I decided to do a first person narrative of a young man living in Marx’s version of a communist society. It takes place somewhere in the U.S. northeast near the coast. The revolution took place sometime around 1860, and they are living 3/4 generations into communism so most of the direct connections to capitalism are gone or at least forgotten. The time and dates will be different in this society; a lot of what would be known in the capitalist word is based on a capitalist ideology such as the concept of weekend. Technology has not “advanced” a ton beyond the 1860s in the capitalist sense, because there has been no competitive drive to make things better competitively. However, there has been communal drive to improve conditions that effect everyday life. An example would be: they probably could not build homes faster, but they certainly would build them of better quality. The population is dispersed and living communally. All but one citation and reference will be coming from Lawrence H. Simmons 1994 edition of Marx’s Selected Writing. If possible having this book on hand while reading this would be helpful. If not https://www.marxists.org/ is a good website that can be used as a reference. Althusser’s piece is available online at the URL at the bottom.
The Life of Nick
I arose per usual as soon as the sunlight began to pop up over the horizon, well aware that I had a long, hot day ahead of me. It was the 172 of the year, just before the solstice, so dusk was a long way off[1]. I climbed over Christopher, who had spent the night, kissing him good morning[2]. His skin was still moist from where I had been nuzzled into his side; he still smelled of citrus, honey, and vanilla. I climbed out onto the cold, newly laid wooden floor and picked up my undergarments which were laying there. I walked over to the dresser and took out some clothing that had been freshly washed by Hector. It was soft to the touch, and smelled of lavender[3]. After that I pushed opened the windows, letting the sweet smells of the petrichor of the early morning pour into the room. I could hear the birds of the early morning harmoniously singing[4]. Christopher would not awaken until the sun was nearer its Zenith, most of his laboring was done for the home, and he had already prepared breakfast and lunch during the night when the sun was down. When Christopher awoke, he would come down to make afternoon sweet tea and bake some biscuits. In the early evening, he would take his turn educating the children in cooking, math, and housework. I, however, needed to make it outside before I lost the early morning light.
I walked out of the room and dropped the dirty clothing down the laundry shoot where Hector would wash it. I went downstairs into the grand kitchen that Alexander had built for the community, admiring the exquisite craftsmanship that he had used when carving the wood. When I arrived in the kitchen, I was greeted by the enormous murals I hand-painted on the plaster walls that Alexander had built in-between the intricate wood paneling. I took out a bowl made by Melissa, from cabinets that had been there longer than I had lived in this home[5]. I opened the icebox and found a beautifully made soufflé of eggs, cheese, ham, and some vegetables that Christopher had made the night before along with a glass of orange juice Christopher had squeezed. I went out to the breakfast table and sat in the chairs in the breakfast nook, all of which Alexander had built[6]. At the table were three of the children: Luke, 5, son of Melissa[7]; Agatha, 3, daughter of Melissa; and Sophia, 6, daughter of Sybil. Alexander was watching the children at this time.[8]Alexander was of short but very strong build. He had meaty rough hands and stoic grey eyes. Alexander looked like he worked all day building things. Life had made him hard, his mother had died when he was very little. Many people thought Alexander was cold for this reason, but I had always known him differently.
“Good morning,” he said, sounding almost troubled.
“It is a good morning isn’t it?” I replied.
After a long pause…
“The sun looks like it is going to be beautiful today. Will you be painting?” he asked.
“Yes, I am going to down to the beach. Dorothy, the women who lives on the other end of the community, who gives us her eggs was talking the other day about wanting to get a painting of the ocean. I figured I would make a couple for her.”[9]
“I have to draw up blueprints for a greenhouse that George wants built on the land behind our home. I would love to draw them at the beach, though. I feel like I could really push my pencil there.” He added
“ I would love the company, but I have to get going so I do not miss the light.” I replied
At that moment Cynthia came into the Kitchen. She was an older women, in her 68th year of life. She had a few children, but only one, Thomas, lived in this home. When she was young, she was the most prolific sculptor in the community, but as she aged, she spent most of her time making balms and ointments from the house’s gardens.
“Good morning Alex and Nicky.” She called everyone in the house by a pet name, which was a most unusual practice. “ I am here to teach the children sowing before I take the children to school. Where are the rest of them?”[10]
“They are out playing a game behind the house.” Alexander replied
“Very well, no sowing for them. I will begin my lessons with these ones now.”
