Hmmmm, "Progress"...... and Peanut Butter

I'd like to open up by admitting to the fact that I've read past chapter four. I'll try to keep future spoilers out of my writing, but just in case I slip up a little bit... Well, don't hate me for it, please. I'm only human.

So now we dash into my thoughts (so far) on Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.

Allow me to highlight one word: progress.

People say (who are these people? Nobody really knows. Just people) that we are progressing as a society. There must be evidence supporting that claim. Look at all of our technology! We can do anything we want--or at least, technological advancements have given us the confidence to think that we can. To suppose. To be so certain that we do it anyway, regardless of repercussions. Things like texting and internet sites keep us connected with everyone we know, or maybe keep us in touch with people we haven't seen in years and years and years.... And I'm not necessarily saying that's a bad thing.

No, in fact, I think it's a good thing. Keeping in touch is good. Confidence, also, is good. Confidence is necessary, I would argue, in keeping one's mind while worming and wriggling about the world. So, sure, progress. But I think maybe, once in awhile, we should stop ourselves for a moment and ponder this: What exactly is the quality of this progress?

Let's take a peek at the novel. Huxley's world is full of technological advancements that, during the time period in which he was writing, would have been inconceivable. The society of Brave New World has streamlined everything that there is to be streamlined, including the growth of population--all babies are born artificially. People are made into what they are to be before they are even born. They've even muscled their way past the whole barier of having one child at a time. "One egg, one embryo, one adult--normality. But a bokanovskified egg will bud, will proliferate, will divide. From eight to ninety-six buds, and every bud will grow into a perfectly formed embryo, and every embryo into a full-sized adult. Making ninety-six human beings grow where only one gres before. Progress" (pg 6).

"Progress," they say. "Progress." What kind of progress is this, though? Figuratively it might be moving the society up that climbing slope, ever reaching out for the top.

Progress. That word keeps rattling around in my head. Bouncing off of walls. Smarting when it hits a nerve. "Progress... progress... progress..." I feel I have to repeat it over and over again, because that's the only way it'll make any sense.

So maybe the only thing I can really say so far about Brave New World is that it boggles my mind. It's one of those things you have to really ponder over, and maybe I haven't gotten the chance to carry that out to its full extent.

I am fascinated, however, by how ahead of his time Huxley seems to be. He wrote this novel decades and decades ago. And the funny thing is how a lot of the technology he describes doesn't seem too far off the mark by today's standards. Artificial insemination... This soma that Huxley's society loves so much--I keep drawing lines between it and some of today's illegal drugs. Maybe the thing that strikes me the most is how the people of Brave New World are so encouraged to give in completely to their senses, pleasures, and desires.

That makes it more realistic to me than, say, 1984. In my opinion... it makes more sense to make the people surrender to pleasure, rather than to cut it out entirely.

So, yeah, I am enjoying Brave New World. ...Is there a place for me to declare that in this blog? I think there is, and it's right there. Right where I put it.

It is late. So it also must be admitted.

This blog was completely peanut butter-driven. But I'm warming up, now--I can feel it in me bones. Expect better things to come from Marin's blog... in the near future. Until then... g'night, folks. G'night.