Book Review & Analysis: A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James

A Brief History of Seven Killings

by Marlon James

      Reggae music exploded in popularity during the 1970s. At the forefront of this musical movement was Bob Marley. Not necessarily the best reggae musician but certainly a great one and the most famous, he was perfect as a leader when it came to bringing reggae to the world. A lot of his softer pop songs had commercial appeal without being shallow or fake like so much top 40 music of the era. But he also had an angry side that was steeped in politics and the mysticism of the Rastafarian religion that appealed to young people moving on from the hippy movement without abandoning their counter cultural stance. Rastafarians were proponents of marijuana smoking and had a distinctly cool image with their dreadlocks and colorful clothes. As Bob Marley’s fame grew internationally, so did interest in Jamaica as an emerging nation, a country with a vibrant music scene and a tourist oriented economy. Reggae also had a strong influence on the punk, ska, and new wave music scenes that began in the mid to late 70s. A lot of reggae lyrics called for peace and love along with laments about violence and political injustice. Probably most reggae listeners weren’t aware of the events and political climate of Jamaica in the 1970s that served as inspiration for those lyrics. Gangs tied to Jamaica’s two political parties were fighting in the streets and Kingston could possibly be thought of as having a low level civil war at the time. Marlon James portrays the violence between Kingston gangs and their relation to Bob Marley in his novel A Brief History of Seven Killings.

Bob Marley is at the center of this novel...kind of. Without being mentioned by name, he is referred to exclusively as The Singer from beginning to end. The novel’s plot lines all relate to an assassination attempt on his life to prevent a free concert, his attempt at ratifying a peace treaty between Jamaica’s gangs, and his death. The Singer’s life is more of a framework for the novel and functions more as the narrative device we call a McGuffin.

This book is all about characters and situations, of which there are many. It is not a plot driven novel. The large number of people introduced to the story shouldn’t bother you. Most of them play peripheral roles and only stay around for a short time after their introduction. But there is a moderate group of central characters that stay around for large parts of the story.

One of the central characters is Papa Lo, the don of the Copenhagen City gang. Copenhagen City is a neighborhood in Kingston with ties to the right wing Jamaican Labor Party or JLP headed by Edward Seaga. They are in constant war over territory with other gangs tied to the People’s Nationalist Party or PLP headed by the democratic socialist and prime minister Michael Manley. While these gangs are politically affiliated, the parties play only a minimal role in the story. Anyways, Papa Lo is reaching middle age and starting to be concerned about surviving. He notices that there are hardly any elderly Jamaicans and he is growing weary of the gang violence even though he tells other people he isn’t. He begins taking interest in the message of the Rastafarians and is in dialogue with The Singer who has hired him to manage security for an upcoming concert. The Singer is affiliated with the left wing PNP in opposition to the Copenhagen City gang, but his intention is to bring peace to the city.

Second in command of the Copenhagen City gang is Josey Wales, named after the outlaw from the Clint Eastwood western movie. Josey Wales recognizes that Papa Lo is aging out of his position. He starts plotting behind Papa Lo’s back to lead a gang of dugged up teenage assassins on a mission to assassinate The Singer. The origins and purpose of this plot are murky, but it is clear that Josey Wales has ties to the CIA who provide him with weapons, drugs, and guidance. Josey Wales’ liaison with the CIA is the freelance asset Doctor Love, a Miami Cuban exile and Bay of Pigs veteran. Doctor Love is an explosives expert who helped to blow up an airplane over Barbados in an anti-communist terrorist attack. Doctor Love also has ties to Colombian drug cartels who he later introduces to Josey Wales. This part of their relationship is of later importance in the chapters that come after The Singer’s death.

The two other characters that carry the most weight are Alex Pierce and Nina Burgess who subsequently changes her name twice before the book concludes. Alex is an American journalist for Rolling Stone magazine, sent to Jamaica to cover The Singer. He is a rogue journalist though and breaks with Rolling Stone to pursue a more lurid story about CIA connections to gun running and gang activity in the Kingston ghettos. As he pursues his story, he ends up being one of only a handful of people who know that Josey Wales is the ringleader of the hit squad that attempts to assassinate The Singer. This has consequences for him later as Josey Wales sends hitmen out to kill anyone who has knowledge of the failed assassination attempt. The danger follows Alex to New York City where he continues working as a journalist covering the Jamaican gangs, called “posses”, that are responsible for the crack epidemic of the 1980s and 1990s.

Nina Burgess is a young, middle class Jamaican woman who wants nothing less than a chance to emigrate to America. After being seduced by The Singer at a party, she deludes herself into thinking he loves her and hangs around outside his house, hoping she can convince him to get her a plane ticket and a visa out of Jamaica. She thinks her own country is too backwards and dangerous for her. Nina is all about class mobility.

We later find her working as a prostitute in Montego Bay under the name Kim Clarke where she hooks up with an American businessman named Charles who works for a bauxite mining company. She moves in with him. The two of them use each other. Charles uses Kim for sex and as an unpaid domestic servant. Kim doesn’t love him but pins all her hopes on his promises to marry her and take her to live in America. When the Jamaican government raises taxes on bauxite exports, the American company closes down its Jamaican operations, Charles leaves and doesn’t take Kim with him. Nina/Kim later shows up in New York under the assumed named of Dorcas Palmer.

Then there is Weeper, a character of lesser importance in the beginning, but one that becomes more significant in the later New York City chapters. Weeper is an educated man, an atheist and reader of Bertrand Russell, and he is also gay. He tries to follow the honest path of education upwards out of the Copenhagen City ghetto, but gets arrested and tortured in prison by the police. After getting out, he becomes Josey Wales’ closest associate and later moves to New York to oversee the crack dealing operations there.

Otherwise there is a large cast of peripheral characters. Most of them are gangsters or gang affiliated. Despite the large numbers, there isn’t a wide range of characters though. One of them is, however, the duppy, or ghost in Jamaican English, of a man who died in the West Kingston Wars of the 1960s. Unseen by the other characters, he gives surreal narratives of murder scenes, telling us what happens before the killing and what happens to souls on the other side.

The plot, as explained above, is simple. The subplots are a bit more complex, but not by much. The complexity is in how interwoven they all are. But this novel is less about plot and more about character. More specifically, it is about Jamaica as seen through different subjective points of view. And the subtext of the novel is about thwarted ambitions for class mobility. The Singer, for instance, seemingly at the top of Jamaica as a type of prophet or king, is thwarted in his ambition to bring peace to Jamaica. First assassins try to rub him out and then gangsters use violence to make his peace treaty fall apart. After that he dies and the text carries a heavy suggestion that the CIA had a hand in his demise.

Papa Lo’s desire to retire and live to old age in peace is thwarted when he gets killed in a police ambush, probably orchestrated by Josey Wales who takes over as don in the Copenhagen City gang. Both Josey Wales and Weeper initially tried to move up in life through channels of vocational work training and education, but were beaten down by the police and found no other outlet for their desire to grow other than in criminal gangs. Josey Wales does succeed in expanding his operations by working with Colombian drug cartels to traffic cocaine to America, but meets his match when he crosses a competitor in New York. Weeper also gets killed. In New York, he finds liberation because he is able to live with minimum hassle as a gay man, unlike in the oppressively homophobic society of Jamaica. But he dies in a gang hit there too.

The desire for class mobility is further emphasized in Josey Wales when examining his motivations. As mentioned before, he tries to advance himself by learning a skilled trade, but then gets shot five times during the wars of the 1960s. As he rises to the position of don, we learn small details like how he wants a flush toilet in his house, something given to him as a payoff from the JLP, and how he refuses to talk about the business of killing and drug trafficking before finishing his morning tea. At the end of his life, his son attends a prestigious private school. His aspiration is for a middle class existence like the family that Nina/Kim comes from. And she wants to escape her middle class life by fleeing to America to escape from the crime that plagues Jamaica, making it unsafe for middle class people.

After The Singer dies, the last two sections of the novel mostly take place in America, sometimes in Miami but mostly in New York. Jamaican posses that deal crack are the central part of these back end sections.

Nina/Kim, however, does achieve her dream when she takes on another fake name, this time Dorcas, and emigrates to New York. She finds herself, in a way, by working as a caretaker for a man with amnesia. The significance is that every day, he forgets who she is and she wants nothing more than to forget her past and become someone else. This becomes another thwarted ambition since people recognize her Jamaican accent no matter how hard she tries to lose it. She later becomes an emergency room nurse and realizes something big is happening because Jamaican posse members keep showing up with bullet wounds. In the end this shows how her Jamaican-ness is a permanent part of her no matter how hard she tries to hide or eliminate it.

