E is for Escape
“The air was cool and the car quiet as it motored through along a flat stretch of gun barrel straight highway which sliced through a desert. Malee sat in the front seat and in the back, beside Thuza, another young lady, Vietnamese she believed, called Thi. The final member of their little get away gang was an extremely bashful Aghan woman named Anoosheh. The car was being driven by a man Malee called Ken. The destination was unknown to Thuza but she was not afraid. Malee had won her confidence, earned her trust by protecting her during their time at the detention centre. She knew for certain that she would not have escaped the heinous intentions of some of the male inmates.” From Chapter 10, Ashmore Grief
When life becomes a chore, a debilitating bore or when it throws more challenges at us than we can handle we want to flee. We want to run away from the unpleasantness and drudgery, and escape. Fiction is a great escape. When I read a good novel, I get lost in other people’s problems, and temporarily forget my own. If the author has done their job well, then I care about the characters they have created: I worry about them, I fear for them, I laugh and cry with them. I want to know that they will be all right. I desperately want their troubles to end, their problems to be resolved, their fears to be allayed. I hunger for the happy ending, the fairy tale because it reassures me that love can indeed conquer all. It’s possible.
The delusion is powerful: strong enough to propel us through misery or carry us through tragedy. We must have hope. We must believe.
The reality is that our lives are characterized by suffering, and no matter what form of escapism we choose, or how intensely we will and wish for it to be otherwise, it doesn't change the fact that for most of us our lives are not as we want them to be. Whatever tools we use to anesthetize ourselves; drugs, alcohol, work, books, movies, video gaming, pornography, or sex, are ultimately mere band-aids. We stagger from one disaster to another, holding on to hope and the ephemeral joy which fills the spaces in between.
In my novel, Thuza fled the frying pan of Christmas Island Detention Centre into an unknown fire, on the strength of a promise that her life would be better. Sometimes there is no escape.
What is your favourite form of escapism?
I'd have to say that video games, particularly FIFA are effective for me. Also cooking, cooking is really therapeutic/cathartic for me, the perfect combination of process and creativity.ReplyDelete
Thanks Dom. Thanks for visiting, commenting and sharing. Are there are exciting cooking video games available? ;)ReplyDelete
Thank you for your comment in my blog.ReplyDelete
My favorite form of escapism is blogging.
Blog on then, Romi. Thanks for visiting and taking the time to comment.Delete
A post that hits home in a number of ways. Both in terms of escapism, and the emotional stakes one develops in fictional characters. Well done.ReplyDelete
I've been enjoying your comments on GG, thank you. I've responded to all of them, you make many valid points.
Thanks GG. I'm following your blog with eager anticipation...but not with any variation of erotomania. ;0 Just to make that clear.Delete
Hi. I missed the quotes reading your opening, thinking it was your family or someone else you were describing. Interesting, I thought, and then I realized it was from your novel...so was quite drawn in you should know. Sounds good. As you say, books can be a form of escapism. They certainly are for me, and I'd have to say blogging to some degree, except we are dealing with real people in a real world....although that too could be debated. Thanks for commenting at my blog!ReplyDelete
Blogging to an extent, but certainly writing is one of my great escapes.ReplyDelete