I finished my capstone project for my literature class. I count myself blessed for being a part of a literature class that let me interpret the curriculum into a work of fiction. الحمد لله I am almost as pleased with the work as I am with the formatting. It's called "The Lost Works of Solomon Strangelove." It's all made up.
I transposed the stereotypical Islamofascist onto an inquisition style catholic framework to cook up a make believe ultra conservative religion and I gave them oodles of untapped resources. I made up a country run by industry and technology and let them verge on civil war as they run out of resources. I put them on continents on opposite sides of the same globe and pitted them against each other. The high-tech invading the low-tech. I imagined a journalist put in the middle of everything and wrote a story from his perspective. Something like a collection of unpublished essays, articles and notes.
We started the class reading "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and a comparison to Barack Obama's Inaugeration Address. We then proceeded to read "Night" by Elie Wiesel, "Maus I: My Father Bleeds History" by Art Spiegelman, "Hiroshima" by John Hersey, "A Balcony Over the Fakihani" by Liyana Badr and "Unbowed" by Wangari Maathai. Solomon Strangelove's journey takes him through my personal journey via the assigned reading.
"The Lost Documents" contains five chapters. The first chapter is an unpublished interview with a jailed civil activist and advocate for change. It sets the stage for the coming conflict and paints a dismal picture of home. The second chapter in, Solomon gives us his immediate reflections on and experience in The Promised Land; short on options, too many problems. Chapter three is about a sandstorm and a struggle. Chapter four skips almost five years ahead, brings sweeping destruction and changes the game. While chapter five reveals the truth, Solomon sees the fraying at the edge.
If I have succeeded, the story continues long after "The Lost Documents" ends.
This semester was a journey for me and this class played a big role in my thoughts. I was constantly rushing through the story. It wound up with so much going on that I found myself rushing through, and glossing over much of the detail. At times it might really read like notes. Each sentence like a snapshot. إن شاء الله I am proud of it, though I will never feel like my work is done.
I would like to flesh these vignettes out into a real novel. I've always wanted to create a world and this one is generic enough that the options are really limitless.
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