Speculative fiction readers often have favorite genres. Fantasy lovers, love fantasy; sci fi readers love sci fi, and so on. But what about favorite authors?

I find myself gravitating to authors I love, and generally gobbling up anything they’ve written. Until I find a clunker or two.

I read Narnia as an adult and fell in love with the world but also its author, so I began reading everything I could by C. S. Lewis. That’s how I discovered books like The Screwtape Letters, The Great Divorce, his space trilogy, and Til We Have Faces. At one point I even read as many of his nonfiction books I could get a hold of. Notice, I was willing to cross over from fantasy to science fiction (and from fiction to nonfiction) without batting an eye. I cared more about what the author was saying than what tool he was using to say it.

At one point, I began a search for “another Lewis.” I think that’s how I came upon A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. The thing was, when I read the next two in the series, I didn’t find then of the same caliber and never sought out the last two of the quintet. Nor did I discover any of her other, many books.

In my quest for another Lewis I also found Lloyd Alexander and his Chronicles of Prydain—like L’Engel’s series, a five book set. This one I stayed with and loved and thought I’d found what I was looking for. But when I finished, what came next? I read one other, or bought it and started it. I don’t remember which because that was the last of Alexander I read.

The point is authors can captivate a reader, maybe more than a genre does, but to keep their loyalty, an author needs to keep delivering.

Here’s another example. After I read J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, I began a search for another author, similar to the one who had penned a story I loved. This pursuit was particularly necessary because there were no other Tolkien books on the horizon at that time. A friend suggest I try Stephen Donaldson’s Wounded Land trilogy. After a false start with the first book, I was hooked.

When that series ended, however, a second trilogy came out. Because I was a Donaldson fan now, I dived in. And kept reading because the trilogy was like one long story. But I was disappointed with those books and especially the last one. So when I heard, years later, that an author I’d loved had a new trilogy, set in the same world, I was enthusiastic, but not so much that I’ve done more than read a bit of the first book, then put it down.

So what about you? What series of books have you fallen in love with and consequently followed the author into another novel or another speculative world? And what about the ones that initially grabbed you but didn’t live up to the promise in the next book or so? Any of those?

Or maybe you’re not a reader that particularly cares about the author. You want to follow the characters or dive into the worlds (so, for example, Narnia written by anyone else would be just fine, as long as there was more Narnia).

How important is it for authors to Keep getting it right? Are you willing to overlook one clunker? Two? Are you like me, looking for authors who write in a way that reminds you of another you’ve loved?

I’m curious what you all have to say in the comments or at Spec Faith’s Facebook page or at another site where this article is shared. Let other readers know your thoughts.

Paranormia

by Paul Regnier

INTRODUCTION—PARANORMIA

A nerdy nobody is heaven’s newest hero. It’s too bad that the devil fights dirty . . . Paranormia is an enthralling urban fantasy adventure.

Chris Loury is penniless and painfully geeky. So when the struggling illustrator makes a wish that grants him supernatural visions, the lines start to blur between his comics and reality. After he crosses paths with a protector who calls himself an angel, Chris must decide if being a hero is worth the danger.

When his newfound confidence helps him connect with the girl-next-door, he hopes he can balance a relationship and a superhuman secret. But after a devilishly gorgeous woman with money and an ulterior motive tempts him with career success and fame, he puts his crush, his town, and his life in jeopardy.

Will Chris fulfill his destiny and save the city from destruction?

“Paul Regnier has penned a refreshingly different kind of story. A great balance of comedy, action adventure, and the supernatural, Paranormia is a quirky, heartfelt adventure that is both enjoyable and uniquely engaging.” — Jill Williamson, Christy Award-winning author of the Kinsman Chronicles and the Blood of Kings trilogy.

PARANORMIA — EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Greatness eluded me. It wasn’t for a lack of effort or potential, as far as I could tell. I just couldn’t shake the feeling I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and couldn’t find my way back.

