Showing posts with label morality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label morality. Show all posts

Monday, September 19, 2016

Book Review: "An American Tragedy" by Theodore Dreiser


An American Tragedy (1925)

4.5 Stars out of 5

Theodore Dreiser

859 pages

(Spoiler Alert: this review contains many spoilers.)

“What matter it if a man gaineth the whole world and loseth his own soul?”

An American Tragedy

Theodore Dreiser’s 1925 novel, “An American Tragedy” might at times seem to the reader more like an Epic than a tragedy. What happens to one of the characters, not the central character, in this epic-length novel (over 800 pages), certainly is tragic. But this book reminds me due its intimate exploration of the mind of a murderer much more of Edgar Allan Poe’s 1824 short story, “The Tell Tale Heart” than a true tragedy like Leo Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina” (1877). It is equally a brilliant study of an immature mind that once set free from the rigid strictures of its youth makes one bad decision after another; it is a mind that is always seeking self-gratification and is simultaneously utterly unaware of the needs of those around him. It might well be a tragic path that this story’s lead character, Clyde Griffiths takes through the novel, but for me as a reader, the effects of the supremely self-centered Clyde’s actions on those around him are the true tragedy.

The first part of this three part book delves into the teen years of the central character, Clyde Griffiths. We first meet Clyde as an unhappy twelve year old living in Kansas City. His parents are street missionaries living in deep poverty. Clyde hates the life and only yearns to leave it. His mother speaks endlessly in quasi-biblical terms ending most of her words in "-eth" and mindlessly quoting a Bible she clearly only partially understands. That Clyde will learn little in terms of a true moral compass from his mother and this environment will play a key role in his development and the later events in the novel.

Clyde will work a variety of low-paying jobs, partly to bring in some income for his family, but mostly to escape to new worlds outside the cloistered one of his family. He is timid and insecure. He knows only that he wants something for himself and does not want the life of self-sacrifice his parents have chosen for themselves and as a consequence for their children. Clyde’s sister is also unhappy and will end up running away from home and ends up a pregnant teen without a husband. Clyde will flee shortly thereafter  to a local hotel to work as a bell boy and to be inculcated into the world of feminine allure. Clyde will eventually flee this world too once he becomes tangentially involved in a hit and run accident. The key point in this early section is Clyde’s refusal to accept any responsibility to help his pregnant sister or the victim of the hit and run. Instead, he runs, he hides, and he feels sorry only for his own misfortunes. He is seventeen as this section ends, but he has the maturity level of a six year old. He simply wants what he wants, and too bad for everyone else. Consider Dreiser’s description of him at age 20:

“For to say the truth, Clyde had a soul that was not destined to grow up. He lacked decidedly that mental clarity and inner directing application that in so many permits them to sort out from the facts and avenues of life the particular thing or things that make for their direct advancement.”

In part two, Clyde meets and tries to exploit a wealthy relative, Samuel Griffiths. Samuel is Clyde’s uncle; Asa’s (Clyde’s father) older brother. Samuel feels lingering guilt over previous family events that led to Samuel’s wealth and to Asa’s poverty. Samuel will consequently bring Clyde eastward to Lycurgus NY to work in Samuel’s factory in what will prove to be a very misguided effort of familial compensation. Clyde will start at the literal and administrative bottom of the Griffiths Shirt Collar Factory, but will after a short while be promoted to the management of a group of female employees. Here is where the greatest tragedy will take place. Clyde has been warned not to date any of these women. Clyde of course, simply throws caution to the wind and ignores this strict company dictum. He meets a shy new employee, Roberta Alden and quickly falls in love with her; as she does with him. Dreiser having set the stage with Clyde’s interest in women and disinterest in the needs of others during the Kansas City section of the book, will now bring Clyde’s malformed psyche into full view.

One of the best parts of “An American Tragedy” takes place after Roberta’s and Clyde’s relationship reaches its sexual zenith; a zenith that will lead to the Clyde’s consequent moral nadir. Roberta will become pregnant, and Clyde will fall out of love with her, even as he falls in love with a wealthy socialite, Sondra. Roberta’s growing demands on Clyde due to her pregnancy will push Clyde into an intricately described mental meltdown. He is drawn to Sondra for her beauty and social position, but is “trapped” by Roberta’s condition. He does not seem to acknowledge in any way that her situation is his doing, and he certainly does not feel his duty to her extends much beyond trying to find her a way out of her state. But this is 1925 New York; there might be a way for some to terminate a pregnancy, but such means are unknown to the poorly educated Roberta and Clyde. Clyde’s sense of self-pity grows and his tenuous moral anchor he once had, starts to loosen further. As Clyde searches for an answer, he sees a newspaper story of an accidental drowning; the female victim is found but not the male; Clyde is horribly inspired. Dreiser will now explore Clyde’s mind in a manner that really reminded me of Poe's guilt-ridden protagonist. Clyde can almost be seen with an angel on one shoulder and a demon on the other as they argue for taking or defending poor Roberta’s life. Reading this internal dialog, there will be little doubt in the reader’s mind where this argument will lead.