It is in New York City that the white journalist Alex Pierce shows up again too. While continuing to work as a journalist and author of a biography about The Singer, he meets with an inmate of Rikers Island prison. Tristan Phillips is a member of the Ranking Dons, the coke dealing posse that rivals the Storm Posse which is the American arm of the Copenhagen City gang led by Josey Wales. Tristan is a fallen Rastafarian who is a signatory to the peace treaty The Singer tries to uphold back in Kingston. Alex uses his journalist credentials to get in touch with Tristan, but he has a hidden motive. Alex fears for his life because he is one of only a couple people who knows that Josey Wales is the man who orchestrated the assassination attempt on The Singer. He also lives in fear because he killed the man who they sent to murder him in a bid to eliminate everyone who knows Josey Wales’ secret. Alex looks to Tristan for inside advice on his safety. It is through Tristan that the novel takes on a meta-narrative quality since he insists on Alex writing a book about the Kingston gangs and how they tried to assassinate The Singer. Alex, the white journalist, thereby becomes a literary persona representing Marlon James, the Jamaican author of this novel. The novel’s title is also a reference to an article written by Alex Pierce.

After Tristan assures him he is safe, Alex returns home to find a gang of Jamaican thugs waiting for him. Alex has been writing a serialized work of investigative journalism about a massacre in a Brooklyn crack house. The articles are revealing too much about the posses in involved. After a brutally violent confrontation, Alex learns that he will be allowed to live only if he continues writing articles that are approved of by the Storm Posse. This may be good news, but his wings are clipped so that his ambition to be a truth-telling journalist is thwarted. To a certain extent, all the major characters in this book get only a fraction of what they want. That fraction doesn’t go far for any of them. The theme of thwarted ambitions reminds me a bit of the poem “Dream Deferred” by the Harlem Renaissance poet Langston Hughes.

The most amazing part of this novel is how it is written. Every chapter is told in the first person by a different narrator. That way we get a subjective, kaleidoscopic view of everything that is happening. The story lines and subplots are interwoven into a web of multi-dimensional perspectives so that we see each character from both their own subjective point of view and the subjective point of view of others. It’s an amazing accomplishment that this writing, in all its subtlety, is so easy to follow.

It’s also amazing how effectively this works in character building. Each of the main characters are so distinctly written that it is easy to tell them apart. They really come to life as individuals through their narratives. You might notice in the beginning that each chapter heading is the name of the character speaking. By the end of the book, these chapter headings are absent and yet it is still obvious which character is speaking. This is even more interesting in how Nina/Kim/Dorcas takes on three different names in three different locations, yet it is clear that she is all three people without the author ever explaining this. He never explicitly says, “and then Nina changed her name to Kim.” He just shows us how she is as she is and allows for us to make the connection of our own.

And the stand out narrative for me is when Tristan is talking to Alex in prison. The only speech in these passages is that of Tristan; the speech of Alex isn’t written into the text. It is like sitting next to Tristan in a prison visitor’s booth where he is separated from Alex by a plexiglass window as they communicate over a telephone. These passages are especially good because of the change Tristan goes through during the conversation. At first he is hostile towards Alex, but after learning about Alex’s secrets, Tristan becomes relaxed, interested, and friendly. This is done by showing us only Tristan’s side of the conversation and his change in mood is delieverd so effectively because of the actual language used. Again the author shows us this change without explaining it.

One other great thing about this novel is the crafting of the language. It is mostly written using Jamaican English or Patwa as it is sometimes called. Marlon James, being a Jamaican author, has a natural understanding of the language and he writes it so well that he captures its rhythms and nuances in pronunciation and vocabulary. In fact, the shifting narratives give it the feel of reggae music. When listening to reggae you will notice the instruments don’t all play at once. Pauses and empty spaces in the rhythms create a depth that can’t be achieved in other ways. You might notice the call and response patterns in reggae rhtyhms too; the horns play a line of notes then stop to allow the bass and keyboards to run for a measure then stop to allow the horns space to play again, so on and so forth. The structure of shifting and alternating first person narratives operates with a similar logic. You will also learn some new vocabulary too if you read this. Words like “raascloth”, “battyboy”, “pussyhole”, and “fuckery” are repeatedly used throught the text. If you finish this and “fuckery” hasn’t been permanently etched into your brain, you probably weren’t paying much attention to what you were reading.

Finally, this book is not about the CIA’s involvement in Jamaica, but that element is a root cause of the problems being portrayed in the story. The novel starts fourteen years after Jamaica gained post-colonial independence from Great Britain. Within less than a decade, the CIA began a destabilization program in this small West Indian nation that was struggling to get on its feet and stay there. When the democratic socialist PNP party came to power in a landslide election, the CIA armed JLP affiliated gangs with heavy ammunition and the result was disastrous in two ways: the brutal violence of a rapidly escalating crime rate and a growing narcotics trade. Both of these problems spilled over into America and may have permanently damaged Jamaica as a nation. To paraphrase Josey Wales, America creates monsters and then acts surprised when they act monstrous. All this is in the name of fighting communism although I’m convinced the American government doesn’t actually care about fighting communism. They scapegoat communism for the purpose of imperialism and hegemony. If this is the case, maybe we deserve some of the crime that drug cartels have brought to our shores. Our meddling in other countries’ affairs is only perpetuating the problems we claim to be fighting against.

A Brief History of Seven Killings fills a gap in people’s knowledge of Jamaican history and culture. If you search around for books covering this subject in the decades of the 1970s to the 1990s, almost nothing can be found. Yet people worldwide are familiar with Jamaica through its music, most especially the monumental work of Bob Marley. Although this novel is fiction, most, if not all, the events in it really happened. This can be corroborated by checking a wide variety of legitimate academic sources. Marlon James crafts all that information into a novel and makes it accessible to the general reader. The Jamaican Patwa and the descriptions of extremely brutal violence might make it difficult for some people to read, but it is possibly the most important book about Jamaica that has been written so far.

 

Book Review & Analysis: Jamaica White by Harold Underhill

Jamaica White

by Harold Underhill

      According to Jamaican folklore, the plantation mansion of Rose Hall in Montego Bay is haunted by the ghost of Annie Palmer, also known as the White Witch of Rose Hall. As the story goes, Annie Palmer murdered three of her husbands, practiced occult rituals in secret chambers under the mansion, and was finally executed during a slave rebellion in the 19^th century. Now her ghost, hungry for revenge, is said to wander around the plantation grounds.

Rose Hall, in more recent times, was bought by an American businessman who renovated the mansion and turned it into a museum. Night time tours, for those willing to fork over enough cash, are given. These excursion come complete with Scooby Doo style explorations of secret passageways splashed with blood, underground tunnels, and seances. These tours would not be complete without scary stories about Annie Palmer. So some people in the Jamaican tourist industry have a vested interest in keeping the legend of the White Witch of Rose Hall alive.

I’ll admit that I’m a sucker for gothic horror. I don’t literally believe in ghosts or haunted houses, but when gothic horror is at its best, such things function as metaphors anyhow. So when I found Harold Underhill’s historic novel Jamaica White, purported to be the story of Annie Palmer and her life at Rose Hall, I thought I was in for an interesting creepshow. This novel did turn out to be creepy, but not for the reasons I expected.

James Arthur is the novel’s protagonist. He arrives on the docks of Montego Bay after a voyage from Manchester, England where he grew up in poverty. In a desire for power, wealth, and a ticket out of the working class slums, Arthur takes on a job as a “buckra”, an overseer, on a Jamaican sugarcane plantation named Rose Hall.

Arthur meets up with Broderick at the wharf. Broderick was once an Irish murderer, living on death row in an English prison. The jailers struck a deal with him. If he agreed to work as a colonial plantation boss, they would spare his life on the condition that he never return to England. After arriving at Rose Hall, Broderick’s self-discipline, sadism, and sociopathy made him rise in the ranks to become the head buckra of Rose Hall.

Arthur is taken to his bungalow where he meets two other characters of lesser importance in the plot. One is Mary Lou, a slave woman who cooks, cleans, and does sexual favors for him. The other is Wilson, a rum-drinking alcoholic who used to be a school teacher. He got fired for protesting the use of corporal punishment in the classroom and so got sent to work in Jamaica to get rid of him. Wilson acts as a voice of conscience in the story. He doesn’t like slavery, but he depends on it for work. Convinced that it will eventually end, he holds educational classes for slaves who want to learn how to read.

So far so good. The characters are distinctly drawn and effectively introduced. The world building is of high quality with vivid descriptions of the plantation and surrounding jungle. The narration goes step by step to draw the reader into this world and the story with all the elements building on each other to create a fantastical literary space. Despite being a place of slavery, the plantation and its surroundings are described as enticing, sensual, and elysian. Underhill has a definite talent for using language to create mood, atmosphere, character development, and plot. But at a certain point in the novel, I begin to feel his talent is wasted.

