#25
March 20, 2003
From: Adam Diamond, secbanana@aol.com

Greetings,

I've got to start with the cliche: I could not put down Solitaire. One of two books I've read in the last year that absolutely floored me, pushed me back in my chair and would not let me up until they were done (the other was Stay).

One of the things that intrigued me most about Solitaire was the VC sequence, the way Jackal was forced to confront every last face of herself in order to come away with any semblance of self. I am reminded of two experiences in my own life.

First is the idea of time compression. Quick story: two people, friends for a few months, both coming out of relationships that ended badly, go out to a movie. Just a friend thing, no romantic strings. It's snowing when they go in and it's still snowing when they come out, but they're not worried, it's the weekend. They head back to one of the apartments to kick back in front of the TV and, before you know it, a record snowfall has trapped them together in the apartment. Plenty of food, heat bill paid up, so no big deal, but over the course of a weekend together, the spark between them that might have taken months to kindle, or even smothered in the outside psychic wind, bursts into flame. Seven years later, it's still burning, and they both credit the weekend trapped together, away from all other people and influences, with speeding up time and kickstarting the relationship. True story. Time compression is real and its effects are not illusory.

Second big thing is also true, but it didn't happen directly to me so the details are a little murkier. I had a friend who, after nearly two decades of living behind unbearable illusions, cracked. Every last shell of illusion shattered and fell around her feet, and in order to survive at all, she holed up in a room in her brother's house and didn't come out for three or four months. She wasn't alone—her new lover was with her, and maybe it would have been better for her if she had been alone; but when she emerged from behind the wall months later, she referred to the time away as "the Trance." She described it vividly in terms of losing hold of all reality, a true mental breakdown, during which she was forced to face up to and come to terms with every last scrap of psychological mold growing behind her tiles. During the Trance, she went through every possible emotional state, from the highest euphoria to the lowest depression. When she emerged, she was as if newborn for a while, before old habits and the world at large began to reassert their places in her life. We all became very close immediately after the Trance—she leaned on us and we let her. But now, we've been unceremoniously dumped, haven't seen or spoken to her in near a year. Maybe we reminded her of things she did not want to face. I believe that she faced the crocodile during the Trance; maybe it got her, but it certainly haunts her.

I was going to ask at this point where the VC sequence came from, what or who in your life may have inspired the book, but perhaps that is too prying a question to be bandied about over a cyber-brew. So I'll just leave it at that. Thanks for the pint, and the ear.

Later,

AD

These are fascinating stories, and I appreciate hearing them. People astonish me. So brave and stubborn and fragile.

Some reviews characterize Solitaire as a "coming of age" novel. If that's true, then it seems to me that Jackal grows up not when she survives VC, but when she learns to integrate those hard-won gains into life in the real world with some measure of grace. I believe in the power and the fierce beauty of self-awareness: I also know from my own experience that these recognitions and reconciliations of self don't always hold up in the implacable everyday world. Then I have the choice to abandon those lessons, or to try to learn them again. Knowing myself isn't enough; the real test is whether I have the will to then be myself. That's really what Solitaire ended up being about.

I think we all either face our crocodiles or spend a lifetime avoiding the confrontation. I've danced a time or two, although in ways much less dramatic than either Jackal or your friend. I am lucky to have had some amazing role models, including a close family member who broke apart and then psychologically reconstructed herself and got on with her life in an act of courage and will that has persisted for more than thirty years so far. That's her victory. I love and admire her more than I can say.

I also used in the VC section my own experience of living alone for an extended period of time; and by alone I mean not simply one person in an apartment, but to a great extent one person in a life. I had family and friends, but I constructed a daily life that kept them farther out on the periphery than is generally accepted in our society. This culture promotes individualism at the same time it denigrates aloneness, which is a hell of a mixed message, but I tried to find the balance. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I was brilliantly happy and other times horribly sad. That's how it goes. A dozen times a day I ran into someone's assumption that because I was alone, I must be fundamentally miserable. I thought that was silly. There is a kind of joy that can only be felt in the spaces that are empty of other people, the same way that there are particular fears that gain most power in the absence of other people or perspectives. It's all just life, you know? It's good to have the skills for both solitude and connection. When Jackal yearns to be able to move back and forth between VC-Ko and the real world, well, I understand that. And I wanted to explore it. That's really where the VC section comes from.

On a tangential note, I'm having a conversation with a friend via email about the movie The Razor's Edge (based on the Somerset Maugham book for those who may have read it). The main character (Bill Murray in a fine dramatic performance) spends most of the movie coming to an awareness of himself and the world, trying to find a system of belief that is meaningful to him. Towards the end, he realizes that he's been expecting to be rewarded for living a good life, but that there is no reward beyond the life that's been lived. The corollary to this that my friend expressed (I'm paraphrasing now) is that self-awareness doesn't necessarily make you a better person. It just makes you a more self-aware person. I think it's what we choose to do with that awareness that marks us, and shapes our lives.

The time compression story is about you and your person, yes? Good on you both. I'm glad the universe opened a door for you, but you still had to walk through it. I think love almost always begins with an act of bravery. Let's drink to courage and hope.