I’m going to do something today I haven’t really done in my blog despite it being a passion of mine, and examine an episode of television. In this case it’s the disturbing “24/7” episode of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. Spoilers and dark subject matter ahead.
John is a sorcerer of a sort who believes lying is wrong and the truth will set us free, a great example of the path to evil being paved with good intentions. His greatest flaw is perceiving himself as the final arbitrator of the truth despite being emotionally scarred and not altogether sane. He alters a magic ruby stolen from Morpheus (a personification of dreams) to enforce honesty. Just as John has perverted the original intent of the ruby, he perverts the truth. What follows is, shall we say, a slight overreaction as people in a diner learn the truth about themselves and each other in the worst possible ways. The episode ends in an absolute bloodbath.
For some viewers – and readers, as the show is based on comics – the takeaway is “lying is good, actually”. It’s an oversimplification to the point of being, well, a lie. Perhaps the carnage at the end of the episode made people forget a key detail revealed early on. Some, if not most, of the characters are completely miserable because they are dying the slower, less bloody death of living a lie. Many truths needed to come out for them to have any chance of happiness, just not in the artificial way it happened. The characters are confined to the diner with no means to remove themselves from the situation. That alone twists the outcome.
Apart from John, a central figure is the waitress Bette. She is a single mother whose adult son still lives with her. Bette writes romance stories with happy endings, and tries to recreate happy endings in the “real world” by interfering with the lives of others. She doesn’t know the cook Marsh only comes over for dinner to see her adult son because he is living a lie himself. Then there’s the obviously unhappy married couple Bette set up years ago, Kate and Garry. Watching the passive aggressive battle as Garry tries to order himself a decent meal for their anniversary is almost as painful as any of the violence to come. They don’t need John and his ruby, but they totally need therapy, and probably a divorce. Jude is having trouble with her girlfriend, and Bette wants to set her up with men instead. And Mark seemed fine, if naive and untested, before he picked the wrong day to come to this particular diner.
Long story short, Marsh comes clean with Bette. Garry cheats on Kate with Marsh (not out of character for Garry). Kate cheats on Garry with Mark (probably not out of character for Kate, either). Even Bette and Jude get involved, which felt out of character for Bette – and suggests John is bending the truth because he wants Bette to have a taste of her own medicine or he shares her enjoyment of crafting a tidy narrative, or maybe he’s just a dude duding. Then Garry tries to kill Mark, Mark kills Garry in self defense, and everyone gives themselves fatal self-injuries. It’s a lot. And speaks more to the unnatural circumstances than provides any sort of defense for lying.
The topic of white lies comes up in many discussions of the episode, and, yes, white lies are often defensible. There’s a great story in which lies scar people and we find out a man is riddled with scars because he comforts the dying in their final moments. Then there’s the harsh truths we find more tactful ways to express (not lying at all because honesty does not demand brutality) or those we withhold because they don’t pass the T.H.I.N.K. test (true, but not helpful, intelligent, necessary, or kind.)
Someone brought up an innocent example I think deserves further exploration. They mentioned how kids don’t need their fridge art ridiculed, and that’s true. They don’t. But kids don’t need hollow praise, either, and most eventually see through it. When a child comes to you with their art, ask them to tell you about it. It conveys an interest and gives them a chance to share even more of themselves with you, which is really the point, isn’t it?
Plus it spares you the awkward moment of finding out that “cute doggy” was really intended as a portrait of you so only one of you walks away from the conversation offended. As the artist talks, shake off any hurt feelings, look at their work – really look at it – and give specific feedback like “I really like the colors you chose” or “Wow, you put a lot of detail into the facial expression”. You don’t have to lie at all. It’s about communication.
That’s what was really absent in the episode: communication. Everybody was talking at not to each other, and nobody was listening. When the truth came out – which it often does without the aid of ruby-wielding sorcerers – it had devastating consequences.
My take-away?
Try to be honest with yourself and others before you lose control of a situation.
