Two new books delve into a life less-heard-of
by John Sewell
The popular genre of historically-based adventure novels will surely receive a shot in the arm from the release of Peter Carey's True History Of the Kelly Gang ($25, Knopf). The first hardcover pressing of 70,000 copies is proof positive that Knopf is expecting a runaway best seller. And they're probably right.
The novel is based on the life of bushranger (an Australian term for highwayman) Ned Kelly. Carey presents the story as the transcript of a series of parcels of letters written by Kelly to his daughter. The first person "transcript" is rife with Australian slang, off kilter subject/verb disagreements, grammar errors and a surprising aversion to gutter language. With the voice of Ned Kelly, Carey creates an unexpectedly poetic outlaw jargon comparable to that of the droogs in Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange.
Kelly comes from an impoverished brood of Irish immigrants. Their poor socioeconomic status and the uneven balance of justice doled out by Australian police builds a resentment of authority in the young Kelly that facilitates his entry into the world of outlaw life. By the age of 16, he has jumped headfirst into a career in crime by being an accomplice to several robberies, stealing horses and shooting one of his mother's suitors.
Once the reader has become accustomed to the peculiarities of the text, History becomes a fast and furious read. Kelly's wild life of robberies, random violence and the occasional romantic tryst builds a legend as his litany of offenses grows. The action leads to a predictable crescendo as Kelly and his crew graduate to bank robbery and become the target of a massive manhunt.
Like a big dollar Hollywood western, True History is all good fun. However, the novel is best appreciated as skillfully rendered entertainment rather than as great literature. Carey manages to hold the reader's attention, and the verbal eccentricities add much-needed color, but the book fails to serve up any revelations about the human condition. This well-crafted piece of diversion will surely be made into a screenplay in no time flat. Lucky for us, Aussie actor Mel Gibson is already too long in the tooth for the lead role.
First novels are almost always a form of autobiography, as is apparently the case with Mississippi native Lee Durkee's coming-of-age story, Rides of the Midway ($25.95, Norton). Set in the backwater college town of Hattiesburg, Miss., Rides is a dark, funny, and uniquely southern examination of the adolescent rites of the 1970s.
Protagonist Noel Weatherspoon is a teenage screw-up with a litany of emotional baggage and a pocket full of drugs. Weatherspoon is irrevocably warped by a little league baseball accident where he head butted another player, causing an injury that left the other boy in a coma he would never come out of. And then there's the specter of a disappeared father, who is either dead or imprisoned in Vietnam. Throughout Rides, Weatherspoon grapples with these and other traumas, propelled into unlikely scenarios by the hormonal impulses of puberty coupled with plenty of pills and booze.
Unlike most of the deluge of idealized '70s tales being mass produced today, Rides delivers an accurate representation of the bell-bottom era. Durkee's pop culture references are on the money, as could only be produced by someone who was really there. Propelled by desperation and loneliness, the partying and loose sex in the story seem more sordid than liberating. So if you're in the market for some kind of wacky Dazed And Confused '70s nostalgia, look elsewhere.
One of the many climaxes of Rides is a segment when Weatherspoon and several of his friends congregate near a helicopter pad in hopes of hearing news about a nearby plane crash involving members of the band Lynyrd Skynyrd. While waiting and partying with his cohorts, Weatherspoon is unwittingly dosed with angel dust by a member of a motorcycle gang. The crash and the accompanying psychedelic trip signal an accelerating downfall for Weatherspoon, who is already on shaky ground.
Rides is filled with the familiar elements of classic southern literature, and Durkee's Hattiesburg of the '70s doesn't seem that far off from Faulkner's Yoknapatawpha County. Throughout the novel, the protagonist faces trial after trial: some self-induced (drugs), some that are regional (conflicts of religion and pop culture) and others that are emblematic of the post-Vietnam generation gap. As in real life, there are no easy answers or perfectly arranged happy endings.
The juxtaposition of the deep south locale and the changing mores of the '70s brought on by sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll provides plenty of grist for an engaging and memorable read. Like a mix of To Kill a Mockingbird and The Basketball Diaries, Rides of the Midway is a promising start for Durkee. And since much of the plot is probably based on truth, it may be quite a challenge to follow up.
February 1, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 5
© 2001 Metro Pulse
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