does anybody remember that episode of mr belvedere where kevin tries to join a band and expects them to be all punk because they’re called the young savages, but it turns out they’re just a bunch of squares and the front men are named young and savage?
no?
now i will post about everything ravaged, everything burned by wells tower.
i said before, the book is perfectly good, but this is disappointing because tower demonstrates the ability to be much better than that, as in, among the best. so let me begin with what is excellent about this book:
the dialogue:
the dialogue is stylized, but in the direction of naturalism. exchanges tend toward the clever and are frequently politically incorrect. i have to point that last out because one of the book’s flaws … but let me get to that later. anyway, even dialogue that might look overcooked out of context is actually excellent within the story. here is an example (from “Executors of Important Energies”):
“You played with Kenny Loggins?” Lucy said.
“I did blow for Kenny on the European tour. My wife and me, we also blessed his outfit with some very beautiful backing vocals. Saw all the top destinations, stayed in fine hotels, rode all the major airlines, Qantas, Virgin, Atlantic. I’m glad you brought it up. That was a happy time of life.”
“You still married, Dwayne?” she asked.
“Enough about me,” Dwayne said. “I’m getting depressed.”
like i said, this might look overcooked out of context, but in the story it works beautifully. like, if you were to show this to me without the rest, i would think this story would be about where dwayne’s wife was, but that’s the thing — there’s nothing else in the story about dwayne’s wife. and talking about kenny loggins is good. and the fact that dwayne leaves the word “my” out of “that was a happy time of life.” that’s a great touch.
the prose in general and its rhythm:
there’s just really is no denying this. tower is the type of writer who will flow along with a great cadence and then come out with something that will pop you in the eye. here i’m just going to grab something (from “Down Through the Valley”):
She was molten in my bed, but she also suffered from depressions that were very dear to her. She would often call just to sigh at me for two hours on the phone, wanting me to applaud her depth of feeling. I cut it off, then missed her, wishing that I’d at least had the sense to take her naked photograph.
“molten” might be obvious, but the very dear depressions counteract it nicely and make it good. that she sighs “at” him makes up for the “depth of feeling” (too obvious a joke?), and then the naked photograph, while it might smack of posturing, is clever in context.
the only real problem with towers’ ability is that he can be accused of varying too elegantly now and then, and occasionally he’ll rock a passive sentence for no clear reason. (this, for some reason, is especially common toward the beginning of each story.)
the use of simile/metaphor:
there’s a sequence in the first story, “The Brown Coast,” where tower describes the sun in different states at different times. let me just quote here:
It was much hotter now, and the sun glared down through the sky like a flashlight behind a sheet.
…
The sun looked orange and slick, like a canned peach.
…
Bob walked home with the sunset nearly dead.
maybe it doesn’t scream genius, but it takes guts to even attempt that anymore, particularly in the third person (when you can’t blame it on your narrator).
but!
be true to yourself and you will never fall
metaphor also gets tower in trouble, at least in my book, particularly on a larger scale. the problem is, many of the stories operate as metaphors, and when the stories don’t, the protagonists do. the most obvious cases:
- in “the brown coast,” the protagonist is a poisonous sea cucumber.
- in “retreat,” the protagonist is spoiled moosemeat.
- in “wild america,” the protagonist is her chubby eunuch of a father.
the way i put it, they seem kind of funny, but i get the feeling tower means me to finish the stories and do that “hmph” that people do at readings, which i think is supposed to mean i would weep and/or dance if i had a soul.
in other words, many, that is, most of these stories are too easy, and most of them risk nothing. the politically incorrect actions and words lead to politically correct endings, when they end at all. several stories, in fact, meander forever to no effect, despite the excellent prose. and this is why i’ve been so pissed at the critics. i really get the feeling that — maybe because they’re a bunch of bloodless neuters — they either think, or have a reason to hope we think, that this is the way things are, and this is the way stories should be.
with all that said, there is one very good story in this collection and one great story.
the very good one is “down through the valley.” the great one is the title story. now, the common tie between the two is unexpected and exciting violence, but they actually create very different effects. the former would be great if it weren’t for the fact that the entire setup is like a beautiful transcription of high fidelity. the latter is great because it takes some of the aspects of the other stories, what workshop types call “well-made stories,” and sets it in viking times. yes, i love vikings, but this isn’t great because of vikings, it’s great because of the dissonance between its two components. that’s the closest thing tower takes to a risk in the whole collection.
i like wells tower’s writing. i would love wells tower’s writing if he would take some risks.
listen to me, wells tower, not daniel menaker.
this is interesting but you are misusing the word “protagonist.” feel free to burn this comment after reading . . .
Hi, Matt,
i’m pretty sure i know what a protagonist is, unless the definition has shifted since i was in second grade.
maybe i made too big of a logical leap, though (for the sake of aesthetics), so here’s the formulation:
bob is the protagonist (as in, main character) of “the brown coast.”
a metaphor is a comparison between two unlike things (another second grade definition).
bob compares himself in the climax to a sea cucumber.
ergo, the protagonist is a sea cucumber.
i’m trying to point out that that kind of comparison is too tidy, easy, cute, and ultimately limiting, which sucks when the whole response to the book has been about how generous toward, and understanding of, his characters tower is supposed to be.
and please, nobody jump in and tell me i’m no good at logic proofs because that was tenth grade.
also thanks, matt. it’s nice to hear from somebody other than russians who want to help me drive her wild.
I read it again, and I get it now: you’re not misusing the word “protagonist,” you’re exaggerating the equivalence of metaphor to comic effect, in the service of a serious point, which, in turn, pays the cost of the exaggeration, to the humorless and over-literal, at least.
i’m glad there’s someone that agrees with my view on the tower: risk some more, dude. nice post again.
yeah, i think i wrote this post at about the same time you made your list of overrated books. i could use more of those (lists, not overrated books).