LOC for Wild Ideas #22

The following is a letter of comment sent to Henry Grynnsten, editor of Wild Ideas, commenting on #22.

Dear Mr. Grynnsten:

Wild Ideas #22 was my first exposure to your personal essay-driven fanzine, and I was so inspired by your approach that I am writing a letter of comment. I thank Bill Burns for including it in eFanzines; Wild Ideas isn’t quite like any other fanzine—perzine or genzine—I’ve ever encountered but is fandom-adjacent and focusing on fannish themes enough that it’s an awesome companion to other fannish fare.

Immediately, I was struck by the cover. Initially seen as an abstract line drawing in which the inked hash marks provide the overall hue, it took me a moment to see through or beneath the inking to discern the text beneath. A wonderful effect, and one I might try my hand at in the future. After eating an early afternoon lunch of salad made with cabbage, cherry tomatoes, walnuts, and apples—accompanied by Triscuit crackers—the subtly square-shaped patches also make me picture Triscuits now, as well. I am sure that was unintended. Regardless: Triscuits!

Once past the cover, I misread the issue listing at the bottom of page 1 as pieces or sections and page numbers in thish, so I was concerned that my downloaded nine-page PDF was incomplete. In fact, I had almost reached the end of the ish when I realized that it had been an issue listing—and I had to turn back to confirm. The range of topics addressed over time is diverse and intriguing—and makes me wonder what inspires you to pick a given issue’s theme. Do you maintain a running list? Are they based on connections you make in various books or articles you read, movies you see? Is Wild Ideas intertextual mortar for your House of Ideas? I shall have to seek out back issues—as well as forthcoming issues—to further explore your thought process, interests, and ideas.

In thish, which focuses on strangers, there is so much to explore, learn more about, ponder, and process. Whether you’re commenting on the concept of the noble savage, the Piraha, the Korowai, the Mashco-Piro, the Ashaninka, the Finnish, or the Swedes, several themes arise. (And you offer much more food for thought than that provided by my previous exposure to the concept of indigenous people yet to encounter surrounding civilization: The Gods Must Be Crazy.)

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my brief sojourn into considering whether there is a natural state for mankind generally; the purpose of life and time; the causes of happiness; who we’d be, how we’d be, and what we’d do were it not for the workaday responsibilities and dross of our current civilization and society; and the very selves we bring each other upon First Contact, even if with a similarly civilized other. “‘Is it because us foreigners are here that you’re not wearing clothes?’” “Busted!” 

Not only do we make assumptions and presumptions about others based on our own backgrounds and experiences, we bring a different self to the people we meet and interact with—based on our assumptions and presumptions about them and who we might need to be for and with them. In addition, we make those assumptions and presumptions based on whatever limited set of the Other we’ve already encountered. For example, recently online, I watched a brief video of a standup comedian who described her limited exposure to Jewish people growing up—and her resulting misled expectation once she was in college, based on a single Jewish classmate, that all Jews liked guacamole.

We also bring a different self to the people we meet and interact with based on why we’re engaging. You raise the example of our vacation selves: We’re among people we don’t know and might be uncertain about, we’re looking for fun, and we have money to spend. Even in the civilized everyday world, we bring a different self to our families, neighbors, fellow pedestrians or drivers, coworkers, merchants, friends, and fellow fans. We are different online than we are offline. I am different writing a letter than I am an email. We are more or less relaxed based on the reason for being together. We are more or less self-centered. We are more or less transactional. Rarely do we—or are we able to—bring the same self to everyone we interact with throughout our daily lives.

In the end, we only know those whom we’ve met, and they only know the self we’ve presented them, consciously or unconsciously. If I’m always stressed out when I spend time with you, you’re likely to think that I’m always stressed out. And if I only know one Jewish person, and they like guacamole, maybe guac is a Jewish preference and not a personal preference.

Thank you for the ideas and information in Wild Ideas. I look forward to future issues.