When Broderick first shows Arthur around the plantation, the new buckra gets a first taste of what is to come. One of the slaves gets a severe whipping for stepping out of line. Arthur is initially shocked by this, but gets over it quickly. After dark, Broderick brings Arthur to a dungeon where the house servant named Venus is chained to the wall. Broderick gives Arthur a whip and commands him to flog her as part of the training. Arthur obeys and again feels disgusted before silencing his conscience and continues learning how to be cruel.

There are multiple scenes of tirture throughout the story. They are vivid in their detail and go on for longer than they need to in order to get the point across. Broderick is also sexually promiscuous with the slave women and even indulges in pedophilia. On one hand you can say that this descriptive writing needs to be so detailed to show how inhumane slavery truly is. It also serves the purpose of building Broderick’s character as a psychopathic sadist. One the other hand, the descriptions of torture are so indulgent that they read like passages from the Marquis de Sade. What I mean to say is that Underhill writes about slavery as though it is a fetish. He writes as though he takes delight in all the fine details of the torture. I’ll come back to this later.

All of this builds up to Arthur’s meeting with Annie Palmer, the owner of the Rose Hall sugarcane estate. Up until that point, Arthur only hears about her through other characters. Her reputation precedes her as stories circulate about her frequently having sex with Broderick and the strongest of the male slaves. It is also said that she murdered her husband to inherit control over the plantation. But before they meet, Broderick commands Arthur to kill a slave who tries to sabotage the machinery in the sugar mill. After the killing, Arthur goes through the same cycle of disgust and suppression of his conscience. Then he gets incapacitated by an illness.

Annie Palmer demands that he be brought up to her mansion so she can nurse him back to health. In the process of Arthur’s recovery, they get emotionally close and begin a sexual relationship. Arthur falls madly in love with her, but of course she is only playing with him. He is too naive to see that. After he becomes healthy again, Annie takes him to a waterfall in the jungle where they have sex. The eroticism in this novel is just as graphic and indulgent as the passages where slaves are tortured. At this point the writing becomes outright fantasy and it is easy to forget the story has anything to do with slavery. In fact it reads like a description of paradise. As the narrative goes on, it becomes more apparent that the practice of slavery is a deliberate part of that paradise.

At this point, I can reiterate that the writing in this novel is great. The sequential progression leading up to the meeting between James Arthur and Annie Palmer is effectively handled even if it isn’t entirely original. The description and character building are consistently strong. Annie Palmer is an especially well-drawn character combining elements of sensual beauty, intelligence, and social charm all wrapped up in a woman with a strong and commanding personality. If you ignore her darker side, her role as slave owner and her ability to be cruel without mercy, you could be forgiven for finding her attractive. In fact, if you like strong, commanding women it would be surprising if you didn’t.

In the course of Arthur getting to know Annie Palmer, he appears to be building up to a moral awakening. He feels disgusted by the violence used to control the slaves. He agrees with the alcoholic Wilson, the man who tries teaching the slaves to read, that slavery is morally wrong and must end sometime in the future. But as he continues working as buckra on the plantation, he gets closer to Annie as their sexual trysts become more common. Annie Palmer, as it turns out, thinks of herself as a visionary. She acknowledges that slavery is terrible, but she justifies the practice by saying that great empires can only be built through cruelty. Her long range dream is to turn Jamaica into another Roman Empire. This could well be a delusion of grandeur, but Arthur swallows it whole. This is the point where the novel loses my sympathy. Any moral awakening that Arthur may have been on the verge of having is crushed as he becomes more fanatical about his love for Annie Palmer.

As Arthur becomes increasingly more devoted and less concerned with the welfare of the slaves, she loses interest in him, begins to humiliate him, and eventually shuns him. Meanwhile, a slave rebellion is brewing up with Venus, the house servant, playing a major role in it. The entire plantation, including the mansion, is set on fire and all the white people are killed except for James Arthur who is saved by his sexual servant Mary Lou. The rebellion is arbitrary. It functions more as a means of climaxing a plot rather than delivering poetic justice. It is an explosion to distract the reader from the mundane plot in which the relationship between Arthur and Annie Palmer fizzles out. The key to understanding this is in the final passage when James Arthur is returning to England on a ship. As he lies face down on his bunk, he is crying because he lost Annie Palmer, the woman he was madly in love with and the one he pinned his fantasies of future wealth and power on. He has no gratitude, or even any thoughts for Mary Lou, the slave woman who saved his life. James Arthur’s story ends without any moral redemption.

That’s the whole problem with this novel: it just doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t make a statement. It doesn’t take any definite moral stance. The message is vague and weak. Sure there is something to the slave rebellion, but the slaves aren’t fully humanized in any way. They are mostly in the background or else used as objects for labor, torture, or sex. Venus does have her own monologue at the end, but it does little more than explain the plans for the rebellion. Her subjectivity is only suggested. Mary Lou is entirely objectified too. She appears to like Arthur but it’s never made clear why. And the only white people who have any pity for the slaves are pathetic losers who don’t have enough will to do anything aside from continuing to work as buckras, sustaining the practice they claim to hate.

It’s possible the author is attempting to examine the nature of power and domination in the character of Annie Palmer. If so, it’s not clear what he is trying to say. Her flippant attitude that slavery is a necessary evil when doing great things is sickening, but she isn’t written as a villain. In fact she’s written as desirable and seductive. In fact, she bears some resemblance to Wanda von Dunajew, the dominatrix in Sacher- Masoch’s Venus in Furs. And James Arthur isn’t far from Severin in the way he worships her. Actually Annie Palmer reminds me a bit of Elon Musk and his belief that empathy is a weakness that prevents great men from doing great things. Arthur is like the kind of shlubs that admire Musk for his ruthlessness and power even though Musk has made it clear that he despises the entire human race. That is an all inclusive hatred and the shlub fans are a portion of the humanity he despises. But if this is the point of the book, it is weakly stated and too vague to be of any value. In any case, if empathy is nothing more than an obstacle to great achievements, I’d say that great achievements are not important. I’d choose empathy over greatness any day.

Again, I will restate my opinion that this novel is excellently written on a technical level. But the content is such crap that the form gets overshadowed. The over-indulgence in sex and violence is a big part of that. It’s not that I’m, squeamish. I’ve read and sometimes enjoyed my share of transgressive writing. I’d even say there is a time and place for detailed descriptions of the cruelties of slavery. You could argue that such excessive description is necessary to show how cruel it actually is. When written into the proper context that is true. But there is a problem of proportion in this story. The passages about torture and sex are longer and given far more attention than any other elements in the narrative. The author seems to take great delight in his scenes of sadism and then takes just as much delight in pairing them with long and detailed passages of erticism. After seeing what Annie Palmer is responsible for on the Rose Hall plantation, you’d have to be a really sick person to want to fuck her over and over again, let alone fall madly in love with her and worship the ground she walks on. I think Harold Underhill’s intentions are to indulge in a sick, racist fantasy while throwing in some insincere details about moral conflicts so that readers don’t outright dismiss him as a complete piece of human shit. If he has some other intention, I’ve missed it because he didn’t articulate it clearly enough.

If you want a Caribbean twist on the gothic horror genre, Jamaica White isn’t a good choice. It does have a castle, but there isn’t any witchcraft and there aren’t any ghosts. The only thing scary about it is the passe attitude the author has towards the brutality of slavery. It’s nothing but an eroticized fantasy of white supremacy, power, domination, and violence. It might appeal to people who are indifferent to racism. It might appeal even more to Nazi pigs who sexually fetishize racism.

Jamaica White doesn’t even incorporate any of the Jamaican folklore surrounding the White Witch of Rose Hall. Academic folklorists have traced the legend’s origin back to an early 19^th century novel about a slave rebellion set in Cuba. Over the years, details about a female plantation owner were added; they derived from a real woman, who didn’t live at Rose Hall, but had three successive husbands. They all died of natural causes and she never killed any of them. It is true that Rose Hall once had a slave rebellion, but Annie Palmer never existed except as a fictional character in ghost stories told around campfires by Jamaican storytellers late at in the night. The current owners of Rose Hall have a vested interest in keeping the legend alive since their profit margins depend on it. I didn’t like this novel, but if I ever get to listen to the the legend of the White Witch of Rose Hall being told by a Jamaican person in the flickering lights of a campfire, I’d be fascinated.

 

Book Review & Analysis: Democracy by Joan Didion

Democracy

by Joan Didion

      The lifestyles of the rich and well connected aren’t all they are cracked up to be. Take it from Joan Didion, the author who reveals how mundane people actually are by stripping away all the explanatory psychology and decorative frills that go along with literature. Her novel Democracy is about a political family that lives in the public eye. But when it comes to understanding them, the political life is little more than some details in the background.

