Listening to the Other Side
Future historians, archaeologists, archivists, always surprised by the humbleness of the circumstance, just as he had been when he had gone to visit Paul Bowles half a century before; then one of the world's most famous and admired writers.
They were fucking with his head. There was an ice addict living in his front bedroom, his mother's old room. Craigie had shown up in the early hours of one morning, on the off, sleeping rough down near the railway lines, having fallen out with his parents in some screaming match during which the police were called. Much of what Craigie said didn't make a lot of sense; and every time Old Alex tried to make sense of it, he just felt sadder still.
Craigie thought the neighbours were talking about him. Maybe they were. He hadn't invited him in; he just kind of stayed and moved his junk in without any invitation and actually, without making a specific request. And would show up every few days, sleep it off, have a shower, something to eat from the out of date cans the prepper in Old Alex still stored for an emergency, and would be off again. Or show up absolutely buckled at 4am.
So what was he to do about it? He had perhaps a naïve faith that the situation would resolve itself. But in the meantime he might look up advice on how to get someone into the nearest rehab, assuming the target wanted to go, which they didn't. I don't want to go to rehab, baby, blah blah blah, I don't want to go to rehab....
Maybe because he was older, lonely up the hill as he liked to put it, maybe it really was dementia as his enemies whispered, don't give them fuel, but it wasn't that. It was a soft heart; in an age and a territory when kindness equalled foolhardiness.
The country itself? OMG. Australia was being Undone before him, and the subtitle to his next book, Australia Undone, came to appear more and more appropriate.
Bondi was in the rear view mirror. The consequences dramatic: the self-immolation -- auto de fe, a magnificent book he had loved long ago, of the Liberal Party, the realignment of the right, the utter insanity of the hate speech laws, the screeching march into totalitarianism, Hitler, as he would note to the young and surprised, came from the left not the right, and enjoyed enormous popularity for a time. All of it, now, curdled into the violence of the streets, and police spraying pepper spray at protestors, straight into their faces.
The punches landed with a kind of disorienting brutality; for the left were used to chanting their causes in comparative peace, protected not targeted by the police. Now all that was gone.
The nation, politically, swung to One Nation in the face of massive, overwhelming migration.
And all lay curdled before them.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auto-da-F%C3%A9_(novel)
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