all that stolen Facebook data from Cambridge Analytica made its way to the Russian troll farms so that they could target just the right right-wing rubes (and, in fairness, to keep enough left-wing dingbats away from the polls) to swing just enough counties to “hack” our Electoral College (even if they didn’t literally hack voting machines, which they very well might have) and steal the presidency while losing the popular vote by millions.

That’s how it happened, people. Somewhere in your hearts, you all know it’s true.

But here’s the other thing: A lot of people did vote for Trump.

This train wreck of a human being should never have been within twenty percentage points of winning, but he was.

Some Republicans voted for him because he won their party’s ticket and they didn’t want another Clinton presidency. Some misogynists voted for him because they didn’t want Shrillary in office.

But a lot of others voted for him because he was an outsider, because they thought he would “shake up the system.” (Well, la-dee-da, mother-fuckers. You sure got your wish.)

So this is where we are.

We have a profligate liar in the White House who has completely demolished all the norms of our political discourse and derailed the way our system has functioned for decades.

For better or for worse, Trump has changed the game…forever.

Enter Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

This up-start, improbable Congresswoman from the Bronx has made a lot of waves, spurring on primary challenges (like her own) to entrenched and well-established Democrats to try to advance a radical, progressive agenda. Like Trump, she uses Twitter in unapologetic defense of her policies and office, but unlike Trump, she’s whip-smart and thick-skinned.

AOC is playing the new game.

Now, of course, comes the chorus of voices telling her to slow down, to check herself, to listen to all these staid and world-wise figures who’ve been in Congress for decades and wait her turn.

“She needs to decide: Does she want to be an effective legislator or just continue being a Twitter star?There’s a difference between being an activist and a lawmaker in Congress,” one said, ignoring that we have a so-called president who has maintained his support and even set policy via Twitter. (When I read this, I think of the Parkland kids. Their phenomenal success across the country in sponsoring gun control bills at the state level proves, to me, that activism is the best way to make law in this country.)

Or take Whoopi Goldberg’s on-air castigation: “Sit still…learn the job.”

All due respect, Guinan. She’s not there to learn the job. She’s there to remake it.

Everyone asking AOC to cool her jets is hoping that once we get rid of Trump, politics can go back to the old rules of empowered interests guarding their little lots with paid-for politicians griping over marginal interests as a theater of distraction.

“Those…fools want you gone so they can get back to the way things were. But I know the truth: there’s no going back. You’ve changed things…forever.”

Trump is a paradigm shift. He’s torn down our country’s good name and damaged our economy (Oh, you think things are going great? Wait for that deficit to implode.) and destabilized the world at large (which is what Russia paid for…imagine it: after we bankrupted them in the Cold War by spending trillions on defense and missile shield technology, they have–for a price less than a fighter jet–ruined us for god-knows-how-long).

But he’s also torn down the established political order with him. The Republican party as it was is no more. Now it is a cult of personality with some old dogs following the pack they no longer understand.

The Democrats can either be burned down along with their right-wing cronies or they can pass through this and stake out new territory on the opposite side of the Trumpocalypse.

Ocasio-Cortez gets it. Her policies are exactly what we need to reassert American prosperity and greatness in the 21st century and, what’s more, she sees the lay of the land and understands just how much has changed.

Pelosi has been a highly effective Speaker and a highly effective minority leader for more than a decade. I don’t want to diminish her accomplishments as Speaker.

But that was another era.

If she wants her party to lead America out of this nightmare, she and the caucus are the ones who should sit down and learn the new game.

 

An Open Letter to the 116th Congress of the United States

To the incoming Democratic majority in the House of Representatives,

As you take your seats in the new Congress in the coming year, I implore you to consider your agenda carefully. You will have limited power, being part of a divided government. How you choose to use that limited power and the mandate that the people of this nation have given you will ring through both the corridors of power and the annals of history.

Please, do not waste that energy and opportunity investigating or trying to impeach–and it does still pain me to write these words–President Trump.

His supporters do not care that he is a liar. They do not care that he colluded with Russia. They do not care that he is corrupt. All they care about is that their interests are being served by this government.

So serve your constituents’ interests.

Take a page from Beto O’Rourke, that bold candidate who, were it not for 200,000 short-sighted Texans, would have been a new de facto leader in your party: Don’t work against anyone or anything.

Work for something.

Here is my suggestion. Here is the thing that I think you should whittle, harass, harangue, and pressure your Republican colleagues in the Senate to send to the president’s desk:

Let us begin an Apollo-scale project to address climate change and preserve our natural environment.

