When Modern America Begins To Look Like The America Of The Chaotic Past

Violence is generally a bad thing. Although it's acceptable at times - such as in the boxing ring, MMA octagon, or the battlefields of World War II, violence in general should be avoided. Sadly, it seems there ain't many people who feel that way these days. 

Is that true, though?

I've been working on my next novel, which culminates with the dawn of the American Revolutionary War, and the similarities I see between 1770s America and modern day America are frightening. There are also frightening similarities between today's America and the America that brought about Shay's Rebellion, which my first novel was set against the backdrop of. 

The first thing I've noticed is that each side in the cultural wars of then and now vilifies the other. In the leadup to the American Revolution, for instance, the British were considered arrogant, oppressive evildoers while the Americans were considered unruly, bloodthirsty and indecent. Sound familiar? The second thing I noticed is that each side in these scenarios tends to cover for it's own villains.

As an American author, I find I sympathize with the American cause when I study its Revolution. The truth, though, is that the more I research, the more I see some Americans, particularly the Sons of Liberty, could be cruel and gleefully violent. You can agree with a cause without agreeing with the psychotic behavior of radicals. That was true in the 1770s, it was true during the riots that rocked America last summer, and it's true today, immediately after an unprecedented assault on our nation's Capital.  

The third, and most frightening, thing I've noticed is that, in heated moments, people stop being reasonable, opting instead for oversimplified thinking. England's King George III, for instance, seems to have been a genuinely decent human being. Yet I've read he felt that, since he only wanted good for people, those who opposed him had to be bad. The kind of stubborn outlook - which argues we're on the side of good and therefore those who oppose us are villains - leads to some bad stuff. 

Sam Adams, to use another example, was a true patriot...but he wasn't into fairness, as he felt fairness would weaken the strength of his patriotic ideology. That kind of belief is dangerous. And nuts. If you read history, you'll see that once the American Revolutionary War began, Adams became less and less of a prominent voice, as cooler heads started to take the lead on the American side. 

Which leads to two more quick things:

First, and most importantly, modern America differs from America in the past in that we are nowhere NEAR the point right now where violence is morally excusable. 

Watching the assault on the Capital last week, I was truly stunned. No matter how bad people may have thought the situation was in America, how could they have possibly concluded such behavior was warranted? We've got to get it through our heads that killing, rioting, and any other source of collective violence is absolutely, positively indefensible in the America of January, 2021. 

The last thing I think worth touching upon is that today, just like during the American Revolution, leaders have flaws. I've brought up George III and Samuel Adams, but I also feel compelled to bring up George Washington, as well. For Washington was truly a great man...but he also believed some of his fellow human beings were his personal property. It's hard to excuse that kind of thinking from any person of any era. The point? That those who feel certain elected officials are going to become messianic figures are sadly mistaken.

Introducing "Lexington"

And we think America is divided now.

Back in 1775 - which really wasn't that long ago when we look at the big picture - shots were fired in a relatively obscure community near Boston, shots that would literally change the course of history. For colonists in America were turning on their leader, the King of England, essentially in order to decide for themselves how they should lead their lives. Needless to say, the fighting in Lexington that day would ring in the bloody American Revolutionary War, which would last eight years and cost untold thousands of lives. In the end, however, America would end up being a free nation no longer burdened by European imperialism.

Still, things are rarely as black and white as they first appear to be. This is particularly true in the case of major historic events, and the American Revolutionary War was no exception. For many, a great many, colonists wanted to remain under British rule. And, in truth, it must be noted that the English government was far from a bloodthirsty authority, at least as far as the colonies were concerned. What's more, many of those in the Boston area who protested British governance before the fighting started did so in unfair, and at times remarkably cruel ways.

Perhaps that's why I've chosen such a tumultuous backdrop for my next novel, Lexington. I'm fascinated not only by historic events, but by the often complex and motivational issues that lead to those events. The fighting in Lexington can be traced back, as all such shocking moments can, to individuals. And the actions of individuals can be traced back to a variety of familial, psychological, and biographical factors. 

Thomas Crawford and William Prentiss will be the main characters in Lexington. Having gone from friends to enemies, they will find themselves on opposite sides of a conflict that is about to erupt into violence. Each of these Boston natives will have his reasons for his actions, and perhaps not all of them will be honorable. Such is the stuff of life. They will, however, be decent enough souls, men with families who are navigating through an exceedingly dangerous time. 

