Orville Baumgardner and the Pitiless Wind

by

James Hanna

"Before I begin my lecture, I must thank the alumnus of Butler State University, my dear alma mater, for the opportunity to speak on so divisive a subject as books. Had the public not recently voted me out of the Indiana House of Representatives, I doubt that I would be appearing in this fine auditorium before so many splendid students. I would like to add that that sixteen-year-old waitress fibbed when she said I touched her, and I assure you my name will be cleared the moment I have my day in court. In the meantime, I feel compelled to speak out on a subject close to my heart: the withholding of controversial books from impressionable minds. I suspect you have accepted my offer to speak in order to rip me apart, in order to strike a blow for the cultural elite, but I stand before you an orphan, a man without moorings or ties, so I welcome a battle that might once again ingratiate me to the Republican party.

"But first, a bit more about myself. My name, as you know, is Orville Baumgardner, and I am the most mediocre of men. I was born in Castleberg, Indiana, where I come from a long line of Baumgardners. Practically every business in Castleberg is owned by the Baumgardner clan--a monopoly that instilled in me the value of belonging to a tribe. I graduated from Castleberg High School near the bottom of my class, and I fared no better when I attended Butler University over twenty years ago. But my gentleman's Cs were sufficient to earn me a bachelor's degree in marketing, and after my graduation, I entered politics. I challenged the Democratic incumbent of House District 54, and to my amazement, I won the seat in a landslide. I do not attribute this to having new ideas, but because I had the good sense not to express any ideas at all. Ideas are invariably undeveloped at their time of implementation, and, as such, they are guaranteed to make a huge mess of things. And so, I did not read a single bill that came across my desk--instead, I voted with my Republican colleagues who had the great sense to obstruct them. Had I not found an embarrassing need to change the narrative on myself, I assure you I would still be safely hidden inside my congressional office. So I must thank you again, dear alumnus, for granting this martyr a stage, and I must thank the district attorney for allowing me to post bail. I must also thank all of you in attendance although I am sure you are licking your chops. How many chances do liberals get to tear a book-banner apart?

"So what qualifies me, you may wonder, to monitor the world of books? Have I not been condemned like Cain to dwell in the feckless Land of Nod? Well, first let me say that I pride myself on being a consummate reader. I dare say, I have read over two hundred books and can quote from every one. So think of me as a paradox, a conservative with a literary mind, and as such, I am the sort of person that high school boards like to indulge. And lest you think me too sordid to perform such a difficult task, let me quote the wise words of Friar Lawrence from Romeo and Juliet: 'For naught so vile on this earth doth live, but to this earth some special good doth give.'

"Now then, let us discuss a few of those books I feel should remain on the shelf--at least until their prospective readers have aged past the rashness of youth. I hold these books to be of great value, but not for the very young. The young should stick to juvenile matters and not venture on torrential seas--not until they have aged long enough to acquire a bit of ballast in their souls. So I have distributed among you a list of one hundred books--books that might kill an hour or two for one who is in his prime, but which would very likely prove toxic to those of a tender age. Please take a moment to study this list after which I will entertain questions. And please have the courtesy to raise your hands, so I may deal with you one by one.

"… Pretty miss, you have an objection. I can tell by the blaze in your eyes. You wish to know why The Last of the Mohicans sits at the top of my list. I must confess I was tempted to give James Fenimore Cooper a pass--his parodic description of Indians and his wordy, labored prose suggest that he was little more than an armchair adventurer. Ah, but the naivete he brought to the French and Indian War enabled him to package savages in the most forgiving of terms. Were Indians truly the innocent victims of Manifest Destiny? How could that be when history describes them as plunderers themselves? Yes, the tribes were warring with one another long before Europeans arrived. So great was their lust to kill and conquer members of rival tribes that some even joined the Europeans to accomplish genocide. Even James Fenimore Cooper noted, in a particularly grisly chapter, that one of these tribes was too brutal to even honor a truce. No, instead of allowing a band of vanquished settlers to pass, the heathens grabbed babes from their mothers' arms and dashed out their brains on the ground. And yet, the overall effect of the book is to make victims out of marauders and to burden the truly innocent with imaginary crimes. And so, lovely miss, I must insist, although I'm sure you disagree, that if ever a book needed censoring it's The Last of the Mohicans.

