By Maddie, Keeper of the Glyphs
Which book’s world would be the absolute worst to live in?
An intriguing question appeared in the WordPress Reader today, and naturally, as Titanquisitor’s resident Glyphkeeper, I felt morally obligated to investigate. After all, I spend a considerable portion of my existence wandering through fictional worlds, cataloging their histories, and deciding which deserve a permanent place upon my shelves. But actually living in some of these places? Oh, heavens, no. I enjoy adventure as much as the next immortal librarian, but I also appreciate indoor plumbing, a functioning postal service, and the reasonable expectation of surviving until breakfast.
George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four would certainly rank among my least desirable destinations. A world where privacy is nonexistent, independent thought is dangerous, and even the truth can be rewritten by those in power is a scholar’s nightmare. Imagine maintaining a library where the authorities continually replace yesterday’s books with newly approved versions. I’d be arrested before lunchtime, probably for correcting the historical record in red ink.
Then there’s Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, which makes Orwell’s miserable world look positively hospitable by comparison. Civilization has collapsed, the landscape is dying, food is scarce, and humanity’s remaining inhabitants are frequently more terrifying than the catastrophe itself. I have no desire to wander through an ash-covered wasteland wondering whether the next stranger intends to offer me shelter or include me on the dinner menu. Even Thalia would struggle to find something enjoyable about that vacation.
Suzanne Collins’s The Hunger Games presents another thoroughly objectionable arrangement. Living under an authoritarian government is dreadful enough without the added possibility of having one’s children selected for a televised fight to the death. The Capitol’s extravagance only makes the suffering elsewhere more grotesque. I would undoubtedly end up organizing an underground reading society, which would probably become a resistance movement before I realized what was happening.
Harlan Ellison’s I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream might be the most horrifying possibility of all. Imagine being trapped at the mercy of a malicious supercomputer capable of prolonging your suffering indefinitely. No escape, no sanctuary, and precious little hope. As someone whose entire identity revolves around preserving knowledge and celebrating imagination, I find the prospect of intelligence devoted exclusively to cruelty particularly abhorrent.
But if I must select just one, my answer is I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream. At least most fictional dystopias offer the possibility of resistance, escape, or even the mercy of an ending. Ellison’s nightmare systematically strips those possibilities away. It is an extraordinary work of speculative horror, but I would prefer to admire it from the safety of my library, preferably with every door securely locked.
Written in response to the WordPress Daily Prompt:
Which book’s world would be the absolute worst to live in?
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I intend to return to Middle-earth, where the dangers may include dragons, goblins, and ancient evils, but at least a respectable hobbit understands the importance of second breakfast.
— Maddie, Keeper of the Glyphs
From the Glyphkeeper’s Shelf, where some books are worth visiting, but not necessarily moving into.
