Assange and the Machinations of the CIA

Rising this morning to the news from Yahoo concerning the CIA planning the Julian Assange assassination was stomach-turning. That said, this story is certainly not 'Breaking News.' Max Blumenthal of The Grayzone reported extensively on this story more than a year ago. https://thegrayzone.com/.

Indeed the use of 3 anonymous sources in the Yahoo article only adds to its credibility.

The IC and mainstream media's attacks on Assange and Wikileaks have been unrelenting for over 10 years. Most of these attacks have come in the form of personal smears and character assassination. None of the documents Wikileaks have published has been denied by the agencies or people involved, including the CIA and the DNC. Instead, these organizations launched a propaganda campaign to dismiss Assange entirely. DNC operatives chose to call Assange a Russian agent, sheep herding their members to believe that it was Assange's fault that their beloved Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 election. The contents of the emails revealed flagrant corruption in the Clinton 2016 campaign, but in these times, the empire shoots the messenger while the actual criminals go unaccountable.

When Donald Trump began screaming about a 'deep state,' it was viewed as a conspiracy. I remember being attacked online for mentioning this term. However, the deep state does exist as the permanent government of the United States. This includes all the alphabet agencies such as the DOD, CIA, and NSA. Many of these IC actors have been serving through several White House administrations. They're not elected and seem to call all the shots.

I recall during the Trump regime, the leader of the opposition, Chuck Schumer, said on a Sunday cable news show: "You don't screw with the Intelligence Community because they can mess with you 6 days from Sunday." This explains the massive 4-year Russia-gate fiasco wherein the end, no collusion was found. This was undoubtedly a distraction from the actual crimes of empire. However, this also reveals the extent to which the permanent government will destroy anyone who goes against their interests.

The ex-head of the CIA, Mike Pompeo, truly represents the utter vileness of the deep state. He admitted that the CIA lies, steals, and cheats at a 'talk' to his fellow criminals – the crowd applauded. He has evidently denied the allegations that the CIA planned an assassination attempt on Mr. Assange. But, of course, he is lying.

I recommend reading the Yahoo article and the Blumenthal article. The difference between them is that Yahoo managed to place Assange colluding with the Russians – an absolute lie. I mean, really, the mainstream media cannot help themselves, mainly when they work hand in glove with the military-industrial complex.

Julian Assange has been in jail for 2 years on a 1-year sentence for violating his bail. This is unprecedented. The power of the empire. They can break the law without consequence. The truth-tellers, real journalists, and whistle-blowers are tortured and placed in jail, while the war criminals make a minimum of $100,000 in speaking fees. Of course, everything is upside down, but hey, that's what we get living under oligarchic corporatism and an unaccountable deep state.

When our governments' believe they have the right to assassinate a journalist, we have to admit, this is far from democracy, and these people are insane.

 

“You're either With us or Against us.”

 

On September 11, 2001, the American president, George W. Bush, announced the War on Terror. In one of his more aggressive speeches, he declared, "You're either with us or against us!" The world payed heed and the response was devastating.

The United States, rather than using proper military intelligence, similar to Vietnam, went full-on military, invading Afghanistan with full military force. The problem was the Taliban had nothing to do with 9/11, Al Qaeda was responsible, and it was claimed the Taliban were harboring "terrorists." What is not known, is the Taliban offered al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden to the US if they could provide evidence that bin Laden was the mastermind. The Bush Administration refused and invaded the country anyway, killing thousands of innocents, and never killing bin Laden in Pakistan until ten years later. Suddenly the Taliban were the real terrorists, and the US remained there for 20 years. After 2 decades of death and mayhem, nothing was accomplished, except over 6000 American lives and a few hundred Australians. (10's of thousands of Afghani innocents) We lost, but have we learned anything? I think not.

It would seem that Australia will follow the US into any war whether justified or not. We've been following blindly like a pet kangaroo since the Korean War. The US appeared to learn their lesson after the devastating war in South East Asia. Vietnam was a bloody catastrophe. We left like dogs with our tails between our legs, all too similar to the latest withdrawal in Kabul. Any withdrawal from a war, especially a 20 year occupation will be messy. Generally it was a clown show, and a transparent reveal of utter incompetence.

