Brave New World. Aldous Huxley.

I suppose I should iterate my thesis before I traipse too far down the path, so here it is: Angst. Namely, of the (modern & modernist) teenage breed. One of my greatest difficulties in reading has always been deciphering what the author deems as “good” and what the author deems as “bad.” My stance (also in life) is one of constant and consensual moral ambiguity.

That being said, it seems fairly obvious to me—by the fact that the book was written in the first place, the style of the book, and the commentary I have read of it (I have not yet fully indulged in Huxley’s own critique, Brave New World Revisited, which I have as a postmortem included with my copy)—that the new world presented in the book is, in its simplest form, “bad.” It is (in some semblance of rank): Godless, regulated, unindividual/communist, simplistic, industrial, and morally confused. It is close to not having morals, and another way of putting that would be “unabashed,” but that is not the case. Rather, the community is unabashed in regards to baser (read: carnal) instincts, but utterly shocked/frightened/nerve-wrecked at the mention of family, namely “mother.” Many of these are interwoven, most obviously the first and the final points, which is part of the reason I felt “Godless” deserved to be first and foremost on my list.

Ah, so many contradictions, especially points one and two: Godless vs. regulated. Religion is a system of regulation, but one which relies on the past and doesn’t really focus much on the future (in the world of the living) or even the present. Also, it is a system which bases a fair portion of its regulation on the notion that humans (at least post-Adam & Eve) are inherently bad, but that’s okay as long as these humans try to make amends and strive for something greater than their humanity—namely, God. (Religion/God are primarily referring to the various forms of Christianity.) The New World, however, seeks to cut out the sexual tension rather than circumnavigate it through rigorous mental and spiritual fortitude. In the New World, conditioning is scientific rather than (or in addition to) social, and the conditioning calls for mass amounts of carefree sexual engagement with a distinct avoidance and fear of anything emotionally taxing/bonding/lengthy, i.e. romantic relationships and family (which of course are the building blocks for religious followers who are not part of the church—a contradiction that shows how similar the two worlds actually are).

Quick P.S.—My second thesis is that Aldous Huxley really had no idea what he was writing about and was a narrow-minded twit who was unwilling to view the world in any way different than the way in which he was raised to view it. And that he was extraordinarily contradictory. In mapping out the credulity that his New World is a terrible place, he cites both their reverence of man (as opposed to God or spirituality) and their lack of self. This lack of self is what I believe Huxley is arguing as his thesis: An overly communal world devoid of individuality, promoting commerciality—a combination of all that is wrong with communism and consumerism (which of course is often the complaint lodged against democracy) is bad.

It seems to me as though Huxley presents the “Savage” as the character of good—at least, he has the classic characteristics and plays a central role (once he appears). He is individual, he is classically moral, he loves his mother (even though we are often led to believe: without reason—which I’m not sure is so “good”), he values effort, he values himself. And he values angst. He strives to separate and depress himself in search of a greater good. However, if I were to run to the defense of Huxley (which I would never do), I would point out that his “good” character is actually three-pronged: originally we have Bernard Marx—he finds the Savage and her mother in New Mexico (congratulations, New Mexico! A haven for savages and hidden history!); next we get a glimpse of Helmholtz Watson—who, like Bernard, thinks differently from the masses, and he even tries his hand at writing and strives for more than is on offer in their world; finally, of course, is the Savage (John). So let us elucidate upon them:

Bernard: We first see him as the lone outcast in a city/world of scientifically created drones—like Neo in the Matrix except not doomed to horrendous sequels that some people have the gall to defend. First off, my argument—which I’m not claiming Huxley was unaware of—is that we are tainted by the fact that this character has the spotlight and we actually receive insight into his thought process. Now, this is Huxley’s world, so we should (at least on the surface) believe that we are gaining insight into this character for a reason, and that reason is probably that he is in fact different and semi-capable of independent thought and a thirst for progress. Okay, fine. So this guy is different—and how so? Primarily in his views toward sex. (Quick aside—are you catching the angst vibes?) Instead of freely and wantonly engaging in the lascivious acts of the primal, he presents a desire to disengage and search for more. A DESIRE—very important. This is our first view of his weakness—this guy is lame. Also, he has feelings toward a sexual object, aka a person of the opposite sex. Eww—Feelings?! Totally against the rules. Thus, we have this place in our hearts for the rebellious romantic (or maybe he’s a romantic rebel…I can’t decide). However, he is not strong enough to stay true to his morals—probably the fault of society and his conditioning, but still—not cool. Fast forward to post-Savage time: He sells out…hard. He gets caught up in the fame and the ladies and totally screws over his Savage homeboy. Now, let’s make fun of Huxley a bit: He presents people of power, and each wants and enjoys his/her (actually, I don’t recall any powerful females—misogynist asshole!) power. Also, they are looked up to, and thus win more sexual endeavors, even though sex is supposed to be conditioned to the point of being a second-nature activity in which the masses indulge with little to no impunity—they do it for their own pleasure. This is contradictory because his society is supposed to be one of drones unable to think freely, yet he is pointing out that people still like and are attracted to power. This is getting boring: next!

