Brave New World,
by Aldous Huxley. A while ago, I don’t remember the year, don’t have my copy on
my person, and don’t want to use the internet for something actually
semi-useful.
I’m starting a new book, so I figured I should get (ew!) my
thoughts on the previous work up before I’m inundated with new thoughts on the
new work. Which I already prefer.
I suppose I should iterate my thesis before I traipse too
far down the path, so here it is: angst. Namely, of the (modern & modernist)
teenage breed. One of my greatest difficulties in reading has always been
deciphering what the author deems as “good” and what the author deems as “bad.”
My stance (also in life) is one of constant and consensual moral ambiguity. Consensual
with whom? Life. Deal with it.
That being said, it seems fairly obvious to me, by the fact
that the book was written in the first place, the style of the book, and the
commentary I have read of it (I have not yet fully indulged in Huxley’s own
critique, Brave New World Revisited,
which I have as a postmortem included with my copy) that the new world
presented in the book is, in its simplest form, “bad.” It is (in some semblance
of rank): Godless, regulated, unindividual/communist, simplistic, industrial,
and morally confused. It is close to not having morals, and another way of
putting that would be “unabashed,” but that is not the case. Rather, the
community is unabashed in regards to baser (read: carnal) instincts, but
utterly shocked/frightened/nerve-wrecked at the mention of family, namely “mother.”
Many of these are interwoven, most obviously the first and the final points,
which is part of the reason I felt “Godless” deserved to be first and foremost
on my list. This, of course, runs contrary to the notion of teen angst, right?
No, obviously not, otherwise I wouldn’t have stated it with such certainty
(though, granted, contradiction and I have a love affair dating back to a time
long before I was consciously recording memories).
Ah, so many contradictions,
especially being points one and two: Godless vs. regulated. Religion is a
system of regulation, but one which relies on the past and doesn’t really focus
much on the future, or even the present. Also, it is a system which bases a
fair portion of its regulation on the notion that humans (at least post Adam
& Eve) are inherently bad, but that’s okay as long as these humans try to
make amends and strive for something greater than their humanity—namely, God.
P.S. religion/God are primarily referring to the various forms of Christianity.
The New World, however, seeks to cut out the sexual tension rather than
circumnavigating it through rigorous mental and spiritual fortitude. In the New
World, conditioning is scientific rather than (or in addition to) social, and
the conditioning calls for mass amounts of carefree sexual engagement with a
distinct avoidance and fear of anything emotionally taxing/bonding/lengthy,
i.e. romantic relationships and family (which of course are the building blocks
for religious followers who are not part of the church—a contradiction that
shows how similar the two worlds actually are).
Quick P.S.—my second thesis is that
Aldous Huxley really had no idea what he was writing about and was a
narrow-minded twit who was unwilling to view the world in any way different
than the way in which he was raised to view it. And that he was extraordinarily
contradictory. In mapping out the credulity that his New World is a terrible
place, he cites both their reverence of man (as opposed to God or spirituality)
and their lack of self. This lack of self is what I believe Huxley is arguing
as his thesis: an overly communal world devoid of individuality, promoting
commerciality—a combination of all that is wrong with communism and consumerism
(which of course is often the complaint lodged against democracy) is bad.
It seems to me as though Huxley
presents the “Savage” as the character of good—at least, he has the classic
characteristics and plays a central role (once he appears). He is individual,
he is classically moral, he loves his mother (even though we are often led to
believe: without reason—which I’m not sure is so “good”), he values effort, he
values himself. And he values angst. He strives to separate and depress himself
in search of a greater good. However, if I were to run to the defense of Huxley
(which I would never do), I would point out that his “good” character is
actually three-pronged: originally we have …whatever the main first character’s
name is—he finds the Savage and her mother in New Mexico (congratulations, New
Mexico! A haven for savages and hidden history!); next we get a glimpse of …his
friend, I’m remembering the letter “h” like Holmstead or something—anyway, this
guy, like Character 1, thinks differently from the masses, and he even tries
his hand at writing and strives for more than is on offer in their world;
finally, of course, is the Savage. So let us elucidate upon them:
Character 1: We first see him as
the lone outcast in a city/world of scientifically created drones—like Neo in
the Matrix except not doomed to horrendous sequels that some people have the
gall to defend. First off, my argument—which I’m not claiming Huxley was
unaware of—is that we are tainted by the fact that this character has the
spotlight and we actually receive insight into his thought process. Now, this
is Huxley’s world, so we should (at least on the surface) believe that we are
gaining insight into this character for a reason, and that reason is probably
that he is in fact different and semi-capable of independent thought and a
thirst for progress. Okay, fine. So this guy is different—and how so? Primarily
in his views toward sex. (Quick aside—are you catching the angst vibes?)
