They often ask me what I write about. The answer is simple: the politics of crisis and revolution — personal, cultural, past and future, individual and collective, my writing is centered on the process of revolution and change, or lack thereof. The interplay between rebellion and resistance, uprising and acquiescence. I enjoy focusing on the struggle between the visionary and the establishment, the renegade and the prevailing order, the turns taken as each side tries to seize authority.
Behind The Mirror: Short Stories And Reflections is the story of two characters making sense of the world and their lives through an engaging correspondence, their viewpoints coming together to create a composite image of a life in flux.
Behind The Mirror (the movie) is the story of a man’s total defiance of convention and the lengths to which he goes to pursue what he deems crucial.
Wake Of Liberty is the story of Western uprising and revolution, and it works both as primer and palimpsest. The French Revolution Tour in WOL is the prototype event to which our main characters turn in order to understand their own world and, in time, make sense of what drives humanity’s atavistic tendency toward breakdown and violence (the primer). The City State Chronicles on the other hand, the other major part of the WOL story, focuses on a fictitious battle set in the future, circa the late 21st century, between Grand City State and the Badlands, the belligerents’ plight all too similar to past struggles, yet adapted to fit the issues of a volatile meta-apocalyptic society (the palimpsest).
In all cases, the stories I write are driven by the need to explore the politics of transformation and change, in which revolution and crisis play a major part.
Every man deserves a pat on the back once in a while. Today I give myself one because I need it. In the past eleven years and four months I have written something between 2.5-3.5 million words, some of which are readable, most of which pertain to the process of revolution, be it political, cultural, personal, or just plain revolving around points and counterpoints far from settled. The process has been systematic and comprehensive, immersive and chaotic, both empirical and objectified, experiential and abstract, delving deeper into the human condition and its need to wage war against all obstacles. The dynamics that compel us to engage ourselves in earth-shattering conflict — physical or mental — before we can break new ground are incurable, both boon and bane, and I have been exploring them for some time now, and I tell you, they’re not going away any time soon.
Those who envisioned the end of history after the end of the Cold War and the invention of Web 2.0 and other such groundbreaking events know what I’m talking about. History didn’t end on those occasions, grand as they were, nor will it any time soon. The only thing that expires is our vanity, the tragic and unfounded belief we’re the world’s perfection.
‘Après nous, le déluge,’ said Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s paramour.
She was right. The revolution, which she never saw — she died twenty-five years earlier — but which she had sensed all too clearly, was a watershed event that changed the course of world events.
Even so, the story was far from over. The world continued to shift and develop long after the revolution, and still does. History has a long way to go before it ends, if ever.
Brace yourselves. It’s going to be one hell of a ride, after which the world will be better off for it, but not without a price. Not without pain and sacrifice, but plenty laughter and joy, too, plenty of unfettered conviction, come what may.
Looking forward to it.