A Season of Farewell’s

Have you noticed how death seems to travel in a pack? A woman dies, and shortly after her husband follows. This season seems to be host to a domino of deaths. I am referring not to the deaths of people (but I guess that this is also the case), but to the deaths of entire universe's. i.e. universe's of fiction.

The death of fictitious universe's is a given. None are immortal; not even the seemingly omni-present Bold & Beautiful. The actors gray, the actors sag, and soon none of the original cast will be left. Their themes lose their appeal, their cinematics disappoint, and newer shows eclipse the old. If it were not for its unbelievably low production cost, B&B would have been scrapped ages ago. How I look forward to the time when Saturday morning TV will not be consumed by this mindless, illogical, and repetitive drama.

What I mourn for today is the death of so many series which I have befriended. Characters in one-off books or even trilogies are never able to create the same kind of kinship as books/TV series we have seemingly aged with. (I guess this is part of the lure of B&B). If an entire series were published (or made available) at the same time, the series would simply amass to a long story rather than an extensive adventure. The waiting between installments allows books to become a part of us; they become old friends rather than just “some long book we read some time ago”.

A truly great book should be read in youth,
again in maturity and once more in old age,
as a fine building should be seen by morning light,
at noon and by moonlight.
- Robertson Davies

Even better if we are able to continue the journey in maturity and old age rather than trying to relive the experiences of youth.

The waiting process involved between TV series works similarly in creating a form of kinship – but whether to a lesser or greater degree I shall not generalize.

Some might find me rather loony to mourn the deaths of fictitious universe's while the real world is so full of suffering; why mourn the deaths of imaginary people when real people go unmourned? While the real world is undeniably important and hence warrants no farther argument, the fictitious is also of great utility. Fiction paints for us a world as how it could be, or should be; fanciful it is conceded, but what are we without our dreams, hopes & aspirations. Fiction helps us explore ideas unbound by the retraints of this world. Fiction teaches us to dream, and with our dreams, strive to attain new heights and be the best we can be. Fiction is an unbiased teacher, mentor and guide. Without fiction, none of us would be who we are, and none of us will become who we could be.

Today I mourn the death of yet another great teacher.