American Anarchist Page #8

---

I was confident.

There's a...

there's a kind of intoxication

that you come to

when you're writing

and you're writing

more and more forcefully.

The world is becoming

simpler and simpler.

You're reaching what strikes you

as powerful conclusions.

And they go to your head

and you come to believe

what you're writing

and there is a sort of a...

almost a snowball effect.

I suspect that

there may be a parallel

between...

the young people who hurt

and kill their classmates.

There may be a parallel

between the process

of that kind

of radicalization,

that kind of

distorted perception,

and the kind of process

that I went through

when writing the book.

And that may be

a useful parallel

in terms of learning

what might lead people

to cruel or lethal acts.

Was it realistic for me

at the time of writing the book

to think that

it wouldn't be used?

There's two answers to that.

One answer comes from

a 65-year-old and says,

"No, that's not reasonable."

The other answer comes

from a 19-year-old

who hadn't thought about it.

You refer to the

book as your constant companion.

What do you mean by that?

It's part of my history,

it's part of me.

I have to recognize

that it does exist

and it can't be

just dismissed.

I can't sort of say,

"Sorry. You know,

I did that when I was 19,

but that's in the past."

So, it is with me.

I had half of

my childhood in Britain,

half of my childhood

in the United States,

and now I feel equally

uncomfortable in both countries.

I think I am most comfortable

where I know

that I don't belong.

I stick out

like a sore thumb

and it's okay for me to be

the outsider looking in.

We first came to

this whole part of France

in the summer of '92.

Massat has a very,

very interesting history.

Kind of always been a village

at the end of the road.

People were perceived

as outsiders.

It's just so out of the way.

It's really remote.

After '68 and the failed

revolution in Paris,

many of the would-be

revolutionaries came to this area.

So, it's kind of

an interesting blend

of kind of aging hippies

and Massat peasants.

And we have nothing in common

with anybody else here.

So, we have to

import, um, company.

Does the privacy appeal to you?

- Sure. -I think it appeals

to Bill more than it appeals to me.

I think Ochan is

far more social than I am.

But I have your company.

Oh, I like yours.

It's an odd place,

but I also find it

a very welcoming place.

I wouldn't mind

living in the United States.

But maybe not yet.

What is that

like, to know that something

that you have put out

into the world,

you could be reading

about it tomorrow,

you could be reading

about it a year from now?

You know, we

talk about the cliche

of the skeleton

in the closet.

Well, my skeleton's

not in my closet.

My skeleton is in print.

There's two million copies

or whatever there.

It has been influential

in terrible...

massacres and murders

and killings...

um, and...

I live with that.

After "The Anarchist Cookbook,"

you wrote another book.

I've written a number of books,

but the book that came

immediately after

"The Anarchist Cookbook"

was a historical novel

entitled "The First Casualty."

It was the story

of the assassination

of Archduke Franz Ferdinand

in 1914.

It was the spark that

caused the First World War,

and it's told

from the point of view

of the assassin,

Gavrilo Princip.

What fascinated you about him?

He was a true believer.

"My country has been

stolen from me

and I'm a patriot.

I'm a freedom fighter."

He was an

impressionable adolescent.

He really literally

was a schoolboy.

He crafted an identity

for himself

and then acted

on that identity.

He had the courage

of his convictions,

as misguided as those may be,

and by accident

suddenly sets the world on fire.

It's almost like

that butterfly effect.

Tiny event here,

huge consequences

somewhere else.

That story fascinated me.

And none of the description

that you just offered

you think applies to you?

Um...

Applies to me? Um...

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes