Examination of the Atavists: Socal residents sail in the post-pandemic era

At one point in the latest collection of Lydia Millet, “Atavists”, a minor character postulates that people “invented time. It was all at once.

In the hands capable of millet, these sections are 14 new interconnected on neighbors, colleagues and families in southern California struggling with the end of the world. The definition of the millet of the end of the world is vast: sometimes the world is microcosmic and social. Other times is the end of a long -standing identity. Still, it is the endangered globe.

But the millet skillfully told the tales – in “Atavistes”, as in his other novels and collections – show how a narrative framework creates a meaning for human life. We are looking for the kind of meaning that divides time into manageable fictions such as eras or generations. The vanity of the news allows the millet to show how personalities assert themselves and simultaneously explore our interconnection as a species.

There is a “wait for Godot”–Ness to these tales, each of them examining an archetype as “tourist”, “artist”, “futuristic” or “optimistic” in the context of the post-country era. Climate change and imminent disaster are looming each story. Millet plays with the title and with the idea of ​​atavism, in which an old trait asserts itself by jumping forward a few generations to appear suddenly in the genetic pool. The same goes for the work of Joseph Campbell while pushing against any simplified theology of the narration, rather suggesting that we attach to the wheel of his heroic archetype is a burden. Millet shows both how the characters of our time are manifestations of older types, but they are also a springboard for the way people will define themselves in the future. It revels in complications.

Take, for example, “playwright”, the second story in the series. In this story, Nick, a member of one of the two families who most often appeared in the collection, is a graduate of Stanford Smart disillusioned at the idea that he should write, but unable to put words on paper. The central tension in the work of the millet comes from the feeling that we are all condemned: she writes that “the stories seemed more and more useless” and refers to the old line on the violin while Rome burns. Uncertain of his creative and professional roles, Nick lives at home with his parents while he larvae, the barmettes and tries in vain to write a script.

The characters of the millet reflect the true trend of students of the Z generation who return to the nest to save money or find their passions, offering the author the possibility of exploring generational friction in these households. However, here, age juxtaposition provides no arguments that a generation is the best; Each age simply presents a different lens for visualization.

Rather than presenting a simple binary of misunderstandings between young and old, “tourists” of Millet, the story of the single mother Trudy and her son, and “artist” and “gerontologist”, who details the role of MIA as a volunteer in a senior life center, demonstrate how youth is not ignorance, just as age is not security or nap assurance. The characters of these households are often parents taken on the back. Their children seem without rudder, but they approach the world with more dexterity. Like Nick, perhaps one of the most conscious characters in the world, they constantly seek a peaceful calculation between their creative impulses and the darkness of the world they have inherited. Nick is aware of the ridiculousness of the world, and he is tortured.

Mia is one of the many young adults of “atavists” who demonstrate creativity TO DO: His art is to serve as an ambassador of the new world to the old. It begins by helping the elderly to with their phones and widens its role in many examples to help them survive by retaining dignity. The millet wants us to examine if we are consumers or creators at heart.

“Atavists” focuses on social acuity and conscience, but also on the way in which our more based ones are exerted today: Trudy is obsessed with the messages of an old friend on social networks. A despised woman sneaks into the house of an old lover to play with her mind. The tech-brot jargon invades stories that focus on confidence, and Buzz, a father in another of the two families at the heart of these stories, take a look in the history of her daughter's husband's browser while plans major changes in his own life. “Atavists” bounces from one home to another. Sometimes these characters are not sympathetic, but that's not the point. These are inventions of character, against the type and the way our lives bounce back.

There are advantages: Nick and her sister get closer to technology: “So now she felt closer. Although further ”, because the characters find the link on FaceTime. Trudy's son Sam is comfortable with his friends in a virtual kingdom. While older characters deplore a loss of connection, efforts to fill technological divisions show how transgenerational links are possible. All these people feel “sadness of wanting.” The sadness of hope ”, but there are solutions. If the world outside is condemned, there is a great affection in these stories and by being mutually, as well as a great conscience of what it means to be a neighbor or a regular customer – or even a spectator of someone else's life on social networks.

Perhaps we “all expect something that never comes”, thinks that Helen, Mia's mother, in “Optimists”. “A sign, perhaps. Written in the sky by a thousand reaction planes. In synchronicity. And once we see it, well, so we can do something.”

The stories are the sign. “Ataviss” begs us to continue reading.

Partington is a teacher at Elk Grove and member of the Board of Directors of the National Book Critics Circle.