stuck like flypaper.

on summer heat, futurism, and the image of her.

Writing news:

• Select Screen was recently reviewed in Bending Genres: read the whole review here.

• And it’s officially for sale at Hi Desert Times magazine shop in Twentynine Palms!

It’s summer in the desert and time has been unspooling slowly like fly paper, stuck to its own sides. And I’ve spent my days doing, and sometimes reading, and sometimes doomscrolling.

I’ve stopped more books than I’ve started lately. At the end of this year, I predict it will be the least amount of yearly books I’ve read in a decade. There are many possible reasons for this: moving at the beginning of the new year, starting a new job at the end of last year, etc. But mostly, I’ve spent the majority of my time being physically present in the world, which feels important to me right now – getting back into a gym routine, lap swimming, yoga, hiking, bowling. Physically exhausting myself so that I can sleep. Doing anything I can to be away from my phone or computer. I haven’t been writing for the same reason. I don’t want to be too close to the browser tab that might refresh to tell me about the next horrible thing.

I’ve also been at something of a crossroads, as I imagine many writers are right now. People keep telling me AI will save us, AI will take all of our jobs, AI is the future, AI is the tool we didn’t know we really did need so please buy it or we’ll go bankrupt. I am caught up in professional conversations where we discuss future-proofing alongside a growing climate crisis juxtaposed with an insistence on utilizing AI tools more, the very tools that are contributing to said crisis. But I no longer feel technology will save us. I already lived through the best of the internet and AI inspires nothing in me except a grey feeling of doom.

We went to Palm Springs for the weekend to sit by the pool and drink spritzes and pretend it wasn’t 110 degrees in the shade. I read the entirety of Lauren Elkin’s new translation of Image of Her by Simone de Beauvoir. The novel itself is second-wave feminist philosophy made fiction, following the life of a middle-class woman, Laurence, who comes to the realization that the performance of femininity has trapped her. Her mother is similarly trapped but lacks said realization and her daughter is Laurence’s chance to set things right by encouraging the freedoms she was never allowed.

Laurence’s work as a copywriter and her husband’s work as an architect provides a window into consumerism and there is much discussion of the future and what people want in regard to physical objects in a way that often collides with their other desires. However, this insight causes Laurence to see things as advertisements rather than reality. A veneer of ‘appearance’ converts every scene into an ad.

Much of the conversation centers around the social group of Laurence’s bourgeois family and friends. They debate politics, the latest newspaper headlines, and, interestingly, futurism. At various points there is discussion that computers and technology will provide everyone with a peaceful, utopian existence wherein they will be able to read and create art, rather than toil all day at work. This conversation in particular jumped out at me:

“— Is it true they’re thinking of using IBM machines to create abstract paintings?

— They might be. But I can’t imagine it would make anyone any money, says Gilbert, smiling roundly.

…

— Did you know that some of them can produce music that sounds like Mozart or Bach? says Dufrène. But here's the catch: their works are perfect, whereas music written by flesh-and-blood musicians is always flawed in some way.

Oh! I read that somewhere recently, in one of the weekly magazines. Since she's started paying attention to the news Laurence has noticed that conversations often reproduce things other people have written in articles. Why not? They have to get their information from somewhere.

— Soon the machines will replace our studios and we'll be out on our ears, says Jean-Charles.”

So, I suppose we’ve been concerned about computers taking our jobs for decades now. Yet, art is still being created by humans and it is no less beautiful and that gives me some sense of hope for the future of things in my own timeline.

The novel itself slides through different perspectives and becomes vague in a way that intentionally provides an opacity to Laurence’s inner thoughts. However, de Beauvoir’s messaging is clear – the limitations of the ‘second sex’ are still laid bare in Laurence’s story. She lacks the liberation promised to her by sexual freedom, her creative work is still credited to men, any woman’s ‘mask’ of perfection slipping is an indication of ‘madness,’ and appearances still matter more than anything else.

“I won't calm down. I don't want a doctor. You're the ones who are making me sick.

Bringing up a child does not mean turning them into a pretty picture…”

Image of Her has many of the hallmarks present in existential literature and, certainly, the themes of feminism and retrofuturism are evident. But aside from that, I enjoyed the book as I enjoy a good conversation, listening to the ideas presented and ultimately finding it an enjoyable use of my time.

I just joined my local library and signed up for their summer reading program, so I am hoping to log a few more books in the coming days and make use of the longer days to stay physically busy. I hope everyone else is enjoying the sun and playing the role of ‘human shaped leaf’ whenever they are able.