Anger is a good reason to read fiction.

We’re all so angry in society right now, like toddlers screaming because we can’t express ourselves with words. Not because the words are taboo, but because their meaning has been wrung dry by political parties, special interest groups and advertisers. They’ve kidnapped our words and enslaved them for their own ends. No wonder we’re mad. No wonder we feel so helpless. Words are power and they’ve taken ours.
Ayad Akhtar put it this way in his interview with Q:
“If language begins to no longer have meaning and truth is separate from language then what eventually is going to come up is the id. It’s all that unconscious muck that will begin to bubble up in the fracture between language and meaning.”
This is one of the reasons I write fiction. In fiction we show a story instead of telling it. If words don’t mean anything anymore then the only way to tell our ideas and angst is to show them.

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