The Allure of Absolutes and Escapism

I didn't sleep much during the summer of 1986. I was ten years old and had just watched Red Dawn over at my friend Katie's house. I wouldn't recommend that for anyone. I slept in the basement that summer, while my parents had an addition put on the house, and could only fall asleep on my stomach, with my legs bent up at the knee, ready to kick the sheets off in case of nuclear war (painfully illogical, I know). I was convinced, probably rightly, that my house's proximity to NSA and Washington would make it a prime target for any nuclear attack on US soil. So I didn't sleep and I remember well how nervous I was that summer.

A few years later, the fall of the Berlin Wall had a similarly strong effect on me, leading me to my college major, among other things. But it didn't make me forget how afraid I was of "the Russians" when I was ten.

But by the end of this John Updike review of Robert Littell's Legends, I found myself longing, just a little bit, for the simplicity of the Cold War conflict. The comfort that comes from understanding your enemy's motivations, from knowing that they're ideological at the core. And from believing that you can relate to your enemy on a human level.

(My seventh-grade social studies teacher, the extremely creepy and diminutive Mr. Ciurca, was a little obsessed with the USSR...and forced our class to memorize the words to Sting's Russians to help us understand the enemy or something like that. So, of course I still know all the words. Kind of a waste of memory.)

There's something very romantic about past conflict, too, especially when it's been more or less cleanly resoved. Reagan's death last year added an even softer glow to the whole deal, as his former detractors turned into fans. Layer that on top of a murky, confusing current international political situation, with an enemy that is mysterious (and not in a good, romance novel sort of way) and the Cold War should probably expect to soon enjoy the Best Year Ever in terms of mass market lit and movies.

For the most part, I wouldn't mind that. After reading Updike's review, I thought I just might read the book (maybe). And that I will almost definitely get more into the international thriller genre (already one of my favorite types of movies).

I am a little concerned, though, that by embracing the entertainment aspect of the Cold War, I'll somehow be doing a disservice to the memory of my ten-year-old self (I really can't emphasize enough how much that movie - and that summer in general - shook me up). I guess that's why people have therapists, though...