As I lay on the mold-scented linoleum, peeking through the gap under the front door of my apartment, waiting for Amber to come home, the correlation between how I spent my time and what I’d accomplished in life became all the more apparent.

“You’re gonna need a tetanus shot,: my roommate Steve called over his shoulder. “That floor has a pulse.”

I shifted my weight, and my arm rubbed against a greasy buckle in the linoleum, as if to confirm his point. “She’s worth it.” The floor wasn’t my favorite spot to recline, but it offered the best view of Amber’s arrival, and I had to time this perfectly.

“Let it go, man.” Steve spoke with little conviction. He knew I was too far gone.

Life had thrown some brutal curve balls this week. Losing my job at the movie thearer and passing a kidney stone—a man’s equivalent of giving birth—had constructed a sturdy wall of despair around me. People were always saying that at twenty-one life had just begun, and there was plenty of time to make things happen. This hopeful advice blew right out the window of my crummy little apartment in downtown Long Beach.

I needed something to boost my morale, and I hoped Amber would be it.

“I’m pretty sure I heard her car.” I strained to hear her approach on the stairwell leading to our third-floor hallway. Either her footsteps or the bell from the elevator would signal her arrival. “She’ll be here any minute.”

Steve grunted. He had his back to me, nestled in his makeshift art studio wedged in the three-foot space between the living room couch and the kitchen counter. Beyond his tweed fedora that caged a smoothed, black pony tail, a dark paint brush struck mercilessly against his latest art piece. Swirling layers of thick black and grey oil on canvas grew more devoid of hope by the minute. A lone figure with an inner luminescence walked through his painted darkness toward a keyhole-sized beam of light in the distance. I held little hope he would make it.

“Chris, this is stalker territory,” Steve said. “She’ll see right through it.”

Being referred to as a stalker definitely soured the romanticized view of my plans. “Staging a run-in doesn’t qualify as stalking. It just shows that I care and I’m a planner.”

He finally put his paint brush down. “Just wait till you see her at Shimmer Fitness and say hello. That’s what normal people do. Your plan is weird.”

“My plan rules. I already waved to her on the elliptical last week. That’s phase one. Phase two is when I ‘accidentally’ run into my hot neighbor and ask her to go to the gym. It’s like a date without the pressure.”

He laughed. “And you wonder why you’re single. It’s supposed to rain. No one wants to go to the gym in the rain, especially late at night. Abort mission.”

“You suck. I need this. You know that.”

Steve’s art stool gave a metallic squeak as he spun to face me. His eyes were serious behind prescription Ray-Bans. Whenever he got that sober expression, he resembled an Asian version of Johnny Depp.

“Who keeps trying to get you out of this apartment?” He motioned to the low-lit, pea green wallpaper of our prison. “Who told you to submit your comic book to a publisher?”

“Graphic novel.”

“Whatever, man. It’s good stuff. What are you waiting for?”

“I already sent out submissions. They got rejected.”

“Twenty rejections is nothing.”

“Twenty-four.”

Steve adjusted his glasses, his jaw clenching. “Everyone gets rejected at first. If it’s your dream you gotta keep going. Or just do it yourself. Do that self-publishing package you told me about.”

“It’s eighteen hundred dollars,” I said. “I’m broke.”

“Okay, fine. Future goals. Meanwhile, you gotta get out of this apartment. You should come with me to Bible study this week. You haven’t been there in months.”

“Maybe they can lay hands on my wallet.”

Steve pursed his lips. “You know, my cousin Miyu was there last time. A woman who actually wants to talk to you. No stalking required. She said you remind her of Daniel Radcliffe.”

I sat up. “Really? Harry Potter?”

He nodded. “So now that your kidney stone is gone and you’ve spent plenty of time home with your video game recovery program, what’s your excuse?”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re unemployed.”

“I’m busy thinking.”

“Come on man, don’t neglect the spiritual. Showing up is half the battle.”