One thing I can promise, however, is that their story will not be predictable. The reader knows what will ultimately happen in the town of Lexington, but won't know how each man will or won't be involved in the events of that morning. In other words, don't expect a final "battlefield confrontation." Don't expect cardboard characters, either. Thomas and William are strong men trying to do right by their families...and by their equally strong wives, who may or may not disagree with their decisions.

They say there was a "shot heard round the world" that morning in Lexington. There were, however, many factors, personal as well as social and political, that led to that simple, explosive moment. 

With all that being said, it takes a good amount of time to pen a novel worth publishing, and I'm just far enough along on Lexington to comfortably announce its presence. I'll be sure make regular posts throughout the creative process, however, in order to keep everyone abreast on the book's progress. In the meantime, be sure to pick up one of my published novels by clicking on the links below.

Happy New Year!

Click here for American Socialite: https://www.amazon.com/American-Socialite-Sean-Crose/dp/B08C8RW7N4/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=

Click here for The Regulator: https://www.amazon.com/Regulator-Sean-Crose/dp/1097223299/ref=pd_bxgy_img_2/140-4411494-9635762?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=1097223299&pd_rd_r=234b5c5e-df6b-4357-9403-cced39f1877e&pd_rd_w=v1OKn&pd_rd_wg=lOHdE&pf_rd_p=f325d01c-4658-4593-be83-3e12ca663f0e&pf_rd_r=JSCZ9HBJE0AYKG2BFKP7&psc=1&refRID=JSCZ9HBJE0AYKG2BFKP7

Heading Towards Christmas - Some Thoughts On Jesus

                                                         

And so we're at the time of year where many celebrate the birth of Jesus. Fewer and fewer of us believe in the divinity of Christ around here these days. Those of us who do are a shrinking and unfashionable demographic. Still, I think there's some things about Jesus worth considering. You don't have to believe Jesus is God in order to give the matter some thought, either. This a documented historical figure we're talking about, after all.

At any rate, it's occurred to me that if Jesus were walking the earth today, he would rub a lot of people the wrong way, just like he did during his own lifetime. Back then, Jesus offended those in power. Today he would offend occupants of social media. For Jesus told people to love their neighbors as they love themselves. And that just doesn't wash here in the 21st century. 

For we in the here and now are into hating our neighbors. What's more, we like hating our neighbors. We think it's good to hate our neighbors. We're proud of hating our neighbors. We're convinced our neighbors engage in fear mongering, hatred, and oppression. We want these people cancelled - if not as thoroughly as Jesus was, then as thoroughly and conveniently as possible (we're really into convenience these days). So no, we have no interest in that love your neighbor thing Jesus was all about. 

We also don't like that whole forgiveness business Jesus taught, either. As far as we're concerned, our neighbors don't deserve forgiveness. What's more, we deserve to enjoy their comeuppance. The more degrading and thorough the comeuppance, the better. To us, it's only fair. Jesus just wasn't into that way of thinking, so frankly we're not all that into Jesus.  

It's not like we're exactly happy in the here and now, though. Truth be told, we're completely miserable. Maybe, just maybe, it's possible someone who walked the earth thousands of years before the age of Google might have actually made some valid points. 

Merry Christmas. 

Ozymandias In The Basement Flat

 

If you were able to step back and look at it all objectively now, you might realize that your great enemy was the belief that there are rules to be followed in life. That simple idea was something you could never abide by, after all – not in the military, not in your relationships, not even while backing up the Isleys. Your abhorrence of rules, of structure, had, frankly, been your greatest asset in many ways. Now, though, as you’re suffocating to death, it’s proven to be your greatest enemy.

No one on earth can intake nearly two grams of a barbiturate in as short an amount of time as you just did. Combine that with a day’s worth of wine and cannabis and it’s no surprise that you’re lying in the bed of a basement flat right now drowning in your own vomit. People are going to wonder what were you thinking when you kept popping those pills, anyway. They were Vesparax, right? People are going to say you were suicidal, that those lawsuits – or even Monika - drove you to do it.

You know better, though. You know it’s your own sense of specialness that has led you to where you are right now. People who have suffered as you have are somehow gifted, you’ve always thought, with a differentness that magically makes the boundaries everyday individuals must adhere to null and void. Hence your personal biography.

Remember how you told that interviewer you didn’t practice so much as try to attain new heights? You admitted such a set of priorities led to mistakes in your playing, but you also knew full well they took you’re playing in unique directions. Indeed, you did some amazing things.

And you couldn’t even read music. Astonishing, really.

