I read the opening section to my wife. I think that I needed someone else to hear a part of the story and reassure me that I am not losing my mind with this book. She laughed at what she heard, which was exactly the response that I was hoping for. The opening scene features an altercation between the protagonist, who is trying to enter what he believes will be his new residence, and a man at the other side of the door who seems intent on not letting him in until he is satisfied of his real identity. It is a moment of banter, a gentle play on words, a lyrical fencing match if you will. The fact that my wife laughed in all the appropriate places, and did not giggle in any of the wrong places, convinces me that I got this section mostly right.
A brief question and answer session followed. She did not ask all the questions that I expected and I am not sure that my answers met with her queries, however, this is a meandering tale, so far anyway, and the opening passages really do not capture the true essence of what I am writing. There are a lot of references in the banter between the doorman and the protagonist, most of which my wife recognised, which is good. I think she was of the opinion that there might be a few too many, it was difficult to judge, but that might also have been a false perspective considering that what I read amounted to only 2,000 words from a manuscript that is now over 30,000 words long.
Pomerania is going to be a whimsical tale of philosophical fantasy. Although I will examine themes that touch on death, loneliness, bereavement, and exclusion, it will not weigh heavy on the reader. At its heart is a belief that life is generally good and that the human condition can bring many amazing things into existence if we want it to. I think that I have just identified one of the driving forces of my writing there. It has often occurred to me that many people are quite passive in the living of their lives. They seem to expect things to happen for them rather than exerting the effort to make them happen to them. We live in an apathetic society. I would go so far as to say that we are encouraged to be apathetic. I find it quite strange that society appears to convince us that so many social ills will not change for the better, that there is nothing that we can do. The rise of poverty in Britain and the lack of rage against it I find exasperating. Curiously, there is no rage in my writing as yet.
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