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catscradle Sep. 26th, 2003 10:01 am)
catscradle Sep. 26th, 2003 10:01 am)I saw something yesterday that bothered me quite a bit. I was quoted by someone who read a fic I wrote about two years ago now. And I admit, I’m quite flattered that someone would remember that story some years later as something they can relate to. But what bothered me is that they felt connected to a character through a bond of hatred toward people.
Now, it’s possible that this person was speaking in hyperbole, and that’s fine, God knows I have a proclivity toward speaking in hyperbole, but this hit a chord with me, one that hasn’t left even a day later. And I suppose it’s stayed with me because hate is such a strong word to use terms of other people and society as a whole - and it’s potentially violent. And I do know we all say things like “I hate people” and that’s fine, I guess. I say it. I’m not sure how much I really mean it when I say it, but I do. To claim otherwise is a lie. So I’m not sure why the comment I read struck such a chord. I suppose it was the vibe I got.
In the passage, Trowa tells Quatre that’s he’s got no great love for the people he helps out. That he, in fact, doesn’t even like them. He helps them because in most cases, no one else will and he’s the friendliest face most of these people will ever see. He finds this fact to be very sad. It upsets him that he’s the best they have and that no one else will ever treat them as nice.
This passage was not intending to get across the point that Trowa hated those people. He didn’t love them. He didn’t like them. But he did empathize with them. He didn’t want to contribute any further to their misery, so he did what he could for them. The point I was trying to make with that is that you don’t have to love everyone. You don’t have to like them in order to help them. I don’t know where you would read “hate” into that. I don’t think that not loving or liking a person implies hate.
You can say that passage was based on a quote from Kurt Vonnegut – “Please, a little less love and a little more common decency” – he meant that love was a little too complex. Love was a strong emotion – one that not everyone understood or felt – so don’t try to love everyone, just show them all a little common decency.
The passage was out of Winding Down the Day,
The man that Quatre and Trowa were speaking of in the passage was a real person I met in New Orleans (He’s spoken of more in depth in Chapter 4). And yes, he did look like Pin Head out of the Hellraiser series. I met him one night in New Orleans while my roommate was giving a tour. And he pretty much acted as he was written in the story. I originally pulled him aside because he was disrupting the tour – but as I began talking to him, I realized something – he was a real person. He didn’t start out as a crack addict with pins in his face, he became that. Something happened to him at some point, and this was where he ended up in life. I don’t remember how, or why, or what it pertained to exactly, but we ending up talking about Immanuel Kant. He wasn’t able to articulate his knowledge well, but it was enough for me to pick up it wasn’t just a passing knowledge. He read Kant at some point in his life. It floored me. Here he was now. So far gone all I could do was give him some money and send him off to a shelter for the night. He wasn’t going to last long, I knew this one was dead. And it made me very sad to think I was one of the few people in this kid’s life that listened to him. And I wonder if he’d have turned out different if someone listened to him earlier – because that’s all he wanted. I hugged him before he left. I can still remember the feel of his leather jacket as he hugged me back. He’s dead now. Has to be. And I’m glad I listened to him and gave him a hug. And it saddens me that I’m one of the nicest people he’s met – and I didn’t love him or like him. But I didn’t hate him or hold him in contempt or feel superior to him either.
And that is what I wanted to get across in the story. Trowa wasn’t Jesus Christ or pretending to be him. He didn’t have it in him to love everyone. But he had a well developed sense of common decency. Perhaps he took one bible lesson to heart: Whatsoever you do to the least of your brothers, you do that unto me (Mt. 25:40).
But once the story leaves my private hard drive, I lose control over it - this I know. I'm not trying to take it back and say "No, you've got it all wrong!" Which is why I didn't bother to post in their journal after I read the comment. Just interesting to compare author intent to reader interpretation.
Now, it’s possible that this person was speaking in hyperbole, and that’s fine, God knows I have a proclivity toward speaking in hyperbole, but this hit a chord with me, one that hasn’t left even a day later. And I suppose it’s stayed with me because hate is such a strong word to use terms of other people and society as a whole - and it’s potentially violent. And I do know we all say things like “I hate people” and that’s fine, I guess. I say it. I’m not sure how much I really mean it when I say it, but I do. To claim otherwise is a lie. So I’m not sure why the comment I read struck such a chord. I suppose it was the vibe I got.
In the passage, Trowa tells Quatre that’s he’s got no great love for the people he helps out. That he, in fact, doesn’t even like them. He helps them because in most cases, no one else will and he’s the friendliest face most of these people will ever see. He finds this fact to be very sad. It upsets him that he’s the best they have and that no one else will ever treat them as nice.