The Republicans want to support the economy, want to support economic growth. Good. Help them do that. Solar and other clean energy sectors are growing much more than oil exploration, which is everywhere in decline.

So let’s move every dollar of oil subsidies in the next budget to renewable energy.

Every. Single. Dollar.

The Republicans got their precious tax cut. Fine. Let them have it.

But they also claim to want fiscal responsibility, yet have opened up a cavernous maw of a budget deficit.

Help them close it. Propose a new source of revenue in place of the lost income and corporate tax revenue.

A carbon and pollution tax.

Yes, they will fight. Fight harder. Convince them that it’s actually good for business. It will create new industries and new technologies. Allow deferments for companies that immediately begin investing in R&D toward that end, but make the dirty industries pay for every toxin released into a river, for every molecule of greenhouse gas let slip into the atmosphere. Give incentives and even more tax breaks for companies that go zero waste or negative on emissions.

This is going to be the issue of the twenty-first century. History will thank you for finally shifting our national gaze toward it.

The Republicans and their share of the electorate are panicked over a few thousand desperate refugees from Honduras. How many more refugees will there be when the coastlines start disappearing around the world?

Polling suggests that healthcare was the number one issue for voters during these midterms. How much is our national health impacted by pollution and toxins and unregulated use of chemicals on our food, in our water, and in our air?

This issue is the issue they care about. They just don’t know it yet.

Convince them.

Fight the good fight.

 

Sincerely,

Richard Helmling

 

 

The Dark Night

At yesterday’s march in El Paso, Texas protesting the Trump administration’s zero tolerance immigration policies, one of the speakers–a DACA recipient–told her story of a recent run-in with the Border Patrol after returning home from a work trip abroad.

Despite her DACA status, she was detained for several hours. There she met several of the victims of this new zero tolerance policy, including mothers separated from their children.

But for me, the most important part of her story was when she quoted the Border Patrol agent who sent her to detention despite the fact that she had a DACA deferment.

He told her, “The Border Patrol listens to the President, not the federal courts.”

I wish everyone who denies that our democracy is in peril could hear that and really, really think about it for a minute.

It’s more than a sign that some of our border and customs officials are being infected by cruelty and callousness as though they were participants in the Stanford Prison Experiment.

This is a story of a federal agent denying the due process of a resident by negating the separation of powers and pledging exclusive loyalty to the executive branch. It’s a story about democracy breaking down.

Could it be an isolated incident? One bad apple?

Not likely. We’ve heard stories of detainees abused by agents. Of families split up and sent thousands of miles away from each other. Even of asylum seekers being tricked into turning away from the legal points of entry so that they can be snared in the zero tolerance net when they cross elsewhere and seek out the Border Patrol to request asylum.

This cruelty is not incidental to Trump’s border policy.

It is Trump’s border policy.

Trump says that we have to defend our borders, that we have to toughen up our border policy to stop the waves of illegal immigrants threatening to “infest” our country. But that’s yet another lie.

There was no crisis on the border until Trump–or rather, until Jeff Sessions and Stephen Miller–created one. Illegal immigration is at near historic lows and we have never had so many resources allocated to border enforcement.

With thousands in the streets, with his evangelical support eroding (finally), and with voices from both sides of the aisle denouncing the cruelty of this border policy, you’d think this would count as a self-inflicted wound for the administration–that Trump and his team have badly miscalculated.

But you’d be wrong. This is all part of the plan.

To really understand this whole mess, you have to understand the dank, wicked little mind of Stephen Miller. Often described as troll-in-chief, Miller believes ardently in the politics of provocation. Like the travel ban before it, these policies are designed specifically to stir up the liberals. Miller wants us in the street. Miller wants us loudly decrying this policy.

Miller is supposedly a fan of The Dark Knight Rises, since he loves how the film seems to mock economic dissatisfaction, but I think a better tool for understanding his mind is the film that precedes it.

During the climax of Batman’s battle with the Joker in The Dark Knight–still one of the best movies of the century–there’s a moment where the Joker’s plot falls apart because neither of two groups of ordinary people he pit against each other will save themselves by blowing the other group up.

Batman, seeing the Joker’s disappointment, intones, “What were you trying to prove–that deep down everyone is as ugly as you?”

I think of that line when I think about Stephen Miller.