When our elitist Prime Minister, Scott Morrison, was asked whether the failure in the region meant that our soldiers died in vain, his typical glib response was, "I don't believe any Australian who falls in that service dies in vain, because what we always seek to fight for, which is freedom, is always important in whatever cause, regardless of the outcome."

This response could have been read from a US Pentagon newsletter. Whenever I hear the word "freedom" spouted by a politician since Vietnam, my blood runs cold. So many lives were lost over a 20-year war that should have never happened. And this used car salesman of a PM runs his mouth on meaningless platitudes. The problem is that the Morrison government is jumping in bed with the US once again in the new war on China.

This latest international incident, Australia changing the Nuclear submarine contract from France to the US reminds me of frat boys arguing over who should pay for the next keg of beer. A nuclear submarine is a weapon of mass destruction that could annihilate the planet and everyone on it. But more importantly, this deal sends a message to China, "We're gathering the war machines and the troops, so watch yourselves." This is pure insanity.

Over the last 20 years we have witnessed the US and their allies lose to the so-called War on Terror, strategically and otherwise. What makes these warmongers believe they can win a war with China. This is a country with vast nuclear capabilities. A ground war would be strategic suicide. So what are these sociopaths thinking?

The US have revealed their warmonger imperial intentions for years. The Australians just seem to go along no matter the reasons or lies.

To add insult to injury, China has been Australia's main trading partner for many years. The real problem is, and pretty much always has been, America is the planets Bully-Boy.

This comes back to the Bush tactic of "You're either with us or against us" rubbish. If Australia had the ethical and economic balls to stand up to the bully, I don't think this latest Nuke deal would have gone down. Pick a side Australia. Therefore, since our blind following into American wars since Korea, should anyone be surprised.? Yes, we've picked a Side, and the entire southern hemisphere is nervous.

Sword-rattling with the US against China is not only stupid but economic neurosis. It's a bad move anyway you look at it.

The US has essentially lost every war they've started since Korea. The War on Terror is in shambles, so what's the next step, Nuclear War?

To negotiate with China on trade is a smart move and much safer for the planet. But, again, we join with the imperialism of the US and their ongoing wars, which is beyond stupid; it's shameful.

After 70 years of useless war that didn't accomplish anything, (aside profits for the elite) we haven't learned a damn thing.

Melbourne Protest turns to Thug-Fest

For at least twenty years, our Civil Liberties have been systematically eroding. Governments, including the US and Australia, have imposed surveillance on their general citizenry through social media and other nefarious means. We've lost our privacy. Since Covid 19, these civil liberties have been further jeopardized with lock-downs and the closure of businesses. In Australia, we see a ""Military State"" manifesting before our eyes. This has been particularly evident over the last week with the Construction Workers protests in Melbourne. However, these were not protests but a thug-fest across the board.

Anyone could see the numerous images of violence displayed across our TV screens. The police responded in kind with violence and went mad. Whether you are against or for vaccine mandates, and protesting is your means of showing this belief, violence will defeat the entire purpose. This has been proven time and time again.

In fact, the State desires violence to label the protesters' thugs and lowlives, unpatriotic or Enemies of the State.

The people are out of control! Put them all away in camps for our safety. They don't belong in our society anyway because they are merely criminals.

When violence erupts, our current militarized police will act as though they're on the battlefields of Iraq. They've been trained that way, and this is no accident.

I was raised in a democratic, socialist-leaning, civil rights, antiwar family. I attended my first anti-Vietnam protest as a Year 9 student on the streets of Denver, Colorado. We had another antiwar protest in our local town. All peaceful. As part of the Victoria Teachers Union, I helped organize several strikes and street protests to gain a higher wage for teachers. I remember sitting in an old church, rugged up in a winter jacket, to vote after the government gave us only a 3% raise over 3 years. The ""yes vote"" barely passed, but the negotiations had come to a stalemate. All peaceful. In Melbourne, the citizens came out in droves to protest the second invasion of Iraq. Thousands of people hit the streets, and there wasn't a shred of violence. All peaceful. So what happened this week?

