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It's like Bored
to Death meets Fight Club. Okay,
maybe not, but Jonathan Ames' character, Alan Blair, is clearly the
neurotic, bumbling alcoholic once-author that eventually informed
his HBO series. If you haven't read Ames before, and I hadn't (but
had seen the HBO series), imagine a more manly, yet Semitic Jerseyite
version of David Sedaris. And I'm
talking early Sedaris, not the nice gay fella with his partner in
a chalet in France where his biggest issue is that he mixed up his
Claret and Cuve.
Alan Blair has issues. The guy is a young washed up Ivy League Anglophile
author who has a love of red wine and his own Jewishness. All of these
qualities build his character in such a way that he ends up coming
out the other side a complete mess. One wonders several times throughout
the book how far down the spectrum he truly is. There are times where
he reminded me of Ignatius J Reilly from Confederacy of Dunces
with his oddly antiquated, titling at windmills self-importance. But
on the other side his delusion is balanced by crushing self-doubt
and self-hatred. And that’s where Fight Club comes in. Alan
has his very own Brad Pitt in the guise of one Jeeves. Yes, Jeeves.
Okay, he doesn’t punch the shit out of dudes or start an underground
club full of white working stiffs who turn into anarchists and blow
up the city to a Pixies song, but Jeeves does provide moral and physical
support for our struggling protagonist. Oh, and he might just be imaginary.
So our protagonist starts off the book living with his aunt and uncle
in Montclair, New Jersey (aka “the Park Slope of New Jersey)--a town
with which I’m very familiar. He has been taken in by them in an attempt
to sober up and continue work on a second book. He has taken a windfall
of cash he got from a slip and fall lawsuit to hire his own personal
valet, Jeeves. Jeeves helps him get through his relatively basic days
and avoid running into his uncle, who loves him but would probably
prefer tough love to housing his weird, neurotic nephew. It eventually
becomes evident that Alan is breaking the house rules with his drinking
and his Uncle enacts the nuclear option, kicking him to the curb and
his own devices. He plans to go join the Hassids in the Catskills
to live amongst them for no apparent reason. He plan is foiled somewhat
by his poor planning, his drinking and his knack for completely fucking
his life up. But, as luck would have it, Alan is accepted to a prestigious
writer’s colony in Saratoga Springs right as his options seem to have
reached an end. So he and Jeeves continue their roadtrip to go check
the place out.
Right from the start, I wondered if the idyllic “artist colony” is
not in fact an asylum. After all, he had been in one prior to dry
out, and his aunt and uncle begged him to go back. I wondered if he
had, in one of his black outs (which he apparently has), called the
place out of desperation, not remembering that he had in fact called
a looney bin and not a writer’s retreat. From the beginning my theory
seemed on target. Every writer at the colony is completely insane.
And then Alan starts wondering the same thing I wondered. But he then
actually recognizes some of the authors from their writings, so the
theory kind of fades. Though, through to the very end it’s not completely
clear that this couldn’t be an asylum specifically for artists. Or
is it Ames’ statement that all artists are crazy in their own way?
The book follows Alan’s relationship with all of his fellow “inmates”
as they bumble through silliness, sex, drinking and general wackiness.
Ever since The
Sixth Sense I’m now super-sensitive to the whole “is he dead”
thing. Which basically means, is there a character in the story who
is only visible to a single other character? In this case, we seem
to only see Jeeves when he’s in Alan’s presence. So is he his conscious,
his way of replacing the advice of his dead parents? Or is he just
cagey and somehow manages to avoid all the meshugas? I suppose we’ll
never know, but it was certainly fun to read about.
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