You won’t be creating anything new now, though. Those days are officially over. By the time Monika calls for help it will be too late. Maybe you’ll die after the paramedics get you to St. Mary Abbott’s. Or maybe you’ll be dead before the paramedics even arrive. Harsh as it may seem, none of it matters. For your life’s work has already started its journey towards that place where the lone and level sands stretch far away.

How the mighty once looked upon that work and despaired, though! Punching Paul after your house was broken into. Smashing Carmen in the face with that bottle during a drunken rage. Busting up the Opalen during that fight.  How everyone had to tame their impulses in the face of such actions. The work was your Berlin wall. You were impenetrable.

Yet now those actions, or rather the behavior which led to them, will be as much a part of your legacy as your talent will be. The humility you showed during that interview will, on the other hand, be largely forgotten. This is unfortunate, of course, though there’s no changing things at this point.

For yours is a story of appetites. Shoes. Clothes. Women. Booze. Drugs. Music. You have been a vacuum, a vacuum which has now exploded upon consuming too much. Little will be remembered of the child whose mother had left him. Little will be remembered of that driving seriousness.  Such things will remain hidden treasures, passed over by travelers through your antique land.

Thanksgiving And "American Socialite"

Poor Betsy Bonaparte doesn't have it easy. That's as true in my novel, American Socialite as it is in the historical record. Abandoned by a lout of a husband, she's literally left stranded far from home in Europe. Betsy expresses anger and resentment throughout American Socialite and, in a sense, she has good reason to. She's been promised a life that she's ultimately not allowed to live. Such things are hard on the psyche - very hard.

Yet Betsy's biggest problem in American Socialite is her insatiable set of expectations. Rather than accepting her situation at some point and simply being thankful for the life she has - and it's a luxurious life, indeed - Betsy instead chooses to pine for what cannot be. It ends up being an exhaustive waste of time. As frustrating as her situation is, one wishes Betsy could simply make the best of it. 

Her son, Bo, however, doesn't end up having Betsy's expectations. He's happy with what he has. Even when  a "greater" life than the one he leads is dangled before him, Bo doesn't get overly excited. In truth, he'd rather not live a "greater" life at all. He prefers the life of a successful American businessman to that of a member of royalty . Although he's not perfect, Bo certainly has a more balanced outlook than his mother.

None of this is to suggest Betsy is a villain. To the contrast, the woman is unquestionably a victim. As we head into Thanksgiving, though, it's good to note the importance of focusing on what we have, rather than what we don't. That's a lesson Betsy could learn, but so could the rest of us. We all get overwhelmed by our expectations, after all. Betsy certainly isn't the only one guilty of that shortcoming.

*To pick up a copy of American Socialite, simply click on the link below.

https://www.amazon.com/American-Socialite-Sean-Crose/dp/B08C8RW7N4/?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=GSZ5q&pf_rd_p=07442e57-5bbc-4b36-bdb2-92a549250cee&pf_rd_r=52D1NRN2XHTVZF59CEHF&pd_rd_r=5196d49b-9598-4479-85fb-fd9607e91925&pd_rd_wg=7eCzd&ref_=pd_gw_ci_mcx_mr_hp_d

The Night Of Ellen Barbosa

 

       I was working on my thesis when the results started coming in. Within five minutes of intently watching cable news, everything else I was doing started seeming small and irrelevant. Sure, the waning influence of postmodernism may have been more challenging than glad handing on a daily basis, but Rob was clearly on his way to being elected to the United States Senate. Shots of his campaign headquarters periodically flashed across the screen, where many young, bright eyed individuals partied and waited patiently to bask in the glow of Rob’s sunshine. After half an hour, I logged off my laptop, knowing I would be unable to work for the rest of the evening.

         Still, I couldn’t abide sitting there in front of the idiot box, either. I had been alone since the divorce, after all. I hadn’t even dated. Now I just wasn’t capable of bringing myself to witness Rob’s nightlong moment of glory from the confines of my dark condo. Rob had some good reasons for leaving me, to be sure, but there were lots of not so good reasons, too – up to and including his ambition and his current wife, Kelly. In truth, I didn’t want to put myself through what I essentially saw as an entire awards ceremony Rob had garnered by virtue of leaving me. Yet I couldn’t turn the television off entirely, either. Who knows why (and the truth is that I really don’t want to know why), but I decided to keep it on with the sound off.

