For all his Midwestern charm, Ray Bradbury could be disturbing even when he wasn't working in Weird Tales mode. One example is "The Watchful Poker Chip of H. Matisse." It's a tale of exploitation, addictive fame, self-mutilation, and the loss of self. I'm not the only one who remembers it, and the text can be seen here. (While he wasn't the loudest Cold Warrior, Bradbury may have been surprised to see his work memorialized on an international computer network by Russians who leave Cyrillic comments.)
It might be overly dramatic to say that we are all George Garvey now. Still, it's true that the kind of image consciousness that was once limited to entertainers and aristocrats has spread to the general population. And many have found that they have no natural defenses against it.
2 comments:
Thanks for linking to the story as I've never seen it before and quite enjoyed reading it. His description of a bunch of bored beatniks, whose usual biggest thrill is being monumentally bored at coffee houses where finger snapping to bad poetry is practiced, have discovered a man who is more insipid than anyone they could have hoped to meet. Garvey, much to his delight becomes the new avant garde craze precisely because he is boring and he enjoys the attention. He enjoys it so much he begins to play to his audience to keep its fickle regard which, naturally enough, doesn't work for long.
It's a funny and poignant as a commentary on human habits and the extents that people will go to in order to maintain a better social position. That it became a Russian favorite isn't much of a surprise since it tells the truth about the West.
I'm sure the behavior was noticeable when Bradbury was writing and it's even more prevalent now that some pathetic souls see themselves as stars in their own minds, and on the street. It could be called cultural exhaustion.
Getting attention is one thing. Holding onto it is another. That's the lesson that Garvey learns. Sadly, he's not wise enough to see the true conclusion, which is that being a celebrity among a certain jaded set isn't that great of a reward, and certainly isn't worth blowing up your life for. Many such cases.
It's the kind of story that I was surprised to see Bradbury written when I first read it, but it's part of his wheelhouse, and part of what keeps me going back to him. Russia isn't an ideal society either, but its citizens may be more qualified to see certain kinds of absurdity.
Human nature has its flaws to begin with. Add television and other mass media and some are magnified. And then when you add all that we have now, well, we're still finding out.
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