Looking Back...

My friend Cindy recently posted a Substack page (Historians: The Untanglers of History). She included this quote from George Orwell: “Who controls the past controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.” That pithy remark, by the creator of 1984 and Animal Farm, is sobering—given current efforts to bowdlerize the past.

Cindy’s post is actually about historiography—the history of history writing. It’s a delightfully meta subject—and one that has long interested me. I suspect it’s a topic that will someday be explored here in more detail—but not today.

For one thing, as readers of this Substack know, I’m in the process of moving—so all of my books are either packed in cardboard boxes (in piles, here, and at the new house), or are already shelved at the nascent library of the new place. Either way, I have no immediate access to them. In a sense, that means I am currently devoid of history—at least bibliographic (or, as some might say, bibliomanic) history.

The hard drive of my laptop, at least, is still accessible, and that’s where I found today’s little essay:

---

Perfectible Perdu

I’ve heard that there are people who live only in the present, as either free spirits or enlightened Zen masters. I don’t personally know any of them, and can only think of them in the same way as Plato’s troglodytes were able to picture life outside of their cave. The picture is rather fuzzy—possibly warm and fuzzy, but fuzzy nonetheless.

I’m not one of them.

Certainly, there are others who live only for the future. Whether they long for a Christian hereafter, or some form of paradise on earth, Utopia is where they want to live. Their goal is “a future so bright they’ve got to wear shades.”

I’m not one of them, either.

The present is just too slippery, too evanescent, to hold onto, and the future—well who’s to say if there will even be a future? So what does that leave me? While there are philosophical and scientific arguments about the nature of time—and if it even exists—the only “time” I’m able to comprehend is the past. With increasing age, the ratio of my past to my future increases, seemingly exponentially, so it’s only natural that I spend more time there.

Also, with advancing age, faith in the perfectibility of the future decreases (bitter experience tends to make us less optimistic). The past, however, just gets better and better. Our rearview mirrors are often rose-tinted—and the further into the past we look, the rosier it appears.

Its tense becomes increasingly pluperfect.

One of past’s best attributes is its malleability. We may not be able to change the facts of the past—as the events themselves are no longer available—but their interpretation is infinitely modifiable. It’s a cliché that “history is written by the victors,” but all memory is constantly re-written, by winners and losers alike. Needless to say, everyone comes out looking better in the memories of events in their pasts. The past is a lovely place to visit, and we’d all love to live there.

So we do.

Another old friend, photographed long ago…

---

Paid subscribers to these Substack pages get access to complete editions of two of my novellas. Noirvella is a modern story of revenge, told in the style of film noir. Unbelievable is a kind of rom-com that forms around a pompous guy who is conceited, misinformed, and undeservedly successful. Both books are sold by Amazon, but paid subscribers can read them for free. Also, Substack pages (older than eight months) automatically slip behind a paywall—where only paid subscribers can read them. If you’re interested in reading any of them, you can subscribe (giving you free access to them) or buy them in book form, should you prefer the feel of a physical book. Meanwhile, it is easy to become a paying subscriber (just like supporting your favorite NPR station). It’s entirely optional, and—even if you choose not to do so—you’ll still get my regular Substack posts—and I’ll still be happy to have you as a reader.