by Kali Wallace
I am profoundly grateful to live in a secular society. I just want to get that out up front. I love living someplace where people can worship God differently, have different views of the essential nature of the universe, debate science and poetry and art, and where all of that can be part of a larger, richer secular culture that has the potential to celebrate the whole range of humanity. Way better than theocracy every time. Not saying it makes everything perfect. Not saying it’s without blemishes.
For instance, the news.
News is the privileged narrative of a secular society. It defines what information is important — what stories matter. Turning away from the news in a modern secular culture is as weird and isolating and rebellious as not going to church would have been in more religious times. It is where we turn to know what matters: that is its role and its justification. And here’s the thing. It doesn’t do endings.
Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 went missing in March of 2014, and for months was the main story at CNN. People speculated that it had been taken by terrorists as part of some larger scheme, or that it had been downed as a suicide by one of the pilots, or failed because of a bizarre confluence of equipment failure and human error. Or abducted by aliens. Whatever the details of the particular analysis, simply by being in the headlines, the subtext we all got was the same: this is important. And then . . . no resolution came. Like reading a novel with an amazing first chapter that sagged into nothing in the middle, the story didn’t resolve. It was interrupted by other things which were by their presence clearly more important. More recently ISIS and Ebola followed the same pattern. The issues were headline news until they were interrupted by snow storms and the collapse of Bill Cosby and whatever great hook of a story comes next. Our central cultural narrative is desperately empty of resolutions. Instead, it is one of interruption. Of issues brought up, obsessed over, and then put aside for more pressing matters, forever, eternally.
Endlessly.
That is the world we practice. A world in which resolution is less important than a new hook, in which endings are so optional that when we skip over them—What happened with ISIS? What happened to the guys behind the housing crisis? Where did the missing plane go?—they aren’t even missed. We look back at the unresolved threads of that were so critical to us six months or a year ago with a kind of nostalgia, like “Oh, I remember that. Whatever became of it?” And slowly, over years and decades, we’re trained that endings are optional. That we don’t need them. That they’re hard.
If there is something that fiction offers, it’s this: stories end. In fiction, unlike anyplace else, the narrative takes its form, the characters play their parts, and the author brings it all together to the point she intended from the beginning, and by ending, they make a kind of meaning that we don’t get anywhere else. We can experience (even if it’s only in miniature) what it would be like for things— stories, lives—to have meaning.
“The good ended happily, the bad unhappily. That’s what fiction means.”
—Oscar Wilde
About the Author
Daniel Abraham is a writer of genre fiction with a dozen books in print and over thirty published short stories. His work has been nominated for the Nebula, World Fantasy, and Hugo Awards and has been awarded the International Horror Guild Award. He also writes as MLN Hanover and (with Ty Franck) as James S. A. Corey. He lives in the American Southwest.
Editor’s Desk:
Giant Heads
Neil Clarke
So why are Sean and I holding those scary-looking silver heads? Last month, Sean, Kate and I won a World Fantasy Award for our work on Clarkesworld! (Sadly, Kate was unable to attend the ceremony.)
I’d like to thank our readers for their help in making it possible for us to publish this magazine. Without your subscriptions, donations, or other kinds of support, this wouldn’t be possible.
From all of us here at Clarkesworld, we hope you have a wonderful month, happy holidays (should you celebrate), and a fantastic end to your year. See you next month for our big issue #100 celebration!
About the Author
Neil Clarke is the editor of Clarkesworld Magazine, owner of Wyrm Publishing and a three-time Hugo Award Nominee for Best Editor (short form). He currently lives in NJ with his wife and two children.
Cover Art:
The Magpie God
Lake Hurwitz
About the Artist
Lake Hurwitz a professional illustrator and concept artist currently located in Seattle. His professional skill set draws from a passion for the expansive worlds within, coupled with love for video games and classical art. In the past he studied first at Ringling College of Art and Design, and then at The Safehouse Atelier with Carl Dobsky and the concept art studio Massive Black. They taught the understanding of form and light, as well as a healthy respect for a production pipeline. All these experiences have taught Lake the portrayal of form to a height of realism, and also a good understanding of graphic shape and thoughtful design. He is a fan of horror, fantasy, and science fiction alike.