Talking Tuesday: The Fiery Cross: Risk and Promise

I am deeply interested in art that speaks to the reality of the human condition.  I am drawn to movies and television shows that explore this as an underlying theme, and the books and musical albums that resonate most strongly with me are studies in humanity--the dark places we all inhabit at times, as well as the sunny places of light and goodness that can shine through terrible circumstances.

I am interested in actors who take on these sorts of projects and really dive deep into that exploration. I am fascinated just watching them unfold a character, a slow layer at a time.  (Richard Armitage, Michael Fassbender, Tobias Menzies, Sam Heughan, Ralph Fiennes, Cillian Murphy, Ioan Gruffud,  Rooney Mara, Nicole Kidman, Ewan McGregor, Tilda Swinton, Henry Cavill, Damian Lewis, Claire Danes, Eddie Redmayne, Idris Elba, Dominic Cooper, Romola Garai, Daniel Day-Lewis, Sarah Smart, Andrea Riseborough, James Spader, and Kenneth Branagh spring immediately to mind)

It is why I like Steve McQueen's movies (no, not that McQueen), even though they are hard to watch at times.  It was what I liked about the early seasons of Grey's Anatomy (before it went off the rails somewhere around season six)  I remember reading an interview with Michael Fassbender a few years ago, and he said that one of the things he liked about working with McQueen was his ability to ask, through a movie, "What are we doing here? Where are we going as people?  What are we doing to one another to get there?"  Ron Moore asks similar questions in the Starz production of Outlander.  So does The Americans. These are deeply fascinating questions to me.   My favorite musicians tend to explore these things through their songwriting.  Sting's latest album, The Last Ship, is a deep row through the waters of his childhood; in it, he discusses the loss of the ship building business in the north of England and what that did to the social fabric of life where he grew up.  It is an album that leaves one with much to ponder.

I hesitated a long time over posting today's selection because I try to avoid posting about certain topics, and yet, they are part of the experience of being human, and of human relationships--most particularly of a marriage relationship. So I'm going to take a deep breath and hit publish. *ducks and hides*

There is so much in Diana Gabaldon's books that illustrates the truth in the human condition.  I think it is why I come back to them year after year, and always find something new that speaks to me.  I'm re-reading the series again, and am up to The Fiery Cross (Book Five).  I post the following without commentary or context.  I edited the passage slightly.

   "Ye didna bring any with you," he said.  "When ye came back." 

[ . . . ]

   

   "No, " I said, a little faintly.

He paused a moment [. . .]

   "Why not?" he asked quietly.

   "I...well, I...I actually--I thought--you have to keep taking them.  I couldn't have brought enough. There's a permanent way, a small operation. It's fairly simple, and it makes one permanently...barren."  I swallowed.  Viewing the prospect of coming back to the past, I had in fact thought seriously about the possibilities of pregnancy--and the risks.  I thought the possibility very low indeed, given both my age and previous history, but the risk...

   Jamie stood stock-still, looking down.

   "For God's sake, Claire," he said at last, low-voiced. "Tell me ye did it." 

I took a deep breath, and squeezed his hand, my fingers slipping a little.

   "Jamie," I said softly, "if I'd done it, I would have told you."  I swallowed again.  "You...would have wanted me to?"  He was still holding my hand. [. . .] His skin was warm on mine.  We stood close together [. . .] for several minutes.  He sighed then, chest rising under my ear.

   

   "I've bairns enough," he said quietly.  "I've only the one life--and that's you, mo chridhe." I reached up and touched his face.  It was furrowed with tiredness, rough with whiskers; he hadn't shaved in days. 

   I had thought about it.  And had come very close indeed to asking a surgeon friend to perform the sterilization for me.  Cold blood and clear head had argued for it; no sense in taking chances.  And yet...there was no guarantee that I would survive the journey, would reach the right time or place, would find him again.  Still less, a chance that I might conceive again at my age.

  And yet, gone from him so long, not knowing if I might find him--I could not bring myself to destroy any possibility between us.  I did not want another child.  But if I found him, and he should want it...then I would risk it for him.

   [. . .] Our lovemaking was always risk and promise--for if he held my life in his hands when he lay with me, I held his soul and knew it.

~Diana Gabaldon, The Fiery Cross, New York: Delacorte Press, 2001, pp 183-184.