Might write a book.

[Provalone]

I might write a very philosophy themed sci-fi book. This is all I have (though I have most of the plot and characters worked out in my head):

How sheep-like was I to have fallen for such crap? Who was Malakai to just suddenly whisk me away from my comfortable teddy bear and replace it with a dirty rifle? To tell me that everything I held so dearly was simply trivial; something to be forgotten. 

He told me to not fall for what anyone had to say, no matter how convincing their answers may be. And yet, I went on, like the buffoon that I was, falling for those very words. Like some sort of naive little girl who was being seduced by the devil himself.

I feel like such a fool now.

I know Malakai didn't mean any wrong, but how can you preach against preaching? How can you just tell someone to abandon everything they ever loved or ever knew and not offer something to replace it with? It's pure rape, I tell you. Rape. Babies never ask to be born, but they are. So, why strip them of everything that would at least soften the harshness of this ugly world only to leave them to fend for themselves? 

It's just evil.

But I'm not pissed. Just hurt. To be pissed would just make me a hypocrite. I'm not going to cry over spilled milk, no matter how bitter it may be. I accept the bitterness for what it is. In fact, I revel in it. 

For all I care, Malakai was the naive one--naive for having done that to me. He was too caught up in his own ideas, and went about preaching them like the messiah. Sure, he had wondrous, almost genius things to say, but he was still a slave to his own thoughts nonetheless. 

That's what made him crack. He could no longer bear the weight of his own ideals; they were just too self-destructive. To adhere to them would also mean to reject them. I'm sure this wasn't at first apparent to him, but as he went on refining his answers, affirming his views--newer, more paradoxical questions began to arise. And you can't answer questions with questions.

It's hard to believe in much of anything while being aware of your surroundings. When you're aware of your surroundings, delusions aren't as vivid. And when you're not delusional, apathy ensues. Let me tell you, Malakai was the most lucid man I've ever known. 

It was sanity, not insanity, that killed him. 

He died in the name of something that he was barely starting to only half-believe in. Oh sure, in the beginning he was as vehement as the best of them. But as time went on, his apprehensions grew. His exhibitions became inhibitions. 

He began to question himself. 

Is this okay writing?

[anon]

I like it a lot. …though it’s only the inner philosophical thoughts of a single character. I’m curious about plot, other characters, etc. It has a mood that suggests the plot and ‘mise en scène’ might be pretty engaging.

Philosophical musings go well with sci-fi, but a book of primarily philosophical musings could just be a philosophy book that circumvents the need to utilize logical argument to establish a basis for commonality.

Either way it’s philosophy with a very human tone and I like it for that.

[Provalone]

@anon

I like it a lot. …though it’s only the inner philosophical thoughts of a single character. I’m curious about plot, other characters, etc. It has a mood that suggests the plot and ‘mise en scène’ might be pretty engaging.

Philosophical musings go well with sci-fi, but a book of primarily philosophical musings could just be a philosophy book that circumvents the need to utilize logical argument to establish a basis for commonality.

Either way it’s philosophy with a very human tone and I like it for that.

Yeah, no matter what, there’s going to be 1st person musings. As to whether I’ll maintain the same perspective or even the same tense the whole way through, I’m still unsure. Also, while I like the voice, the story takes place in 18th century Switzerland and I’m sure that vernacular isn’t very befitting. Plus, I know next to nothing of 18th c. Swiss culture.

The story is about this small, isolated village nestled at the bottom of a valley in the Swiss Alps. This place is staggeringly beautiful and utopic and the people are almost artificially nice (very Stepford Wives-ish). At the center of the town is a MASSIVE well which is really nothing short of a bottomless pit that the townspeople worship. They’re under the assumption that the chasm (which represents the ‘unknown’) is the gateway to Heaven and will go so far as to encourage the ill, poor, and elderly to jump in (taking a ‘leap of faith’) and will–after baptizing them–cast crippled babies into the abyss, all for the sake of salvation. Then, along comes this Malakai fellow (I’m thinking of changing his name)–the son of a hermit who lived in the nearby mountains–preaching Nietzschean ideals to the village people.