"Now then, why don't we move on to another book best avoided? Despite the disapproval with which some of you are looking at me, I assure you I have not been careless in developing this list. No, every book I selected received my utmost scrutiny. Yes, young man? You wish to know why I included The Catcher in the Rye? If I may repeat your statement, so that all in attendance may hear, you feel that the book's young protagonist is an icon to misunderstood youth. Having read the book half a dozen times, I respectfully disagree. After being given every advantage life may have to offer, Salinger's preppie could do nothing better than whine like a common drunk. Even by the end of the book, he had not learned a single life lesson--he was content to remain a complainer, a rake, and a parasite to his parents. On top of that, this young ingrate, this boil on society, flaunted a cap that he heedlessly dubbed his 'people-shooting cap.' Do you know that several shootings can be traced to this remark, including an attempted assassination of an American president? No wonder Salinger confessed, in one of his biographies, that he spent the balance of his life regretting that he had ever written the book. And so, I would urge you not to seek champions among the malcontent. Salinger's brat is only an icon to sloth and anarchy. Were Salinger truly repentant for having birthed so puerile a pup, he might have used his talents to write a nobler book. He might have canonized a youth who bravely stepped up to the plate, and he might have called this work of contrition The Batter in the Wheat.

"Now then, enough about Salinger, a one-trick pony at best. Would one of you like to discuss another book on my list? Yes, pouty lady, and I must confess that you have the most beautiful hair. You want to know why Moby Dick is third on my list? There is much I admire about the book, especially its many asides, which include some marvelous essays on the categorization of whales. But the book's single-minded protagonist leaves too much to be missed. Were he more than a self-obsessed narcissist, an irreligious brute, I might be inclined to grant that old pegleg the benefit of the doubt. But he displays not a single quality that might mitigate his doom--that might drench the eternal fire to which he is willfully bound. No, this titanic despot would rather rule in hell than yield to the faith of our fathers and live in harmony with the world. On top of that, the only crew member to escape a watery grave is buoyed by the floating coffin of a pagan cannibal. No Christian salvation for Ishmael, a youth wholly out of his depth, but the strongbox of an idolator who deals in shrunken heads. What kind of message is this to send to a country already adrift? Fanaticism and idolatry are already this nation's curse, and Melville's mutinous book is surely a monument to them both.

"Forgive me, gentle students, if my bluster has pierced your hearts, but ask yourselves this: Would you rather be strafed by a storm with no Godly restraint? A storm that would deny the flower of youth its rightful day in the sun? A storm that would level the innocent with a howling, pitiless wind? To assure you I am not so rigorous as the tempest you invite, I will call your attention to one of the books I have not placed on my list. By now, many of you may be wondering why I have omitted Huckleberry Finn, a book condemned by school boards for over a hundred and fifty years? Well, despite its coarse language, provincialism and stereotyping of Blacks, the book has an important message for those able to read it in depth. Remember ideas are invariably half-baked at their time of implementation, and no book displays this more adequately Huckleberry Finn. The two lads in the book forge a dozen grand schemes so a runaway slave might be free, and all the while, the slave's owner had died and freed the slave in her will. Does this not speak to the vanity of ill-considered plans? Does this not show that some imperfections are better off left alone? The seed of deliverance had already sprouted before those fool boys came along, and all the lads did was inhibit its growth and get everybody upset. 'To all, there is a season.' May you hold these words in your hearts and allow things to evolve at their natural pace lest your fervor should tear them apart.

"Ah, I see that my time is up. I hope I have not lectured in vain. If you have any further questions, I will be at the back of the room."

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James Hanna is a retired probation officer and former fiction editor. His work has appeared in over thirty journals, including Sixfold, Crack the Spine, and The Literary Review. He is also a frequent contributor to Fear of Monkeys. James is the author of six books all of which have won awards. Global Book Awards gave his recently-published anthology, Fact Check and More Probing Tales, the gold medal in the Contemporary Fiction Category.