Anne Rice Takes a Break From Vampires to Tell it Like it is
There is a fantastic essay in the NY Times by Anne Rice–you know, the queen of vampire and strange literature. I’m not that fond of the subject matter of many of her books, but this opinion piece is superb. And many people will read this because, well, because it is by Anne Rice.
What I like about it is that it gives a wonderful history of the city, shreds the notion (which much of the media has been emphasizing) that the whole population is just a bunch of lawless thieves and murderers, and explains very simply why so many people stayed behind. And on a very optimistic note, she shoves aside the pessimism which is proliferating all over the place–the city will survive, the city will rebuild, and life will go on. Afterall, this is not the first storm that has ever hit. And I hope that the environmental conditions which contributed to this will be reversed, and that the city will be elevated before homes and buildings are rebuilt.
Elevated you may ask? Yes, elevated. In 1900, a devastating hurricane wiped out three quarters of Galveston, killing between 8-12,000 people. The mother of all hurricanes, and one would think that the survivors would have closed up shop and left. But instead, they elevated the city of Galveston by something like 17 feet (done with 1900 technology), built a seawall, and the city has successfully weathered all storms since then.
New Orleans will also survive, be rebuilt, and thrive once again.
Do You Know What It Means to Lose New Orleans?
I know that New Orleans will win its fight in the end. I was born in the city and lived there for many years. It shaped who and what I am. Never have I experienced a place where people knew more about love, about family, about loyalty and about getting along than the people of New Orleans. It is perhaps their very gentleness that gives them their endurance.
They will rebuild as they have after storms of the past; and they will stay in New Orleans because it is where they have always lived, where their mothers and their fathers lived, where their churches were built by their ancestors, where their family graves carry names that go back 200 years. They will stay in New Orleans where they can enjoy a sweetness of family life that other communities lost long ago.
But to my country I want to say this: During this crisis you failed us. You looked down on us; you dismissed our victims; you dismissed us. You want our Jazz Fest, you want our Mardi Gras, you want our cooking and our music. Then when you saw us in real trouble, when you saw a tiny minority preying on the weak among us, you called us “Sin City,” and turned your backs.
Well, we are a lot more than all that. And though we may seem the most exotic, the most atmospheric and, at times, the most downtrodden part of this land, we are still part of it. We are Americans. We are you.

