I recently finished Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann. It is a remarkable story of suffering and community and chance. We find the various characters all connected to a singular event that is rather insignificant to the daily lives of the people of the story but instead marks a turning point in the lives of each of them. I found it to be a wonderful book that is so deeply invested in the despair of its characters yet provides a sliver of hope for each of them. After the end of the narrative, there are a few extra pages of acknowledgements and interviews from the author. I decided to read all the way through and found that it offered great intellectual insight. One of these interviews was a conversation between McCann and Nathan Englander. Some of the questions and answers impacted me dearly. Englander asks a question about a couple of the characters holding onto hope all the way to the end despite the mess of their situations. He asks whether their personal beliefs allow them to convince themselves that having hope is enough to inspire the world around them. McCann replies, introspectively, with this:

“It’s strange but as I grow older, I find myself developing more optimism. I keep inching toward the point where I believe that it’s more difficult to have hope than it is to embrace cynicism. In the deep dark end, there’s no point unless we have at least a modicum of hope. We trawl our way through the darkness hoping to find a pinpoint of light. But isn’t it remarkable that the cynics of the world—the politicians, the corporations, the squinty-eyed critics—seem to think that they have a claim on intelligence? They seem to think that it’s cooler, more intellectually engaging, to be miserable, that there’s some moral heft in cynicism. But I think a good novel can be a doorstep to despair. I also think that the real bravery comes with those who are prepared to go through that door and look at the world in all its grime and torment, and still find something of value, no matter how small.”

-Colum McCann from the Reader’s Guide in Let The Great World Spin

*Let The Great World Spin* won the 2009 National Book Award for Fiction

I had noticed that as I went through college, I found myself (and my peers) becoming more and more attuned at finding the dread and misery in everything under the sun. Maybe the pandemic was the final nail in the coffin, or the various election cycles, or the extreme weather patterns that affected much of where I was living during these years. You could rarely go ten minutes without finding something to complain or groan about, and I considered myself as someone who was very passive and go-with-the-flow. Attitudes are everything. Rarely are we introspective enough to understand that maybe the thing that is making us feel horrible could actually be our own cynicism. Some situations we find ourselves in are certainly terrible and can suck the joy out of our lives and that is okay. But to be able to find a seed of hope and anticipation of good can make a world of difference in how we ultimately feel at the end of the day. It can get better. It has gotten better for me when I thought there was nothing good that could come from it. I have regrets about many things and that is okay too. But I have also learned that holding onto regrets prevents growth and happiness. Regrets feel cynical. It feels like an attempt at rationalizing how we got to this point. It feels pseudo-intellectual.

I still struggle with cynicism. I am prone to feeling dread about the world and our politicians and the ever-growing radical nationalism springing up in our society. I struggle with the daunting thoughts of providing in the future with our fluctuating economy and opportunities. I feel dread about war and global suffering. And it might feel correct to be cynical about it all. There is no hope or salvation from this world. Yet what good does that do for anyone? What does that say my thoughts are on the competency of my friends and family? What does that say about how I feel about those doing actual good in this world? It discredits them. It is unfair. Cynicism isn’t wisdom. It is a lazy way to try and rationalize the evil in this world. We make ourselves feel smart by pointing out the obvious and refusing to do anything about it in fear of failure and feeling less than what we thought we were.

When I was a kid and my dad would take me to downtown Houston to see an Astros or Rockets game, we would almost certainly cross paths with those who were homeless. Every now and then, one would ask my dad for money and each time my dad ignored them and kept walking. One day I asked him why he responds the way he does. He essentially boiled it down to “many of those people have mental or drug issues and I don’t want to contribute to that”. My dad is a good man. He is a kind and loving person. But he is cynical in these situations. Cynicism is not personal. It does not connect individually. It is an imperial decree. Sure, he might be correct in that there are drug and mental issues that plague those who do not have homes. But to ignore them and chalk it up to a generalization doesn’t help anyone. I was a kid and even then it never sat right with me. As I got older, I felt myself starting to think the way he does. Because it is easy. There’s no risk. There is no chance of being fooled or taken advantage of. And there is no hope for anyone.

In The Polar Express (2004) by Robert Zemeckis, we see the doubt of the existence of Santa Claus slowly turn into cynicism for Christmas itself. At the height of the protagonist’s struggle with doubt on top of the moving train, he meets the “hobo” sitting and singing by a campfire. The “hobo” asks the boy if he believes in “the big man” but already understands the conflict within the boy. He explains to the kid what the kid already knows himself in that he wants to believe but that he doesn’t want to be “led astray”, “conned”, or “bamboozled”. He explains that is easier to not believe at all than to believe and be disappointed. In a nutshell, this is cynicism at its very core. To hold on to nothing at all is easier than holding on to something dearly just for it to dissolve.

Cynicism is a fifty-story house. You move in and you are surrounded by so many people who think the way you do and pay the same bills and sing the same songs and watch the same movies. They eat the same food and drink the same wines and play the same games and root for the same teams. It feels like home. It is an illusion of comfort. You won’t ever feel threatened as you are guarded by negativity. But it is so unproductive. Nothing good ever gets finished. A suggestion of an action that could help resolve a situation is met with a chorus of doubt and fear that it wouldn’t work anyways. “It would waste resources and energy if it doesn’t work, so let’s not even try.”

And that is why I’m working on moving out of the house of cynicism. I must hold on to something other than negativity. Truly, what is the point if we don’t have something to look forward to? What is left if no one is grasping at hope? I have to say, it is a lot easier than it seems. Look around. There is so much this world has to offer and there are so many good people already doing it. Be present. Do good. Love life.

Moving Away From Cynicism

Rialto At Ten