Physical handicaps have to be among the
least commonly used aspects of reality in science fiction. Occasional side characters may be blind to
spice a narrative, others may be mute or deaf to give an added degree of
interest, but rarely does handicap itself directly inform the storyline. John Varley’s 1978 novella The Persistence of Vision bucks this
trend entirely and uses physical impairment in a highly engaging, provocative
story worthy of the counter-culture generation.
The
Persistence of Vision
is the story of an unnamed, middle-age man disenchanted with the state of the
U.S. which Varley presents as the near future.
The economy and ecology in a slow spiral downward, employment is dismal,
society continues to fragment, and the health of the land deteriorates more
each day. Abandoning his urban life and
hitting the road, the man sets himself the goal of tramping to San Francisco to
catch a steamer to Japan, leaving the S behind.
But while crossing New Mexico, he encounters a commune unlike any that
has ever existed, and it will change his life.
The result of an outbreak of German
measles, a generation was born in New Mexico with a highly irregular number of
deaf and blind babies. But with one
woman’s kindness, many have been brought to a living commune of the most unique
proportions in the Navajo desert and raised as farmers in a sustainable
community. The sense of touch the
people’s only input, their fingers, hands, feet, and body in general provide
the knowledge they need of the world. As a result, multiple languages have
sprung up, including handtalk, bodytalk, and touching without touching. The group knows each other intimately despite
never having laid eyes or ears on one another.
A John Lennon/Yoko Ono-esque love-in if ever there were, the sense of community the
unnamed man encounters wars with his preconceptions of normal society in
controversial yet interesting fashion.
Varley’s presentation and description of
the commune is the heart of The
Persistence of Vision. Personal
throughout, extraneous details are never allowed to creep in. The narrator’s impressions and experiences
the rails of story, delving into Varley’s conception of the group is
fascinating. But even more intriguing are
the ideas which flow in the wake, particularly the subconscious manner in which
sight and hearing skew our everyday, every-moment thoughts and assumptions, and
the resulting walls of territoriality created around us. The story can be real food for thought.
But for as fascinating as it may be, the
concept presented is utopianism, and any story which purports to have achieved
a perfect scenario is, of course, suspect.
The Persistence of Vision, as
readable and unique it may be, is exactly so.
Either glossed over or never brought to the surface, the vices of
humanity—as inescapable as they are to the handicapped and non-handicapped
alike—play no role in the story. One
would like to see a little more “real” humanity in the deaf/blind, as despite
their obvious bias to reality, show little sign of anger, hate, jealousy, and
all other unavoidable aspects of this thing we call life.
Nevertheless, The Persistence of Vision is a highly unique piece of New Wave
science fiction written in controlled, engaging fashion. Highly reminiscent of Robert Silverberg’s
work of the 60s and 70s both in style and content, Varley tackles an
interesting topic with an even more interesting premise, and develops both in a
(literally) sensual, personal story of a man coming to terms with life in an
uncertain world. Whether or not the
premise is developed realistically may be a drawback, however. Regardless, some of the least thought-over
and most assumed aspects of being human are questioned, which is the real
achievement of the novella.
nicely done, Jesse. Yes a unique classic everyone can benefit from.
ReplyDeleteIn "The John Varley Reader" John says that as he wrote the ending of this story he started to cry and could never figure out why. It has the same effect on me, every time I read it and I read it almost once a year.
ReplyDeleteI understand why...
Delete