I sighed. “Well, maybe God could show up a little more and inspire me.”

Steve put his hands up. “Thin ice, man.”

“Sorry. Long week. I need something on a Biblical level to turn things around. If there was ever a time for divine intervention, it’s now.”

Steve took a squeaky turn back to his brooding art piece. “Careful what you wish for.”

The elevator bell dinged. I laid back down, and my eyes narrowed toward the space under the door. Thin shadows broke the light at the far end of the hall. Someone was coming. I sprang to my feet and made sure my earbuds were tucked in tight and straightened my black Adidas branded T-shirt. I checked my phone. Ten-thirty. Was it too late? Was my fake run-in idea desperate and transparent?

I turned to Steve for a confidence boost. “How do I look?”

Without a glance he shook his head, his shiny black pony tail giving a lazy swoosh. “Sad. This whole idea is just sad.”

“Sad like that depressing painting?” I pointed to the maelstrom of darkness dominating his canvas.

“That’s cold-blooded, bro.”

I opened the door and strode into the hallway with an energetic pace. I kept my eyes on the ground, bobbing my head to imaginary music from my earbuds. I too a quick glance between head-bobs. Someone was coming closer. Definitely her.

PARANORMIA AUTHOR BIO—PAUL REGNIER
Paul Regnier is a speculative fiction author perpetually lost in daydreams of spaceships, magic, and the supernatural. He is the writer of Paranormia, an urban fantasy/supernatural comedy, and the Space Drifters series, a sci-fi/space opera comedy.

Paul is a technology junkie, drone pilot, photographer, web designer, drummer, Star Wars nerd, and a wannabe Narnian with a fascination for all things futuristic. Paul lives in Treasure Valley, Idaho, with his wife and two children.

Why would anyone identify himself or herself as a Christian writer of speculative fiction? Is it because Christian writers of science fiction, fantasy, and horror simply want to associate with other Christians who write these genres (sort of like a social club), without any expectation that their personal faith would change the stories they write? Or do speculative fiction writers who self-identify as “Christian” (like I do) mean they will write the same sorts of things that other speculative fiction writers produce, minus a “naughty list” of things they think should be excluded (such as graphic sex and/or violence, profanity, witchcraft, etc)? Or is there a positive meaning of being a “Christian writer of speculative fiction”–“positive” as in we intend to break new ground, to approach topics that the world around us isn’t interested in–or to approach them in a fresh way? This post suggests the soon-to-be-released Beatitudes and Woes anthology offers what I hope will become a model for the type of groundbreaking I’m talking about.

Beatitudes and Woes is built around an inherently simple but innovative idea. Imagine famous sayings that Jesus used, which unlike many of his principles don’t come already illustrated with a story (in a parable). Imagine making those sayings the foundation for a set of stories. An anthology of tales linked to well-known passages of Scripture–that seems truly groundbreaking to me, because if anyone has done that particular idea before, I haven’t heard of it. (Though of course many, many stories have been inspired by the Bible in various other ways.)

It’s a simple concept, but brilliant. Of the “why didn’t anyone think of doing this before?” kind of thing.  Also, not my idea. CW Briar came up with this notion and posted it on the Realm Makers Consortium Facebook page. A lot of people were immediately excited, including me.

Before I knew it, I found myself having volunteered to collect all these writings from a diverse group of authors who volunteered to participate, edit their tales, and put it all together into this anthology. I had no way of knowing how much I was biting off when I committed to this project, nor how busy I would be with matters not related to the stories around the time submissions started rolling in. It’s 13 stories after all, since there are 9 beatitudes or “blessed are” statements Jesus made in Matthew 5 and four woes (as in “woe to those who”) in Luke 6. (You just can’t process 13 stories in only a few minutes…well, I can’t, anyway.)