Cynthia and the children left. I had just stood to go the beach to paint, when Alexander grabbed my inner thigh. He looked up at me. I nodded my head, acknowledging that he could come to the beach with me. We both got our lunches, made by Christopher, out of the icebox. For lunch we would be having salad with radish, carrot, cucumber, bell pepper, and beets. All from George’s garden. He also made a desert zucchini bread. I grabbed my canvases, paints, and brushes; and Alexander grabbed his sketchbook, pencils, and a blanket.
The sun was just fully getting over the horizon when we arrived down at the beach. The smell of the salt air and the feeling of the warm, wet, salty wind against my face made my whole body tremble. I felt warm on the inside. I began to paint; my creative desires overtook me and I produced canvas after canvas of the long crescent rocky beach. Paying close attention each time to how the light hit the water, and how the pebbles glistened in the sunlight. It was an explosion of color, shapes, and angles. All of the sudden, I was woken out of my creative trance by Alexander, who was rubbing my back[11].
“It’s midday Nicholas, the sun has reached its peak in the sky.” I had not noticed. “Why don’t we go find a place to sit in the shade, where we can cool off and eat our lunch together.”
“Where do you have in mind?” I inquired
“There is a cave at the top of those rocks on the other side of the beach, it is always much cooler in there.”
Hesitantly, I agreed. We went over and ate our lunch. I was very distracted and I had not been to this cave since I was much younger. I came here many times in years past with a former lover, Zoe. She and I would run out almost every night, exactly after the last light fell from the sky, and meet here, making love under the stars[12]. She gave birth to two children while we were doing this, and still to this day I have wondered if they were mine. It saddened me that we never really know much about the children that are born into other homes in the community, and also that rarely does a man know if there are any children in the community who are related to him[13].
After lunch, Alexander laid the blanket he brought down in the cave. I sat down on the blanket and for a few minutes, we just stared into each others’ eyes. Desire began to creep into my mind until every other thought slipped away. He began to caress the inside of my thigh, reaching deep into my shorts. His hands could feel my skin tingle. The smell of his body, the sight of his eyes, the sound of my moans all filled the cave. His touch communicated things that his words never would be able to. My body felt him physically, in ways I never could feel mentally. We stayed there like that for the better part of midday hours.
When we left the cave, the sun had begun its decline in the sky. The sky was a beautiful blue, and the smell of the tides was upon the beach. On our way home, I ran into Dorothy’s home with the seven and a half canvases that I had painted that day and I told her that she could hang as many, if any, of them in this home. She complimented my craftsmanship and told me that she was so thankful that I had done this, and that she really had no idea I was going to do this for her. She gave me a long, but tender hug. I could tell she was breathing through her nose. After the hug, she looked at me and then turned her head to Alexander and smiled.
“These are wonderful Nicholas, I can tell that a lot of passion went into making them, I really can see you in them[14]. I could never make a decision on which of these to keep all on my own. It would be a great blunder to make such a decision about these paintings alone. Could I keep all of them just for the night so that I can discuss with my community what we would like to hang in our home?” [15]
“Of course you can”
“Thank you, again!” she replied
“Thank you for the eggs! They were delicious. We have to get going, we are going to be late to our afternoon sweet tea at home, and Christopher always gets very upset when not everyone is present.
Upon arriving home, we noticed we were the last of the 38 people living in our community home to arrive. All 16 other men, 5 women, 6 boys, and 9 girls were already present and enjoying Christopher’s sweet tea. Thank goodness though, Christopher seems to not have noticed our absences. The smell in the kitchen was intoxicatingly sweet. It was almost like Christopher’s sweet tea had the power to jump up and smack you right across the face. Drinking it was a full bodily experience; it was sweet and thick. It was exhilarating and refreshing all in one.
After tea, I was doing the dishes. Scrubbing the sticky, sweet, white liquid off of the bottom of the wooden cups was a serious process. Each cup took quite some time, and a lot of elbow grease. When I was halfway through the dishes, a pair of arms gently wrapped themselves around my torso, with hands whose fingernails had just been painted lilac purple, and a delicate kiss was planted on the upper part of my neck, by lips that were reaching up to kiss me. I turned around and Sybil was standing there. She kissed me on the lips. Her lips tasted like honey and lavender, and she clearly bathed recently in some sort of rose water.
“I have something for you, Nicky.” Sybil was the daughter of Cynthia, so she had taken to some of her mother’s nicknames.
“For me? What in the world would you want to give to me?”
“Guess Nicky”
“Is it made of wood?” Sybil spent much of her time carving things of wood. She had made the cups, plates, and bowls in the house.