Miller is sure that immigration is a winning issue for the Republicans in the 2018 midterms because he believes that, when push comes to shove, the American people will respond to pro-immigration sentiment from the Left like a spoiled two-year old, that by and large the populace will clutch at those promises of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” and shout in an infantile, shrill crescendo, “Mine! Mine! Mine!”

He believes, like the Joker, that all of us so-called civilized people will eat each other when the going gets rough.

There are plenty of people warning the Democrats that they’re playing into Miller’s hands here. They believe that focusing so much on immigration will have a backlash effect, making native-born Americans (you can go ahead and read that as a euphemism for “older, white Americans”) think the Left only cares about immigrants, not Americans–a charge repeated by Tucker Carlson when he said recently that the ruling class “care far more about foreigners than about their own people.”

But all the people warning Democrats not to fall into his trap are in it, too. They, too, are presuposing that Miller is right. That we are as ugly as he thinks.

As Americans, we should not care only about “our own people.” We should care about the principles that define the American Dream–freedom, democracy, and yes, this nation being a beacon for immigrants. That’s what this immigration crisis is really about: What kind of America we want to live in. Is America a nation of principle or an ethnic enclave trying to protect its own?

So I know what Miller wants. I know what his plan is. I marched anyway.

Because I believe we can be better. Because I believe this moment is about so much more than this one issue, about more, even, than children being ripped from their parents’ arms.

There is something even more sinister brewing beneath this.

Federal agents circumventing the checks and balances essential to our democratic system. An administration using race-baiting and a manufactured crisis to create an us vs. them division within society. A president willing to lie to the American people, attack the free press, and undermine law enforcement.

This is how fascism takes root.

I hope the American system and the American people are strong enough, moral enough to turn away from this abyss.

But if not, and the worst comes to pass and we see the end of the American republic in our lifetimes, I have no doubt I’m standing on the right side of history.

No doubt.

And woe to all of you who remain silent and do not resist.

 

 

 

On Reading Wings of the Dove

For the last few weeks, I’ve been slowly trudging through Henry James’s Wings of the Dove. Slowly and trudging is, after all, the way to do James. I’ve never studied him much in the past and don’t recall ever feeling so alienated, or “put out” as some might say, by his style as I was during much of Wings. I read “Turn of the Screw” in college and Daisy Miller in conjunction with studying Nafisi’s Reading Lolita in Tehran and wasn’t then quite so vexed by his style, which apparently H.G. Wells described as a Hippopotamus struggling to pick up a pea.

Indeed, one of my recurrent thoughts throughout my plodding time with the novel was that it could never be published today. It’s a self-serving and predictable lament for a writer frustrated by the lack of an audience to complain about the maddening squeamishness and inscrutable subjectivity of the publishing industry, but on this occasion, I wonder if the industry doesn’t have it right as James’s syntax is not so much intricate as obtuse and his approach to exposition is in stark contrast to the show-don’t-tell directive I always give my students in creative writing class.

James tells. And tells. And tells. In seemingly interminable passages of prose he describes the characters’ thoughts and moods at a remove of several meters. This distanced relationship to their own emotions does not fall away when the characters actually speak to each other either. Their discourse is so heavy with vague vagaries and nineteenth century euphemisms that I often had to put the book down with a shake of my head after puzzling out a list of three or four possibilities for just what exactly they might be talking about.

But still, after finally finishing it, I can see why Wings of the Dove is lauded by some. There are layers of irony–though I’m not always sure they were all deliberate–that suffuse the story of journalist Merton Densher’s love triangle with his fiancé Kate Croy and the rich, yet doomed American socialite Millie Theale. It’s the kind of tragedy of manners that could only be set in England before the twentieth century. The shades of morality and immorality revolving around the dying girl’s fortune stir up quite a few contradictions. Kate always professes to admire and love Millie–well, everyone does as James develops her character primarily by having other people praise her as “stupendous” and call her a “dove” oh-so-many times…sooooo many times–but her intentions toward the girl are perhaps the most underhanded, in some ways worse than the rakish Lord Mark who gets summarily dismissed as a “wretch” and scoundrel by Densher even though his own girlfriend is the most manipulative of them all.

Of course, he does come to see this, leading to his ultimatum to Kate that closes the book. Spoilers: her scheme has paid off and without Densher ever having had to actually marry the sick girl. Millie, having come to understand the lovers’ scheme and seeing their need, just goes ahead and wills Densher a small fortune (how much of her ridiculous wealth she bequeaths him is never revealed, not even, apparently, to Densher himself) but the young man’s had enough. He tells Kate she can have the money…or she can have him. He wants them to be together just as they were before Millie came into their lives or not at all, which elicits Kate’s famous line to close the novel so ambiguously: “We shall never again be as we were!”