I hoped to get finished much earlier than what has actually happened–that is, we’ll be doing a book release party on Saturday July 13th on Facebook (the date matching the number of authors), with announcements to be posted various places, including the Realm Makers Consortium page. But I’d originally shot for March.

I wound up over-promising on what I was able to do, embarrassing myself, but it also was true that two authors who had initially volunteered dropped out for reasons I don’t need to go into detail about here. I appreciate them having sent stories in the first place but it took some time to get replacement stories written and edited. Thanks so much to Randy Streu and Parker J. Cole stepping in to provide those replacements.

When I mentioned a “diverse group of authors” above, I wasn’t really talking about diversity of ethnicity or gender (though 8 of the authors are women and 1 is African American), but rather diversity of writing experience, writing style, and focus.  Though I was as surprised by parallels among the stories as I was by unique features. Beatitudes and Woes has a comedic superhero story, two tales of outer space adventure (with a third being outer space horror), two examples of intense religious/ethnic persecution, two stories featuring island societies (and one featuring a desert people in their own kind of oasis-island), an extraterrestrial courtroom drama and a post-apocalyptic detective story, a Hunger Games-style tribal competition, and a quest to slay a dragon.

Only a few of the stories have straight-out happy endings that sometimes it seems Christian authors are addicted to. Even when the protagonist triumphs, it usually costs something, at the very least, anguish and grief. But a number of the stories end with the protagonist still a prisoner either literally or of circumstances–or with the worst thing the main character could imagine happening having taken place.

And there’s self-sacrifice, too, plenty of it. But there’s also the guilt-ridden act of selfishly sacrificing others. Not all of the most important characters make it out of their stories alive.

It’s really been a great experience putting these stories together. Some of these tales will rattle around my brain for years to come.  Some of them really do make the Bible verses that inspired them take on new meaning for me.

Yes, I said “some”–yes it’s true some of the stories affected me more than others. I suspect the same thing will happen with you if you experience the blessing of reading this book. Though the ones that affect you the most may not be the same as the ones that I will always remember. I think this anthology has that kind of diverse mix–one that will have a positive impact on a wide variety of people, but in differing ways for different people.

Please note that I’d like to make special mention of Cindy Koepp, who volunteered to help me edit and get this book finished and is helping promote it. I’m also grateful for Mary Campagna Findley, who made a great cover, and the extra work Parker J Cole and Rachel Kimberly Hastings have done to promote this book in addition to being authors. (And as always, I grateful for the amazing support from Tabatha Catalan Guerrero de Perry, my wife.)

Of course, now that Beatitudes and Woes is about to be released, it may be that many books after it will link verses to an anthology of short stories as a way to make a uniquely Christian approach to writing speculative fiction. I hope so.

If so, Beatitudes and Woes will have paved the way for that kind of anthology. Preparing the way for others to follow. Groundbreaking.

Readers of this post, do you have any questions about the anthology? Any comments? I’d be happy to answer or respond.

I read Joshua Gibbs’ clickbait-titled article Children Need Magic on the Lorehaven Facebook page and decided that I would write my own equally-clickbait-titled response. So buckle up, friends—the tattooed fuddy duddy is out to rain on parades again.

First things first: I have no problem with fictional magic. I read The Chronicles of Narnia series at least half a dozen times when I was a kid. I loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. I read the entire collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. As an English major in college, more than half of my academic reading centered around fantastic tales of yore. I can draw a pretty gnarly dragon in just a few minutes. Magic can be fun, cool, exciting, even inspirational.

I also want to be clear that I do not oppose magic in our entertainment, especially children’s entertainment. As an adult, I can attest to the fact that my fascination with magic has waned as I have discovered other genres of books and movies. Yet for many people, magic is a lifelong enchantment, and when they spring from a Spirit-led imagination, magical stories can be very powerful.

