“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”— Frank Herbert Beginning. Middle. Ending. In Read More
While Father Hartley’s original and primary focus was on evangelism, over his first few years in the DR, he began to see that evangelism and social activism could not be separated. To teach his parishioners that they were beloved children of God, created in God’s image, without advocating for their full personhood politically, their full human rights, was not possible. And so along with celebrating mass every day, baptizing and catechizing, and building a church, the father also sought to provide food, education, and medical care. He worked closely with Noemí Méndez, a lawyer who spent her early life in the bateyes, to attempt to bring legal justice to the stateless Haitians. The powerful plantation owners . . . pretended to cooperate, but ultimately ended up blocking the priest at every turn, leading the calls for him to leave the country.
Is Borne, then, meant like other post-apocalypse scenarios to function as a kind of warning, and if so, why is the warning never made explicit? Much of the story, like the gigantic flying bear, seems to be edging towards myth, with no rational explanation. Should we take it perhaps as an allegory, prompted by remarks which seem more powerful, more generally applicable, than is demanded by their context? Some people in the city think they have died already and are in Purgatory or Hell, being punished. “We cared,” says Rachel at one point, confessing a collective guilt, “but we didn’t do.”