James Doolittle

I’m currently reading The Magus by John Fowles, and I came accross an interesting conversation between the protagonist, Nicholas, and a mysterious man who had just told the story of how he diserted the army in World War II:

“You are not ashamed to be the guest of a traitor to his country?”
“I do not think you were a traitor to the human race.”
We moved towards his bedroom windows.
“The human race is unimportant. It is the self that must not be betrayed.”
“I suppose one could say that Hitler didn’t betray his self.”
He turned.
“You are right. He did not. But millions of Germans did betray their selves. That was the tragedy. Not that one man had the courage to be evil. But that millions had not the courage to be good.”

This is why I want to write novels, so I don’t have to say things and get in trouble for them–instead, I’ll have characters say things. Then, it won’t matter; it’s all fiction, and the characters who said whatever offensive thing doesn’t exist. I think I’ll also use a pen name to keep myself out of harm’s way.