“Father, dear.”
“Father, what book are you reading?”
“Just reviewing old high school
literature, The Grasshoper Is A Burden.”
“What
is it about?”
Hans leaned over, reaching for the TV
remote. With a flick of his wrist toward the hardwood encased
device, the pervasive martial music receded to a near silence.
“You'll read it when you're in high
school. It's mandatory material.”
Karin shifted ever so softly, feet
firmly planted in the oriental carpet, a firm composition of red,
white, blue, and black. Father so hated fidgeting, but at this
moment he took no notice, engaged as he was in exposition.
“I saw it resting on Karl's reading
table,” Karin said, concluding with a muffled hiccup.
“That is right, he's a senior, ready
for the University.”
Hans stood and strode past her immobile
form to the fireplace where he agitated its embers to kindle the
unburnt wood. Karin, knowing her father had more to say, stood
steadfast though anxious, but she basked in the permeating heat,
risking a glance at the flakes of snow falling beyond the window.
“It's a productive trait to seek out
knowledge,” Father said, and she released an inaudible sigh at the
singular compliment.
“But,” Hans said, “how did you
come to see anything in your brother's room?”
An unfamiliar spark, felt at the
budding of adulthood, urged a different action, but all Karin could
utter was the truth.
“I saw a book on his table, and
wanted to know more about it. I wanted to learn what he's learning.”
“Inquisitiveness into familial
matters is as abhorrent as seeking to know what is above one's
station,” Father said. During the conversation, Karin's head had
sunk into a bow of shame and submission, but at spike in the volume
of his voice, she raised her eyes, and realized he'd turned from the
mantle, his face flanked by the arrayed photos composed of smiling
family members, dressed in suits and dresses.
“I'm sorry Father,” she said, “But
I so wanted to know more, and am certain I would be better a citizen
for having understood it. And while the teachers, who I honor and
respect, would explain its purpose adequately, wouldn't you give a
better account, being the senior group leader of Charleston?”
Not completely immune to flattery, but
not oblivious to his daughters wiles either, he offered a patronizing
smile, whose hard features softened into a paternal grin. He then
turned his gaze upon the oak bookcases, the medals in their glass
cases, and the American flag hung above the television, as if for
some reaffirmation, before looking again at his daughter.
“Of course, we mustn't tell your
mother. She's been so busy preparing for the holidays, baking apple
strudel, and roasting ham for every visitor who accepts our offer of
hospitably. It would upset her delicate equilibrium.” Hans
paused, “And don't tell your brother either. He's going to learn
this the proper way, as men should.”
“Of course Father.”
“You see,” Hans began, “ The
Grasshoper Is A Burden, finds
its title from Ecclesiastes 12:5...”
In defiance of the
risk, Karin allowed her mind to wander as her father divulged, like a
deluge, every tidbit he knew to enhance the appearance of his
intelligence. Yet, subconsciously she closely attended to every
detail, ready to resume her attention when he exhausted his luxuriant
self-exuberance, as children are able to do in the presence of their
parents.
“...
the author, details a West in which, though decaying, debauched, and
disarrayed, a demented minority people of United States of America
defeated the rising force of neo-National Socialism. A brave
remnant, resisted, attempting to recreate a virtuous nation, worthy
of the Word of the Lord.”
“But
they failed?”
“Don't interrupt! Though failure is a sign of weakness and dispicability, even the renowned eventually fall, like Sigurd, like Jackson, like...” Karin observed Father stumbling for heroes and martyrs, but failing, he proceeded relentlessly, “And these valiant souls fusing Southern sensibility and Northern resolution found solace in that their world, was only a shadow of another world, a truer world, ours! The Universal Soul enlightened them as to their undue suffering, which they bore to the end with great dignity.”
“Don't interrupt! Though failure is a sign of weakness and dispicability, even the renowned eventually fall, like Sigurd, like Jackson, like...” Karin observed Father stumbling for heroes and martyrs, but failing, he proceeded relentlessly, “And these valiant souls fusing Southern sensibility and Northern resolution found solace in that their world, was only a shadow of another world, a truer world, ours! The Universal Soul enlightened them as to their undue suffering, which they bore to the end with great dignity.”
“How
were they defeated?”
He paused, looked
at her standing now before the frost infused pane of the porch
doorway. Reflexively, he leaned toward the fire, away from even the
wisp of cold she must feel. He saw in her posture, a fusing of heat
and chill, as if she reveled in an immutable passion, and he was in
awe, recognizing and afraid of the power of youth, to see a new world
out of the old, and to reframe it with a unstoppable agency against
all the will of the old and the decaying. He sought to silence it.
“The
novel's purpose isn't to enlighten us as to how our cause was
defeated, but to remind the believer of the shameful deficiencies of
our enemies, how to begin our project, and how to complete it. The
final solution.”
“Their
weakness?”
“In
their degenerate minds they tried desperately to believed in the
value of all people, regardless of a number of characteristics.”
“But
are they?” asked Karin, who had never heard of such a ridiculous
notion.
“No,
and because of the idea's absurdity, they couldn't commit fully
themselves to its outcome. They cataloged innumerable
characteristics, questioning the worthiness of everyone, unwilling to
abhere to their unqualified abominable Universalism. Still, they
might have resisted our revolution. They might have poisoned our
minds while we were yet children, and robbed us of our inheritance,
and you by extension. But they required another component, and they
failed to realize this. They needed to indoctrinate society with a
singular belief, so clear and so pure; to harm anyone, regardless of
reason, is an injustice!”
“But
that's insane isn't it?” she said, her posture softening, melting,
as her will weakened, and hot and cold fused, negating each other.
“Yes,
for we believe neither of these things,” Hans said, stirring the
fire feverishly, even though it was roaring, and waving his fist like
that of a general commanding his soldiers, or like a combative
salute. “A man only owes loyalty to those like him, and any harm
he does to any unlike him, is not a to be condemned but applauded.
To claim that which the Other owns, to hound them, to curse them,
spit on them, to condemn them to fire. These actions are to be
undertaken joyously. Only to harm one's brother is to do wrong.”
Karin slumped onto
the couch, sank into its comforting luxuriance, and abdicated
thought. The fleeting feeling awoken by teenage rebellion and an
empathy for humanity, receded, and as her father watched, he wondered
whether the feeble sprout which had sprouted, would wither under the
remaining spark within her, or drown under the flood unleashed within
her soul.
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