Yet when I saw this article, my spider sense tingled as soon as I saw the title. The Socratic conversational format was a pleasant surprise, but what was even more surprising was the lack of sound logic in Mr. Gibbs’ arguments. He uses the traditional Christian scapegoat of Harry Potter as his tentpole around which to raise his defense of magic. His argument essentially boils down to this: magic leads to a sense of awe when beholding the natural world, which in turn leads to a sense of awe for God.

If Gibbs simply mean that children need a sense of wonder and curiosity and excitement, and that these sentiments are manifested in words like “magical”, “enchanting,” etc., then I wholeheartedly agree. Yet Gibbs brings up Harry Potter, which contains detailed depictions of magic craft (i.e., sorcery). In essence, he is saying that stories like Harry Potter are necessary for our children because of their attachment to magic, which leads to awe, which leads to God.

He first examines the pagan roots of magic and explains how magic as a concept has become innocuous today. He says that:

“…the devil does not care about magic anymore, at least not where you and I live. He is far more interested in convincing people that neither magic nor miracles is possible. For that reason, I imagine the devil is even more opposed to the Harry Potter books than you are.”

I agree that the devil does not want anyone to believe in miracles, because those are caused exclusively by God’s divine power. However, he would gladly want people to believe in “magic” in any form, because magic in the real world is supernatural power which does not come from God. As I outlined in another article several months ago, all supernatural manifestations of power which do not come from God come from Satan. There is no such thing as “good magic” in real life.

Gibbs goes on to compare the diluted meaning of magic with the Olympic Games, which were once held in honor of Zeus, but this is clearly not the case today. If we’re just talking about reading words on a page, then it’s no biggie, but the practice of magic, if it goes beyond playtime, is flirting with the occult. There is absolutely no glory given to Zeus when someone runs an Olympic race, yet even the most innocent summoning spell, if it is done with serious intent, is an invitation to demonic influence.

Of course, Gibbs doesn’t believe that people are actually using Harry Potter as magic manuals, and rightly so. But crediting the Harry Potter books for “…restoring children’s delight in school after the materialists and secularists turned schools into godless factories” is downright silly. He claims that “[m]agic is now a weapon of joy for fighting Darwin, Dewey, and all the other prophets of doom who have lately tried to strip the wonder from the world.” I call pure BS on that. Fictional magic has about as much power in the real world as the Star Fleet Federation has in the UN. And if we’re crossing over into actual magic, then that is demonic, pure and simple.

Children don’t need magic to experience the awe of the Creator. It is not a gateway to channel their unfocused wonder at the incomprehensible complexities of the world that then coalesces into divine worship once they’re older. The glory of God is manifested in nature quite clearly, and to obscure that glory under the veil of “magic” is a sin. So by all means, read and write magical stories. Share them with your children. Thrill them with tales of dragons and wizards and the ceaseless struggle between the powers of good and evil. But direct their awe and wonder at the natural world towards God alone. He deserves the totality of our awe and wonder.

You may already realize (because we here at Spec Faith mention it with some frequency) that the premiere (only?) conference for Christians writing speculative fiction is the Realm Makers Conference, to be held this year in ten days. Yes, ten! Count them. Ten. The gathering, which has been in various places since its inception six years ago—in Pennsylvania and as far west as Nevada—will take place in Saint Louis, MO, from July 18 through July 20.

What the RM Conference offers

The RM Conference 2019 keynote speaker is Brent Weeks, whose claim to fame comes from having one of his books on the New York Times best selling list back in 2012. His first books were The Night Angel Trilogy and the series that is (apparently) just wrapping up is The Lightbringer Series, consisting of five books and wrapping up with The Burning White, due out in October. According to the Conference schedule, his keynote address will be on Thursday at 4:15 and he will take part at other times as well.

In addition, this year RM is featuring a special guest: Terry Brooks, author of the well-known The Sword of Shannara series.

The course offerings at this RM Conference seem more than the previous conferences. On staff are some well-known Christian speculative writers: Patrick Carr (published by Bethany), Morgan Busse (published by Enclave and now Bethany), Brian Davis (published by AMG and now independently published), Wayne Batson (published by Thomas Nelson, AMG, now independently published), and others.

