Patricia Highsmith's The Tremor of Forgery serves as an indictment of modern society every bit as penetrating as Greene's The Quiet American and Camus' The Stranger.
I see there is a study guide for the novel, and for good reason: the
story, the four main characters, and the political and cultural elements
are all worthy of in-depth analysis.
However, for the purposes
of my review, I'll focus on the one character I found to be among the
most detestable I've encountered: Francis J. Adams.
We first meet
Adams, a short, balding, paunchy, fifty-something American from
Connecticut, when he approaches the beach chair of the main character, a
writer by the name of Howard Ingham. Adams asks Ingham in a loud,
brassy voice if he's an American. When Ingham says, "Yes," he proudly
proclaims, in turn, "My name's Adams. Francis J. Adams." Following some
chitchat, Adams invites Ingham to stop by his bungalow sometime for a
drink.
The prime location for the novel is a hotel with bungalows along the coast of
Tunisia. With a few quick strokes, Patricia Highsmith provides us with
key information: Adams is loud, brash, and intrusive, a man with a
grandiose sense of superiority because, after all, he's an American.
When
Ingham accepts Adam's offer to join him in his bungalow, he takes a
look around – among the contents: a much used writing table with stacks
of papers, on open dictionary, a Reader's Digest, and a Bible.
Adams walks out of his kitchen holding a scotch and soda, bouncing on
his toes. Ingham observes, “Adams had high arches, high insteps and
rather small feet. There was something disgusting about Adams' feet, and
having looked at them once, Ingham did not look again.”
Adams'
feet are a telling detail, such a revealer of character (or, more to the
point, lack of character). In traditional societies, one's feet serve
as grounding to the earth, a sense of solidity, just the opposite of
bouncing on one's toes while walking. Likewise, in the world of dance
and physical theater – to walk, to move, it is important to be grounded
in order to establish balance and equilibrium, and one's feet serve as
the all-important anchor. I speak from direct experience in these arts.
The
novel takes place in 1967, the year of the Arab-Israeli Six-Day War.
Since Adams is in his fifties, most of his adult life has been spent in
the 1930s to the 1950s, a period when it was a common practice for men
and women to frequently drink liquor. In nearly every scene, like the
one cited here, Adams is drinking and pushing booze on Ingham and
others. Living alone, isolated in a foreign land, I think it's safe to
infer that Adams is an alcoholic.
Adams is described as having “a
squirrel-like smile.” Indeed, there is an undeniable sense of
restlessness and nervousness about this loutish man, including his
frequent, nervous way of laughing, ha-ha. When Ingham asks Adams what he
does to fill his time, Adams replies, “I consider myself an unofficial
ambassador for America. I spread goodwill – and the American way of
life. Our way of life.” This is a very revealing statement – Adams
assumes anyone who is a true blue American will share his thinking and
values. This “our way of life” is so fundamental to Adams that Ingham
thinks of him as OWL.
Deeper into the conversation, when Adams,
aka OWL, discovers that Ingham is a novelist, he states, “I don't read
much fiction. Now and then, something that's condensed. Like in the
Reader's Digest, you know.” This admission is entirely predictable.
Fiction requires a reader to shift perspectives, to see the world the
way the characters (and author) see the world. For the likes of Adams,
with his small, self-centered vision of himself and “our way of life,”
such a shift is nearly impossible. The Reader's Digest. Ha! I can
imagine Patricia Highsmith cringing when she typed out this scene.
Several
chapters on, Ingham and Adams are dining out at a restaurant. Adams
launches into a monologue on the virtues of democracy and Christian
morals for everyone, which has a tincture of irony since he's been
living among Arabs in Tunisia for the past year. Adams drones on, “You
can see it in their faces, the men who have turned their back on
God....Drug addicts, alcoholics, homosexuals, criminals – and even the
ordinary man in the street, if he's forgotten the Right Way – they're all wretched. But they can be shown
the Right Way . . .” Of course, the tacit statement is Adams knows the
right way, the American way, the Christian way, and he's among the
chosen ones to correct anyone who dares hold views and opinions contrary
to his own. And note how Adams includes alcoholics in his list. Again,
predictable – Adams is obviously in a state of denial.
I need not
continue, as I think you can surmise where Adams stands on everything
touching on politics and religion, on communism and the Vietnam War, and
on Ingham's moral responsibility when he's eventually involved in a
crime. I read Patricia Highsmith's modern classic, reflecting on Adams
and his blessed “our way of life,” with an eye to how the wise author
accurately predicted the current cultural crisis we face in the United
States.
American author Patricia Highsmith, 1921- 1995
Comments
Post a Comment