It is our democratic right to protest. However, we do not have the right to reek violence in the name of our particular cause. Once violence erupts, the game is over, and the establishment has won.

There were whispers of a rent-a-riot crowd creating all the violence in Melbourne this week. The violence was certainly not the intent of the Union leaders.

An infamous image is making the rounds of an anti-mandate protester savagely punching a police horse in the mouth. I'm sorry, but this is unacceptable no matter your political leanings. This type of thing will shut down all protests, no matter the cause, throughout the western world.

If you've gotten this far in this piece, you should realize my point: violence is anathema in any protest in the name of any cause. And when the reptilian head of violence does appear in a protest, the reason is lost immediately.

The State will only come down harder, label you, and make your specific cause insignificant.

Don't give the State the excuse for military action, removing what Rights we have left.

Douglas Kennedy – The Dead Heart - Review

 

If you plan to come to Australia, please do not use this excellent novel as a “Tourist Guide” because although Kennedy has done his research…vernacular, attitude, the vast “deadness” of the Northern and Western Australian dessert, the “bush,” Eastern Australia, that is to say, our major cities are as diverse, socially, artistically, politically as New York, L.A or Detroit, of course, though, with a twist.

Having read and reviewed most of Mr. Kennedy’s novels, this early work, more so, a novella escaped my grasp for many years. 

This short piece has everything any reader could reasonably expect from a well-written story: surprise, descriptions, and characters to the point without overwriting. This tale moves, no break for the reader, ending in a way that the reader might see but will never foresee.

Nick, a man of forty, a hack journalist only working for “Local Newspapers” has never had the drive of ambition, seeking true love, only wanting the mundane, because life without drama, without complexity, is a better life. He decides to throw in his new “hack.” job in Boston and, after discovering an old map of Australia, decides to “toss the dice” pull all his savings together, to the land, Darwin in all places.

Wrong.

Similar to all countries, each state, county, suburb, or village has its own specific culture. Nick landed in what American’s call “hic.” land. Separated from the rest of the country, they have established their own society, rules, and speech.

For those older readers, “The Dead Heart” is like the film “Deliverance” with that dry and sometimes cruel Aussie humor, though behind this seemingly innocuous banter is a disaster, actions you’d never see coming.

Kennedy’s body of work, for this reader, is inspiring…” The Dead Heart” is no different, but somehow, better.

The Warmongers are on the March again

The news this morning about the Australia/US nuclear submarine deal to “combat” the potential threat of China really came as no surprise. The US has been ramping up aggression with China for some time now, particularly when the so-called worldwide “terror threat” is losing its teeth in the public's eye. From a geopolitical standpoint, this is no more than a sword rattling exercise. The irony, however, is China is Australia's number one trading partner. So what's the deal?

Since WWII, Australia has followed every “conflict” or war the US has started. We now know from the benefit of hindsight that the majority of these wars were illegal and imperial. If you have any idea of history, since the Korean war, every country that America invades has turned into absolute garbage; the examples are many. So why is Australia following the dictates of the permanent government's of the US and UK? Because Australia always has and will continue to do so despite the US's imperialistic intentions

By Australian “sword rattling” with the US tells our number one trading partner that they are a threat to our sovereignty. There is zero evidence that China will invade Australia. While America bombs, murders, and sanctions countries they wish to steal their resources from. China has not invaded a single country. China's obvious strategy is economical. To go along with the US war machine on this one is economic suicide for Australia. There have been threats by the US to Australia if we wish not to join their coalition of death against China.

America is the planet's bully boy. They invade, bomb, murder, and sanction any country they wish to, especially those countries that will not go along with their gangster, neoliberal system. One has only to research the Latin American countries over the last many decades, to see US/CIA interference resulting in thousands of deaths.

