Come Autumn

Tomorrow I head up to the lake for a few days of intensive writing on THE ARCHANGEL PROJECT. I love being up there. Steve and I went up last Friday night. It was so cold when we got in at about 8 pm that I thought, No more sitting in the porch swing looking at the lake! But once the sun came up the next morning, it warmed up enough that we were able to eat breakfast outside. There are some deciduous trees around the lake that have turned brilliant shades of yellow and red—something we don’t see here in New Orleans—so that was an unexpected, additional treat.

Our lake house is about three miles outside a little community called Clinton, Louisiana. It’s a very old town, with many ante bellum houses and a lovely old columned courthouse with what they call “lawyers’ row” (a block of old nineteenth-century law offices) across the street. The first Saturday of every month they have a Community Market, where they set up produce and craft booths up and down Main Street and around the courthouse green. We spent a lovely morning strolling around town, looking at the booths, then went back to the house and devoted the afternoon to painting (having finished the large pantry, we’ve now moved on to the master bedroom closet and the adjoining bath). We got back to New Orleans late Saturday night, tired yet immensely refreshed. Now, I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the week up there. And I’m not allowed to take any painting clothes with me, so that all I can do is write.

Another Misery Tour

(Someone's livingroom. November 2006.)

Steve’s niece is in town for a conference this week, so yesterday we took her on a Misery Tour.

In some ways, I found the drive encouraging. Each house being restored, each business that has reopened is a reason to cheer. Every time we venture into areas of the city we don’t usually visit, I am heartened by the signs of progress: more stoplights working, more FEMA trailers, the gradual disappearance of muck-encrusted cars and stranded boats on the sides of the streets. There is no denying that much is being done. Yet it is becoming obvious that the end result will inevitably be the much feared “jack-o’-lantern effect”: renovated houses and businesses scattered amongst moldy, abandoned ruins—or, at best, abandoned ruins scattered amongst renovated buildings. Perhaps, in time (say, twenty years), the more prosperous areas of the core city, Gentilly and Lakeview and Broadmore, will be completely back. But that’s not going to happen in Central City, in the Bywater, in the Lower Ninth—charming, historic areas of the city that were economically depressed even before governmental incompetence, corporate greed, and mother nature conspired to wreak havoc on America’s most magical city.

After we drove through Lakeview, Steve got on the interstate and headed east, toward Slidell. I think it is only from this elevated pathway through what begins to seem like endless devastation that one can truly begin to grasp the magnitude of what has happened to this area. As you stare out the car windows at mile after mile of gaping, abandoned houses and vast empty apartment complexes, it becomes harder and harder to remember that you’re in the United States of America. These are the parts of the city—New Orleans East, Chalmette—where the middle class (white, black, Vietnamese) built their homes and raised their children, where they went to school and church and shopped. These are the parts of the city that tourists never saw. It’s true that because they lie east of the Industrial Canal, these districts are more exposed to the effects of our devastated wetlands. But I suspect the fact that these areas aren’t important to the city’s tourist trade has also influenced their treatment by the Powers That Be. It’s only been in the last couple of weeks that running water has been restored to these areas--more than a year after the storm! Vast stretches of the city still lack electricity. As a result, mile after mile of once prosperous neighborhoods of once tidy little brick houses now stand abandoned.

Where are they now, the hundreds of thousands of people who once lived in these houses, who once shopped in these shuttered malls with those lingering, dirty water marks, who once picked up their children from these weed-grown schools? During Katrina, news reporters were told to call the displaced population of New Orleans “evacuees,” rather than “refugees.” The term “refugee” conjured up visions of the squalid camps of Gaza, of the desperate, huddled tent cities of Africa. Refugees were from third world countries; they didn’t speak English and they certainly didn’t have white skin. Americans don’t like to think of their fellow Americans as refugees. So of course the news outlets complied.

Except, “evacuees” go home, don’t they? How long do you have to be “evacuated” before you become a refugee? Perhaps there is something to be said for banding together, for living in camps or tent cities, like the Palestinians, or the displaced victims in Afghanistan. At least that way you remain visible. Because if you’re not visible, you’re forgotten, and in time, politicians can deny your existence. I don’t think we’ll see President Bush pausing for a photo op on the I10 above New Orleans East, with a hundred thousand ruined, abandoned houses as a backdrop.

Fingers Crossed!

Some exciting developments today. We’ve had two expressions of interest from movie companies about THE ARCHANGEL PROJECT. Of course, it’s a long ways from an expression of interest to an option, and an even farther stretch from an option to a movie actually being made, but still. What a thrill.

The Prince Regent's Deadly Secret

(Above: the Prince Regent, photo from Wiki Commons)

I’m reading PURPLE SECRET: Genes, ‘Madness’ and the Royal Houses of Europe, by John Rohl, Martin Warren, and David Hunt (London: Bantam Press, 1998). The purple secret is, of course, the metabolic disorder porphyria, which entered the royal house of Britain (and therefore the rest of Europe) though Mary Queen of Scots.