“It is! She reached into her back pocket and pulled out six paint brushes of various sizes. “I noticed the other day that you only had a few paint brushes and I wanted to give you more. I figured if you had a multitude of sizes you would be able to create more types of paintings. Plus, now every-time you paint with one of these, you will be able to think of me.”
“Thinking of you may be distracting when I am trying to paint. I may miss the beauty in front of me because I am focusing on the beauty in my head. I may forget the smell of the sea and the taste of the salt because I am thinking about the smell of rose water and the taste of you.” Sybil giggled.
“I am sure you will be able to work it out alright, you always do. If you really can’t control yourself maybe you can combine those smells and tastes to paint something wildly different but meaningful.”
“That could probably be arranged”
Sybil helped me finishes the dishes. In the background, we could hear Christopher teaching some of the children how to cook. He was testing their math skills as he had divided ingredients into various quantities, and only given a few ingredients to each kid. They were all working together on making dinner. When the dishes were done, Sybil and I went outside to work in the home’s gardens with George. A few days ago, at afternoon tea, he had mentioned that he needed some help, so everybody in the house had been pitching in to help.
When they arrived, the sun was well into its descent, being far past its zenith. The extreme heat of the afternoon was beginning to subside. The tide had begun to come in again and the salt smell of the ocean was being fostered in on the winds, replacing the smell of the low tide. When they arrived, George was harvesting more zucchini that presumably would end up with Christopher and eventual be made into some delicious treat. George sent us off to weed the tomatoes. The tomato patch went on for almost as long as the eye could see and was in need of a good weeding. We pulled hundreds of weeds out of the tomato patch. Each time pulling up, we were getting more and more dirt onto our clothing. I removed my shirt, as I did not want it to be filthy. I already gave Hector a tough enough time with my paint spill, I did not need to add dirt to the mixture. After making it about a third of the way through the tomatoes, the sun entered into its final descent, beginning to touch the horizon. This meant that it was time for dinner. I looked up at Sybil.
“It’s time for dinner” I said
“Well… almost,” she said as she stepped over the tomato plants. She was wearing a two piece dress. The top was blue and gold and came over her shoulders and diagonally together over her breasts being held together by zipper, leaving a deep-v. The bottom fell perfectly even down near her waist and was a brownish-grey. “You have been kissed by the sun all day, now it is my turn”
“Your dress it is so beautiful I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Then I guess you will have to take it off of me.”
“I am afraid it’s my hands that are dirty.”
“I guess you will have to use your teeth.” she said smiling
She did not have to tell me twice. As I undid the top her dress, I revealed her pale skin under her dress, and realized that her shoulders and chest had burned. Sybil did most of her woodworking in the huge picture window on the top floor of our home, but she did not get outside nearly as much as I did. I kissed every inch of exposed skin from bottom to top until I reached her lips. I was holding her in my arms as she began to push against my chest, motioning (or shoving me towards the ground) for me to go towards the ground. It was sweet and hot, her gentle hands slowly worked their ways down my bare torso until they were undoing the tie of my pants. She pulled my shorts down to my ankles and lowered her pelvis to be in like with mine. My heart began to beat faster and faster, pulsating inside my chest. I could smell the grass and Sybil and they both smelled sweet. The contrast of the roughness of the plants and dirt on my back with the smoothness of Sybil on my chest was exhilarating. The melodic rolling of the waves and buzzing of the grasshoppers complimented mine and Sybil’s moans harmoniously. It was like being in a symphony massage having aromatherapy performed on me.
After we finished, we noticed that the sun was almost fully fading behind the horizon. We were late for dinner! We put our clothing on as quickly as possible and ran up to the house. We walked in and dinner was well underway. Christopher had prepared a huge salad of cucumber, tomato, and olive oil; and also had roasted three chickens that Dorothy had brought him from her community home’s poultry farm on the other side of our community. I did not even need eyes to know that Christopher had made blackberry-raspberry bread. I could smell it the moment I walked into the home. It made my mouth water uncontrollably; it was my favorite. Sybil and I grabbed plates of salad and chicken and sat down at the large wooden table that Alexander had made, in the dining room. I sat down next to Christopher, and Sybil sat next to her mother, Cynthia. It became a little awkward once we sat down and conversation slowed.
Christopher turned to me and said “George told me you were weeding the tomatoes and so you may be late. I had not realized you had company.”
“Yes, we just got so into the project we lost track of time.”
“Is the patch fully weeded?”