Imagine Australia being surrounded by Chinese nuclear submarines. What would be the response? Excluding the blood-thirsty US permanent government, I believe there would be honest diplomatic talks across the board. But in the case of this new Australian/US submarine alliance, real diplomacy goes straight out the window. The United States has never wanted peace and negotiations, simply war.

The US has basically said to Australia, well, we know you're between a rock and a hard place when it comes to China, but you must choose, either you're with us or against us, echoing president, George W. Bush. If you're not with us, you are our enemy. Australia, of course, would side with the US cutting our economic nose off despite our face.

My Australian parents and grandparents are the WWII generation. The war against Japan has never left their minds. Because of the war and unrelenting propaganda over the years, the people believe China is a threat despite years of successful economic trade. Racism against Asians have been ground into us since the mid 20^th century. So today, when I tried to explain to a friend the US imperialistic intentions, they wouldn't have a bar of it. “We need to protect ourselves.”

What I'm saying is the US threat against Australia of “you're either with us or against us” neocon rubbish, Australia has no choice but to surround China with their Nuclear submarines. I find this both disgusting, troubling, and dangerous.

When I learned about this nuclear deal today between Australia and the US, my thought was, These psychopaths will not stop until mutual destruction of the planet is achieved.

These politicians and their permanent state handlers need a wake-up call before it's too late.

 

Explosion in the Desert (Part 3 of 3)

Life is a mystery. Is it luck, fate, karma, choices, or is it just good timing that determines life's outcomes? Now that I'm older, I believe it could be a combination of all the above.

My Trans Am is in the lead, and Tom, in my sister's MG, took up the rear for most of the first leg of our journey. In a little over 12 hours of driving, we arrived in Flagstaff, Arizona, at around 9:00 in the evening. We pulled into town, found a 7/11, and purchased a few stale hot dogs. Asking around, we were told of a rest stop down the road to sleep for the night. Tom took the back seat, and I pulled the front seat back and 'slept like the dead for the rest of the night. Because it was late June, the morning sun in Flagstaff felt like a furnace. We grabbed some coffees and hit the road again.

My goal for the day's journey was Gunnison, Colorado. I had studied a semester there at the college and had made some good friendships. It was late afternoon that we spent our last $20 on gas for both vehicles. We were determined to reach Gunnison, even if we had to drive through the night and the next morning.

We now were driving in the desert somewhere on the border of Arizona. The southwest USA is rugged, rocky, and beautiful. Anytime that I've driven through this part of the country, the landscape is always a kind of spiritual experience. One feels amongst the high rocks that you're in a foreign and ancient land. You are merely a visitor. On this night, I had a feeling of dread. Call it what you will: instinct, intuition, or premonition. I knew deep down something drastic was about to happen.

I remember distinctly it was late and, just after midnight, that flames began to rise from the hood of my car. Instantly I pulled the car over and jumped out, thinking the vehicle might explode. Tom pulled up, and we stood together, watching my precious Trans Am burn in the middle of nowhere. After only a few minutes, the car exploded, sending pieces of glass into the air and all around us. Even though we were at least one hundred yards from the inferno, the heat from the explosion and fire could be physically felt on our faces.

In hindsight, the central feeling between us was amazement and shock.

Turning to my right, a 51 Ford pick-up appeared out of the darkness of the desert. At least six Indians jumped out of the truck, all with shovels in their hands, and began shoveling sand on the fire. In only several minutes, the fire was completely out. They stood around the melted metal for a few more minutes when a Highway Patrol car came on the scene. Once the cop arrived, the Indians got back into their antique truck and once again disappeared in the darkness.

“Which one of you boys owns that vehicle?”

“It's mine.” I whispered.”

“Well do you have a driver's license, or did that burn in the car too?”

I showed him my Colorado license, and he said, “Well, you almost made it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You're pretty much on the border of Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, and Colorado. You are bordering a Navajo Reservation. The boys who put out the fire are Navajo.”

“If I was you, I'd get the hell out of here in that MG of yours. But, unfortunately, there's nothing I can do. It's not really my jurisdiction.”