The “Mad” King George III has unarguably done more to popularize porphyria than anyone else. Unfortunately, his well-known identification with “madness” has led the disorder to be associated in the popular mind with insanity. In fact, a porphyria attack can cause depression, anxiety, and confusion (because it interferes with the serotonin pathways). But full-blown mental illness caused by porphyria is rare and typically associated with some other, simultaneously occurring condition.

Porphyria is a genetic disorder affecting the enzymes responsible for the synthesis of porphyrins into heme. There are various types of porphyria, depending upon which enzyme in the pathway is affected. Some types of porphyria are associated with abdominal pain (acute porphyria), others can cause the skin to develop a weeping rash when exposed to the sun (cutaneous porphyria). George III undoubtedly suffered from variegate porphyria, which causes both. Symptoms of acute porphyria include attacks of severe abdominal pain and peripheral neuropathy, which basically means it effects the body’s non-conscious functions such as the heart, lungs, etc, causing general muscle weakness, numbness, difficulty breathing, and an increased heart rate. In other words, it’s like being hit with the worse case of flu or food poisoning you can imagine. Porphyria attacks can be triggered by exposure to chemicals (including heavy metals, alcohol, and many pharmaceuticals), female hormones (either during a woman’s regular cycle or pregnancy), fasting or high protein/low carbohydrate intake (i.e., Atkins or South Beach diets), fever and viral infections, or stress. An attack sometimes—but not always—causes the urine to take on a reddish tinge as the body attempts to throw off the accumulating porphyrins (which are toxic in large quantities); hence the “purple” secret.

George III’s five bouts of “madness” are notorious, but less well known are the life-long sufferings of most of his 13 children, including the Prince Regent himself. The authors use the royal family’s personal letters and doctors’ reports to detail the long illnesses of the princes and princesses. It makes for scary reading (the treatments often being scarier than the symptoms they were used to treat). In fact, the illnesses of George III’s children were of such long duration—sometimes lasting years—and so extreme that I personally think something else was going on there in addition to the porphyria.

As for George III, recent chemical analysis of his hair has shown that the poor man was suffering from arsenic poisoning. A 2005 article published in the British medical journal LANCET (written by Martin Warren, one of the authors of this book) reported the presence of arsenic at over 300 times the toxic level in George III’s hair. At the time, arsenic was used in both skin creams and wig powders, but even that couldn’t account for George III’s high levels. It seems that the King’s doctors were treating his porphyria attacks by giving him something called “James’ Powders,” which was made from antimony containing significant traces of arsenic. Like a good king, he took what his doctors ordered, several times a day. Ironically, arsenic is one of the triggers for a porphyria attack. In other words, they were treating his porphyria attacks with a substance that causes porphyria attacks, in addition to being toxic itself. Another common remedy of the time, mercury (“calomel”) also causes porphyria attacks (which is why anyone with porphyria should avoid modern vaccines containing traces of mercury and get rid of their mercury fillings, if possible).

The royal houses of Europe obviously decided long ago to close ranks on the subject of the “family” malady. The authors (a combination of historians and microbiologists) were repeatedly refused access to papers and medical samples. But they have easily traced the symptoms of the disorder down through Queen Victoria, to her children and grandchildren, all the way to Princess Margaret. Only Prince William of Gloucester (a grandson of George V) made no secret of his diagnosis of porphyria, which manifested itself after he took chloroquine to prevent malaria in Africa.

Unfolding like a detective story, the book makes fascinating reading, even if you don’t suffer from porphyria. The royal families’ secrecy on this subject is unfortunate, since they could help to publicize the truth about a disorder that has become associated in the popular mind with madness, werewolves and vampires. The disorder is actually far more common than was previously thought. Unfortunately, most American doctors are woefully unfamiliar with porphyria, and most people don’t know they have it until they take something that almost kills them.

A Halloween without the Children

After spending the last couple of days at the endless task of Putting Stuff Away, I’m chaining myself to my desk and getting back to work on THE ARCHANGEL PROJECT. I always find it difficult to get back into a book when I’ve been away from it for a while.

We didn’t have many kids come around last night for Trick or Treat. I guess the scattering of FEMA trailers and PODS put most people off. Which is a shame, because some of the people in the neighborhood obviously get into Halloween in a big way, filling their yards with all kinds of holiday-themed junk. I managed to get my blackbird scarecrow up, and Danielle dragged the witch silhouette out of the hall closet (no small feat, since the closet is stuffed with building materials), but that was about it for us. Of course, there aren’t that many kids whose families have come back to the neighborhood, so that doubtless cut down on the traffic.