This post was originally a response to someone quoting a few lines from one of my books (Impressing the Whites) without the larger context of the book itself and of my other work.
But it’s absurd for me to react to every such post. My books range from 60,000-125,000 words, and anyone may select a hundred or words and quote these for their purposes, without mentioning the broader context of my work (and perhaps I’ve done this myself, out of ignorance and for convenience), it’s neither feasible, nor my job to make clarifications or explanations; any reader who is deep enough will find the source and decide for themselves, and I am not out to persuade anyone to think one way or another. My job ends with the writing and publication of a book. If it provoked a few people to think, or even upset others–rather than boring them or leaving them indifferent–while giving expression to something I deeply felt at the time, the book has done its job.
True, I do sometimes reach out to my most passionate readers and–as the system suppresses writers like me and makes it hard for us to make a living–also sometimes reach out to potential philanthropists and patrons.
However, because there are issues I care about, I feel compelled to clarify that I am not a few lines from my books, or even any one book, but the sum of all my writings, especially my most authentic writings (the reading, and the next post partly, will tell you which these are)–and I am a living, growing, human being, constantly learning and seeing new angles to things.
My primary duty is to be true to myself as a writer, and my primary loyalty is to humanity: to all my nonviolent, non-fascist fellow human beings, regardless of color, origin, nationality, religion—and their right to freedom of thought and freedom from oppression. I think that at this moment in human history, nationalism and tribalism are outdated.
Having been a victim of fascism during an important period of my childhood—being forced to think and behave in a certain way, denied my rights of freedom and independence, denied access to ideas—I am now, thanks to my oppressors, a resolute anti-fascist.
I have no vested interest in any ideology; I follow the truth wherever it leads me, and consider myself free to discover and change my mind.
However, my books speak more eloquently and at greater depth of my long, rocky, and sometimes hilarious journey than I can in a short essay:
Google Play http://bit.ly/CrastaG
(Also at Kobo, Scribd, Barnes & Noble, etc.)
Also please look up the links to various platforms including to downloading books from this site.
Whenever I write something original, I risk being wrong; and I think, why be afraid to be wrong? Am I not human? Isn’t being wrong nearly half the time a definition of being human? Could I not say, with Walt Whitman, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then. I contradict myself” and “I contain multitudes”?
I think part of the problem is that I have much bigger story to tell, and I need time to write it down and tell it. When that story is told–either an autobiography or a fictionalized autobiography–then much more will be clear. But that time must be purchased with money–not a lot, but it’s what I presently lack. Anyway, I shall keep at it till I no longer can.