Topics at the Conference range from marketing to editing, world-building, self-publishing, agenting, screenwriting, and more. It sounds like a broad range of subjects, so writers at various levels of experience can find something helpful.

Of course, the classes are only part of the whole RM Conference experience. One of the very helpful options is for conferees to receive a paid critique or to meet for a “specialty appointment” or with a mentor. The website describes each of these:

Looking for someone to look over the first few pages of your manuscript and give you some feedback? Try a PAID CRITIQUE!

Need some information on taxes, social media, marketing, etc? Try a SPECIALTY APPOINTMENT!

Have some general questions about the publishing world, but don’t know who to ask? Try a MENTOR APPOINTMENT!

A host of authors and agents will be available for these services. To see the list, visit this page.

And still there is more. Besides optional meals with faculty, the Awards Dinner will be held Friday night. Not only are the winners of various contests announced but conferees may dress in costume.

And still more. There are agent and editor panels, a book festival Saturday night, a closing address from Mt. Weeks, special Q & A sessions with the special guest, and pre- and post-conference workshops.

Why does anyone need this information

I mention all this, not to encourage anyone to attend. I think it’s too late for that. If I read the info correctly, “walk-ins” were only able to register until June 30. Rather, there are two things to keep in mind: 1) look for blog posts and pictures on social media about the Conference; 2) plan now to attend next year’s event. I don’t know how they will top this one, but I have the feeling that’s exactly what they will try to do. At any rate, attending puts people of like mind together and provides encouragement, if nothing else. But looking at all that’s offered this year, I think there is a whole lot more available than encouragement.

Still, that element shouldn’t be overlooked. Writers can be isolated. Family and friends may not know or understand the worlds we live in, and speculative writers, more so.

The dates and place for the 2020 RM Conference haven’t been announced yet, but I’m guessing it will be made public at this year’s event. Likely, the announcement will be shared in those social media venues that carry Conference news, so keep a look out for the info and start planning today.

In the early 1990s, a movie released about a bodyguard. This flawed, misunderstood bodyguard was assigned to protect a high-profile figure from a possible assassin.

No, I’m not talking about the movie, Bodyguard, starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston. Rather, it was a Clint Eastwood film entitled In the Line of Fire (1993) where he stars as a Secret Service agent. My grandfather, Pops, and I both watched it, but separately. After he saw it, he asked me an interesting question that I still think about: “When the assassin is assembling his gun under the table, did you find yourself rooting for him?”

It took me a while to understand what he meant. In the scene where the shooter, Mitch Leary (John Malkovich), is putting his weapon together, Frank Horrigan (Clint Eastwood) is trying to find him. Leary seems to be moving at a snail’s pace, since he is doing everything by feel, not sight, all while trying to keep a straight face. By contrast, Frank is running around frantically. The camera switches back and forth between the two men, and the effect is you feel nervous—for both of them. The way the dramatic tension builds, you want to see something happen.

And indeed, it does.

Leary shoots just as Frank spots him and jumps in the way—literally right into the line of fire. The bullet is blocked, the President is saved, the assassin is stopped—all in the nick of time. Imagine how differently that scene would have been had Leary shot before Frank found him. Or if Frank snuck up on Leary as he was assembling his gun. Or if Leary had thrown caution to the wind and moved more quickly. The timing would have been off and the save wouldn’t have been as dramatic. And the movie probably would have needed a different title.

But my grandfather was onto something deeper. He specifically pointed out how in the moment of preparation for the assassin, you feel nervous for him. There’s some inner, strange desire to want him to succeed. Why is that?