Not wanting to lie, I responded, “almost, maybe you and I can go finish it tomorrow?” I said with a wry smile. Christopher began to lean into me but suddenly stopped. “What is wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing is wrong, I just did not realize that when you stayed late working with the tomatoes you would come back filthy, yet smelling like a rose.”
Thank goodness George broke into a story and caught the attention of the whole table. He talked about how he had reached excitedly into a zucchini bush today to pull out the best zucchini he’d ever seen, only to find that it was a snake. After dinner we had desert and it was delicious, but its full experience had been spoiled for me by the interaction with Christopher. Hearing George’s story and sitting next to Christopher, fully able to smell the berries he had hand mashed today, made me feel sick.
After dinner, I went into the washroom and Sybil had just gotten out of the tub. Her mother, Cynthia, was rubbing an aloe vera balm on her red skin that had burned today beneath the hot sun. I undressed and climbed into the tub which was now filling with water. Christopher walked in. Almost on cue Sybil and Cynthia left. Christopher closed the door, his blue eyes deep and unsettled, like the ocean during a storm. He walked over to the tub and told me to turn around. I did, and he took a natural sponge out and began to wash my back.
“You were late for both of the meals I prepared today.” he said to me
“I know, I’m really very sorry! I didn’t mean to bring you any shame.”
“My cooking, my teachings, and bringing people together are the ways I give to my community. When you are not there, you lessen my ability to do so. Not to mention that you, specifically, are very important to me. I have never missed an opportunity to watch you show your paintings off to the community, or to work with you on your various projects.”
“I know, I know, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to get so distracted. It is just that it was so beautiful out today that I could not stop myself from wanting to be out in it. The birds singing, the beauty of the light, the smell of the ocean and the morning dew, the grass on my skin, and the sun on my back. It all just kept me out longer than I intended.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You know what. I want the truth.”
“And I could not stop myself from giving to my community in the ways I know how. I could not bring myself to leave Alexander’s arms by the ocean. We were laying there in the warmth of the afternoon and every single sensation we had was multiplied by the amorous experiences we were having. He spends most of his days inside working with his hands on hard wooden materials, sculpting them to his will. He needed time to touch something smooth, agreeable, and we both needed to release the passion we had been building all day as we painted and sketched respectively. After, I needed to run my paintings up to Dorothy as I had spent all day crafting them. And this evening, the time just slipped away from me as Sybil and I embraced in the dirt. She spends all her time working inside laboring away and she hadn’t had an aesthetic experience out in the raw dirt for a long while. I mean she wore a dress out to weed. Which brings me to my point of the garden needing to be weeded. George works so hard out there and he needs help. Largely so that he can grow his produce and give it to you.” Christopher was silent, his eyes wet with tears. I changed my tone to being very gentle. “I know your cooking and meal time are how you give to our community, and I know that you pride yourself on doing so, but part of giving is allowing others to be giving and recognizing their talents[16].
“I am sorry, I had not thought of it that way”
“There is no need to apologize. I understand why you felt how you did.
Christopher kissed me on the forehead and left. I sat in the bath for a while thinking about my day. After I finished washing myself, I got out of the bath and walked back to my room. I walked out of the bathroom and noticed that the sun had been down for a while, as the moon was high in the sky. I opened the door to my room, still in my towel. I threw my clothing on the floor, it was too hot for those tonight. As I walked towards my bed, I realized that Christopher was asleep in it already. I climbed in next to him and fell asleep.
[1] Time of day and weeks do not exist in the communist society. The calendar is now based on the earth’s rotation around the sun. Beginning on the winter solstice. Weeks were abolished because the weekend was no longer necessary as it was based on wage labor. Time also had to change because it seems to be affected by wage labor. Instead, people use the sun’s position in the sky to manage their days. Some people obviously labor when the sun is not up, but it’s based on the sun. Also, having day-length shifts seem to be a more natural phenomena more natural phenomenon and set people to being more in touch with nature.
[2] On page 62 in Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts, Marx mentions that “eating, drinking, and procreation are genuine human functions”. Marx goes to argue that they have come to be viewed as animalistic due to alienation. With the elimination of alienated labor, those move back into the human realm. Due to that fact, sex and food will be highly featured, sensual, and prevalent in this life. Even though Marx does not specifically discuss homosexuality in his works or much about sexuality in general. I thought that when looking at the fact that sex was the original division of labour, in conjunction with the end of the family and marriage as we know it, and humanities renewed awareness of the senses, that homosexual relationships, too, would come to be known in a new way.
