Book completed

Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right, by Arlie Russell Hochschild. In this 2016 book, a Berkeley sociologist shares the results of her extensive interviews with residents of the Lake Charles area in Louisiana, where people have mostly learned to ignore the heavy levels of pollution inflicted on them by the petroleum industry. I was interested in the book because she repeatedly uses the phrase “deep story,” which I’ve used in my own research to refer to the story-shaped beliefs groups tell themselves, like a need to make America “great again” or to invest in progress, etc. She uses the phrase differently – rather than societal meta-narratives, she’s focused on personal meta-narratives that gradually became ripe for others to turn into a group identity. At the time of her research, the Tea Party was that group, but of course many of these folks got excited by Trump and probably now identify as MAGA. Hochschild uses the analogy of waiting in line for the American Dream, and tells us that many of these people feel that other groups have gotten to cut ahead of them in that line, often (they believe) at the expense of their own tax dollars. They see the federal government as the villain and are probably delighted now that Trump is trying to gut it – oddly, many of them think that 40% of Americans work for the feds. Also, apparently it’s a big thing to them that Northerners want all Americans to be more sympathetic to groups that have historically struggled; they see this as an attempt to shame them, resent being told how they should feel, and apparently are thrilled that Trump says it’s fine to ignore or dismiss the needs of these groups. I especially enjoyed the short Appendix C, in which the author debunks many beliefs that were common in the community (like that 40% thing). Her goal was to create empathy for these people among her readers, but it was pretty exasperating to hear how they’ve embraced their own exploitation by multinational corporations and the super-rich.

Francesco

Today was the last performance of our local music conductor, Francesco Lecce-Chong, who is moving on to other things, although as far as I know his only appointment is to continue conducting the small-town symphony in California where he’s been splitting his time. I had fully intended to attend tonight’s concert, until yesterday, when I listened to some of the planned piece online – Wynton Marsalis’s “Swing Symphony,” which is a musical history of jazz. The idea sounds great, but I think I would be miserable if I were stuck in a room for 75 minutes with all that frenetic trumpet-playing. So I went to the pre-concert talk (which nearly convinced me to give it a try anyway), and I left a note for Francesco’s book of well-wishing (which I’d written in advance and didn’t even need to recopy in my awful handwriting – just the note was fine)… and then I came home. I bought myself a treat on the way. I still think maybe I should have sat through it anyway, but that’s probably not realistic. Here’s what I said in my tribute to Francesco:

“Francesco! I could write about the musical worlds you opened up for me with your innovative programming, or the fun I had becoming the season champion at symphony trivia, but instead I’m going to write about the pandemic. In 2020, we were all shut down, confined to our households and the few friends we could find outdoors in the summer. My social world became my husband, my son, my husband’s sword-master teaching a weekly online exercise class – and you, Francesco, with your Thursday Night Live. Every week I could look forward to hearing new things, learning from you, and sharing thoughts with you, your guests, sometimes Chloe, your mom, and the other regulars online. If there’s anything I miss about those days, it was the special place you created for us. Thank you for that. I trust you’ll have wonderful adventures in the years to come. Best wishes always – [signed, me]”