In 2017, my family and I went to see Despicable Me 3. Like you probably do, we love the Minions—these adorable, yellow, evil henchman. We have watched all previous Despicable movies over and over. Not only are they hilarious, there is amazing character development with the chief villain, Gru. He does these horrible things and has the best one-liners. In Minions, it’s revealed how the little fellas are constantly in search of an evil master to serve. The more evil he/she is, the more devoted they are. And so throughout the movie, as they encounter one bad guy after another, we hope and pray they will find the perfect villainous boss. Why is that?

Minions promoted an idea that we first saw in the second trailer: villains are cool. The three traveling minions are headed to Villain-Con, “the biggest gathering of criminals, anywhere.” In a scene that my kids love to mimic, one of them, Bob, is asked, “Any evil talents?” His response is adorable. They and other characters walk around starstruck, as they encounter the world’s baddest bad guys. There’s a glamour about the event, a fascination with the archenemies of good, and we get swept up right in the excitement.

Pops was onto something.

Now, I’ve studied screenwriting, and there’s a lot to be said about how certain plot devices can guide our emotions in a certain direction. However, I think there’s more to this phenomenon than just dramatic suspense, or likable characters, or clever dialogue. Yes, the villain has to be well-written on some level. But there’s part of us that wants the bad guy to succeed, and it’s less to do with having a more interesting plotline and more to do with something inside of us.

We root for the bad guy because we are the bad guy.

Of course, you’re probably not a presidential assassin, or an evil overlord, or a fearsome dinosaur, and neither am I. But when you and I look in the mirror, if we’re honest, we see things we don’t like, and I don’t mean blemishes or a bad hair day. There’s a brokenness, a bent towards something besides heroism. Because let’s be honest, we like Superman but we really like Lex Luthor. We emulate Luke Skywalker but love to imitate Darth Vader.

We like these villains because they embody a type of freedom we long for.

A freedom to be your own boss. And everyone else’s.

A freedom to get what you want, how you want, when you want. Whatever anyone else wants.

Movie villains give us a peek into what our lives could look like if we gave into certain desires, executed particular plans, acted out specific thoughts—ideas that we would never speak aloud. We cheer for them because we love to imagine ourselves as one of them. We feel empathy for them because we know, deep down, we’re not that different from them. Sure, we’ll never pull a trigger or steal the moon or take over the galaxy. But we won’t judge those who do. And there’s an inherent attraction we have towards other, lesser evil activities—even if they just stay in our imagination.

There have been numerous times in my life, often in traffic, when I’ve contemplated certain less-than-fully-legal responses to someone nearby. In high school, I knew a guy who was part of a sophisticated shoplifting racket at an electronics store, and it was a seductive thing to daydream about. I’ve even had delusions of certain vigilante activities—doing something bad for the greater good.

Have you also felt your mind wander down one or more of these paths? Do you find yourself to have an unusual affinity for movie villains or even regular ol’ criminals we see on TV? What do you think this means about human nature?

There’s a bit of a debate among ancient historians about what really is the world’s oldest civilization (by “civilization” I’m using a bit of an old-fashioned definition that requires a civilization to have used writing or at least record-keeping to count as civilized). Egypt is in the running though–and since there is still a country of Egypt today, you might think that it’s possible for a nation to be a permanent thing. This post in fact explores the idea that isn’t so, specifically as applied to the USA. Nations are temporary things, even when they endure much longer than a human lifetime. Which really ought to cause those of us living in the United States of America to appreciate the existence of our nation on this Independence Day–because what we have may not last.

By the way, the statement I made about “much longer than a human lifetime” was not meant to be a throwaway line. Plenty of nations both began and ended within the span of a single lifetime, which doesn’t mean they didn’t have a lasting impact on world history. Examples: the Nazi Third Reich and the Weimar Republic in Germany in the 20th Century. As well as the 20th Century’s Soviet Union, which began in 1917 and ended in 1992–which is considerably less than the lifespan of the longest-lived of modern human beings (which is around 120 years). An ancient example would be the Neo-Babylonian Empire, which conquered ancient Jerusalem, which lasted roughly as long on the world stage as the USSR.