James Thurber wrote a long review for The New Yorker back in the fifties about the difficulty of adapting James to the stage and screen, but I disagree with him in thinking that this ending is actually quite fit for the screen. I find myself wondering how it’s played out in the most recent adaptation wherein Helena Bonham Carter’s Kate would have the honors of closing the drama, but unfortunately the film doesn’t seem to be streaming anywhere and isn’t even readily available in Netflix’s DVD inventory. Reading that conclusion–just a few hours ago–I felt a bit like the Bradley Cooper character in Silver Linings Playbook who hurls away Hemingway’s Farewell to Arms in a fit of literary dissatisfaction. I think I (almost audibly) muttered: “You’ve got to be f’ing kidding me.”

It’s quite a canned moment, particularly from an author associated with Realism, but despite or perhaps because of that unsettled final moment, Wings does seem like a story that stays with one beyond the denouement. These characters, who for much of the past few weeks I felt were tedious (or at least tediously rendered) are now flitting about my mind, quiet and poised, naturally. Their overwrought, self-inflicted predicament lingers. I imagine them there still, frozen in a moment of “just what have we done,” unable to move forward…forever.

More on Immigration

Though the public discourse scarcely has any claim to being “discourse” any more at all, there is one obvious disconnect between the two sides in the current “discussion” about immigration.

Supporters of tougher immigration clamor for “following the law.”

While opponents to Trump’s border policy and to strict border enforcement in general recite the mantra “no person is illegal.”

But the real difference of opinion is about those laws.

The Right fundamentally believes that our border laws are just.

The Left fundamentally believes they are not.

Talking about the migrants or the illegal immigrants–you know, about the people–brings out our stereotypes of each other. The Right sees the Left as a cabal of bleeding hearts who care “more” about illegals than citizens. The Left, on the other hand, sees the Right as a gaggle of hypocrites for being Pro-Life and then “not caring” about the lives of these migrants because their skin is brown.

That’s obviously not productive.

Maybe we should just be talking about the laws, not the people.

Here’s the thing I don’t think a lot of people on the right understand about the laws for immigration:

They are not fair.

Maybe some do realize that, and probably quite a few Americans–either secretly or openly–don’t want them to be. I don’t know how to talk to those people, the ones who think the American Dream is only for white people. But for the rest, I have some insights I’d like to share…

See, my in-laws immigrated to the United States several years ago.

They followed the legal process. They got right in. They stayed with us, their sponsors, for a few months. And then a few years later, they were citizens.

They’re a case study in how to immigrate the legal way.

People on the right would probably say: “See, that’s how all these illegal migrants from Honduras or wherever should do it! Just follow the law!”

And here’s the truthful answer to them: “There’s no way in hell any of these poor people from Honduras could follow that law.”

See, my in-laws had money. Not from us. They had their own.

For my father-in-law, an affluent Mexican with business ties to the U.S., access to legal advice, and children born in the U.S., immigration was quick and easy.

For a worker in Honduras, there is no access to the capital or expertise required to navigate U.S. immigration law. Even if one of these migrants managed to get the resources together to process the legal documents, medical certifications, and other requirements for immigration, without a family or employment connection in the United States, that person is liable to wait…and wait…and wait.

There are millions waiting in that line and it can take six years to clear–if you clear at all. Any mistake in the copious paperwork and those Honduran parents are out the application fees and no closer to escaping the violence and poverty of their own country.

Those kids they want a better life for would probably be grown before they got in legally. (Or dead. The kids might die staying in Honduras.)

Couple this logistical barrier to entry with the racist history of immigration laws and that’s why the Left just doesn’t believe in enforcing the current immigration laws.

But clearly, if the Left wants to change the debate, then asking the American public to just ignore the law–which was sorta policy under Obama–isn’t going to lead to any lasting change. The Republicans are trying to scrape together some kind of immigration bill, but apparently their president just torpedoed it with a tweet. Go figure.

We on the Left don’t want their solution anyway. So what we should be worried about is legislators and the law. What we should be worried about is voting in November. It would be nice if the Democrats had a good alternative platform for changing immigration law, but right now, they mostly just have sympathy.

That’s better than nothing, I suppose, but no where near enough.