Joan Didion herself speaks directly to the audience as the narrator in the first person. Her literary persona is immediately collapsed since her role as narrator is the same role she plays in life. Joan Didion was a journalist and as a journalist she plays the part of covering the protagonist, Inez Victor, writing articles about her for magazines and then piecing them together to form this novel which traces her life up to 1975. This postmodernist style isn’t any different from the fragmentary and non-linear style of Didion’s other novels. Along the way, the narrator provides a meta-narration, commenting on how a work of fiction is written and how choices in descriptive language are used to communicate emotions and information about characters and situations. In this way, Didion doesn’t break through the fourth wall by addressing the audience directly; there is no fourth wall to begin with.

Inez grows up in Hawaii with her sister Janet. Both of them marry into powerful families. Inez marries Harry Victor and Janet marries Dick Ziegler. The Zieglers are wealthy and well-connected members of the business class in Hawaii. And Harry Victor is a rising star in the Democratic party. His involvement catapults him into the Senate and in 1972 he runs in the Democratic primaries for president but loses. Because of this, Inez, who bears a passing resemblance to Jacqueline Kennedy, is a glamorous socialite in the public eye. In her home life, Inez is a mother of two.

There is a darker undercurrent to her marriage though. During her younger days, she falls in love with Jack Lovett, a CIA agent and arms trafficker. Throughout their lives they admire each other from a distance. But during a family vacation in Jakarta, Indonesia the two run into each other. The family vacation coincides with anti-American riots breaking out in Jakarta, mirroring the point where Inez and Harry begin losing interest in each other. Jack Lovett helps the family to escape to a cabin in the mountains outside Bandung and while there, Inez and Jack rekindle their interest in each other.

Jack Lovett subsequently gets deeply involved in espionage activities as the Vietnam War escalates and Harry Victor runs his presidential campaign on an anti-war ticket, similar to George McGovern who, as we now know, also lost the election, unfortunately giving Nixon another term in office. Inez’s heart is torn between an anti-war politician and a CIA agent with no political or ideological affiliation. This symbolizes her weak identity and it is something that her persona, fed to the public by the media, in incapable of seeing.

The relationship between Inez and Jack comes to the forefront of the novel when Inez’s father kills Janet and a Hawaiian man in her home. After the murder, the Ziegler family gather for dinner. During the meal, Jack Lovett walks in and from there he reconnects with Inez. The murder is the turning point where Inez and Harry’s shaky relationship falls apart, revealing it to be more a marriage for the public eye as opposed to one of domesticity. As Inez’s sister dies in the hospital, it is Jack who is there for her emotional support.

Other details get revealed through the murder. One is that Janet might have been cheating on her husband and the affair complicates the relationship between the Ziegler family and the established political and economic order of Hawaii. The Hawaiian man killed by Inez and Janet’s father is tied to a powerful Hawaiian family who were about to close a deal selling low-grade swamp land to the Ziegler family for development. Because of the murder, the deal will fall through. Jack Lovett is connected with all this because his arms dealing is somehow tied in with the Ziegler family’s businesses. But all of these interconnections are murky and not fully explained. The whole mess serves to underline the disconnection between Inez’s family and the Zieglers who are all white settlers and intruders in the Hawaiian islands. The theme of disconnection among the wealthy elite is a theme that runs throughout the novel.

Another theme that gets brought into the foreground because of the murder is the dysfunctional relationship between the parents and children in the Victor family. The son Adlai, no doubt named after Adlai Stevenson though I’m not sure why, is an underachieving student who is getting involved in the anti-war movement on his campus. The daughter Jessie works in a fast food restaurant in Seattle after a suicide attempt. She has just gotten out of rehab for heroin addiction. When Harry Victor arrives in Seattle to take his kids to Hawaii for Janet’s funeral, Jessie decides on a whim to move to Vietnam. Her motivations aren’t clear, but she seems hungry for excitement and hasn’t put any thought into her decision.

After arriving in Vietnam, Jessie gets a job as a cocktail waitress in a country club for Westerners just as the embassies begin evacuating all Americans from Vietnam due to their losing the war. Jack Lovett flies to Vietnam to retrieve her, using his CIA connections to find her and transport her out, utilizing a string of secret military bases in the South Pacific and eventually leaving her in Hawaii. Soon after, Jack Lovett dies in the swimming pool of the hotel in Jakarta where he mysteruously met up with Inez and her family while they were on vacation several years before. The important part of Jessie’s naive escapade is that she would have gotten stuck in the danger zone of post-war Vietnam if the Victor family didn’t have connections in the CIA through Jack Lovett. Jessie most likely would have been imprisoned or executed as North and South Vietnam reunited under the communist government.

The murder also brings one other issue out into the open in the character of Billy Dillon, a man whose job it is to manage the public personae of the Victor family. He works behind the scenes to advise the Victors on what to say in order to minimize controversy and maximize their positive public image. When Inez’s father commits murder, Billy Dillon is called in to first help negotiate a lenient sentence with the Hawaiian judiciary and second to control messaging in the media to cut down on the perceived severity of the crime. Didion demonstrates the efficacy of this in the text by making it unclear why the killing happened and what it meant to the killer. There is a direct connection between the first person meta-narrative of Joan Didion, who explains her literary technique in the course of telling the story, and Billy Dillon who uses the same semantic tricks to manipulate a receptive audience’s perceptions. Billy Dillon again carries the theme of disconnection since he symbolizes the fracture between media image and the private life reality of the Victors. On a private level he is even further a representative of disconnection because he is secretly in love with Inez even though she appears not to be aware of it.

Inez, in the end, drops out of American society. She only becomes her true self after the failure of her marriage and the death of Jack Lovett. She can no longer depend on others, especially men, to support her. Her epiphany comes when Jessie runs away to Vietnam and Inez’s privilege is used to rescue her. This is paired in the story with televised media images of Vietnamese refugees desperately clinging onto American helicopters as they lifet off from military bases. It is important that these images are shown on TV since this demonstrates how cut off Inez is from the real world. She only knows about the refugees through the news media, just as the public only knows her through the same channel. The refugees don’t have the luxuty of being rescued by their own personal secret agents. They have to risk their lives en masse to even have a hope for survival. And Jessie simply gets rescued because her family has powerful connections. This drives Inez to find self-actualization by running a refugee resettlement program from a mosquito-ridden bungalow in Kuala Lumpur. She abandons her life of wealth, privilege, and fame and finds herself by saving the Southeast Asian people without privilege, wealth, or connections who are becoming displaced from their homelands and way of life. Inez ends up being no longer disconnected, no longer living an empty domestic life, and feeling fulfilled and integrated by using what privilege she has to benefit others.

This novel is not exactly a political drama. In fact, the political drama mostly happens in the background and only emerges into the main narrative at certain points. It is really about how mundane the problems of an elite ruling class actually are. Being wealthy and connected, they have powerful mechanisms to help them manage their dysfunctional relationships, but these mechanisms fracture them as human beings. Incapable of knowing themselves, they become vapid, empty husks without any true purpose. Inez and her familial relations are socially disconnected from the state of Hawaii they have chosen, as intruders, as a place of settlement. Inez is disconnected from her public media persona which is managed by Billy Dillon. She is disconnected from her husband and family. She is also disconnected from Jack Lovett who she loves, but only at a distance. She has no sense of identity because she lives through other people who have only fragmentary ties to her. It is only when she clears away all the debris of her social life and media image that she can begin to relate to herself as herself. If this isn’t a simplified version of Hegelian philosophy, I don’t know what is. The political sides of the story are like shadows in the background, partially shaped by the Victor and Ziegler family relations. The background politics are distorted shapes and only vaguely connected to them. The real politics are those internal to the nuclear and extended families. And their problems aren’t any different from the kinds of problems families outside the ruling elite have on a regular basis.

Stripped of all the political noise, this familial drama is basically a soap opera. It’s a surface level plot with superficial twists about people without much depth. Even more so, it is a soap opera because where else would you find such WASPish rich people with names like Dick Ziegler, Harry Victor, or Jack Lovett? They are such wonderbread bland characters that even the name Inez sounds exotic in comparison. Even the tropical location of Hawaii does nothing to enhance their character. This novel could be set in Ohio, Nebraska, or Iowa and it wouldn’t make a difference. Like all of Joan Didion’s novels, this one takes place almost entirely on the surface, but the interplay of those surfaces reveals something about the hidden truths of the people inhabiting a Didion world. A lot of times the hidden space that gets revealed is filled with little more than emptiness. Until the end of the story, this is true of Inez.

