Creating Frankfurts

Aaahh…

Oh, that’s just me sighing. A good sigh, not a bad sigh as I’ve just come back from a holiday! Yay! 

Aren’t they just the best thing for lifting the spirits, rejuvenating the mind, soothing the soul, refreshing the senses and invigorating the ikies? You know what I mean. It’s that icky feeling you get in winter; when you’ve been spending too much time inside, bundled up in thermals and growing layers of skin that seem flakier by the day. I know, it’s disgusting. Fresh air usually does the trick though, even if it’s close to freezing as it just makes the warmth feel even cosier.

So what could I possibly be worrying, doubting or obsessing about? I know it seems impossible, but even in the most idyllic locations, in the supreme of relaxed settings, in the utopia of utopia—I always manage to find something. You see, I have noticed lately that the world is going a bit crazy. Oh, I’m sure this isn’t an unusual observation; but what I started worrying about was the future of creative professions like music, writing, art, theatre, ballet...and so on and so forth.

Pretty massive huh? Like staring into a crater, standing on a precipice, abseiling into a dam—by the way, this was on the cards for our holiday (not  sure I could actually do that though as I’m a bit scared of heights!).

Fortunately, I took Agatha away with me. She goes with me everywhere and we had some really lovely scones and rose infused earl-grey tea at the Possum Cafe. It was a new flavour for both of us, I’m not sure she enjoyed it especially; but she did delight in the clotted cream.

Anyway, throughout the course of our holiday, Agatha was a silent witness to many of our conversations. Listening, observing and taking notes, in her own ingenious way. When I opened my book—Passenger to Frankfurt—on our second evening, a particula passage jumped out. It’s a book I’d never read before and by the time it was published by 1970, she must have seen and thought about so many things.

There is an introduction to the book—the Author Speaks—something I have never encountered before. In this, Agatha mentions the troubles of society and that ‘fear is awakening—fear of what may be...hi-jakcing of planes, kidnapping, violence, riots, hate, anarchy—all growing stronger.’

It is a fantastic book, but two things particularly gripped me right from the start. There is a musical reference—I won’t give it away—and the character of Lady Matilda—the protagonist’s Great Aunt. She notices that ‘things are in a mess. A rather bad mess...Something is going on—something is brewing. Not just in one country, but a lot of countries.’ 

At this moment, I sat upright, my eyes bulged widely and I blinked a few times too.

‘They’re not creative, that’s the trouble—only destructive. The creative write poems, write books, probably compose music, paint pictures, just as they always have done. They’ll be all right—but once people learn to love destruction for its own sake, evil leadership gets its chance.’

Wow! I thought. How poignant and we’d just been talking about that at dinner! I also couldn’t help thinking that there was a little bit of Agatha behind the character of Lady Matilda. In the final paragraphs, she goes on to say;

‘This story is in essence a fantasy. It pretends to be nothing more. But most of the things that happen in it are happening or giving promise of happening in the world of today. It is not an impossible story—it is only a fantastic one.’

Well. All I can conclude from Agatha’s words, is that fantasy is important. Not only does it allow us to escape, imagine a better world, or a more exciting adventure—it also holds up a mirror, and in some cases; a crystal ball. It’s almost as though she was, as always, helping me with my own question. It’s easy for the arts to be deemed ‘unessential’, but perhaps they are more than essential, and are in fact—existential? 

I’m sure Cher from Clueless would agree anyway. She might even say—they’re way existential.