Clyde will carry out his horrendous plan towards Roberta while leaving a trail of clues and witnesses that will be his undoing. Clyde will falter at the end, though his faltering will accidentally rather than intentionally place Roberta in mortal danger. Clyde could save her, but his self-interest and the demon on his shoulder will again cause Clyde to make one more bad decision, and the pathetic Roberta will pay the price. Clyde being Clyde has a left a trail that is so rife with clues that he finds himself in jail awaiting trial within mere days of Roberta’s passing. This leads to the second great part of this book for now Dreiser enters the mindset of the prosecuting and defending attorneys. In doing so, the reader has an opportunity to learn quite a lot about how lawyers work to frame the strongest argument for their legal position. Technically both sides are right: Clyde was not guilty of murder when he abandoned Roberta to drowning, and yet morally he is abundantly guilty. Both sides of the ensuing legal confrontation will play fast and loose with the facts, but it is clear both sides feel they are morally obligated to do so.

The scenes surrounding the pre-trial and trial parts of the book really make reading this book a treat. Both sets of lawyers break moral and legal law as they pursue their case for the presumed “greater good”. Their behavior and their motivation are a great contrast to Clyde and his rationalizations for what he planned to do and what he actually did do. And yet, the lawyers and Clyde always view their transgressions via a prism that is constructed out of their intentions (if I can be allowed to create a metaphor). Each one of these characters feels that because their intentions are good (in the case of the lawyers) or justified (no matter how self-centeredly in the case of Clyde), their actions are morally acceptable. It is a very clever set piece created by Dreiser to explore right and wrong.

This book does so many things right: pitch perfect descriptions of the various characters, their Roaring Twenties vernacular, their era-appropriate legalisms and class consciousness. This book would have earned a perfect score from me but for one flaw. This book most definitely is too long. It could easily be broken into two 400+ page books. The inclusion of Clyde’s teen years is essential to a full understanding of Clyde’s personality and how it developed, but by adding it to the climatic relationship between Roberta and Clyde, and to the resulting trial makes a single book far too long. That being case, I strongly recommend this book to anyone interested in getting a peak at 1920’s America and more importantly getting a peak into a master author as he examines the mind of a morally weak, perhaps morally bankrupt young man. It is also a really fine example of how legal jurisprudence is planned and put into action. This book is really worth the time it will take to read.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Book Review: "Under the Skin", by Michel Faber


Under the Skin (2000)

4 Stars out of 5

Michel Faber

Michel Faber has created a very ambitious first book with “Under the Skin”. This Scottish national with the German name has written a complex tale that comes in three parts; three parts that could almost stand on their own; certainly the first third of the book is a kind of clever puzzle with a nice twist that I will try to conceal in this review. However, the book’s two other parts also tell tales worth reading; tales from which one can learn something meaningful. The book will fall into the science fiction genre just the like the movie made in 2013 based on the book. Yet, the book just like the movie has much deeper depths than the superficial story of a young female. To be sure, Isserley’s story is a painful one, both physically and psychically, but beneath the skin of the book’s basic story line lies a deeper moral tale; one well worth reading and thinking about long after one has finished the almost too short novel (304 pages).

The opening third of the novel introduces the reader to the protagonist, Isserley. She is a troubled individual, wracked with physical pain. Each morning upon waking in her decrepit cottage, she performs exercises that somewhat reduce her constant bone pain. Her pain is not limited to the physical, though. She works with a group of males that she perceives find her disgusting in appearance and in typical male pattern behavior treat her as a second class citizen; one barely, if at all a human deserving the respect and rights they abrogate to themselves. Or so Isserley believes. As the book progresses forward though, the reader might be forgiven for thinking Isserley may well be misinterpreting at least part of the environment she lives in.