Democracy is the type of novel that needs to be read more than once if you want to pick up on all the subtle nuances. It is also the type of novel that needs to be thought about after you’ve finished reading it. Although its simple plot isn’t hard to follow, it was difficult to connect with during while reading. After finishing and allowing for some distance, it was easier to piece all the fragments together into a whole for clarity so that its themes could be considered. This might be a frustrating process for readers who wish to be spoon fed information with clear explanations. This is too bad because if you take a step back and allow the pieces to fall into place, it makes for a challenging but provocative novel. This isn’t Joan Didion’s best work, but it is good enough and certainly deserves a second reading.

 

Book Review & Analysis: A Book of Common Prayer by Joan Didion

A Book of Common Prayer

by Joan Didion

      She always runs away. She always leaves. This is the observation made by Warren, the ex-husband of Charlotte Douglas who is the protagonist of Joan Didion’s third novel A Book of Common Prayer. Following up on her two previous novels, ones in which the female protagonists suffer because they refuse to take command of their lives, Didion takes a turn in the opposite direction here. Maybe you can say that Charlotte doesn’t end up any better off because of her decisiveness. In fact she gets killed at the beginning of the novel whereas the wives in Run River and Play It As It Lays both survive, albeit under unenviable circumstances.

The narrator, Grace Strasser-Mendana, is an obvious stand-in for Joan Didion. She lives in the fictional Central American nation of Boca Grande where she is connected directly to the government due to her ex-husband’s ownership of a palm oil plantation which happens to be the biggest business in the tiny country. Grace is a former anthropologist who abandons her career because she can never understand human motivations even though she has a sharp perception of human behavior. She changes to a biologist mid-career since organic molecules are easier to understand. They have no subjectivity and only respond to stimuli. This is a clear explanation of Didion’s literary style; in a truly postmodern sense, all her writings concern interactions between surface appearances as opposed to depth and inner meaning. As such, Grace bears witness to Charlotte’s life and death without examining her subjective mind. Yet despite this avoidance of explanation, meaning does emerge in the patterns of Charlotte’s behavior.

During one of the frequent revolutionary coups that make Boca Grande’s politics and economy so unstable, Charlotte gets gunned down on the street. The killing is used as an internal narrative frame. The content of Charlotte’s life up until the time of her death is the content of most of the novel.

A second narrative frame is introduced just after the killing at the beginning and closes at the end of the book after the story of Charlotte’s life finishes. This tells the story of Charlotte’s daughter Marin. This introduction of a second framing device that ends outside the parameters of the first framing device is one way that Didion creates a decentered narrative, one that makes the story feel fractured as though it is falling apart rather than coming together. The non-linear narrative that jumps around between different places and times in seemingly random order, along with reoccurring lines of dialog and thought echoing and repeating throughout the text, heighten the confusion and disorganization. It’s like the pieces of the novel are painted onto glass panels that have been shattered and you follow the story by examining each one and trying to imagine how they once all fit together. This is a good example of how a narrative structure can reflect the theme of its subject.

Marin’s presence is absent from the initial passage that introduces her character when Charlotte meets with her husband Leonard and her ex-husband, also Marin’s father, Warren in her house in San Francisco. The FBI is there because they are looking for Marin due to the daughter’s involvement in a terrorist bombing in San Francisco followed by the hijacking and destruction of an airplane in Utah. Marin has gone underground and disappeared, although it is likely Leonard knows where she is all along. Leonard is a lawyer in high standing with revolutionaries because of his dedication to defending Leftist activist groups in court. He has deep ties to revolutionary factions in Latin America. Or does he actually work for the CIA?

The ex-husband Warren, on the other hand, is the worst possible husband. A professor of English literature from New Orleans, he is obnoxious, mean, racist, manipulative, and violent. Chronically drunk, he has a nasty habit of slapping and punching women who don’t cooperate with him. He is the kind of guy who would never have survived the #MeToo movement. But Warren understands Charlotte more than anybody else in the novel. He may not have any insight into her psyche, but he does know one thing Charlotte always does: run away. As we learn more about their marriage, it is clear that he gave her good reason to run away. But he also recognizes that running away is her habitual reaction to any situation she finds herself in. That is why he has an ulterior motive in coming to San Francisco. He wants to reconnect with Charlotte and coaxes her to visit him in New Orleans to see his brother. Warren claims his brother is dying of cancer, but in actuality it is Warren who is dying of cancer. Of course Charlotte goes. Warren knows she will run away from her absentee husband Leonard. She is easy prey and he wants one last fling before he dies. The result is a predictable disaster.

Charlotte ends up in Boca Grande where she makes an effort to be sociable with everyone although she stands out and never fits in any where. It is here that she meets the narrator Grace who befriends her, protects her, and tries to understand her. That task is not easy. Charlotte spends her days at the coffee shop in the airport, believing that her daughter Marin will be arriving by plane even though she never does. Some well-connected people think she is a CIA agent since the embassy alerted them to her presence and warned that she is of protected status by unofficial US law. She also reads propaganda pamphlets distributed by the CIA and makes late night phone calls to San Francisco for Northern California weather reports. The police think these are coded messages although we never find out what they are all about. She is also friendly with a group of Leftist activists that arrive from the USA and other parts of Latin America. Yet Grace observes that she has no understanding of what any of these people are up to. Grace’s most important observation is that Charlotte lives in the mental space of how she wants the world to be which is distinctly cut off from the way the world really is.

As rumors of a coup circulate, Charlotte’s husband Leonard arrives in Boca Grande to convince her to leave before the revolution breaks out. But he fails since Charlotte has decided to stop running away from life and stay where she is, working in a medical clinic that serves the people of Boca Grande. As all Americans are evacuated from the country, Charlotte stays and continues going to work even though a bomb has gone off at the clinic. She insists she is politically neutral in any situation whatsoever and is oblivious to the danger surrounding her. All that remains of her life at this point is the stubborn refusal to not run away anymore. And that is how she gets shot dead in the street. It’s probable that the revolutionaries kill her because they think she is an intelligence agent. Whether or not this is true is unclear, but in this case perceptions matter more than reality. Grace offers no explanation for any of her of this, but as a reader I conclude that Charlotte lived an uninformed life, relying on her instincts alone and in the end her instincts failed. She couldn’t hold her life together and her intuition didn’t save her when it should have.

As for the political situation, Charlotte doesn’t understand it and she doesn’t want to understand it. Neither does anyone else. The coup in Boca Grande is never explained because it doesn’t serve any definite purpose. It’s led by a bunch of bored young people and gets put down by another counter-revolutionary army of bored young people. All these bored young people are attached to the wealthy family that rules Boca Grande. Mixed up in this guerilla warfare are a bunch of American kids and Leonard, the lawyer who got rich by defending political activists in court. None of these people have a coherent ideology. They just have nothing better to do with themselves. Joan Didion, the lifelong Republican, had a low opinion of the American counter culture. If you’ve read “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” you’ll know what I mean.

After fleeing Boca Grande and returning to the United States, Grace tracks down Charlotte’s daughter Marin who is hiding in a safehouse for activists in Buffalo, New York. Sullen and defensive, the young terrorist refuses to discuss her parents, Charlotte and Warren. After learning both of them are dead, she reacts by spewing out rhetoric about the revolution and the defeat of the bourgeoisie. Her rhetoric is a protective armor, sheltering her from the troubles of the outside world by escaping into fantasies about guerilla warfare. When Grace pierces this armor, Marin breaks down in tears. What is revealed is the disconnection between her and her parents who never provided her with the emotional support she needed. The implication is that Warren abused her and Charlotte ran away from her. Most likely, Marin found the support she craved in the politics of Leonard, Charlotte’s second husband, and the activist movements he associates with.

This novel is Joan Didion at her best. She builds on the fractured narrative style of her previous two novels simply by adding in more thematic elements and layers. This is also accomplished by using the first person narrative of Grace as a metanarrative that explains the author’s intentions. Grace’s function is to show without telling. She offers almost no explanations of what happens and allows room for the reader to piece everything together for themselves. The story is all on the surface, but the fragments of the story all point the reader in the direction of its meaning. Grace gives up on anthropology because she can’t understand human motivations. She sees only patterns of behavior and tells the story in this way. She becomes a biologist because she can understand why molecules interact they way they do and, again, she writes about human behavior in this way. Mid-novel she begins using metaphors derived from molecular biology to describe the behavior of the characters. But it is through the reader’s observation of behavioral patterns, how some patterns repeat and then get shattered from outside interference, that explanatory motivations reveal themselves. Grace’s narrative doesn’t tell us what Charlotte’s or Marin’s motivations are, but she does point your attention in the right direction and lets you draw the conclusions. This is a successful way of writing about surfaces so the reader can see through the cracks at what lies underneath. This is showing without telling.

