The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

One of my favorite assignments is when I ask students to compare our current society with the imagined society in Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 (and no, I didn't plan a Bradbury focus with this blog post). 

Students research our society to support their ideas about similarities and differences between the two cultures, commenting frequently on the use of technology, the lack of relationships between citizens, etc.

This is nothing new in dystopia fiction, as the intent of dystopia authors is to comment on the society in which they live.  Chang-Rae Lee is no different, and his focus seems particularly accurate when the main character, Fan, escapes from the confines of the Charter house in which she has been held, and is able to stay with a Charter doctor for a while.

As a reminder, the Charter residents are the upper-class of this society. They have money and use this money to buy items to fill up their lives, moving "...in and out of food shops and gadget shops and home furnishings shops, too. Then shops for drinks, and bathwares, and kitchen supplies and equipment...[filled with] pans, ladles, and spatulas..." (306).   This consumerism leads Fan to feel as though "...every movement or act of Charter life, however trivial, required specialty objects and mechanisms for the best chance at an ideal outcome" (306).

Fan's reaction to the Charter community is similar to the reactions readers of F. 451 have upon meeting Mildred and hearing her desire for a fourth television wall, or upon reading the hypnopaedia in Brave New World, which suggests that "spending is better than mending."  Authors in the 20th century are concerned with the increasing focus on the objects that people buy to fill their homes, their lives, their time.  With such full lives, shouldn't their lives feel fulfilling?

We know the answer, even as we fill our shopping carts, whether at Target or Amazon. Of course not. And in this same way the members of the Charter communities, who should be the happiest in this futuristic America, are the least satisfied. They shop, they eat, the exercise, but it is all hollow for them.

Our narrator suggests this flawed approach to life early in the book, pondering whether "...the most fulfilling times [might] be those spent solo at your tasks...when you are able to uncover the smallest surprises and unlikely details of some process or operation... [which is how] you begin to learn what you value most" (6).

Amidst the post-Christmas surplus making a mess of my living room right now, these messages about the superficiality of stuff and the significance of solitude and simplicity are welcome reminders.