So I finished Without a Net, despite wanting to savor and write about each individual piece. I couldn't help it, though - each piece was so savory and compelling that couldn't stop. I've had experiences like that before, but those were more about a kind of guilty masochism than about wanting to share in the triumphs and the shit in each story. I found myself wanting to cheer these writers on, particularly the ones who wrote about never thinking they could be writers.
No guilt in reading these, even though I read through anger and rage and horrendous injustice. Amazing. When did that come in?
Remember what Tyllman said about guilt and his Nazi grandfather. He doesn't do work with Jewish groups who come visit Auschwitz because he feels guilty; he feels obligated to work for a future of peace, and solidarity and understanding.
I wonder if it's hard for him. I wonder if he ever has rage directed at him. It's not the same, not at all. He doesn't get privilege for being connected to Nazis. But he does for being a goy. I wonder what he thinks, and how he deals with it.
Tyllman talking to me about guilt started me on something productive; at the very least, it taught me how stupid it is to be so paralyzed by guilt. Paralysis won't help the movement; they're at odds with each other. So why is it so hard to talk to Devi?
Goal: talk to him before he leaves. Whenever that is.
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