Not a reverie

"The fact is, if I were certain of anything, I would be inclined toward Manicheism," said Des Hermies. "It's one of the oldest and it is the simplest of religions, and it best explains the abominable mess everything is in at the present time. The Principle of Good and the Principle of Evil, the God of Light and the God of Darkness, two rivals, are fighting for our souls. That's at least clear. Right now it is evident that the Evil God has the upper hand and is reigning over the world as master."

~ J. K. Huysmans, La-Bas

This novel, the title of which is variously translated, in an effort to overcome the untranslatable (I simply consider it "The Depth"), is one of the finest expressions of spiritual struggle ever put to paper. If a novel can have a thesis, I would say that the thesis of La-Bas is: Those who long for the spiritual heights of blessedness, when frustrated in their quest, will seek the shorter, easier road of damnation. Indeed, the intellectual centerpiece of this work is the life and trial of the fifteenth-century Satanist and violator of children Gilles de Rais, who has never (in my opinion) received a better analysis than that provided by Huysmans, through his fictional mouthpiece Durtal.

It is a habit of religionists or "spiritual" people (of whatever stripe) to praise the Deity for every good thing that befalls them (without ever considering their own role in their own good fortune) and to exonerate the same Deity for every bad thing ... God always comes out smelling like a rose. Of course, there are more intelligent notions of the divinity, which allow for a multitude of divine manifestations (not all of which are beneficent) and see life as a struggle between several opposing forces -- some of which (usually the bad) require placating. But I ask: Why invoke Deity at all? Is it not enough to know that we exist in a hostile environment? That our efforts make little headway towards the utopia that we envision in our wild, ethically-centered dreams?

Perhaps the best we can do is throw up our hands and repair to a bell-tower, high above the stinking vapors of a degenerate society. Perhaps we should all just snuff it, and settle the question of an afterlife when we meet (tautologically) in the afterlife. Better yet, let's do as Baudelaire counseled, and just get drunk.