I’ve been reading more of Philip K. Dick’s stories lately. Mostly his short stories, but also The Man in the High Castle. Thinking about Dick’s stories, my impressions of Arizona are filtered through the lens of historicity.
What is the “authentic” Arizona experience? Is it one steeped in history, or that which reflects the current reality?
The Phoenix Skyharbour Airport is similar to most other airports in North America: security checkpoints, slow moving lines, and long distances between where you are and where you need to be. It’s not until I was on the shuttle to pick up a rental car that I was exposed to the external environment. As expected, it’s hot. It’s dry. It’s very different from home. Yet the same sun sets over Arizona as does here.
Continue reading “Authentic American History: Arizona”