When Love Fails to Heal, See a Psychiatrist

We often hear or read about the healing power of love. But it doesn't always work -- it can't overcome all obstacles -- and when that happens, perhaps one should consult a psychiatrist.

That appears to one message of "Sleep," a short story by Colm Toibin in the March 23, 2015, edition of "The New Yorker."

I know what you will do when morning comes. I wake before you do and I lie still. Sometimes I doze, but usually I am alert, with my eyes open. I don’t move. I don’t want to disturb you. I can hear your soft, calm breathing and I like that. And then at a certain point you turn toward me without opening your eyes; your hand reaches over, and you touch my shoulder or my back. And then all of you comes close to me. It is as though you were still sleeping—there is no sound from you, just a need, almost urgent but unconscious, to be close to someone. This is how the day begins when you are with me.

That's the opening paragraph of "Sleep." It's a very fine and powerful piece of writing that drew me in. Unfortunately, however, it isn't stylistically equaled by anything that follows, but that is beside the point here.

The Dotted Line Between Fact and Fiction

One may conventionally think of fiction as stories authors have invented -- out of the ether, as it were. But at times, not just inspiration, but certain details, come from life, viewed or experienced.

The first character one encounters in "Ulysses," -- 'stately, plump Buck Mulligan' -- is largely based on a man named Oliver St. John Gogarty, and to those who knew him, obviously so. Likewise, various other characters in James Joyce's epic can be linked to actual people. And Joyce clearly incorporated versions things that happened to him in his book.

In my novella, "Manhattan Morning," the final scene at an eatery in Grand Central Terminal is very close to an actual occurrence. After I had the experience, I thought it would work well as the final scene of a story, serving as a foil, mainly in the realm of values, to what had gone before. It is also a sympathetic and somewhat poignant portrait of a woman attempting to balance a demanding job and motherhood in a hectic world -- a good story.

I doubt that readers find such linkages distressing. But what about the reverse -- when something represented as fact turns out to be made up?

Fiction That Forecasts the Future

The lead article in the Book Review section of the Monday, May 17, 2015 "New York Times" took a look at two non-fiction offerings that purport to forecast the future.

In "The Rise of the Robots," Martin Ford argues that even the well-educated will soon face a jobless future as a result of increasingly sophisticated technology. Meanwhile, Craig Lambert, in "Shadow Work," notes that there will still be plenty of work that needs to be done -- much of it rather menial because, well, humans will still be humans. But no one will pay for it.

I mention these books not for their own sake, but rather because the NYT review reminded me that one of the roles of fiction is to look into the future.