Author’s Note
Inspiration for October Skies, came from an
obscure little historical event known as the ‘Donner Incident’. The
‘Donner Party’ were a group of settlers who set out across the
American Midwest a little too late in the year and got caught out
by early snows in the Sierra Nevadas - much like the characters in
this book. That was the seed of inspiration for this book.
Originally, I had planned to dramatise the story of these real
people, but imagination and invention quickly got in the way and I
soon realised that for me it would be a lot more fun to depart from
writing an account of this bit of history and instead create my own
cast of characters and tell a very different story.
Research as usual, required a lot of gophering
for details, for which I must thank Google and Google Maps. But
also, much of the feel for the characters of the time, and the tiny
details of life I absorbed from several books; the one closest to
my heart being Centennial by James A. Michener.
For those readers who might be intrigued by the
origin of the Mormon faith, believe it or not, Joseph Smith’s tale
really hasn’t been exaggerated for dramatic purposes; that really
is the story he told to anyone who’d listen to him. Perhaps his
story of Divine inspiration might have sounded somewhat more
convincing if it had been separated from the present by 1500 or
2000 years and acquired some dubious credibility coming from
biblical times. Instead, it’s a faith that popped out of his mouth
and into existence in the 1830s; a mixed bag of the current fads
doing the rounds in New England at the time (Egyptology,
archaeology, treasure hunting, codes and interesting
mythologies).
The birth of Joseph Smith’s new faith reminded me
very much of that scene in Monty Python’s Life of Brian where
Brian, on the run from the Romans, disguises himself as a prophet
on their version of Speaker’s Corner. If you’ve seen the film,
you’ll know the scene I mean. It’s that bit where the Romans have
marched past searching for Brian and now he sees that he’s probably
safe, his impersonation of a prophet uttering bland and meaningless
prophecies to the bored audience in the market square, slowly
grinds to a mumbling halt. Only . . . he’s left a sentence, hanging
. . . unfinished, and the bored crowd, out of idle curiosity, nag
him to finish his last inane prophecy. But Brian is more interested
in making a smart getaway, and he scampers off, only to be pursued
by a growing crowd of followers driven mad with curiosity . . . and
thus a new prophet is born.
It sounds like I have an axe to grind with regard
to faith. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But more specifically, I do
have something against organised faith. I could write another five
thousand words as to why I believe them to be the curse mankind
should have moved on from, to have outgrown by now. But I’ll do
that another day. If I have time for anyone though, perhaps it’s
for those people who have a quiet, personal belief in something
beyond this world; something that doesn’t have a prescribed way to
behave, or a prescribed subset of people to victimise or label as
heretics. Like Ben, I consider myself an atheist. But, you know
what? I have to admit there have been several times in my life that
I’ve been so scared, so completely terrified, that I’ve actually
muttered a prayer. So . . . perhaps there is a tiny part of me that
hopes there’s more than we can see or measure or understand.