Still in shock, we drove across the border into Colorado.

Once we hit the mountains, of course, it started to rain, and almost experienced another disaster by barely missing a deer crossing the road.

Some hours later, we arrived in Gunnison. We found a local rest stop and tried to sleep while the rain continued to pour. The next morning I realized we had no more $ to get us all the way back to Denver. We drove around a bit, and an old friend from the college's theatre club spotted me on the street and said we could stay with her. That night she took us to a party, where I met an old girlfriend, a rich old girlfriend, that gave me $50 for gas to get the rest of the way home.

The party was wild and a chance to blow off some steam.

We got to Denver, and I dropped Tom Faraday off at his family home.

That afternoon I found my old friend who I'd been staying with, and he asked, “Where's the Trans Am?”

“Well, do you have a beer? It's a bit of a long story.”

Darren Tofts – Memory Trade – Review

 

The legendary writer of the Beat Generation, Jack Kerouac, when writing his experimental work, Mexico City Blues, attempted to achieve the synthesis between his prose and the jazz sounds of the mythical saxophonist, Charlie Parker. In a letter to William Burroughs, he describes at length, sitting in the subterranean world of the San Francisco bar scene, a bourbon clinched in one hand and a pen in the other, lost in a fit of Dionysian abandon, recording the notes and improvisational screams of the music, pushing the boundaries of received notions of art beyond the imposed limits of the bourgeoisie - this was indeed a new art form in the making.

In a collaboration between writer and artist, Tofts and McKeitch have produced a work that beautifully integrates prose and image. Memory Trade explores the antecedents of a much overused and abused term: cyberculture. This word (which was originally coined by the Canadian science fiction writer William Gibson in 1980) has become so much a part of popular culture, that we flippantly assume we understand what it means. Nothing can be further from the truth. Memory Trade brilliantly removes the 'Spice Girls factor' from the term and takes the reader on a kind of archaeological expedition to a time before the birth of Christ, uncovering the secrets of cyberculture's very beginnings.

This book is not your standard history text that conservatively presents the reader with a chronological format of time, place form, and event. As Tofts states,

Memory Trade is "not trying to present a genealogy of concatenation, of neatly linked motivations and actions, but rather to construct a narrative of syncopation, of shifting emphases and digressions in word and image.

In other words, the insights gained in this text concerning the prehistory of cyberculture, have come about, surfaced, as a result of abductive thinking, as opposed to typical, deductive methods of reasoning. More to the point, Memory Trade is an investigation into cyberculture's unconscious; a quest towards unexplored realms; a hunt for the unexpected - "an examination of technologizing the world".

This is not to say, of course, that the book reads like a postmodern text, jumping in some non-sequential, non-linear format. Memory Trade is exhaustively well researched and argues its subject matter in an elegant, persuasive manner.

In many 'academic' texts, for example, the prose, to appear erudite, are couched in specialized terms that actually hide more than they reveal. On the other hand, this book enlightens me because it is written in a well-organized 'user-friendly' manner. In fact, for those of you who have only a casual interest in cyberculture, this book should educate as well as entertain.

I should also stress that McKeitch is not simply the 'illustrator' of the book. These extraordinary images that he has produced carry as much weight and significance as the words. More precisely, the book is a multi-timed text that, to a great extent, should be read in a milieu of both image and text, as the book achieves a synthesis of both word and picture.

Look for this book and read it. It will be well worth the trouble.

Explosion in the Desert (Part 2 of 3.)

When the object of one's love rejects you, combined with a 'self-constructed romanticism' in mind and unrelenting, raging hormones, the effects of this rejection can be devastating. Going back to California in a futile attempt to “win back” this love, in hindsight, was a terrible idea. But I needed to try.

In the rush to escape my heart-break emotions, I went back to Denver, leaving my car with my father. The “out-of-sight-out-of-mind” theory might work for some folks, but in my case only made the yearning worse. My car was in California, and this was a perfect excuse to return to the state.

