\Daily Afflictions"" is a slim pamplet that boasts of being 'God for the godless, religion for the postreligious and bootleg entertainment for the rest.' Taking the book of psalms and applying them to the postmodern, industrialized, alienated and generally toxic 21st century, Andrew Boyd gives the world instruction printed in the darkest ink. It is a twisted set of theses for those who recognize the Reformation.
Taking the form of daily devotions, Afflictions"" provide a quote, some sort of lamentation (the affliction itself) and a follow-up quip to take with you. It divides itself into the usual generalized categories that include death, politics, religion, career and so on. There is even a handy glossary to get an encapsulated version of such terms as 'inner corpse,' 'compassionate nihilism' and 'the suburb within.' This sort of work requires its own vocabulary to explain away everything it tries to get across.
A large chunk of the book goes towards revealing the sources. Friedrich Nietzsche, Albert Camus, Franz Kafka and Sid Vicious all contribute some bits and pieces to take away if a soundbite is needed. They also comprise the the very ground ""Daily Afflictions"" seems to walk on. With these existentialists as the skeleton of such a work, the book becomes less of creation and more of a deconstruction.
The theme of destruction pervades the book. It doesn't center around the wreckage of anything physical, instead going great length to illustrate the disorganization of life in general. There is no rubble but that of expectations dashed, spirituality untangled and religion blown to bits. The twisted and scorched metal of yesterday's institutions provides is the battleground of ""Daily Afflictions."" Somewhere, out of that rubble Andrew Boyd tries to rally the survivors.
He goes for the throat with a vehemence that makes you flinch before he can touch you. Kafka declares, ""We need the books that affect us like a disaster,"" to start the book off. The introduction states that suffering is unavoidable and afflictions hold no promise. Before you have even gotten to the afflictions you know that they are going to be honest, tense, strange and dark.
While the book is thoroughly researched, the content is not a piece of scholarship. Boyd puts everything he believes into the pages and lets it be. He knows that the afflictions will be reviled, dissected and scorned. With that anger will come the disaffected and hopeless who are already flocking to ""Daily Afflictions"" for its heartfelt cynicism. He looks past that and sees into the void that he believes will bring truth to people.
What the void reveals itself to be is contained within the one character who matters. Andrew Boyd is Brother Void. Brother Void exists as another part of the self who seems to be an apt pupil of the devil on your shoulder. He is not so mocking as the little demon, but he does have his ways of sowing darkness. Brother Void is a creature wrought in the sorrow that overwhelms and the grief that rolls over people.
Brother Void is the Christ figure for atheists. He preaches with little parables and promises something like salvation but not necessarily redemption. He does not intend on saving souls because he will not acknowledge them.
Boyd illustrates everything in the simplest of analogies that seem to end before they can even compare anything. ""The Interstate of Life"" is one title of an affliction and nothing more. The image is there but the explanation is lacking. The comparisons also get stale when you notice ""The Supermarket of Life"" lies along ""The Interstate of Life"" and the just beyond the graveyard that holds your ""Inner Corpse."" When you get to something as vivid as the ""stale mouthwash of social convention"" you have a bad taste in your mouth.
The slim work is powerful and therefore requires its own deconstruction. Boyd has a habit of assuming that all of life is stuck on its natural whims and cannot escape from the knot of the ego. He is searching for a more honest form of the truth but occasionally calls on the power of inconsistency to drive his points home. The highest standard of the book is truth and every time some crack appears in the logic of an affliction the caulk of truth is there to patch it up. Truth appears as an unassailable titan who has slain the Zeus of religion.
Being short and full of quotes, ""Daily Afflictions leaves a lot of spaces between its thoughts. You can stare into the spaces and further comtemplate the meanings of ""Saturn's Return"" of the ""Inner Bigot."" Or you could come to the conclusion that there really is not that much substance to affliction.
The book is not really all that original; it's just presented with enough cynicism to make it seem that way. There's some hypocrisy in this book of spiritual squalor. Boyd acknowledges the existence of someone called God but retreats to atheism the second he is asked to explain himself. He asks us to give him the honor of listening but talks in a vaccuum of honor. He assumes that religion is nothing but endless joy but uses some of its forms to consolidate anguish.
Such a work can only find an audience in the landscapes of the present day, with industry gradually turning the world gray and the business reducing all of the world to some sort of capital. Boyd puts his finger on this vein and feels the oily blood flow from a black heart. He feels a world that has cashed in on hope and doesn't care to keep the receipt. His book is a Nietzshean daydream.
