Monday, November 9, 2009

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like” – Lao Tzu

Reflecting upon my own life, I find myself seeking continuous awareness and mindfulness in the moment. Too often, I abandon my own good judgement in wild, fitful attempts at forcing solutions or controlling outcomes. Does that usually work in my favor? No. Instead, I’ve learned that focusing on the natural progression of life and relationships and accepting the inevitable changes that occur within both is essential to contentment. It’s only when I’m confronted with issues that extend so far beyond my own lifestyle, values, and scope of morality that I realize how important it is to be true to myself.

The House of the Scorpion written by Nancy Farmer is a science fiction novel that addresses the issue of human cloning and what it means to be human in a very direct way. Matt Alacran has never been outside the confines of his shared shack nestled in the poppy fields. He’s been told stories by Celia, his caretaker, about the horrors that lay beyond the walls of their home. Matt has never seen other children, never gone to school, or even had reason to ponder the reasoning for the tattoo on the bottom of his foot – “Property of the Alacran Estate.” When a couple of children make the journey to the mysterious house, Matt’s life changes forever, and he begins to understand the reason for his existence. Written in a real and provocative way, Farmer’s book further incites the reader to contemplate the idea of mind control, what makes one human, and the resilience of soul and spirit.

Matt is told from a young age how useless he is and is likened to livestock. I was gripped with terror as Matt was tossed into sawdust and made to live shackled to the whims of others. Left then to his own thoughts, he doesn’t know what to believe. He knows he’s different and somehow less than human. “’Bad clone!’ said Maria, hugging the pillow to her chest. Matt considered the idea. Being a clone was bad no matter what you did, so why bother being good at all?” (59). Through friendship with Tam Lin, Matt realizes the worth of is life. “No one can tell the difference between a clone and a human. That’s because there isn’t any difference. The idea of clones being inferior is a filthy lie” (245). Up until this point, Matt’s experience has been one of inferiority. With the power of these words, the Matt begins to fight the battle he’s been preparing for his entire life.

The United States is a place that thrives from advances in technology, corporate expansions, and consumerism. Less isn’t more. More is more. Unless you surround yourself with likeminded souls, you’ll be lost amongst the masses of self-seekers who restlessly chase the illusion of contentment through cash and happiness through power. El Patron, the 100-something superpower in The House of the Scorpion, governs everyone in his path and is the supreme example of the desire to control and the consequences thereof. He’s the epitome of selfishness and not afraid to hurt (or kill) anyone who gets in his way. Matt, his clone, appears at first as a simple weakling, tossed about by commands and rules. However, Matt’s simplicity is only matched by his intense complexity. He is resilient and determined to beat the odds. While he could easily fall into the victim role, he develops into the hero amongst his new friends at the border. While El Patron symbolizes chaos and evil stemming from control, Matt represents the consequences of control and also the hope, peace, and release that comes from letting go.

1 comment:

  1. It's funny how this book makes us rethink individuality, isn't it? I know that I've always, repeatedly, been told to be myself, by parents, friends, and teachers. Yet I always took it for granted that I was free to choose who/what I wanted to be. This book, as well as The Giver, has made me really appreciate the freedoms we do have.

    I wonder about if Matt really does represent hope, peace, and release. I felt the same way at the end of the novel, but I can't shake the feeling that his darker side is going to overtake his good intentions. Obviously, that's where the book ends. I guess it's up to our interpretations of what happens to Dreamland...

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