But to return to my example of Egypt, yes, there are still people living there. Yes, genetic studies show most modern Egyptians are descendants of ancient Egyptians. Yes, the pyramids, one of the early achievements of ancient Egypt, are still standing.

But if, let’s say, one thousand years from now the territory currently occupied by the United States is occupied by a nation with a name derived from a language other than the native language of most people in our nation now (English), whose territory is somewhat different (say, it includes the south of what is today Canada, but doesn’t include the West Coast), whose language is completely unrelated not only to the language of its past but also to the language of its name, whose form of writing is totally different, whose form of government is entirely different, whose religion is entirely different, which has a totally different day-to-day life, I think we’d correctly include that wouldn’t be the same country.

And that’s the situation with Egypt. The name “Egypt” itself comes from Greek, not ancient Egyptian, a relic of the time Greek-speakers controlled Egypt. But Greek-speakers were conquered in Egypt by Islamic armies roughly 1300 years ago. Now the language of Egypt is Arabic. A different language, a completely different culture, religion, and writing, and even with a different-shaped territory that includes less of the Nile and more desert. And also the Suez Canal that didn’t exist in ancient times and the Aswan dam controlling the gentle floods of the Nile that were a feature of ancient life there. But no longer.

There is still a country where Ancient Egypt used to be, but it’s not the same one as existed in the past.

No single nation has lasted through the span of all human history. And an extremely large number of nations have come and gone over the span of recorded time.

Why would the USA be different? Because we are the strongest nation in the world?

How many times has the currently strongest nation or empire been destroyed or been dismembered to the point it’s only a ghost of its past self? I’m not counting specifically, but plenty of times.

Often the end of a nation comes gradually, but not always. The USSR and the Neo-Babylonians were essentially in existence one day and non-existent the next. In Babylon that meant the invasion of a foreign power (the Persians) that didn’t immediately change all aspects of everyday life, but was a radical change that only grew more significant over time. The USSR has been taken over by a Russia that is substantially similar to the old Soviet government, with a similar language and lots of cultural similarities. But the USSR really was different (just ask a modern Lithuanian). And its sudden end was not anticipated by most people.

Helen Mirren as the Soviet Commander in 2010: Odyssey Two, hammer and sickle included.
Image copyright, MGM.

Soviets and Americans working together in spite of ongoing Cold War tensions were featured in the science fiction movie (and book before it) 2010, Odyssey Two that was popular in the 80s. Yet the Soviets were gone well before 2010–their flag was gone, their anthem was no longer sung. And less than ten years before it took place, only a relative handful of people anticipated the fall of the USSR. It seemed like the USSR would be around forever. But it wasn’t.

The US military, which used to vigorously screen for Communist-leaning potential soldiers, no longer asks those questions of new recruits. We’ve moved on.

So that the USA will end is not a strange idea at all, and it’s not a stranger to science fiction, either–there have been plenty of movies that include a post-apocalyptic USA. Such as one I really enjoyed, The Book of Eli (not to mention the ending of the classic The Planet of the Apes). And other stories, mostly books, such as Isaac Asimov’s  Foundation Trilogy, have imagined a future so distant that the Planet Earth itself had been forgotten, let alone any specific nation on the planet. (Obviously if all nations on Earth are forgotten, the USA will have ended long before that point.)

The final moment of The Planet of Apes.
Image copyright: 20th Century Fox

How will the USA end? When will it end? I can’t say for sure. Though contemplating the end is not really my point here. I’m not specifically predicting doom and gloom. Just saying we don’t know the future and should not presume continuity.

I do also mean to say that those of us who love the United States of America ought to appreciate it for what it is, for what good things it offers, while we can. Seize the day, cherish the moment–because we can never say for certain which day in the future will be the end of what we now know.

It’s the 243rd year since the United States declared its independence. Let’s hope we make it to 250–and beyond!