        It was from within this limbo state that I finally decided to take a bath. I couldn’t unload on Erica, after all. She was with her father at the moment, along with Kelly and her own two beautiful children that she had with Rob (actually, Kelly’s kids weren’t exactly beautiful…I just like to throw the word in there for effect). Surely Erica wouldn’t want to have an important evening spoiled by my telling her how down and out and second best and irrelevant her mother felt.  I wondered, however, if Erica might feel second best herself as the results poured in. No doubt she did – at least a little.

         As the water ran in the tub I began to ask myself if I could endure watching the victory speech. The truth was, I couldn’t. There Rob would be, standing with perfect Kelly and their children, adored, cheered and celebrated, while Erica would be somewhere slightly back and to the left. The thought sickened me to my core. Yet I also knew Erica would want me watching her. Sliding inside the tub, I told myself it wasn’t easy being a mother. I wished there was someone else I could share that nugget with, but there wasn’t. Actually, there was, but I didn’t want my friends thinking I was spending the evening choking on sour grapes.

         Ultimately, however, I decided to go to bed. I had my own psyche to worry about. Growing up, my mother had told me to always ask myself what Jesus would do. Needless to say, I couldn’t see Jesus condemning me for calling it an early night. I could watch Erica up there on a replay, after all, after the pain and bitterness had somewhat subsided. And so I slipped under the sheets at around ten, convinced I had done the right thing.

         At around three in the morning, I was awoken by Sandy, who seemed to be having some kind of Golden Retriever nightmare at the foot of the bed. She settled down after a few, but by then I had suddenly found myself wanting, no, NEEDING, to know about Rob’s victory. Call me a masochist, but my curiosity demanded I see a headline, a picture, something. Giving into temptation, I took hold of my iPhone from the nightstand.

         Rob had lost by over ten thousand votes to Ellen Barbosa. The western part of the state, which wasn’t counted until last, had rallied behind her. It was, to be sure, an upset. Needless to say, that was one of the happiest moments of my life, one I remain guilty for cherishing, why, I’m still not sure. Perhaps it’s because Kelly’s kids looked so despondent up there on stage during Rob’s concession speech. You can tell the little squirts had expected so much.

         That was Rob for you.

American Socialite Characters - Bo Bonaparte: The Renegade Son

The man himself.

One of the more interesting things about writing American Socialite was discovering the paradoxes that surrounded Betsy Bonaparte. Both in the historical record and in the pages of my novel, Betsy often comes across as a walking contradiction. For instance, her husband Jerome abandons her and her  son because she's not royalty, yet she goes on to insist later in the book that her son only marry a member of royalty himself. When her son, named Bo, decides to marry a commoner instead, Betsy's entire world falls apart on her. For Betsy, whatever her charms and fine qualities might be, simply cannot see beyond the expectations she has set for herself and others.

 Bo, on the other hand, doesn't long for what Betsy does. A royal marriage simply isn't something that interests him, at least not enough to keep him from marrying Baltimore heiress Susan May Williams. Although being an heiress might not be enough for Betsy, Bo wants the person he wants, regardless of social stature. Not that it's easy to for him to arrive at that conclusion. Betsy isn't the sort of person you want to cross. This is particularly true if you are her own offspring. Still, Bo decides, underhandedly at first, to choose his own path. 

 This ends up being the final blow for Betsy in the novel. First her husband abandoned her, now her son has disappointed her. She lives a life of elegance, luxury, and prestige, and associates with royalty,  intellectuals, and the great movers and shakers of her day, but her world has crumbled around her. Bo's decision to marry the woman he loves rather than someone his mother might approve of triggers in Betsy a long decline which ultimately leads to the realization that her expectations are no longer worth being enslaved to. Not that Bo is an angel throughout the proceedings. He shamefully keeps Betsy in the dark about his marriage, then has to be convinced to reach out to her by his wife - the same wife who Betsy has rejected.

 What's striking to me about both the real and fictional Bo is the fact that he's not a bad person. In fact, he's a refreshingly independent person. Even his unwillingness to confront his mother head on comes from a place of fearfulness rather than a place of genuine disrespect. Betsy is formidable in her quest to see her expectations come to fruition. She is, ironically enough, as rigid in her expectations as Napoleon, the man who caused her marriage to evaporate, was. Little wonder Bo is hesitant to challenge Betsy's expectations in an upfront manner. The fact that he gets around to doing the right thing - albeit belatedly - tells the reader something about the man's character. 

To buy American Socialite, simply click on the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/American-Socialite-Sean-Crose/dp/B08C8RW7N4