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| I know you aren't suppose to judge a book by its cover, but man this is an awesome cover. |
I have never traveled into madness as effectively as I did
with this book. Insanity is not always apparent to the insane and so it is
here.
On the surface, this is a story about a couple, Kit and Port
Moresby, who travel with friend Tunner. Port is experiencing post-WWII American
existential despair and, in the vein of Hemingway and company, decides to
become a “traveler”- as opposed to a tourist- to North Africa. He drags along
his wife, Kit, who plays the part but does not have the soul. She worries about
everything and clings to whatever remnants of her more comfortable life she is
able to hold on to. Their marriage is
somewhat rocky but neither seem to upset or worried about that. Tunner is maybe
extramaritally interesting in both of them and comes along for the lark.
Much of this book is standard post-war stuff- Affluent
white, American couple seek out “primitive” cultures to escape from the fake,
protective worlds they come from. It’s a good story in that regard. We see Port
roaming the streets of isolated African villages looking for the most exact way
to fulfill the needs of his id- and always being frustrated when the world
doesn’t fold up perfectly inside his pocket. Tunner, too, is looking for
perfect selfish fulfillment but he looks within the relationship between Kit
and Port. Kit says she enjoys herself but spends her days in whatever hotel
room they happen to be in at the time looking through her possessions, wishing
she had a mirror and choosing not to think about the things Port is obsessed
with- including death and what comes after.
This interesting narrative continues for a while until Port
gets sick. The couple is separated from Tunner and Kit takes up a forced
bedside vigil next to Port as he is dying.
Really it all starts to go downhill for Kit before the
bedside vigil- to the point where she and Port take a several-days bus voyage
into the Sahara Desert while Port is suffering from the early stages of his
sickness. Her thoughts and internal monologues start to fragment and her desire
to remain herself- as hollow as that may be- starts to erode. At Port’s bedside
she slips further and further away until (spoiler alert) Port dies.
Oh, by the way, the main character, or what seems like the
main character, dies about halfway through this novel. The rest of it follows
Kit as she completely loses it.
The nature of Kit’s insanity is handled so subtlety it’s not
until the end before you accept that she is anything but a woman in a desperate
situation trying to survive. She loses her sense of self, time, space anything.
She becomes a creature of reflex. She becomes a concubine for a random trade
caravan where they actually dress her like a young Arab boy in order to sneak
her past the caravan owner’s wives undetected.
It’s like the book breaks halfway through and the broken
pieces are even more interesting than the intact bits.
A few things:
1. Reading the books on this list I’ve worked up a couple of
theories, including the fact that the greatest generation was, in fact, just as
messed up and self-obsessed as any other generation. These books that are
historical contemporaries to the WWII or pre-WWII generations don’t see
themselves with the same romantic haze we see it now. These people weren’t
selfless heroes who were able to get a country though a time of hardship- they
were normal people and that’s a more comforting fact. The fact that the Greatest
Generation wasn’t much different from the Millennials means that any generation
has the capability of continuing history- getting through the difficult times
the world throws at us. Yes, we may do it with questionable colonialism and existential
despair, but we still get through it.
2. The next books on this list for me are monsters. On the
audio front I’m listening to “Lord of the Rings” and on the reading front it’s
time for “Infinite Jest.” If I’m still sane after these two endeavors I shall
continue. Pray for me.
