During his introduction to the 60th anniversary edition of Ray Bradbury’s classic, Fahrenheit 451, Neil Gaiman discusses the purpose of speculative fiction. Instead of predicting the future, as some works of dystopian literature and science fiction seem to do, speculative work…: “is really good at…the present—taking an aspect of it that troubles or is dangerous, and extending and extrapolating that aspect into something that allows the people of that time to see what they are doing from a different angle and from a different place. It’s cautionary” [emphasis added].
Rather than concern ourselves with what an author “got right” about the future, Gaiman invites us to use the genre to explore our contemporary beliefs and surroundings. What’s important is not that Bradbury included references to big-screen televisions and ear buds, but that he forced his audience to examine their attitude toward the printed word. Were firemen actually burning the canon (and the occasional senior citizen) in 1953? Certainly not, but what if that was the case? Would anyone care, or would life go on as usual?
These were the questions Bradbury wanted his readers to ask. And, even if only within the walls of an English classroom, we still do.
But what about our present? To any author born early in the 20th century, the amount of technology that pervades every aspect of our society would have caused no small amount of neural short-circuiting. In light of this, we’re lucky to have a contemporary voice like Alexander Weinstein’s, expressed in his 2016 collection of short stories titled, Children of the New World.
Over the course of thirteen separate narratives, readers are forced to consider their relationship with the devices and digital experiences, as well as the behavior they foster, that all too often avoid critical examination. Weinstein manages to deal with disturbing content while not sounding the doomsday alarm just yet. He cautions, but pulls up short of abject despair. For those of you who enjoy comparisons, think of an optimistic Kurt Vonnegut.
Take “Heartland” as an exemplar of Weinstein’s imagination, a story in which a down-on-his-luck father is presented with a stomach-churning choice: continue to fall behind on his second mortgage, or allow pictures of his children to be posted online for several hundred dollars a piece. To the casual, middle-class reader in 2018, the decision seems like an obvious one. Who would do something so monstrous?
But consider this: in a world where parents gleefully present images of their children on Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat, does Weinstein’s fictitious future seem so far removed from our present? If hundred-dollar profits were attached to pictures that bordered on the creepy, while steering clear of child porn, what would a desperate parent do? According to the bartender who pitches this horrific idea, “I didn’t want to do it…but it got us through a tough spot.” Who’s to say he’s wrong? Clearly, the questions made possible through speculative fiction aren’t always pleasant, but they’re necessary.
Or what about “Rocket Night,” the four-and-a-half-page vignette that kicks off with one of Weinstein’s characteristically gripping opening lines:
Surely English teachers aren’t the only readers who would be enticed by such an introduction, especially given the description that follows. Here, Weinstein’s ability to make the unconscionable plausible is on full display. At this event, one that ends in the earthly expulsion of a fifth-grader, parents gather in a school gymnasium, exchanging small talk about soccer games and math homework, while their children (not selected for impending blastoff) harmlessly play tag and portable videogames in the background. All this familiarity takes place while Daniel, the unfortunate chosen one, huddles near his parents, nervous, “holding his mother’s skirt, looking unkempt.” Weinstein continues detailing, from an observing parent’s perspective, why the boy was picked: “There was a smear of cupcake frosting on the corner of his mouth, and upon seeing this detail, we knew our children had chosen well.”
To any critical reader, the questions here are endless. How much stock do we place in the appearance of our children? Can we not let them be their messy, awkward, uncouth selves? Must we cleanse childhood of its idiosyncrasies, presenting our kids to the world only through filtered social media posts? Again, this is not our reality, but the vision Weinstein offers begs attentive readers to reflect on the attitudes of the present.
If you decide to read Children of the New World, realize its author has made no attempt at soothsaying. Weinstein wants us to think, to consider the choices we make, and to evaluate the quality of our relationships with others. In a manner that never approaches the preachy, this necessary voice calls us to consider what matters most in our lives, and the exhortation couldn’t come at a better time.
Michael O’Keefe is a boarding school English teacher and football coach. A native New Englander, he has worked in both northeast Ohio and the Mid-Atlantic region for the last five years.
