Entertainment

‘The Water Thief’: A Gripping, Chilling Read

It’s not lazy slang to say “dystopian,” like, “Do you like dystopian or dat topian?”

(Or, “Hey! Are utopian me?”)

“Dystopian” is the opposite of “utopian.” Dystopia is a miserable setting like the movies “Mad Max,” “Children of Men” or “A Handmaid’s Tale,” and Nicholas Lamar Soutter’s 230-page 2012 novel is a dystopian book in the vein of “Fahrenheit 451,” “1984” and “Brave New World.”

Plus, it’s a crackling good read, and one that simultaneously curdles the blood and unleashes the adrenalin.

That’s good, because a subtext to Soutter’s plot is reminiscent of the familiar smart-aleck response to the question, “What do you think of ignorance and apathy?” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care!” 

A complacent attitude has contributed to the near-future society depicted in “The Water Thief.”

Soutter's award-winning novel follows Charles Thatcher, a mid-level employee who becomes curious about the old times of government, when human beings were not yet treated like commodities and traded like assets or excess inventory.

At one point, starting to question why he has to pay corporations to work, live and, really, exist, Thatcher thinks, “Well, at least it’s not government.”

Soutter writes. "The only real check against corruption is vigilance. That was the death of republics: They thought the system was enough to protect them, that they didn't need to be involved. Citizens let go of the rope, nobody voted, nobody got educated on the complexities of governing. And the corporations moved in."

Indeed, in “The Water Thief,” society has become dominated – no, absorbed – by corporations. It’s a feudal civilization, yet modern, the logical outcome of extreme deregulation, which has enabled – empowered – businesses to assume control in a sort of ultimate hostile takeover.

The ideal of “small government” has become the reality of “no government,” leading to a situation British economist John Maynard Keynes decades ago questioned, saying “Capitalism is the astounding belief that the most wickedest of men will do the most wickedest of things for the greatest good of everyone.”

Thatcher is a nice guy, a little disillusioned but a decent sort who’s no rabble rouser. He, his wife, his friends and background characters that run from assorted scavengers to unbelievably (or QUITE believable) executives interact in an environment where everything is available for a fee, from health, education and legal help, to elevator access, air and water; electricity for your work station; a permit to smoke cigarettes.

Everything.

Thatcher is a private citizen – herein meaning the private property of his employer, Ackerman Brothers Securities Corp. – a Delta-grade colleague from Perception Management, a subsidiary or department that looks for media mentions of his company to manipulate messages, spin facts and otherwise engage in Orwellian public relations that would excite propagandists like Joseph Goebbels or Edward Bernays. He’s paid in a sort of twisted piece-rate, not unlike compensation based on the number of Internet “hits” one generates.

So – Al Gore aside – truth in this society really is “inconvenient” – or at least unpopular and not viable commercially. Add to that a corporate media that televises executions (by hanging) in a reality show that’s a bit like “The Hunger Games” if Ray Bradbury had rewritten it, and the recent blanket coverage of Great Britain’s royal birth or another Honey Bo Boo stunt or Nik Wallenda’s summer tightrope trip across part of the Grand Canyon make us wonder what Walter Cronkite or William Shakespeare would think of “content providers.”

“The Water Thief” is less Terminator-as-corporate-executive than “Mad Men” with a glandular vengeance, spouting unchallenged platitudes like the 21^st century’s most common idiocy: “Do more with less.”

If you think it stretches believability a bit too far, you may have missed that government already is relinquishing its role as mediator and moderator of the economy on the public’s behalf, now protecting corporations more than people. The novel in eerie ways resembles what many of us imagine possible after the U.S. Supreme Court’s “Citizens United” ruling granted human rights to corporations, and other decisions over such issues as GMOs and DNA gave corporations powers over life itself.

 Further, it wasn’t that long ago when Major League Baseball teams traded players with little or no say to wherever owners wished them to go. Even today, jobs, livelihoods and, arguably, lives, can be irrevocably altered by the whims of executives boosting bottom lines by sacrificing people who’ve become too expensive or obsolete, despite their productivity, ability and loyalty.

In “The Water Thief,” people are urged to spy on others; law enforcement is corrupted/controlled by corporations and create revenue by creating criminals (think of the seizure of property from suspects not yet convicted of crimes, or for-profit prisons unfortunately arising today).

In one lengthy passage that avoids being an Ayn Rand lecture and becomes a quite-gripping debate during a disciplinary hearing with a 1%-er, Thather argues with an Ackerman exec:

“When a corporation fails, when the system fails, the executives will walk away with all their money, and they will say they did the best they could, and that they deserve their compensation, and those who broke their backs every day for the company will get nothing,” Thatcher says. “It’s not fair!”

The CEO says, “It’s the very definition of fair. It’s the workers’ own fault that they walk away with nothing; they choose to. You can’t blame executives for being smarter than them.”

Some may scoff at a comment from an increasingly skeptical character’s thought: “Fairness is nothing more than the distribution of wealth and power as those who already have it see fit."

Then they may notice recent college graduates shouldering unbelievable debt as they cope with a lousy job market or credit-card customers or mortgage holders wondering why the “too big to fail” policy applies to big banks but not everyday consumers and voters who face years of virtual indentured servitude.

Maybe this and other novels can alert readers to stop and think, “Wait; what?”

About the Author

Bill Knight recently retired after a couple decades teaching journalism at Western Illinois University. Now, you might find him strolling through the streets of Elmwood with his wife and fellow writer, Terry Bibo, along with their son, Opie, and his beloved collie, Lassie.* *Actually this last bit isn’t true. Not to mention the fact that our writer got “The Andy Griffith Show” and “Lassie & Timmy” mixed up.