Besides the men she works with on Ablach Farm in Northern Scotland, much of Isserley’s life includes driving the A9 expressway in the vicinity of Glasgow. Indeed, as we come to know more of Isserley, we realize that her driving is in fact her job. With her generous bosom and fair features, she drives the A9 seeking young, physically fit male hitch hikers. What she does after she finds such a desirable hitch hiker plays a big role in the novel’s message and Isserley’s malaise. As she searches for her perfect “hitcher”, someone she refers to as a Vodsel, we learn more of her and her underlying mental state. A useful technique in Faber’s storytelling is that once Isserley has a hitcher in her car, he switches from 1st person Isserley to 1st person Hitcher. Thus, we learn of her worries and fears, and the near constant lustful thoughts of her Hitchers; almost all see her only as “prey”; a woman to be taken for their own purposes.

As the first third of the book ends, the reader is made more fully aware of Isserley’s true job. Having seen the movie before reading the book, I knew of her secret and yet it actually helped me enjoy all the more the technique Faber employs in setting the scenery (so to speak) for the remaining parts of the novel. Throughout the book Faber employs a succinct style of writing that tells his tale but does so in a knowing manner in terms of the limitations of the English language. However, as the reader progresses into the second part of the novel, such a reader starts to realize that Faber’s apparent obfuscations actually served a dual purpose: firstly they sketch out the story, but more to the point they vividly illustrate how form and language can do more than confuse the reader or viewer; they can just as easily form the bedrock of a person’s value system. Going back to the definition of Human Being, for example, one can use this as a descriptive term or use it as a restrictive term. That is to say, if one is not a Human Being, can all the rules set up by society to govern behavior can be dropped? Consider the treatment of such advanced animals as Orcas (or almost any marine mammal) in a Marine Zoo. Are their personal needs seen to in the same manner as any being accorded the right and name of “Human Being”? Quite obviously not, but should they, and again if not, how close to Human rights should Orca (or any caged animal) rights be?

This theme is explored in the second part of the book. Isserley’s nature plus that of her fellow farm workers are revealed through their actions and thoughts. But just like the manner in which Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s “Black Fish” (2013) exposed the obscenity of corralling Orcas, there is a character in the book to take on the role of protector for oppressed animals. He is a CEO’s son, the very corporation that runs Isserley’s farm. Amliss Vess comes from the ultra-elite of Isserley’s society. His father is to Amliss not only the CEO of Vess Industries but also an animate form of Joseph Conrad’s metaphorical “Heart of Darkness”. As they get to learn of and from one another, Isserley is able to show Amliss the beauty of Scotland and Amliss is able to open Isserley’s eyes (just a little) to the moral nature of her occupation. Amliss will depart from Isserley as determined as ever to stop the activities on Ablach Farm. He will leave Isserley both pining for Amliss as a lover and despising him for his opinions. She struggles to find reconciliation between her job and her newly expanded views regarding its morality. Faber never makes too terribly clear just where Isserley finally places the metaphorical fulcrum that balances her sense of duty to work versus an ethical statement on right and wrong.

Sadly, the book quite frankly fails to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Throughout parts one and two, the reader is treated to cleverness in storytelling satire reminiscent of Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal"; satire told with Joseph Conrad-like prose. A satire that has a thought provoking manner of discussing gender and animal versus human rights; and even asking indirectly whether the two should be different, but if so, strongly arguing that a carefully thought out ethical premise must be used to define those rights. Having done such a nice job, especially for a first time novelist, Faber reaches for but fails to grasp a conclusion that measures up to the early parts of the novel. Leaving the Big Picture, he instead focuses on the disintegration of the internal Isserley. Following Amliss’ departure, she goes back to work, but does so in a very troubled state of mind. She picks up her penultimate hitcher. As before, the reader is allowed to listen in on her thoughts and those of a red-haired father of two. Unlike her previous hitchers, this man will be missed and as such is not a good candidate for Isserley’s ministrations by her own rules of the road. Even more to the point though, as we listen in, we find this red-haired man cares and worries deeply for Isserley, based solely on her appearance. In the overall satirical nature of the book, this example of irony is hard to ignore. Nevertheless, she takes him and thus precipitates her ultimate fate; a fate that is finally set into motion by yet another hitcher equally disinterested in her feminine charms.

The book is well worth reading by anyone interested in science fiction but especially so by anyone interested in what lies beneath the skin. How does each of us measure and assess one another: by our words, by our actions, or by our physical appearance. Are we male or female, fit or fat, light or dark; do we speak with an accent or maybe not speak your language at all? Some of these criteria might be indirect indicators of who we are, or they might like the red-haired hitcher’s sweater be quite deceiving. It is so obviously a lesson that Isserley and indeed every Human Being should learn, that it is painful to even consider. At this cynical age in humanity's life cycle, I can only shake my head and hope; hope without much conviction for an optimistic future where we each assess one another based on our actions and not our appearance.