Instead of freely and wantonly engaging in the lascivious acts of the primal,
he presents a desire to disengage and search for more. A DESIRE—very important.
This is our first view of his weakness—this guy is lame. Also, he has feelings
toward a sexual object, aka a person of the opposite sex. Eww—Feelings?!
Totally against the rules. Thus, we have this place in our hearts for the
rebellious romantic (romantic rebel…I can’t decide). However, he is not strong
enough to stay true to his morals—probably the fault of society and his
conditioning, but still—not cool, bro. Fast forward to post-Savage time: he
sells out…hard. He gets caught up in the fame and schladies and totally screws
over his Savage homeboy. Now, let’s make fun of Huxley a bit: he presents
people of power, and each wants and enjoys his/her (actually, I don’t recall
any powerful females—misogynist asshole!) power. Also, they are looked up to,
and thus win more sexual endeavors, even though sex is supposed to be
conditioned to the point of being a second-nature activity in which the masses
indulge with little to no impunity—they do it for their own pleasure. This is
getting boring: next! (Oops, quick edit: this is contradictory because his society is supposed to be one of drones unable to think freely, yet he is pointing out that people still like and are attracted to power.)
Hemholtz! I’m pretty sure that’s
his name. So this is Character 1’s (I still don’t remember his name and he
lacked honor, so who cares) way more impressive friend. This guy, for me,
really reinforced (to a more conscious state) the notion that there is very
little difference between this New World and our world. Hemholtz is brilliant,
strong, handsome, cordial, social, confident, and very assured of all of these
facts. However, he is also troubled—troubled by the monotony of day-to-day
life, by the stupidity of everyone else, and by the possibility that he has
limitations. In short, he is the person most people—in our world—want to be
and/or want in their life. And he holds that same position in the New
World—Character 1 is jealous of the amount of schladies Hemholtz effortlessly
pulls, whilst Hemholtz is utterly nonchalant about panocha and would much
rather be tackling his internal/ascension issues. However, he doesn’t deny
himself the pleasures that accompany his trust in himself and has no qualms
with his indulgences—Character 1, meanwhile, wanted more schladies, but
reprimanded himself for his weakness when he indulged. But! Hemholtz is a
secondary character and we don’t spend much time with him, and even less in/as
him. A such…who’s to say what he is really like. In the end, however, the head
honcho (who is basically perfect and awe-inspiring) singles out Hemholtz as
being very similar to his younger self. Hemholtz receives his gift/sentence
with composure, honor, and even joy at finally being able to be alone with
himself and unlock all of his many secrets. After all, isn’t that possibility
what lures regular folk to the complex characters such as this?
Mr. Savage. The Savage is presented
as being very odd by New World standards. And guess what—he is weird; he’s
downright fucked up. I suppose his upbringing is partially at fault, but he has
some screws loose. As this is a story of teen angst, his largest problem is
with sex. His mother was a New World woman who was left stranded with the
savages—so she was totally comfortable, familiar, and fun-minded in regards to
sex. And the savage males took advantage. However, both mother and son were
ridiculed by the village for the mother’s looseness, and Mr. Savage was an
outcast in a community of outcasts. So he read a bunch of “classic” stuff (not
including the Bible) and tried to build a shield of pain to distract and ascend
from his life of ridicule. Real quick, on the reading point—this guy does not
create any of his own knowledge, he just runs off at the mouth with quotes from
dead people. And, it seems to me, Huxley praises this—he sees Mr. Savage as
honorable because he values the same love of which Shakespeare wrote. Mr.
Savage doesn’t know shit about love in a romantic sense (and I personally
question his love for his mother—and he has no friends), is terrible in social
situations, hates sex without understanding it, and is an all-around infant of
a human. An overgrown infant who is good at undergoing pain (admittedly, both
physical and mental/emotional).