Hemholtz! This is Bernard’s way more impressive friend. This guy, for me, really reinforced (to a more conscious state) the notion that there is very little difference between this New World and our world. Hemholtz is brilliant, strong, handsome, cordial, social, confident, and very assured of all of these facts. However, he is also troubled—troubled by the monotony of day-to-day life, by the stupidity of everyone else, and by the possibility that he has limitations. In short, he is the person most people—in our world—want to be and/or want in their life. And he holds that same position in the New World—Bernard is jealous of the amount of ladies Hemholtz effortlessly pulls, whilst Hemholtz is utterly nonchalant about his sexual conquests and would much rather be tackling his internal/ascension issues. However, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasures that accompany his trust in himself and has no qualms with his indulgences—Bernard, meanwhile, wanted more sexual encounters, but reprimanded himself for his weakness when he indulged. But! Hemholtz is a secondary character and we don’t spend much time with him, and even less in/as him. A such…who’s to say what he is really like. In the end, however, the head honcho (who is basically perfect and awe-inspiring) singles out Hemholtz as being very similar to his younger self. Hemholtz receives his gift/sentence with composure, honor, and even joy at finally being able to be alone with himself and unlock all of his many secrets. After all, isn’t that possibility what lures regular folk to more complex characters such as Helmholtz?

Mr. Savage. The Savage is presented as being very odd by New World standards. And guess what—he is weird; he’s downright fucked up. I suppose his upbringing is partially at fault, but he has some screws loose. As this is a story of teen angst, his largest problem is with sex. His mother was a New World woman who was left stranded with the savages—so she was totally comfortable, familiar, and fun-minded in regards to sex. And the savage males took advantage. However, both mother and son were ridiculed by the village for the mother’s looseness, and Mr. Savage was an outcast in a community of outcasts. So he read a bunch of “classic” stuff (not including the Bible) and tried to build a shield of pain to distract and ascend from his life of ridicule. Real quick, on the reading point—this guy does not create any of his own knowledge, he just runs off at the mouth with quotes from dead people. And, it seems to me, Huxley praises this—he sees Mr. Savage as honorable because he values the same love of which Shakespeare wrote. Mr. Savage doesn’t know anything about love in a romantic sense (and I personally question his love for his mother—and he has no friends), is terrible in social situations, hates sex without understanding it, and is an all-around infant of a human. An overgrown infant who is good at undergoing pain (admittedly, both physical and mental/emotional).

Well, plenty of stuff happens, but we’ll fast forward toward the end of his stay in the New World (well, amongst the peoples): He has a super crush on Lenina. Why? Well I’m pretty sure it isn’t love, since he barely knows her and then he proceeds to hate her with a vengeance due to one disagreement in life practice, rather than accepting her. Okay, so he thinks he loves Lenina, which basically means he wants to rock her world under the sheets and probably in all kinds of other places as well. (T-e-e-n—a-n-g-s-t?) Linda had been a hussy, but upon noticing a difference in Bernard (towards relationships/sex), she started mulling over the idea of spending life with one person rather than embracing the sexual communism of her era. Well, Bernard turned out to be a fame-hungry quack, but this new guy…he is utterly different, much surer in his convictions (which would come back to bite her—almost literally—in the ass), and has an utterly sexy/intriguing animalness about him. He has, accepts, and cares for his mother; he shows bravery; he seeks improvement; he is in touch with the uncivilized side of humanity (though…isn’t sexuality the uncivilized/animal side? All of society is so accustomed to sex that they are decidedly unanimalistic about it, whereas this virgin foreigner gives off pheromones like a locomotive—however, their animalism comes out later…). Okay, so they like each other, and it’s obviously apparent to everyone (read: the reader), but they dance around the bush like school kids (teen angst) until finally moves are made. Linda is all, “Why are you weird with me, Savage?” And Savage is all, “No no no, that’s code for I like you.” And Linda’s all, “Oh cool, me too: let’s fuck!” And Savage is all: “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!” (proceeds to go crazy) “You whore! You fucking whore! Ewww! I can’t believe you’re so unpure, you whore! I hate you and I’m going to kill you!” Needless to say, this is not only a bit overkill, but a bit unstable. So Linda locks herself in the bathroom while the Savage savagely stomps around muttering words from dead people (since he’s an idiot and has none of his own) under his breath. Yes, psycho-killer status. Finally he leaves.

Okay, fast forward again: Mr. Savage isn’t allowed to be banished to a deserted island with his hipster friends (teen angst), so he throws a hissy fit and runs away from home, setting up shop in a lighthouse that is decidedly too posh for him. So he beats the shit out of himself with a whip, which is obviously hilarious. It really is, and if you disagree then you are going about life all wrong. So he’s getting all violent monk on himself like the albino guy in that terrible book/movie about Da Vinci and Jesus’ mom, when who should show up but humans. I don’t remember if the first people to see him were secretive or what, I think they were in a helicopter (which he could hear), and they returned to society with news of the crazy man. Blah blah blah, some guy makes a documentary, everyone loves it, reporters come to antagonize him, and all the while he just wants to be left alone. So greedy. You can’t make a spectacle of yourself and not expect/allow people to watch. But one thing I’ve learned about teen angst: you always want people to watch, you just don’t want to want that, so you deny it. Smooth move, Mr. Savage. Well, someone has the grand idea to bring Lenina along, and she exits the helicopter reciting something along the lines of forgiving him for being absolutely batshit crazy and almost killing her and that she still loves (whatever that is—in the New World…) him and wants to try again. Classic lines, except there was a helicopter purring in the immediate vicinity, so he didn’t hear and I don’t think we did either. He, being the stable young man he is, reacts by battering the hell out of her, and I’m pretty sure killing her. ‘Cause that’s how you handle a crush, or a breakup, or being cheated on, or whatever was going through his head. And guess what: the crowd of modern drone humans proceeded to go batshit crazy as well, feeding off his jubilant hatred. It’s reminiscent of the final scene in Perfume.

That’s about all in regards to the three-pronged attempt at the perfect character.