“Drowning in Trump’s River of Lies”
In the most recent issue, Judith Thurman of The New Yorker interviewed by email retired novelist Philip Roth about his 2004 book The Plot Against America. Given the “absolute disaster” (Cheeto Jesus’ words, not mine) that has been unfolding before us on national television, Roth’s work is especially prescient. The setting of the novel is 1940 through 1942 where American icon Charles Lindbergh, with the aid of Nazi meddling in the election, defeats FDR who was running for a third term. Because of the meddling in the election, it is feared that Lindbergh was susceptible to blackmail by the Nazis.
The historic Lindbergh was a strong isolationist, was the first to coin the “America First” motto that CJ borrowed, and publicly admired Hitler. His stature among the American people, though, was without equal since he crossed the Atlantic non-stop in a single engine aircraft.
In his email interview, Roth’s responses are rich in description and biting in criticism. For example, he was asked if his book had become true in the last election. His response:
“It is easier to comprehend the election of an imaginary President like Charles Lindbergh than an actual President like Donald Trump. Lindbergh, despite his Nazi sympathies and racist proclivities, was a great aviation hero who had displayed tremendous physical courage and aeronautical genius in crossing the Atlantic in 1927. He had character and he had substance and, along with Henry Ford, was, worldwide, the most famous American of his day. Trump is just a con artist. The relevant book about Trump’s American forebear is Herman Melville’s ‘The Confidence-Man,’ the darkly pessimistic, daringly inventive novel—Melville’s last—that could just as well have been called ‘The Art of the Scam.’ ”
When asked if CJ outstripped Roth’s imagination, he replied that him being a callous real estate developer does not, being President of the United States does. Further, he describes him in these harsh terms:
“[he is] ignorant of government, of history, of science, of philosophy, of art, incapable of expressing or recognizing subtlety or nuance, destitute of all decency, and wielding a vocabulary of seventy-seven words that is better called Jerkish than English.”
Perfect. But his coup de grâce was his comparison of today’s administration with cold war governments in Eastern Europe:
“Unlike writers in Eastern Europe in the nineteen-seventies, American writers haven’t had their driver’s licenses confiscated and their children forbidden to matriculate in academic schools. Writers here don’t live enslaved in a totalitarian police state, and it would be unwise to act as if we did, unless—or until—there is a genuine assault on our rights and the country is drowning in Trump’s river of lies. In the meantime, I imagine writers will continue robustly to exploit the enormous American freedom that exists to write what they please, to speak out about the political situation, or to organize as they see fit.”
It’s a good, if not chilling, read.