If you’re not listening to Grand Podcast Abyss, above is the first of what I hope are many briefer clips advertising its virtues. Here I address the audience directly with my most minimal hope for the future. Heavy is the head that wears the podcast crown: if you don’t go in for fully nihilistic irony, the form can lend itself to didacticism, not unlike pedagogy. You want to send the listeners away with something that will keep them from jumping off the nearest bridge. (In my fiction, I have no such compunction. Fiction is absolute reality, which includes, though is not reducible to, the absolutism of despair.) Privately, I fear whatever hopes and ambitions we might like to gather under the name of “liberalism” are totally finished in America’s liberal institutions today, that what calls itself “liberalism” now is simply imperial sociopathy and technocratic totalitarianism, and, especially in the guise of “progressivism” so-called, may always to some extent have been. I like this clip because I am wary of sounding as if I am defending some extant liberal institution—sometimes I do sound this way and I always regret it—when all such institutions, I think, have fallen, and not to foreign influence, whatever the merits of Rachel Maddow’s fulminations about Russia or Steve Bannon’s about China, but to the inner contradiction of an ideology pledged at once to freedom and to calculation. What we are faithful to, in the end, is a literary utopia, the republic of art. Which need not be a reproach, as if we were moon-eyed dreamers about to fall into a well, but evidence of the sheerest pragmatism. The water is rising; we seek higher ground.