You are surrounded by beautiful mountains on all sides and yet you never hike them; instead you stagnate at the bottom of a valley, like water at the bottom of a well.

I’m thinking of changing it from the 18th c. to modern times, just to keep the musing tone. Which is more interesting?

[anon]

@Provalone

You are surrounded by beautiful mountains on all sides and yet you never hike them; instead you stagnate at the bottom of a valley, like water at the bottom of a well.

I’m thinking of changing it from the 18th c. to modern times, just to keep the musing tone. Which is more interesting?

I’m not sure - I can see points for either. You said you don’t know anything about 18th century Alpine culture and also a modern setting might be more direct in speaking to the reader’s sensibilities. But on the other hand putting the story in the past might make it easier for you to lend significance to the story by making more direct symbolism. The well and the ‘leap of faith’ for instance are very powerful and straightforward images/symbols but might not translate as well into a modern story. I wonder if the novel could somehow encompass both, or if it would become too complex. If the story of 18th century Switzerland was a narrative construction of a character in a modern story for example, it’s factual shortcomings would be seen as integral and not a fault.

[Provalone]

@anon

@Provalone

You are surrounded by beautiful mountains on all sides and yet you never hike them; instead you stagnate at the bottom of a valley, like water at the bottom of a well.

I’m thinking of changing it from the 18th c. to modern times, just to keep the musing tone. Which is more interesting?

I’m not sure - I can see points for either. You said you don’t know anything about 18th century Alpine culture and also a modern setting might be more direct in speaking to the reader’s sensibilities. But on the other hand putting the story in the past might make it easier for you to lend significance to the story by making more direct symbolism. The well and the ‘leap of faith’ for instance are very powerful and straightforward images/symbols but might not translate as well into a modern story. I wonder if the novel could somehow encompass both, or if it would become too complex. If the story of 18th century Switzerland was a narrative construction of a character in a modern story for example, it’s factual shortcomings would be seen as integral and not a fault.

Yeah, I decided to make a compromise: it’s going to take place during the late 19th century, simply because it lends a more modernized tone while still bolstering its symbolism. It’s also going to be articulated through letters and diary entries by various main characters to give a sense of antiquity and limited perspective.

I think instead of having a dark and cult-like society in the town, it’s going to start out with a buoyant and joyful culture that Swiss villages seem to have. It’s going to begin with a fairly ordinary–though slightly curious–attitude amongst its people (surrounding “The Hole”) wherein scientific-types, religious-types, and superstitious-types all conjoin together in public forums, pubs, and town hall meetings to add their wild speculations to the debate. But that will eventually fester into a full blown division of the village as people become fanaticized by just a handful public speakers; priests exploiting the mass’ naivety.

The main character, who is SUPPOSED to exhibit Nietzschean idealism, will crack under his own faults in reaction to the townspeople’s utter stupidity as he tries to awaken the seemingly blind masses. He has to come to terms with the fact that if he were to preach ideals of individuality and anti-dogma under the expectation that the herd would suddenly ‘see the light’–that the townspeople would nobly stand up as persons instead of peoples–it would make him no better than the Hell-fire priests of the church. They would just falsely dogmatize and pervert his philosophy into a new religion, despite the fact that that is the very thing his philosophy opposes.

The themes seem extremely obvious in the beginning what with blatant Ubermensch connotations, but near the end a great deal of subtle inquiries of those very ideals are extended as the female protagonist begins to mature in her critical thinking and diverge from the main male character’s philosophy that she initially clung to with such vigor. There is to be a great deal of existential angst in this novel.

Even though the content and theme could very well compensate for a lack of historical accuracy, my obsessive compulsiveness requires that I research my eyeballs off to get it just right.

[anon]

Provalone: Sorry I missed that last post of yours somehow. Sounds great.