So What? A sneak peek into my latest book

The idea for this collection of short stories came from my love of languages. I was doing some reading of an ancient Greek manuscript, and became fascinated by the use of adverbs, and how they were employed. It got me to thinking about adverbs in English, and how English grammar can be perplexing: “English is not a language, it is three languages wearing a trench coat pretending to be one.”¹

The word “so” came to my mind. I knew from teaching languages that this tiny word causes many problems for new English speakers, as well as for translators. The word can have six different uses in English.

1. It can indicate a consequence, similar to the word “therefore.” “It was raining today, so I stayed inside.” This is called a conjunctive adverb or a coordinating conjunction.
2. It can indicate a purpose, as in “in order that.” “I put sugar in my coffee, so it would be sweet.” This is called a subordinating conjunction.
3. It can indicate addition, similar to “and also.” “I take my coffee black; so does my girlfriend. ” This is known as a conjunctive adverb, and it often introduces a second clause.
4. It can express confirmation or agreement. In this use, it will typically follow a question. “Did you set out the garbage today?” “I think so.” This makes it a strange word. It’s not a pronoun in the strict sense because it refers back to the entire question or statement. It’s really a substitute word for the previous question or statement.
5. There are some strange uses of “so” that do not fit into any of the regular categories. I suppose these would be labeled idioms or idiomatic phrases. “So! You are the one who left the dishes out.” “I’m feeling somewhat so-so today.”
6. Finally, it can intensify another word, similar to the use of “very.” “It is so windy today.” This makes it function as an adverb that qualifies as an adjective (in the above sentence, “so” intensifies the adjective “windy.”) It is a bit different from “very,” because it usually indicates a high degree of intensification.

One of the major themes in my writings is chaos. I enjoy exploring how people respond to loss, external issues that overwhelm them, actions of their own that snowball out of control, and so on. We all feel overwhelmed sometimes, or we feel like the world is against us, or everything is going wrong, or we just can’t get ahead. It’s a wonderful theme to explore the human condition. I always hope my readers are entertained, but also ask themselves what would I do in this situation?

Therefore, I chose the last usage of “so”— high intensification of an adjective. “So Dense” is a story about a scientifically unknown fog bank that envelops a city, and a blind woman who seems to know more than the climate scientists. (This is also a bit of irony: the blind can see, while the sighted do not understand.)

“So Humane” is the story of the “louisette”—or, as is more commonly known, the “guillotine.” The background of the story is historically accurate. Antoine Louis, a physiologist and surgeon, along with a German engineer named Tobias Schmidt, built the first device. On October 10, 1789, French physician and Freemason Joseph-Ignace Guillotin, a death penalty opponent, formally proposed that the device be used for executions because it would be more humane, in line with the ideals of human rights during the Enlightenment period. His proposal persuaded King Louis XVI of France to make it so. Guillotin’s name became an eponym for the device.² My idea was to write a story about the very first person executed using this device: a man not only facing his own death, but the unknown of how it would happen.

“So Kind” is an exploration of how modern-day men and women have such a difficult time finding a romantic partner, and how such a desire might lead us to overlook problematic issues, merely because someone is “so kind.” It’s possible for someone to act kind and be evil at the same time. Humans are complex.

“So Long” is a story that came from an experience I had while traveling through the countryside by train in northern Italy. It is not uncommon for desperate people to commit suicide by jumping in front of a high-speed train. I was traveling in such a train, and it stopped in the middle of the countryside. No announcement was made apart from that we would be paused in the countryside for a while. Unlike in the US, where the police would keep anyone from entering the scene, I was able to walk to the front of the train. I assumed we had mechanical trouble, or had hit an abandoned item placed on the tracks, or, at worst, had struck an animal. Needless to say, it was a bit traumatic for me, and it eventually led me to wonder what would lead a person to dive in front of a train going 180 km an hour.

“So Rude” came from a discussion I had with some friends about how some people who seem extremely rude might actually have something traumatic going on in their life. Perhaps they would rather not be rude, but they cannot help themselves because there is so much pain. Maybe they want to avoid facing the fact that they have trauma, so they keep trying to pretend to be nice when they really would like to take their anger out on someone else. It’s a sad commentary on how we judge one another, without knowing the full story—all too common in today’s America.

“So Snowy” was a challenge presented to me one Christmas Eve by a friend. It was my first Christmas alone after my wife divorced me to marry another man. I always enjoyed Christmas, yet here I was feeling so alone and depressed. I sat at a mall, watching all the activity by couples and families. As I texted with my friend about my mood, she said, “Write a story for me about Christmas. Right now.” So, I went to the food court, sat down at a table with a Christmas drink, and wrote “So Snowy.”

“So Sweet” is a story about the ravages of losing your mind as we grow older. Alzheimer’s and dementia are difficult diseases, like many, I have experienced it in grandparents and others. Yet, at the same time, I would like to believe that small, hopeful, almost magical things can happen in our lives, to give us a little joy in the midst of the pain, suffering, and loss.

“So Tired” also came out of the period where I was experiencing depression and grief, as many do after a major loss. As most of us know, great losses can make us all into a pattern of just going through the motions of a life. A common thread among depressed people is that they stay in bed a lot. I imagine demand living a life of what Thoreau called “quiet desperation.”³ Going through the motions of work, life, home, and all the other things we do, just because we don’t know what else to do with our lives. And slowly, that life can become black-and-white, meaningless, and utterly decrepit. What would you do if you found yourself in this character’s place?

The story, “So Quiet,” came from an event that a friend related to me. A coworker or teacher at a school had suddenly stopped talking to the adults. He had no trouble talking to children, but could not (or would not) speak to adults. This fascinated me, and led to writing a story about what might happen in this situation (with a twist added by me, of course) and why. An underlying theme is also the tragedy of losing one’s mind, as in “So Sweet.”

“So Alive” is an attempt to end this collection of short stories by moving from chaos, loss, and rejection, to hope and even joy. It is based on some history I learned on a trip to the Isle of Iona (off the coast of the western highlands in Scotland). In the 6th century AD, an Irish monk, named Columba, was exiled for his role in a war between rival monasteries over a manuscript which he refused to return. (Really!) over 3000 men were killed. Upon his sentence to exile, he repented, and said that he would go away and found a monastery, and convert 3000 people to Christianity in repentance. He sailed with a few others, and landed on Iona, and built a monastery. There, he was responsible (among others) for the Christianization of Scotland. I wrote this as a quasi-stream of consciousness and peace, imagining what Saint Columba experienced as he walked the little island.

Language, along with our actions, gestures, and expressions, or how we communicate with our fellow humans. But language is the most direct and detailed way. And yet, even language can be a barrier to true connection with others. If it is slippery, it is confusing, and it is often open to misinterpretation, and yet it is what we have. There is no perfect communication, but my hope is, in writing the stories that address this part of human experience, we can learn more about each other and about ourselves.

1. Attributed to Gugulethu Mhlungu. ↩
2. It originally had a curved blade, but the memoirs of the famous French executioner, Charles-Henri Sanson, tell us that the King wanted a straight angle blade instead of the curved blade, which became common. The last person executed in the Western world legally by the guillotine was a murderer named Hamida Djandoubi, on September 10, 1977. The death penalty was outlawed in France in 1981. ↩
3. “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things..”
   ― Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience and Other Essays. ↩