Piling rolls of tar on a pallet from an assembly line eight hours a day allowed me enough money to fly back to Orange County and retrieve my vehicle. The problem was my sister had just flown into town and had left her car with my father as well. To bring both back home, I needed a partner to help with this endeavor.

Tom Faraday lived in an upper-class neighborhood with his parents. We met in high school but never really became close friends. Then, one night in a bar listening to a live band that played Led Zeppelin covers, we met, and I asked him if he wanted to fly with me across the country and drive one of the vehicles back. Because he came from a somewhat wealthy family, the airfare wasn't a problem. The strange thing about Tom, despite coming from a well-to-do family, had never left the state of Colorado. So this was a big deal for Tom, and he was excited.

After a two and a half hour flight, we landed in LAX at around ten in the evening. Out of pure luck, we managed to meet two international travelers from the UK. Sharing a cab to Hollywood, where we were dropped off on Sunset Boulevard.

I finally found a somewhat reputable motel right on Sunset. For one night, the cost was $25 and a color TV with faulty reception. Once we entered the room, it smelled of urine and stale alcohol. Tom wasn't happy and wanted to find a better motel. I told him that was out of the question because of the time and the potential danger in that part of the Strip.

While we were unpacking what little luggage we had, a small rock hit the window. We were on the second floor. Pulling open the curtains, a group of about a dozen sex workers was screaming at us to come out and give them some business. I said, “Look, Tom, we have some company.” Turning around, Tom was behind the bed shaking and as white as a sheet. I couldn't believe it.

“What's wrong, man?”

“What are we going to do? Will they try to get in?”

Over the years I've realized that you really never know someone until you have experienced some kind of conflict together. For all intents and purposes, here was a grown man scared out of his wits over a group of desperate prostitutes heckling two men for a little paid action.

“No, they're not going to break in and kill us.” I said.

“How do you know?”

“Jesus Tom. Pull up, man.”

It was then I opened the window and yelled, “Sorry ladies, we're not interested.”

A few of the girls were not happy with this response a threw more small rocks that fortunately missed the window. Some of them yelled a few obscenities, flipped me off, and slowly began to disperse. Tom was still behind the bed in pure fear. I told him they were gone and not to worry. These girls could spot an easy 'mark' at a dead run. Later, Tom claimed he did not sleep the entire night.

Upon checking out of the motel the next morning, I discovered that the place could be rented by the hour. No wonder they were mad, I thought. This was their turf.

Back in the day, hitchhiking was common and practiced often. We managed to get a ride from a young hippy dude, who took us all the way north on the 405 to Irvine, where my father was living at the time.

My father was not happy to see me. One for coming back so soon and two, dropping out of college – but that's another story. He was generally a very generous man. We stayed with him for two nights and went out to dinner to some swanky restaurants with live entertainment.

I called the “love of my life,” and she basically said to me, as cordially as possible, to F-off and never call her again. So much for the romantic reunion, I had created in my mind.

On the morning of the third day, my father handed me $100, saying that this should be enough gas on your trip. I asked, “For both cars?” He smiled and merely said, “Good Luck.”

We headed east towards the Rocky Mountains with barely enough money for fuel in my early 70s Trans Am and my sister's old MG.

Half way to Denver, disaster struck in the most unusual of places.

Explosion in the Desert (Part 1)

 

It was late afternoon that my father put me on a plane at LAX headed home to Denver. As an immature 20-year-old, I had just experienced a terrible break-up with who I thought was the love of my life. I needed to escape from everything that reminded me of her, thus going home seemed the obvious choice. I had only $150 in my wallet when I arrived, and rather than spend the money on a cab, I hitchhiked from the airport to the city's northern suburbs. Found a phone booth and called my childhood friend. As they say, he always had my back, and was delighted to see me considering it had been two years since we last had spoken.