[3] On page 72-77 of the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts, beginning immediately after (4), Marx develops explains how people will interact with the world will change as there will be a, “complete emancipation of all senses and aptitudes, but is means this emancipation precisely because the sense and aptitudes have become human both subjectively and objectively. This will be relevant throughout this day with Nicholas, and plays into Marx’s understanding of people no longer owning their bodies but being their bodies. Nicholas and the other people in this society are very aware of themselves as embodied animals, and they sense and feel the world around them in an emancipated way.
[4] Throughout the paper the importance of the sense should be noted. I use Marx’s Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts, specifically pages 73-77, where he discusses the senses. He talks about how due to the the alienation of labor we have been alienated to our senses. In the society Nicholas lives in, humans will be in touch with their senses.
[5] Idea for living in a dwelling that in a way seems to be owned by those living there, but not privately owned, comes from Communist Manifesto I think this needs to be italicized? , page 170, where Marx discusses how property in general is not abolished but private property is.
[6] On page 106 of The German Ideology, Marx discusses how our mental presuppositions create our material conditions: “ Not one of these philosophers ever thought to look into the connection between German philosophy and German reality, between their criticism and their own material environment”. Another way of putting this would be as Louis Althusser in his second thesis, in the section “Ideology is a ‘Representation’ of the Imaginary Relationship of Individuals to their Real Conditions of Existence,” in his essay Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses simplifies it to the fact that ideology is material. The focus on the creators of the stuff in the house follows from 107 of The German Ideology where Marx discusses how “Man can be distinguished from the animal by consciousness, religion, or anything else you please. He begins to distinguish himself from the animal the moment he begins to produce his means of subsistence, a step required by his physical organization. By producing food, man indirectly produces his material life itself”.
[7] There are no last names in the Communist Society because of the collapse of the family. So I came up with this new way of identifying children. In this society there is no ownership based on parentage, although mothers care for their young. Eventually those labels also just fade away.
[8] The family structure being presented here was inspired by pages 172-174 of the Communist ManifestoBe consistent in italicization.
[9] The idea of this community is inspired by Marx’s 9th condition on page 176 in the Communist Manifesto, where Marx discusses how agriculture and manufacturing will gradually grow together until the country and town are indistinguishable, having many people evenly spread out.
[10] This passage is inspired by Marx’s 10th note on page 176 about children all being educated.
[11] Much of Nicholas’ actions and experiences with nature and other people, especially the sensuous ones are derived from how Marx lays out consciousness on page 117 and 118 in the German ideology. Specifically taking from Marx’s idea that consciousness is socially made by the material conditions that surround the individual.
[12] In Regards to Nicholas’ sexual behavior I want to draw special attention to page 117/118 where Marx states “Along with these, divisions of labor develops which originally was nothing but the division of labor in the sexual act, then that type of division of labor which comes about spontaneously..” Marx makes a radical claim here that division of labor lies at base with a sexual decision. Keeping this in mind it seemed of paramount importance to have Nicholas and the others in his society be very sexual, but in a newly defined way.
[13] Taken from page 119 of The German Ideology in Marx’s discussion of how ending traditional family structure would be broken down to end latent slavery and also to stop any form of power abuse in this relationship. However, in accordance to Marx’s acknowledgement on page 116, I also take into account that part of the familial relationship is a natural relationship. So I have it set that in Nicholas’s society, children will live with their mothers, and be raised by them in conjunction with all of the other people who live in that home. In this way, children will be raised almost in common.
[14] Largely inspired by the Communist Manifesto 171’s discussion of labour to enrich labourer rather than the capitalist society where “living labour is but a means to increase accumulated labour”.
[15] This idea of Nicholas being in the artwork comes from Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts. On pages 61-63, he discusses the qualities of the laborer being alienated and thus separate from what they labor for. In this society, people are intricately connected to their labor, and so I think it would only make sense that there is something personal about the laborer in the products they make. This was also a relevant consideration when discussing the makeup of the home.
[16] In Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts on page 77 section (5) Marx talks about about owing one’s existence to oneself. This is the point that Nicholas is making, in that he does not want to be constricted by Christopher, even though he appreciates what he does. Nicholas too has ways that he gives to his community and uses his creative impulses and the cannot be infringed up by Christopher either.
Bibliographic Information:
Marx, Karl. Selected Writings. Edited by Lawrence Hugh Simon, Hackett, 1994.
Althusser, Louis. “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses (Notes towards an Investigation).” Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses by Louis Althusser 1969-70, www.marxists.org/reference/archive/althusser/1970/ideology.htm.