Book #27 of 2020: Horizon by Barry Lopez

"You can say their names as they were beads on a rosary or something, remind yourself of Sojourner Truth, remind yourself of Whitman, remind yourself of the writings of Thomas Jefferson about "the rights of man," even though he didn't get the implication of what he was saying. There's a connected set of figures, a repository of dynamic, moving, conflicted, half-wrong-all-the-time figures who are trying to sort through the values that would make human life possible. And we at this moment particularly need them."  Robert Hass interview, The Paris Review Summer 2020

Barry Lopez takes us on a journey around the world to places he's visited. Along the way he thinks deeply about heroic figures and their ambiguity: sea-faring explorers, Arctic adventurers, settlers in the Outback, theorists and philosophers, industrialists and artists. Lopez, who has himself journeyed widely and inhabited extreme environments and written thoughtfully about his experiences, is troubled by the state of Earth and the systems of oppression and exploitation many of his childhood heroes opened up with their exploration. We move from the Arctic Circle to the Galapagos, from Africa to Australia, and finally to Antarctica. There are moments in the Pacific Northwest and Asia and South America sprinkled throughout. There are many troubling questions raised, and no answers. Hence the title Horizon. A horizon is of course a physical boundary--the rim past which one can't see. Lopez at a young age was inspired by explorers to go past physical horizons and discover and experience as much as possible. But there is also the horizon of time: what comes next, now that the Earth has been "ravished and plundered, ripped and bit, tied with fences" in the words of Jim Morrison.

Lopez posits that indigenous wisdom and voices likely point the way to a healthier and more just future. My favorite character from the book is Ranald McDonald. Lopez uses McDonald and his motivations and exploits to counterbalance Captain James Cook, who Lopez still wants to admire despite some obvious imperialist flaws. By rescuing indigenous voices and heroes, by privileging them now before its too late, we might be able to prevent the next horizon from being a tip over into global catastrophe.

Book #30 of 2020: The Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

There is a long-running debate about Conrad's little novel and what it means. Any work of lasting quality should have such a debate (there's a nice exploration of the salient points here). Was Conrad racist, and was he using tropes of 'savage Africa' in indefensible ways? Was he against one form of imperialism but for another? Was his work reinforcing European superiority?

I'd argue that Conrad was 'woke,' and was laying the groundwork for what it means to be 'woke' today, over 100 years ago. He was trying to express his burgeoning anxiety, an anxiety that all the structural underpinnings of his society and culture were based in immense criminality and shocking cruelty, and that the vast majority of people who benefited from these systems of oppression were blithely unaware of this reality. All the myths and propagandistic 'history' and the 'heroic' actions of admirable men were laid bare for him, and this cast him into a void. If the civilization whence all your morals and beliefs and knowledge derive turns out to be devoid of morals and built on lies, what next? Heart of Darkness is full of the radical tension that results when perceived truths and conventional wisdom are stretched taut and burst over the raw red wounds of slavery, butchery, conquest, and exploitation. Suddenly the heroic and civilizing are revealed as the truly barbaric, and one is confronted with the questions: Whose side are you on? How best do we confront this?

For Conrad it was to reveal "The horror, the horror" in a rich and demonically ambiguous work. It's impossible to revisit it without the ghosts of Apocalypse Now--many times when picturing scenes or characters as I re-read it, Dennis Hopper or Martin Sheen or Laurence Fishburn or Marlon Brando would intrude. That film used Conrad's novel to punch holes in the myths around American imperialism.

Yesterday in Baltimore a statue of Columbus was pulled down and cast into the Inner Harbor. Young people are feeling the anxieties which drove Conrad to write more than a century back, and they are acting on them. They are writing their own reactions to "The horror." Will this lay the foundation for new, more just economic and governmental structures, or will there be a harrowing collapse into chaos or reactionary violence? Time will tell.