The time was the early 80's, and the music scene in Denver was a force of nature. For me, the disco scene was a heretic music form, where only hard rock bands like Bad Company, Queen, and Led Zeppelin touched my soul. During this time, rock clubs were numerous, and on any given night, you could hear a live performance, both original with excellent cover bands. As a guitar player, this was “my country.” After getting a factory job loading pallets of rolled tar from an assembly line (managed to get in great shape) four nights a week, I would venture out to see and hear the music.

I had made friends with many of the musicians, and once they heard that I had just left the music Mecca, LA, their response was always, “What? What are you doing here, man? LA is where it's all happening.” My reply was always the same, “I'm just taking a break and visiting friends.” This went on for some months.

Although there were an abundance of pretty girls to meet and date because my heart was “broken,” I'd pass on any proposition from the opposite sex. In hindsight, there were several miss-opportunities for at least a physical exchange and even friendship, but I had had enough of women and shied away. It was only on one particular Saturday night that my vow of celibacy changed without my permission.

John and James were twin brothers that worked with me at the factory. John owned what would now be considered a “hippy” van” with a killer sound system. On that night, we skipped going home and went straight to the pub. A band played Van Halen covers, and we wanted a table close to the action. The beers were flowing, and I was oblivious to my surroundings except for the music. When the night ended, John was too high to take me home, so he parked his van in his driveway and told me to sleep it off on the comfortable mattresses in the back. I was in no shape to argue, thus passed out.

In alcohol and grass-induced sleep, I was awakened by a person forcefully pulling off my jeans. I knew it was a woman in the darkness because of her bare breast swinging above my eyes.

“Who in the hell are you!” I yelled.

She then slapped me across the face and said, “Sit back and enjoy.”

What can you do? When most boys my age can only dream of such an encounter? So I sat back and enjoyed the ride, only contributing to the motion as the encounter continued.

The van must have been rocking with loud animal grunts filling the moonless night, but John or James never woke up. We both fell asleep, and when the sun made its appearance, the woman was gone, leaving only a scarf that smelled of perfume.

I tried to tell the twins of my encounter, and all they could say was “Bullshit.” Then I showed them the scarf, and all they could do was roll their eyes.

After another few months at the tar factory, loading heavy tar packs on pallets from an endless assembly line for minimum wage, I knew a change was needed. Life in Denver had become a routine of rock and roll, beer, and shit work that could barely pay for food, let alone rent.

It was time to go back to California and confront my demons.

Douglas Kennedy – Leaving the World - Review

 

Having read most of Kennedy's work over many years, this particular novel certainly gave me pause.

Why?

Most of us that have experienced the cruelty of others, (as the philosopher, J.P. Sartre once wrote: "Hell is other people.") should have a little empathy for the central protagonist. This reader certainly did after turning the last page. The tragic nature of life is evident and is keenly explored by Kennedy and how some of us cope with what life throws at us.

Someone said that we are really the sum total of our experiences but also the choices we make in life determine our present circumstances. Really it comes down to how we "respond" to life's vagaries that make us who we are...

"Leaving the World" is about the protagonist's responses to a litany of disappointments and circumstances in her life.

After a tragedy we can leave the world in many ways: suicide, drugs, isolationism...on the other hand, we can simply forge ahead, "hoping." that, "this too will pass." However, there are times, too, when life keeps coming, testing our every move or response and, sometimes, we get through, then again, sometimes, not.

I enjoyed the many musical and literary references in the novel, including the references to quantum theory. As Einstein said, "God does not play dice with the universe." though, with the advent of quantum theory, randomness is a factor in our physical existence... our reality.

What I found it interesting is that the protagonist, after a terrible tragedy, cannot stand to look at beauty. It is as if her atheist view somehow translates to aesthetics, the beauty of the world. After a terrible experience, losing someone, for example, I have known people to turn away from God; this woman turns away from the beauty of the world...and are they so different?

As in all of Kennedy's novels, his characters come alive, and for this, the reader is the author's central writing gift. Critics talk about "plot-driven" or "character-driven" stories, "Leaving the World" is both.

For me, Douglas Kennedy never-ever disappoints, and he certainly does not in this excellent novel

A pleasure.