This passage was not intending to get across the point that Trowa hated those people. He didn’t love them. He didn’t like them. But he did empathize with them. He didn’t want to contribute any further to their misery, so he did what he could for them. The point I was trying to make with that is that you don’t have to love everyone. You don’t have to like them in order to help them. I don’t know where you would read “hate” into that. I don’t think that not loving or liking a person implies hate.
You can say that passage was based on a quote from Kurt Vonnegut – “Please, a little less love and a little more common decency” – he meant that love was a little too complex. Love was a strong emotion – one that not everyone understood or felt – so don’t try to love everyone, just show them all a little common decency.
The passage was out of Winding Down the Day,
"I can't help, how I feel, Quatre." He reached into the fridge and handed me a bottle of one of the ice teas his café kept in stock. "I wish I could be the optimist like you, or see the good within the bad like Duo, or rise above it all like Wufei. But I can't." He took my hand and led me up the steps into the apartment he and Heero kept above the café. It was much cooler there, and no doubt he took me there to get out of the heat.
"But just think about that boy you helped the last time I was here." I leaned up against the wall and folded my arms. Trowa stared blankly at me. "You know, the one that was ranting and raving." He still showed no sign of recognition and it occurred to me that he must deal with that sort of disturbance on a daily basis. "The one with the pins in his head and all the piercings." I added for clarification. He nodded finally and just shrugged. "I would have been too shocked to really do anything about him." I continued. "Most people would have called the police. But not you." I shook my head. "No, you slid you arm around him and talked to him like he was a valued and prized customer. You treat everyone you meet with the same dignity. You can't hate humanity and show it that much respect."
He looked at me for a moment and then sighed. His eyes were drawn and sad, and suddenly he appeared very tired. He sat down on the edge of the couch, placing his elbows on his knees and propped his head up on the backs of his hands. "Oh, Quatre. . . All I saw was someone who was going to end up face down in the Mississippi in a few days. I don't love them, Quatre. I don't even like them. But I feel sorry for them. For everyone. Even Monsieur Genet makes me feel sad. I do what I can not to contribute to all the rotten things out there. . . but it's not out of love. It's pity. . . empathy maybe. I can remember waiting for death at a time in my life. I remember the loneliness and thinking there was nothing good in this world. . ." He paused for a moment and braced the back of his head with his hands. He looked so miserable. Almost guilty. "For many of the people that come here, I'm the nicest person they've met." And it was then that I saw something that I had never before, nor ever since, witnessed from this man. There was tear. And then another. He looked me in the eye and said in a soft voice, "And I don't even like them. How sad. . . How very sad. . ."
The man that Quatre and Trowa were speaking of in the passage was a real person I met in New Orleans (He’s spoken of more in depth in Chapter 4). And yes, he did look like Pin Head out of the Hellraiser series. I met him one night in New Orleans while my roommate was giving a tour. And he pretty much acted as he was written in the story. I originally pulled him aside because he was disrupting the tour – but as I began talking to him, I realized something – he was a real person. He didn’t start out as a crack addict with pins in his face, he became that. Something happened to him at some point, and this was where he ended up in life. I don’t remember how, or why, or what it pertained to exactly, but we ending up talking about Immanuel Kant. He wasn’t able to articulate his knowledge well, but it was enough for me to pick up it wasn’t just a passing knowledge. He read Kant at some point in his life. It floored me. Here he was now. So far gone all I could do was give him some money and send him off to a shelter for the night. He wasn’t going to last long, I knew this one was dead. And it made me very sad to think I was one of the few people in this kid’s life that listened to him. And I wonder if he’d have turned out different if someone listened to him earlier – because that’s all he wanted. I hugged him before he left. I can still remember the feel of his leather jacket as he hugged me back. He’s dead now. Has to be. And I’m glad I listened to him and gave him a hug. And it saddens me that I’m one of the nicest people he’s met – and I didn’t love him or like him. But I didn’t hate him or hold him in contempt or feel superior to him either.
And that is what I wanted to get across in the story. Trowa wasn’t Jesus Christ or pretending to be him. He didn’t have it in him to love everyone. But he had a well developed sense of common decency. Perhaps he took one bible lesson to heart: Whatsoever you do to the least of your brothers, you do that unto me (Mt. 25:40).
But once the story leaves my private hard drive, I lose control over it - this I know. I'm not trying to take it back and say "No, you've got it all wrong!" Which is why I didn't bother to post in their journal after I read the comment. Just interesting to compare author intent to reader interpretation.
