Her eyes were wide. She gazed at me with terrific concentration. "Yes, she said, "I understand what you are saying. I get it. But isn't it true--that your fear of nuclear war is a metaphor for all the other fears that plague us today?"
My mind had never been exactly fine. But sometimes it has been good. "No," I said. I may have shouted it out through the beautiful, sheltered room. "It's my view that the other fears, all those of which we have spoken, are a metaphor for my fear of nuclear war."

The threat of nuclear annihilation seems in some ways a memory of a by-gone era. Back in the eighties, and especially in California we lived in the shadow of our many Air Bases that could go on alert at any time. At some point you just had to stop thinking about it. I suppose in some ways it is still very much there and real, but it seems much less in our faces than global warming or terrorist attacks or even just a gunman showing up one day. Or maybe those fears have just replaced that one.

This book is in some ways very strange. In the first 85% of the book our heroine is a divorced single mom making her way through a man's world in the California lifestyle of the eighties. She takes husbands and lovers, raises two daughters, creates a bank and teaches wealthy housewives how to invest and create their own wealth. She sees all the craziness of California excess and success in the form of pseudo religion and success gurus. We learn her views on men and feminism. We meet her best friend who eventually becomes one of those success hucksters. Carolyn See captures California wonderfully.

And then BOOM. 85% of the way in--the world ends.

Very unsettling book but the prose is wonderful. I hope the author Carolyn See was able to exorcise some of her own fears in this writing exercise.

I learned about this book from an article in the Guardian on Reading American cities: books about Los Angeles. It is also a part of a series of reprints from the University of California Press on California Fiction. All of the books included in the series have been selected for "their literary merit and their illumination of California history and culture."

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Edith Langley, the narrator in Carolyn See’s novel, Golden Days, has a golden-girl enthusiasm that can make her believe. She’s also a ready-to-judge-you citizen of Los Angeles, President of the Woman’s Bank, and a satirical, sardonic, and sarcastic observer of everything around her. It all comes in handy when apocalypse is a-coming.

Our sphere of influence here—the City of Angels 1970s-1980s la-la land sphere (it’s sure not South Central)—is one where guru-led semi-spiritual seminars on getting one’s desires turn out to supply miracles of a sort for believers by teaching them “outflowing” and “sourcing.” Is it ersatz faith or the real thing? Whatever could the difference be if that act of believing is the act that saves? It’s Paradise, baby! Though it won’t be forever.

See’s energy, sense of humor, intelligence, and skill propel her characters through the rituals of life to reach what will come—a nuclear “End of Days” that man* has created, and if some of them come out of it alive they do so with reason to believe that despite the fears and horrors it is a good thing indeed—the “Light Ages,” she calls it. The paperback I read has a cover illustration showing a mushroom cloud exploding out of a champagne bottle, a perfect image for the book. As Edith remarks, in the long lead-in to catastrophe, “all of us, even then, never gave up our faith in a good party.”

You see, if apocalypse is to happen, the thought that there might be survivors matters. And if that is true then the idea that there must also be “Golden Days” to discover or create will be what saves the survivors. In these contemplations of the un-contemplatable, Carolyn See has written an original and fun tale to give her ideas air.

* Edith, venting her frustration with men’s warring ways, exclaims, “Who did think up [poison] gas…It must have been a guy…Why don’t we know his name? Do men know his name, just like they always know the name of the new Dodgers shortstop?”
She deserves an answer: Yeah, I know. Fritz Haber’s the dude. And the Dodgers shortstop? Yeah, I know that too. This information would not, of course, conciliate her at all. ( )

I love books that love Los Angeles.
It's so easy to just dismiss it as shallow and full of traffic and posers and smog, and it IS all that, but there's also that sense of possibility that comes with not having a huge weight of history slapping you in the face every time you turn a corner. And those beautiful mornings that smell like flowers.

I loved how much this book brought me back to my childhood years in southern CA, with my parents' kooky friends who were into self-actualization as well as making lots of money. And in the background, that constant nebulous threat of nuclear war, which, at age 8 or so, I really had no idea what it meant, only that our president was BAD.

This was recommended to me as a "post-apocalyptic" novel, but really it's more pre-apocalyptic, with just a little bit of apocalypse at the end.

I highly recommend it, but I somehow can't give it 5 stars--I just didn't have that sense of "wow, I'm so lucky to be reading this book!" that I sometimes get. ALMOST there. ( )