Laughing at the End of the World
Having written a somewhat depressing last blog, let me rectify things with a more light-hearted affair. As an author of two dystopian novels, you may consider me a dour, straight-faced chap, but, let me assure you, I like a giggle. While I tackle some serious topics, dotted through-out my writing is humour. Why do I think it appropriate to riddle devastation with devious laughter? Well, humour is a coping mechanism, often the best therapy for visiting the darkest of places. A wake will be filled with laughter, not in disrespect at the deceased but as a valve for the pressurised emotion. We like to remember our loved ones with an amusing anecdote, proving them to be amongst us still, warming our thoughts with a fond recollection. Healthcare professionals, police or soldiers will all practice humour amid the darkest times and places, not because they are heartless, but because they are human, countering the gloom of suffering with lightening wit. Of course, like all humour, there is a time and a place for the delivery of a joke. Monty Python waited a couple of millennium before making a joke about crucifixion!*
Another aspect in incorporating humour is it brings balance and a dynamic to your characters and their relationships. For your protagonists, you will want to possess them of a range of qualities, some to mislead the reader, some to set them against other characters and some to warm them to the reader. Humour can do any of those. Think of the fool, established to appear harmless but perhaps a red-herring to bring a surprise later in the story. Even the most dastardly baddie likes a wicked guffaw. And if you create a family, as I have in Liberty Bound/Where Liberty Lies, they are going to argue, they will fight, cry, curse and then they will love, care and laugh. It is part of life. No humour in the dynamic leaves a hole.
One of the reasons humour exists in our lives at all is to counter assumptions; an evolutionary development rather useful for survival. Were we to take everything at face value we’d soon be extinct. Instead we can recognise the absurd, the lie, the illusion. When someone states something so ridiculous as to be beyond belief, our first instinct is to laugh. If they are in power, we may quiver a little too (those who take them seriously should be feared)! In dystopian adventure, where survival is the name of the game, you can use the absurd to make a point. Is not the concept of competing to survive in the Hunger Games ridiculous? And yet it is a brilliant method to shine a light on the excesses of our own exploitative world. The notion of a society banning books sounds unbelievable but Ray Bradbury’s masterful Fahrenheit 451 only reflects history, from the Bonfire of the Vanities to the Nazis. There is a satirical foundation to both books, laughing at humanity’s ability to get itself tied in knots. Liberty Bound/Where Liberty Lies both tackle allegorical elements of our own times, even though set millennium in the future. A satirical thread runs through the adventures, encouraging the reader to merge a sniff of contempt with a wry smile. How could humanity be so stupid?
Humour is an essential ingredient making up life and any novel worth it’s salt has at least a pinch in the mix. So, next time you find yourself at the end of the world, ‘don’t grumble, give a whistle, and this will help things turn out for the best, and always look on the bright side of life.*’
Nathaniel M Wrey
* Monty Python’s Life of Brian