Tom Perrotta's novel is about the crisis that arises from a lack of faith or understanding. What happens if the "Rapture" occurs and there are actually some Christians left behind? What if, like last night's spaghetti dinner, you're a "leftover"? What if people are "taken" who weren't even officially believers in Jesus Christ?
Hindus and Buddhists and Muslims and Jews and atheists and animists and homosexuals and Eskimos and Mormons and Zoroastrians, whatever the heck they were…. As far as anyone could tell, it was a random harvest, and the one thing the Rapture couldn't be was random. The whole point was to separate the wheat from the chaff, to reward the true believers and put the rest of the world on notice. An indiscriminate Rapture was no Rapture at all. (3)
Since no one in the story feels this event can be called the "Rapture"’given Perrotta's tongue-in-cheek description above of those who disappeared’this mysterious 14th of October is dubbed "The Sudden Departure."
Obviously, this is not a "Christian" novel (and certainly not one that Harold Camping, Jerry Jenkins, or Tim LaHaye would necessarily appreciate). And even though it does poke fun at those who seem to go a bit overboard on the idea of the "Rapture," it probes into some deeper questions’questions Perrotta never intends to answer for us. How would any one of us respond if the loved ones in our lives were suddenly and inexplicably taken from us? Would we react with hatred, violence, confusion? Would we abandon faith, hope, and morals (who cares what happens now?). Or would we react with natural perplexity and grief, but try to press on with life as best as possible? These are some of the scenarios Perrotta poses for us’scenarios for which we couldn't predict our response until it actually happened to us.
The first group of those left behind takes to silence, dressing in white, and chain smoking as a type of "sacrament" ("Let us smoke" instead of "Let us pray"). Their task is to feel guilty and to make everyone else feel guilty. Teamed in pairs, they stalk those who need to be reminded of just how depraved they really are, handing out cards that read on one side: "We are members of the Guilty Remnant. We have taken a vow of silence. We stand before you as living reminders of God's awesome power. His judgment is upon us" (4). On the reverse of the card is their website: www.guiltyremnant.com. Their guilt results in self-destructive behavior, and they abuse their bodies hoping somehow to purify themselves (not too unlike the overly penitent monk Martin Luther)’smoking excessively and dressing in thin layers during bitter weather. As the novel progresses, however, we discover their ultimate goal and it isn't pretty.
Another group is "The Barefoot People." As you can imagine, they don't wear shoes and look pretty much like the standard unwashed hippie or flower child of the 1960s. "Eat, drink, and be merry," "free love," and "do whatever feels good" pretty much sum up their philosophy. Akin to this is the "Healing Hug" movement led by a "guru" known as "Holy Wayne." Whereas The Barefoot People are relatively harmless, Wayne Gilchrest has a strange cult following’to the point that his "disciples" believe that his teenage "bride" (one of many, which his wife doesn't seem to mind) is about to give birth to a sort of new messiah’or is Mr. Gilchrest merely hoping to replace his young son who disappeared on that bizarre and painful day in mid-October?
Although we have these groups with various reactions ("I hate myself," "Party, dude," and the latest version of "The Groovy Guru"), Perrotta presents a detailed and touching narrative of what we would consider more "normal" people’the third group who just want to get on with life. I found myself sympathizing with their pain and confusion. Just how does one cope in the face of such inexplicable great loss? This is where the "Sudden Departure" story becomes extremely human and "up close and personal" as it rips apart some lives and brings others together. Throughout the novel, Perrotta presents a sensitive analysis of humanity.
The trick for Modern Reformation readers is to not view this book as an apologetic against the "Rapture" (though Perrotta does have some fun)’or really anything to do with Christianity or religion in general. It would probably be helpful here to point out that The New York Times reviewer for Perrotta's book was Stephen King’the master of apocalyptic epics such as The Stand: in this now-classic book of worldwide plague in the last days of civilization as we know it, the good people take up shelter in Colorado and the bad people go’of course’to Las Vegas. An expert himself in imaginative strangeness, King writes of The Leftovers:
Perrotta has delivered a troubling disquisition on how ordinary people react to extraordinary and inexplicable events, the power of family to hurt and to heal, and the unobtrusive ease with which faith can slide into fanaticism. The Leftovers is, simply put, the best Twilight Zone episode you never saw’not "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" but "The Monsters Are Us in Mapleton." That they are quiet monsters only makes them more eerie.
Monsters? Well, yes, some of them’and some of us, I suppose. But it is in these types of life crises that we discover who we really are and what it means to be human’to love and to go on, despite the unanswered questions and an unknowable future.