After finishing A Book of Common Prayer it may be obvious that Joan Didion wrote the same kind of book over and over again. Her stories are all about a shallow woman who lives by her wits and instincts alone. She has trouble making decisions and gets tossed around by unseen forces that are remote and yet more powerful than she is. She sees the world solely from her own flawed point of view. And to what extent is Joan Didion writing from an autobiographical perspective? I don’t know. Her novels are without heroes, but maybe there is some kind of strength in their weaknesses. But I do know you might be tempted to cast a critical eye of judgment on her characters. Then the question remains: aren’t her characters a lot more like us than we would like to admit? By reading her novels, aren’t we looking at ourselves in the shards of shattered mirrors whether we like it or not? How many of us truly understand ourselves or the world we live in? Maybe she’s telling us to be more cautious in our approach to other human beings.

 

Book Review & Analysis: Run River by Joan Didion

Run River

by Joan Didion

      Anybody familiar with popular culture in America knows about the Western genre in film and literature. Westward expansion in the 19^th century is a reality that is baked into the collective American psyche, for better or worse. The Western genre in entertainment and art uses that as a template for the exploration of themes dealing with the American identity including enterprise, personal responsibility, individuality, freedom, and justice. And guns. Somewhere in the space between the historical westward expansion and the storytelling fantasies that originated in journalistic sensationalism, penny dreadful newspapers, and pulp novels, to films as far back as the silent movie era there is a gap that has been overlooked by purveyors of high and low art. That gap is the less romanticized portrayal of what happened after the westward moving pilgrims settled, particularly those that settled in California. One author that did explore that gap is John Steinbeck. Another is Joan Didion and her first novel, Run River, picks up exactly where John Steinbeck left off.

The connection between Didion and Steinbeck isn’t tenuous; Didion makes sure you get it with direct references thrown right in your face. She mentions the novel In Dubious Battle by name and the land owner Everett McClellan speaks with contempt to his wife Lily about the Okie migrant workers camped out on the edge of their farm. It’s a direct reference to The Grapes of Wrath in which we see the downtrodden fruit pickers from an outsider’s point of view. Lily, whose maiden name is Knight, comes from a lineage of settlers in the Sacramento Valley just like her husband McClellan. The reference to Steinbeck’s East of Eden is just a little too obvious as if Didion is begging you to compare her to that legendary American author. Didion, in a further possible reference to East of Eden, even has an Asian caretaker raising her children who are otherwise almost absent from her life. It’s the kind of stunt a young author pulls in their first novel. These ancestral lines of the Knights and McClellans are important because when Lily’s father, an ex-congressman, dies and the married couple’s connection to their families’ past begins to fade, we see how uprooted they actually are in their time and place.

Lily and Everett live empty lives. Lily is a slut. And she’s shallow. There is no point to saying this in a delicate way. It’s just how she is. She’s easy to get into bed. It’s not that she’s excessively horny or indulgent in her sexuality. It’s just that she has nothing better to do with her life. She has enough money to live comfortably and doesn’t have a strong enough mind to occupy herself with the kinds of intellectual pursuits that would build character. She’s just an emoty dress that gets passed around like a jug of ripple wine at a campfire. There is a profound irony here. Lily isn’t shallow because she isn’t a well-drawn character. Didion is a much better writer than that. Lily is shallow because Didion is a good writer. She creates a shallow protagonist through complexity in her prose. The writing is anything but shallow. In fact, you could say the prose is a little too complex for what Didion is trying to achieve. But it does work well enough to get you inside the empty mind of Lily.

Everett himself isn’t much better. He is a dull person, devoid of intellect or emotion. As a father, he manages the family the way a foreman might run a factory that makes products like toothbrushes or shoelaces, things that he has no emotional investment in. He is a family provider but one that is so emotionally distant from his wife and children that he is little more than an anchor or a hitching post for them. We do learn through the course of the novel that he does feel things like jealousy, shame, guilt, and anger, but he is so cut off from his own emotions that we don’t realize this until he expresses them with his gun.

The novel starts with a gunshot as heard by Lilly as she sits fretting in her bedroom. We don’t learn who got shot until the end of the story. The man who does get shot near the beginning is Ryder Channing. I’d expect anybody with a name like Ryder Channing to be from California, or at least to be a character in a soap opera set in California. I’m just sayin’. Everett murders Channing after catching him having a romp in the bushes by the river with Lilly. Throughout most of the story, even though Everett is emotionally dead, he doesn’t show any signs of being homicidal. So here the plot is set in place to be about how Everett came to the point of murdering this man. It almost starts with the feeling of a murder mystery albeit one in which the mystery is not who committed the murder but why did so.

Ryder Channing sees himself as a visionary entrepreneur. He schemes up big plans for business ventures that are guaranteed for success. Of course, all he needs to get started is money...other peoples’ money to be exact. His sales pitches are successful and he attracts a lot of investors and women too. But his businesses never succeed in getting off the ground and he maintains his luxurious lifestyle by skimming off the investments. Ryder isn’t exactly a grifter; it’s just that he is immature and not very responsible.

Ryder Channing has designs on Martha McClellan, Everett’s sister. The McClellan siblings have a curious relationship. There are heavy suggestions of an incestuous attachment. If the two haven’t actually slept with each other, there certainly is a desire between them that hangs heavy over the narrative. Martha is insanely jealous of Lily which is complicated by the detail that the two women both live in the McClellan mansion near the bank of the Sacramento River. They manage to get along though, especially because the children have a good relationship with Martha in the absence of Lily’s emotional support. As the story progresses though, Martha’s behavior becomes erratic and unpredictable. When she drowns in the river, we can’t be certain if it is a suicide or not. Martha is in the middle of all this because she had been planning to marry Ryder Channing, but the arrangements were called off partly because Everett didn’t approve of the marriage. Considering that Ryder and Lily were growing closer to having an affair before Martha’s death, it is easy to see how the history between the two men climaxes with Everett shooting Ryder after he discovers him post-coitus with Lily on the river bank.

After the suspicious death of Martha, Everett is driven further into despair because a powerful development corporation is planning to buy the Knight and McClellan properties. The intention is to turn the inherited agricultural land into suburban housing tracts. The businessmen are like turkey vultures circling the shack of a nearly dead man. This element of capitalist predation even further represents separation from the weakening ancestral roots put down by Lily and Everett’s families. Even worse, Ryder and others who live nearby are in on this real estate scheme because the pursuit of money means more to them than quality of life. This all builds up to the ending gunshot Lily hears in the first sentence of the novel.

All the pieces fit together making a clear and coherent picture. Unfortunately, the prose doesn’t do it justice. Didion’s writing is choppy and stilted a lot of the time. It doesn’t flow as it should. Some of the run-on sentences go on so long that it becomes difficult to follow what she is saying. At other times, the prose is difficult to pay attention to. It is the kind of writing that makes more sense after you finish reading it than during the reading process.

Another shortcoming is her use of the river as a metaphor. The river is a source of life for the farming community that lives on its banks. They obviously settled there because they needed water for irrigation. It is also a place of death since so many people die in or near the river during the course of the narrative. Also it represents a line of demarcation that cuts the communities off from the world outside the valley. This is especially important as a line that separates the people migrating from the east from those that stopped migrating and settled on the western bank. But a river is supposed to flow and the stream of ancestry that leads up to the marriage of Lily and Everett comes to a dead halt as their lives and relationship reaches the end. But Didion doesn’t emphasize the metaphor of the river with the strength she could have. Its meaning is obscure and should have been developed further to completion.

Like Finnegans Wake, Run River begins where it ends and ends where it begins, occupying a limbo between fantasies of the Old West and more contemporary fantasies of California as the land where dreams come true. Joan Didion t makes the farm lands in the Sacramento Valley arid and inhospitable. She writes about the people that way too. While the meaning of Run River is legitimate, the story is average and the writing unpolished. It does set the tone for her later and better works though. If those other novels had never been written, this one would have faded into obscurity. It’s not a great book, but if you’re inclined to see where the author of Play It As It Lays started off, it is worth reading once.

