“Economic Possibilities for Our Grandchildren”—and this is what I wish to speak about today. About optimism and pragmatism, about reality and storytelling, about being “right” versus being “useful,” and what all these things have to do with how we think and talk in our own day and age.
You may have no interest in economics, although, if you are saving or spending your income, breathing the air for that matter or eating the food you buy or cook, [you get the point] you exist within an economic framework. So, whether you were obligated to take micro or macro-economics in school and whether or not you’ve heard of John Maynard Keynes, the father of modern economic theory, you may think you have no interest, and thus no interest in this novel. However, THE GUEST LECTURE is far more than a treatise on the subject, and far more fascinating than you might imagine.
…by a twist of fate, you had the chance to prove to yourself that you were, in fact, the person you’d always planned and hoped to be. You would write a book. You would put yourself, your thoughts, into the world in the form of a professionally printed, purchasable, publicly available book. You would frame it as a response to one of your favorite essays, ‘Economic Possibilities for Our Grandchildren.’
Although a work of fiction, author Martin Riker’s narrative bears no similarity to a traditional novel – very few characters, no clear plot, subplot[s] or scenes, or layers. Rather the philosophical and introspective [and anxiety ridden] rumination of a tenure track professor the night before she delivers a lecture at a symposium, for which she has not fully prepared and in which Keynes features prominently.
I actually do need to practice, though. And I do not want to think about anything related to politics, or income inequality, climate catastrophe, nothing to do with my house, my family, my utterly devastated career prospects, or anything at all like that. How the future keeps promising horrific possibilities.
Between the lines, Abigail reckons with the fact that she has not written the book she was meant to write and thus has been denied tenure. [Not to mention the misogyny of academia.] Her husband and daughter sleep peacefully in their hotel bed while she frets over the pending lecture and her future – she is the breadwinner. Thus, she approaches the lecture with a particularly low self-image and a profound sense of personal and professional doom.
Because caring about the right things isn’t a recipe for success. In fact, one’s own success is not typically considered one of the right things to care about. “She cared about the right things,” the epitaph will read, “and yet she also cared about success. More than her husband did, anyway. He cared about the right things to a fault.” Acoustical, also loving. “She married a man who cared about the right things, and she loved him and respected him and also found him a little disappointing. It is a little disappointing to care about only the right things.” I will need a huge tombstone for all of this.
Keynes shows up, so to speak, as both muse and antagonist, with his kind eyes, horsey features, white push-broom mustache… and Abigail shares tidbits and trivia surrounding his groundbreaking work in the early 20th century. A complex and multi-faceted man, Keynes, I learned, was housemates with Virginia Woolf and at one point collaborated on a venture with her husband, Leonard.
They were friends and she at some point claimed to be jealous that he could do what she did—write beautifully—but she couldn’t do what he did—economics, politics.
Through the long night, Abigail wanders the recesses of her past, frets about her future, and also considers economic theory. Her interaction with the specter of Keynes is sometimes humorous, often enlightening. Will she give the lecture she means to give? Does it matter? Read this unusual work of fiction to find out.