When I saw this month’s topic was “favorite comfort reads” all I felt was distress. My world is nothing but stress right now. I grew up in a country that, while not perfect, seemed to want to do better. So I was encouraged and hopeful and optimistic. I loved reading lighthearted romances and when I wrote, a happily ever after, or at least for now, came naturally to my books.
Then disasters descended around me. When I looked around a few years ago and that desire to do better became scarce. Maybe it was Covid, maybe MAGA, certainly social media and the search for “likes” amid the direction of the algorithm provided coals to the fire. Certainly the growth in book banning slapped me in the face, along with learning that one of the books I wrote, Courage, is one of many used to train AI bots. BTW, Thank you, Author’s Guild for fighting this.
Add in a few personal health issues, and now money issues from this insane trade war the president ignited, and comfort began to feel impossible. Darn it, I had been planning to attend the 2025 Romance Writers of Amereica conference in Niagra Falls, Ontario as an excuse to visit Canada again. Now I don't think the country will be very welcoming.
There I was, feeling there was no comfort for me to write about this month. Then, while I was listening to the radio (yeah, some of us dinosaurs still care about radio) an old song came on.
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine by R.E.M. - Composers: Bill Berry, Mike Mills, Michael Stipe, Peter Buck
I instantly felt better after hearing it. The song fit me, came pretty much as close to real comfort as possible. The words are an incredibly prophetic downer, but the music and tone are upbeat and energetic. That song, those lyrics, that beat almost made me welcome the end of the world I knew. I had to ask myself, why would such a total downer lift my spirits? Maybe its just the kind of person I am. I remember my sister died of a lingering illness in 1997, the same year the movie Titanic came out. I went to the theaters more times than I could count, just to watch that boat sink. I knew exactly the right time to walk in to watch the frantic passengers racing back and forth while musicians played to keep their own spirits up. The mother who realizec there was no escape, and read a story to her children to keep them as calm as possible. The elderly couple lying in bed, clinging to each other as the water rose. And the hundreds of people who went down with the ship, to freeze or drown or both. I'm sorry to be morbid, but at that time, watching hundreds of people die somehow helped me deal with the loss of my sister. And once the boat went down, I got up and left the theater.
Anyway, fast forward from 1997 to 2025. The R.E.M. song led me to think of dystopian and disaster stories. It was just in time for me to get my hands on the newest Hunger Games book, Sunrise on the Reaping. There isn't too much I can say, the book is still very new. On the other hand, there aren't a lot of spoilers, not if you've read the other books. Two things went through my mind as I started chapter one. First, I already know what was going to happen. There is no happy ending in this book. If you know about the world of Panem and the Hunger Games, you know on page one that a lot of people, mostly kids, are going to die in some horrible ways in a so-called game. That Haymitch Abernathy, the sixteen-year-old sole survivor of the game will be so traumatized he will become an unloved, alcoholic hermit in District 12 for the next twenty-five years.