 

Book Review & Analysis: The Freddie Prinze Story by Maria Pruetzel & John A. Barbour

The Freddie Prinze Story

by Maria Pruetzel & John A. Barbour

      The 1970s were a golden era for television sitcoms. People got nightly doses of half hour comedies about working class people or upwardly mobile minority groups that worked hard to raise themselves above the status they were given. These shows were socially conscious, using humor and sympathetic characters to show that, despite our differences, people from all walks of life can solve problems and learn to live together. Norman Lear was a major driver of this pop culture trend, bringing us shows like Sanford and Son, The jeffersons, Good times, and the now monumental All In the Family. Other shows like Barney Miller and Welcome Back Kotter worked along a similar line but emphasized workplaces that were more ethnically integrated as opposed to Norman Lear’s productions that focused more on white and African-American familial relations. Looking back now, it is obvious that although Latino communities were present in those shows, they were also underrepresented. So in the mid-1970s, producer James Kornack saw the gap in the market and created Chico and the Man, the first TV show in history to be set in a Mexican-American neighborhood. It was the story of a cranky, elderly white garage owner who hires a young Chicano to work as an auto mechanic. The show was a hit so when the star, Freddie Prinze, took his own life, a dark cloud came over the lives of television viewers across America.

Immediately after the shocking suicide, the networks were quick to cash in on the tragedy and aired a made for TV movie about the actor and comedian’s life. But the family were unhappy with the production which they thought was sensational, inaccurate, and commercially motivated. Therefore Prinze’s mother Maria Pruetzel in collaboration with John A. Barbour, to put together The Freddie Prinze Story giving her version of what happened.

As this biography opens, Freddie Prinze is lying on his deathbed in the ICU of a Beverly Hills hospital. His parents are there along with his closet friends and colleagues along with medical professionals who try to save his life while holding a rabid gang of journalists at bay. With a gunshot wound to his head, the chances of survival aren’t great. It’s a maudlin scene with heightened emotions and lots and lots of praying and talk about God. As a non-religious scholar of the literary arts, this was off-putting to me at first, but saw the necessity of suspending my previously formed prejudices and admitting to myself that this is how some people are in real life. One thing I can say in this book’s favor is that its realism cut through all my preconceptions and brought me out of the boxes I think inside to a grounded place that reminded me of the varieties of ways people deal with grief in this terrible world we live in. After clearing away the fog of my intellectualism (some might call it pseudointellectualism but I’m not the one who gets to decide if that’s correct or not), I was ready t move on.

In contrast to the deathbed scene, the shift to the story of Freddie Prinze’s childhood came in like a ray of sunshine. He was born as Freddie Pruetzel to immigrant parents, his mother coming from Puerto Rico and his father coming from Hungary as a refugee from the communist government. While his mother was proud and compassionate, constantly gushing with love and admiration for her son, his father was quiet and distant. Freddie maintained a close relationship with them throughout his brief life. The family raised him in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan, straddling the line between the working class and the middle class. They weren’t rich, but Freddie was a little bit spoiled as his hard working parents went out of their way to give him whatever he wanted.

In his teenage years, Freddie Pruetzel got accepted into a performing arts high school, the same one that later became the basis for the TV show Fame. He was popular, charismatic, and smooth with the ladies and also a bit precocious. He flunked out of school because he was spending all his nights on stage doing routines as a stand up comic, something he had a natural talent for. Some of these venues he worked, like Catch a Rising Star and the Improv are now legendary for being the place where many famous comics were discovered. Freddie Pruetzel was discovered by David Brenner who immediately saw his talent. Brenner took him on as a friend and mentor, helping guide him towards the show business big time before he got out of his teenage years.

Freddie Pruetzel moved to Hollywood, changed his name to Freddie Prinze, and continued working on the national stand up comedy circuit. After his move, he made one of the biggest errors of his career: he ditched his agent in New York and took on a local agent who had more contacts in the West Coast entertainment industry. This contract break would come back to bite Prinze financially later on.

But things were on the up and up for Prinze. He got cast as Chico in the TV show Chico and the Man and television brought him into the homes of people all across America. The show was not without controversy though. A lot of Mexican-Americans objected to him playing a Chicano mechanic because of his Puerto Rican and Hungarian ethnic background. This might seem trivial to some, but from a Chicano point of view there were few Mexican people in Hollywood story lines and fewer chances for Mexican people to enter the mainstream entertainment industry. Historically Mexican people were often played by white people wearing make up to make their skin look brown. So the conflict, like so many other conflicts in the world, was over access to a limited resource. If you come from an underrepresented community, this can make a difference. But otherwise the show was a hit and Prinze’s stand up performances consistently drew huge crowds too.

Flush with money, Prinze bought a house for his parents in Los Angeles and that was probably the best thing he did with his newfound fame and wealth. Otherwise, he got hooked in a cycle of drug addiction where he sniffed cocaine to feel energetic then took valium and quaaludes to calm himself down. With alcohol and weed added into the mix, his brain became foggy and it wasn’t long before he felt lost in the world. Prinze made the mistake of thinking that getting married and starting a family would bring him out of his depression, but it didn’t. Then the parasitical agent in New York ,who he dropped the contract with, sued and won, thereafter being entitled to a significant chunk of Prinze’s earnings. The comedian wandered around in a suicidal daze until one night, in the presence of his business manager, he shot himself in the head.

Freddie Prinze’s suicide flies in the face of everything we are told about how to help people who want to end their lives. They tell us that religion and communal bonds are what prevent people from offing themselves, and yet Freddie Prinze was deeply religious to the point where he had considered leaving show business to become an Evangelical minister. And up until the hour of his demise he was surrounded by friends and family who were literally begging him not to kill himself. Something was wrong with him on a much deeper level than community and faith. His mother the narrator makes it look like his drug abuse was the ultimate problem. The drugs certainly didn’t help, but simply blaming the drugs doesn’t answer the question of why this happened because this kind of drug abuse is often a symptom and not the causal illness of depression. As an armchair psychologist, my opinion is that Freddie Prinze got into too much too soon. He got swept up into a life of fame at a young age and then found himself lost and disoriented without any maps or reference points to guide him along the way. He was 21 when he committed suicide; he was still a child. I feel like he was too young and immature to handle all the pressures of fame and wealth that were put on him before he had developed a strong inner core of self. He hadn’t developed enough sense of identity or psychological stability to be able to handle the burdens of a whirlwind career where he had the world at his fingertips and had no idea what to do with such responsibility. He was just a kid when he died and the close relationship with his mother, and his emotional dependence on her, shows that he hadn’t matured to the point necessary to continue on with the life he had gotten himself into.

For the kind of book this is, it’s surprisingly well written. It does leave out a few details though. This was written by Prinze’s mother in collaboration with an actual writer so it’s taken for granted that she will be selective in what she does and doesn’t include. And regardless of how close a mother is to her son, there will always be things he did that she will never know about. But as it is the story feels complete. There should have been more commentary on Chico and the Man and hat it represented in American culture. If anybody reads this book in the future without having seen the show, its significance might be lost on them.

It’s also written from a unique angle. Biographies written by the subject’s mother are rare and those written by Puerto Rican mothers are even more rare. As can be expected, Maria Pruetzel gushes with motherly love for her son no matter how bad life gets for him. The writing is often sentimental and dramatic so it might be considered over the top by conventional literary standards, but as I said before many mothers are like this in the everyday world and the sentimentality makes this book hit home as a quality work of realism. And I don’t want to indulge in stereotypes of Puerto Rican people, but the way that Maria Pruetzel idolizes and dotes on her boy is common among the Puerto Rican mothers I’ve encountered in my time. There is a certain kind of bond between mother and son here that borders on religious devotion which makes the death of Freddie Prinze at the end so much more painful. This is as much a portrait of the central role a son plays in his mother’s life as it is a portrait of a tragic celebrity suicide. It must have been extremely painful for her to tell this story.

There is a list a mile long of comedians who were miserable and suicidal. Comedians entertain people by making jokes about the things that bother them and audiences are entertained by laughing at the jokes about things that bother the comedian. At some point this feedback cycle makes a lot of them snap. The Freddie Prinze Story is an account of one of them and it’s one more story in a long line of stories that are a lot like it. Even though memories of Freddie Prinze and Chico and the Man may be fading, this book is still timeless enough in theme to be worth reading in our present day. It might be of especial interest to people who are fascinated with the dark and tragic side of Hollywood.

The death of Freddie Prinze didn’t have to happen. But it did. That’s how the world is. So it goes.

 

Book Review & Analysis: IQ 83 by Arthur Herzog

IQ 83

by Arthur Herzog

      By the end of the 20^th century, psychologists had discovered something called the Flynn Effect. This meant that intelligence levels had been rising steadily and rapidly over the past century. If we fast forward to the 2020s, psychologists have discovered an alarming trend. Over the past two decades, the Flynn Effect has been reversed and intelligence levels are now dropping at an alarming rate. There is no consensus to why this is happening; the most obvious causal indicator appears to be the introduction of the internet, but as of yet, this connection is inconclusive. One thing is for sure: with the immediate problems of climate change, economic instability, a collapsing educational system, and the threat of political totalitarianism working in conjunction with AI systems, this is not a good time for all the intellectual and scientific progress we have achieved over the centuries to retreat.