Well, plenty of stuff happens, but
we’ll fast forward toward the end of his stay in the New World (well, amongst
the peoples): he has a super crush on (I think her name is…) Linda. Why? Well
I’m pretty sure it isn’t love, since he barely knows her and then he proceeds
to hate her with a vengeance due to one disagreement in life practice, rather
than accepting her. Okay, so he thinks he loves Linda, which basically means he
wants to rock her world under the sheets and probably in all kinds of other
places as well. (T-e-e-n—a-n-g-s-t?) Linda had been a hussy, but upon noticing
a difference in Character 1 (towards relationships/sex), had started mulling
over the idea of spending life with one person rather than embracing the sexual
communism of her era. Well, Character 1 turned out to be a fame-hungry quack,
but this new guy…he is utterly different, much surer in his convictions (which
would come back to bite her—almost literally—in the ass), and has an utterly
sexy/intriguing animality about him. He has/accepts/and cares for his mother,
he has bravery, he seeks improvement, he is in touch with the uncivilized side
of humanity (though…isn’t sexuality the uncivilized/animal side? All of society
is so accustomed to sex that they are decidedly unanimalistic about it, whereas
this virgin foreigner gives off pheromones like a locomotive—however, their
animalism comes out later…). Okay, so they like each other, and it’s obviously
apparent to everyone (read: the reader), but they dance around the bush like
school kids (teen angst) until finally moves are made. Linda is all “why are
you weird with me, Savage?” And Savage is all “no no no, that’s code for I like
you.” And Linda’s all “Oh cool, me too: let’s fuck!” And Savage is all:
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!” (proceeds to go Ape Shit) “You whore!
You fucking whore! Ewww! I can’t believe you’re so unpure, you whore! I hate
you and I’m going to kill you!” Needless to say, this is not only a bit
overkill, but a bit unstable. So Linda locks herself in the bathroom while the
Savage savagely stomps around muttering words from dead people (since he’s an
idiot and has none of his own) under his breath. Yes, psycho-killer status.
Finally he leaves.
Okay, fast forward again: Mr.
Savage isn’t allowed to be banished to a deserted island with his hipster
friends (teen angst), so he throws a hissy fit and runs away from home, setting
up shop in a lighthouse that is decidedly too posh for him. So he beats the
shit out of himself with a whip, which is obviously hilarious. It really is,
and if you disagree then you are going about life all wrong. So he’s getting
all violent monk on himself like the albino guy in that terrible book/movie about Da Vinci
and Jesus’ mom, when who should show up but humans. I don’t remember if the
first people to see him were secretive or what, I think they were in a
helicopter (which he could hear), and they returned to society with news of the
crazy man. Blah blah blah, some guy makes a documentary, everyone loves it,
reporters come to antagonize him, and all the while he just wants to be left
alone. Greedy motherfucker. You can’t make a spectacle of yourself and not expect/allow people to watch. But one thing I’ve learned about teen angst: you
always want people to watch, you just don’t want to want that, so you deny it.
Smooth move, Mr. Savage. Well, someone has the grand idea to bring Linda along,
and she exits the helicopter reciting some probably true bullshit that was
probably along the lines of forgiving him for being absolutely batshit crazy
and almost killing her and that she still loves (whatever that is—in the New
World…) him and wants to try again. The classic lines—there was a helicopter
purring in the immediate vicinity, so he didn’t hear and I don’t think we did
either. He, being the stable young man he is, reacts by battering the fucking
shit out of her, and I’m pretty sure killing her. ‘Cause that’s how you handle
a crush, or a breakup, or being cheated on, or whatever was going through his
head. (Oops edit #2: the crowd of modern drone humans proceeded to go batshit crazy as well, feeding off his jubilant hatred. It's reminiscent of the final scene in Perfume.)
That’s about all in regards to the
three-pronged attempt at the perfect character. This is becoming tedious, I’m
listening to music (which is code for an excuse for my utter lack of
structure), I have actual work to do (maybe), and a new, better book (which I
may or may not read in the immediate future).
To recap, Aldous Huxley didn’t know
what he was talking about. He was anti-communism and anti-consumerism but didn’t
have the balls Ayn Rand had. Nor the eloquence. Nor the semblance of what individuality
actually is. To recap those last few sentences: read Ayn Rand before you read
Aldous Huxley. Umm, Huxley was a teenage boy/girl who was raised in a way too
religious setting and felt as though his hormones were a gift from Satan and
the proper thing to do was to rid himself of them. He viewed society’s/media’s
over-sexualization as the anti-Christ—better to be overly sensitive than overly
sensitized. He was contradictory and I don’t think he knew it. Etc. etc.
Thanks for reading!
Jason
