Читать онлайн «Parable of the Talents»
Автор Октавия Батлер
Multiple award winner Octavia E. Butler's astonishing novels have made her a powerful, acclaimed voice in women's fiction, African-American literature, and modern science fiction. PARABLE OF THE TALENTS is her mesmerizing vision of a near-future world filled with irrational hatred... and divine hope.
EARTHSEED
Lauren Olamina's love is divided among her young daughter, her community, and the revelation that led Lauren to found a new faith that teaches "God Is Change. " But in the wake of environmental and economic chaos, the U. S. government turns a blind eye to violent bigots who consider the mere existence of a black female leader a threat. And soon Lauren must either sacrifice her child and her followers— or forsake the religion that can transform human destiny.
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to my aunts
Irma Harris and
Hazel Ruth Walker,
and in memory of my mother
Octavia Margaret Butler
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PROLOGUE
From EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
By Lauren Oya Olamina
Here we are—
Energy,
Mass,
Life,
Shaping life, Mind,
Shaping Mind, God,
Shaping God.
Consider—
We are born
Not with purpose,
But with potential.
THEY'LL MAKE A GOD of her.
I think that would please her, if she could know about it. In spite of all her protests and denials, she's always needed devoted, obedient followers—disciples—who would listen to her and believe everything she told them. And she needed large events to manipulate. All gods seem to need these things.
Her legal name was Lauren Oya Olamina Bankole. To those who loved her or hated her, she was simply "Olamina. "
She was my biological mother.
She is dead.
I have wanted to love her and to believe that what happened between her and me wasn't her fault. I've wanted that. But instead, I've hated her, feared her, needed her.
I've never trusted her, though, never understood how she could be the way she was—so focused, and yet so misguided, there for all the world, but never there for me. I still don't understand. And now that she's dead, I'm not even sure I ever will. But I must try because I need to understand myself, and she is part of me. I wish that she weren't, but she is. In order for me to understand who I am, I must begin to understand who she was. That is my reason for writing and assembling this book.It has always been my way to sort through my feelings by writing. She and I had that in common. And along with the need to write, she also developed a need to draw. If she had been born in a saner time, she might have become a writer as I have or an artist.
I've gathered a few of her drawings, although she gave most of these away during her lifetime. And I have copies of all that was saved of her writings. Even some of her early, paper notebooks have been copied to disk or crystal and saved. She had a habit, during her youth, of hiding caches of food, money, and weaponry in out-of-the-way places or with trusted people, and being able to go straight back to these years later. These saved her life several times, and also they saved her words, her journals and notes and my father's writings. She managed to badger him into writing a little. He wrote well, although he didn't like doing it. I'm glad she badgered him. I'm glad to have known him at least through his writing. I wonder why I'm not glad to have known her through hers.
