Dystopian Catharsis

Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash

Do these stories feed us or placate us?

When I read The Hunger Games, for a moment I had hopes that our children where angry. Angry enough to realize what was happening around them. To realize what it meant. Perhaps it’s a quiet revolt stewing in places I don’t see.

Writers and actors want these stories to change us. I commend their bravery to speak out loud, to fight the ancient Leave-It-To-Beaver guard, to try and spark some form of action.

But I fear catharsis.

By the time one hour is up, my anger, fear, desire to act has been purged and released with the scrolling of credits. I know how fiction makes me feel. This feeling has to be because of the show I watched last night. Not because I’m urged to change my world.

What happens when the world isn’t stranger than fiction?

This post was originally published on one of my old blogs. I backdated this to the original publish date.