If we backtrack a bit, there were artists who saw this trend coming before anyone else. The dystopian 2006 movie Idiocracy porrayed a world where popular culture has made people so stupid that their existence is threatened because they forget how to grow food. It’s a silly comedy that mocks the kinds of people who would find it funny. Maybe it’s worth watching once. 1968’s Planet Of the Apes was a more serious science-fiction dystopia that showed human evolution going in reverse, with an upsurge in religion and despotism, after the banning and forbidding of science. Then there is Arthur Herzog’s overlooked novel IQ 83. Written in the 1970s, it is a hard science-fiction story showing what happens when an experimental virus escapes from a laboratory, spreads throughout the whole population, and makes everybody’s intelligence level decline rapidly.

James Heaaley is the central character. The story is divided between his family life in their New York City apartment and his employment as the head of a research team in a hospital in Central Manhattan. The research team is trying to save a girl named Cathy who is a permanent patient in the children’s ward. She should be of normal intelligence, yet she contracted a disease that caused her IQ to drop. As the biologists’ work brings them closer to a cure, experimental gene editing brings Cathy’s intelligence level back up to normal. But just when Healey makes plans for Cathy’s discharge so that she can attend public schools, everything goes to hell.

Wallon is a Belgian lab technician working on Healey’s project. Since creating a vaccine for the disease involves the use of a virus as a vector, precautions are imperative. Yet Wallon thinks the safety regulations are too stringent so he cuts corners during his work, doesn’t follow safety procedures, and accidentally takes the airborne virus out of the lab and begins spreading it throughout New York by coughing and sneezing.

After Wallon visits the Healey family for dinner, James Healey begins noticing some unwanted changes in everybody, including himself. He has problems with his memory and nonsensical thoughts from his childhood intrude into his thoughts, disrupting his concentration and making it difficult to work as a scientist. His wife Ruth becomes hypersexual and his two academically gifted children start struggling at school.

As Healey grows more aware that something isn’t right, he meets with Orenstein, the hospital psychiatrist. They discuss the possibilities and potential consequences of a sudden drop in intelligence across the whole world. Of course, the prognosis is not good. They agree to test their hypothesis by administering IQ tests to all the members of the research team. To their dismay, they find that everybody’s IQ had dropped and that it will continue to drop with the progression of time.

Healey contacts the hospital director, a doctor with an IQ of 200 and the curious name of Herman Hermann. The director, by this point, has already begun to succumb to the virus. Rather than expressing grave concern over the crisis, his defenses drop and he sees this as an opportunity to conquer the world, becoming a totalitarian leader who enslaves all those who he decides are inferior to him. But since the virus has taken hold, he resembles Healey in the way nonsense intrudes into his thoughts. Only with Hermann, the nonsense intrudes into his speech as well. As he holds meetings and conferences laying out his plan to dominate the world, he constantly interrupts himself in Turrette Syndrome-like attacks where he belches out obscene limericks and makes a fool of himself. This is not only a little comic relief, but also one instance of the author making social commentary. There is no doubt that Arthur Herzog believes fascism to be a form of politics for fools and clowns.

Subplots and social commentary run throughout the whole novel. There is a wide range of characters and each offers their own angle on society. What happens with most of them is that, like Herman Hermann, their inhibitions drop and their true motivations are revealed. James and Ruth Healey’s marriage is falling apart while Wallon is sexually pursuing Ruth. Healey’s son drops out of high school, takes up a marijuana habit, and becomes a biker. In Healey’s nuclear family unit, his bourgeois lifestyle sinks into the hedonistic excesses of the American counter-culture scene. Also the once harmonious multi-ethnic lab technicians become irritable and make racist comments towards each other. Rather than addressing this issue constructively, they bicker and match insults with insults. Similar things happen with the female nurses on the children’s ward. Before the virus struck they were dedicated, honest, and nurturing in the way good nurses should be, but afterwards they fall into petty man-hating and irresponsibility. Feminists start complaining in the letters column of a scientific magazine about the word “helix”, insisting this is sexist and should be changed to “herlix”. Herzog’s message in all this is that the social reforms of the 1960s are legitimate, but when approached without intelligence and proper analytical thinking, these issues of social justice can’t be approached in a meaningful way. Notice how he anticipated the childish arguments surrounding politics we find on the internet these days.

This social commentary is most developed in the character of Vergil Buck, a labor union leader and ambulance driver who makes impossible demands on the hospital management during a strike that happens just as the low-IQ virus begins attacking all of New York. During collective bargaining sessions, Buck demands that hospital employees get paid massive amounts of money without being obligated to do any work. He is inflexible in his proposal and refuses to negotiate. Later when James Healey goes to a rural retreat to develop a vaccine for rhe virus, Vergil Buck kidnaps him. Buck is the kind of person who thinks the world owes him something because he was born white, dumb, ugly, and poor (thanks to the Butthole Surfers for that description). He is also an annoyingly arbitrary character, more of a literary device than a meaningful symbol of the socially discontent. Herzog uses him to inject some action and suspense into a novel that doesn’t have much of either.

Herzog brings real science into this fictional story. The process of editing DNA to cure the disease that Cathy suffers from is described in detail early in the story. If your knowledge of genetics and virology are limited, these passages might be off-putting. Even with some knowledge of these disciplines, they are still clunky and out of place as though the author just wants to show off how much he knows about science. Some of the information does become relevant at the end when James Healey is struggling to find a cure for the idiot disease his team has created.

Of greater significance to the story, and your own education as well, is the chapter where Healey and Dr. Ornstein discuss the science of intelligence. Ornstein gives a detailed explanation of what an IQ test measures, what it doesn’t measure, and why it isn’t the most important metric for human intelligence and human worth there is. Still, a class of people with higher intelligence and expertise are necessary to maintain the stability and progress of a society. A decline in the average collective intelligence level could make a population barely functional and constantly on the verge of collapse if they survive at all. Then Dr. Ornstein and Healey have a discussion about their high IQ’s. Honestly though, listening to two men comparing their IQ scores is a lot like listening to two men comparing the length of their johnsons. It doesn’t impress anybody except the dumbest people who get preoccupied with things like that.

But the story recovers ground when Healey takes an IQ test to see if his intelligence quotient has dropped. What’s clever about this passage is that we see the test through his eyes while being aware of our own ability to answer the questions. We see Healey, a man with a higher than average IQ struggling to answer test questions that most readers would be able to answer. But you can’t feel too superior over this since as the test gets harder and Healey gets more and more answers wrong, we get hit with a vocabulary question that is so difficult it would be impossible for most intelligent people to answer. So the reader gets humbled and can only sympathize with Healey as we realize our own intellectual limitations. It’s a unique and effective way of harmonizing the reader with the main character through the use of scientific methodology.

Otherwise James Healey is out of step with the logic of the novel. Herzog does well in depicting the rapid decline of intelligence in the other characters while this stripping away of their higher intellectual functioning reveals their inner personality cores. Healey doesn’t follow this path to such an extent though. While other subjective symptoms of the illness are shown, he doesn’t display such a big drop in intellectual functioning as the other characters do. His character remains stable throughout the whole story which feels like a serious flaw in the narrative.

The novel is also flawed in that it is such a formulaic work of writing. It’s the story of a hero who is racing against time to save the world from imminent disaster. It’s a basic story-telling template that has been used seemingly forever. But at least half of the material used to fill in that template is interesting enough to carry the whole novel. The only other major problem is some of the dialogue. You’ve heard of hammy acting before, but some of the conversations here are like hammy writing. You know a writer has made a mistake when their dialogue is so over the top that it is unintentionally funny. Occasionally that happens here.

IQ 83 was published in 1978. It’s been almost three decades since scientists have learned that the Flynn Effect is operating in reverse while digital technology and AI appear to be infecting the minds of the young. If you look at the way people interact on social media, you get a clear sense that Arthur Herzog knew what he was talking about when explaining what the effects of a drop in the collective intelligence level could result in. On top of that, it’s only been a short time since the COVID pandemic hit and that certainly brought out a lot of stupidity in people, spawning all kinds of conspiracy theories, social dislocation, and a noticeable decline in critical thinking skills. Add in the election of a mentally challenged president twice with the fanatical devotion of his followers and the future of humanity is looking pretty grim at the moment. Arthur Herzog had no way of predicting any of this. He was writing a book based on observations of the time he was living in. IQ 83 has its many flaws, but when he gets things right, he really gets them right. This is an underrated novel that should be given reconsideration despite its weaknesses. It certainly feels relevant to the times we live in, even if it does depend on formulas and cliches to get its message across.