"Let me apologize to begin with, let me apologize for what I'm about to say. But trying to be someone else is harder than it seemed. Between my pride and my promise, between my lies and how the truth gets in the way. The things I want to say to you get lost before they come, the only that's worse than what is not." - In Between, Linkin Park on Minutes to Midnight.
Linkin Park was an interesting group - they straddled the lines between thoughtful songwriting and intensively cutting spoken word. Listening to their albums was like entering a field of broken glass, looking for diamonds. Each project had its moments of brilliance throughout the cautionary hardcore, loud, or empty songs. Linkin Park had a passion, but not always a discernible direction. Long-suffering fans claimed the band sold out from their roots, trying to attract a larger fan base.
The market dictates the bulk of what is produced and offered, but the people buy what they like, through word of mouth if advertising isn't available. I don't think that they sold out, don't agree with everything the band issued and claimed, but that did not prevent me from listening to the insight of thoughtful souls, seeking the Great Perhaps.
The 21st century generation was asked whether we had a unified book, a "Catcher in the Rye" of classic scope and timelessness. Personally, I am unsure whether that generation had the attention span or even the feeling of community enough to agree upon a book. America at the time was intensely individualistic in its boastings, while pressured to conform to the will of the majority. This divide of teaching self confidence/importance and expecting a unified result was a predictable conflict.
Having read J.D. Salinger's original novel about a directionless boy and a night on the town, I was initially disinterested in Holden Caufield's approach to life. A poignant string upon which the author played was the betweenness of its protagonist. Holden was no longer a child, and was no satisfied by simple explanations. Neither was he an adult, one who would take a slot in the system of society and function as a cog in the wheel of life. No, Holden was lodged in the middle of the decision - his insight was that he disliked "phonies," those who didn't question why they were what they were - just accepted the lot that life gave them without a struggle.
It was so easy to be esteemed as a "phony" - a piano player who shows off because he knows that he is gifted. A lawyer who wins cases, not out of consideration for his client, but because that is what he is expected to do. People who enter a box of categorization, locked into what and who the system wants them to be, no questions, no thought.
John Green picked up on the teen angst puzzle, and his Prinze winning Looking for Alaska, is the closest product to Salinger's spirit. This book is about a boy, Miles Halter, who has a hobby of memorizing the last words of famous people. He asks to be sent to a private school, and upon arriving, finds it to be a complex system of parameters and unspoken rules. He meets the rakish Colonel, who is a leader of the resistance against the Weekend Warriors. (Well off students who leave for home after Fridays.) The school's menu has a default offering of deliciously disgusting bufriedoes, a burrito that is deep-fried to juicy perfection. Takumi, the energetic oddball who is the right hand of execution in the Colonel's masterminded campaign of pranks.
And everything at the school is tied to Alaska Young, the beautiful and capricious, who manages to remain a mystery, despite her knack for being involved as a nexus in the lives of others.
"How do I escape this labyrinth?" Is there a quick and fast means to freedom from being lost?
John Green toys with this concept and idea in "Looking for Alaska." As the curtain falls in the conclusion, questions are answered, and the answers in turn awaken more questions.
But, it remains true that in this life that is a labyrinth, as with this book, not everything is easily resolved.
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