This Week in the Mercury
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Books / Drunk Two Page Minimum: Lowboy
Posted by Alison Hallett on Tue, Mar 10, 2009 at 6:10 PM
(Welcome to my lackadaisically updated blog column Two Page Minimum, wherein I take a new book out for drinks and give it a few minutes to grab my attention. Two Page Minimum is my judgment on that speed-dating experience.)
Who's your date today?
John Wray's new novel Lowboy, about a sixteen-year-old paranoid schizophrenic convinced that he alone can stop global warming. Wray is one of those irritatingly precocious best-novelist-under-35 types (his two previous novels are The Right Hand of Sleep and Canaan's Tongue). The book comes well-reviewed. Adrian Tomine drew the cover. All of which is to say: If you read Lowboy, you will probably be able to find other people who have also read it who would love to discuss it with you, and they will probably be goodlooking and intelligent.
Where did you go for drinks?
Somehow I found myself at Beulahland drinking wine from a box. These things happen. To me. Often.
What's your first impression?
After about 50 pages, it's overwhelmingly positive. As the book opens, Will Heller (AKA Lowboy) has just escaped from the psychiatric clinic where he was being treated for paranoid schizophrenia. He's off his meds and hiding in the subway system, trying to stay out of the path of pursuing police officers, and when he interacts with other passengers on the train, it's clear from their reactions that he's not maintaining very well. Meanwhile his mother is being interrogated about his disappearance by a missing persons officer; the story, narrated in a close third person, jumps to follow Will, his mother, and the missing persons officer. These characters have secrets; Wray hasn't told me what they are, yet, but I'm eager to find out.
Is there a representative quote?
Here's a scene where Lowboy spots a twenty on the floor of the subway station:
He braced his head against the wall and did nothing. It was hard to imagine getting up from the bench and putting the twenty into his pocket. He hadn't touched money in a year and a half, not since getting enrolled, and the tunnel was no place for accidents. On the other hand he was starting to get hungry. There was nothing in his pockets, not even a napkin or a matchbook or a pencil. Not even a pill. "On the other hand," he said out loud, listening for the echo off the tiles. Accidents will happen, he reminded himself. Accidents will happen all the time.The face on the bill, of a thin schoolteacherly man with pistachio-colored hair, reminded him of someone that he knew. His father possibly. But he knew the name of the schoolteacher well enough. "Jackson," he said, pointing down at the money. "Andrew Jackson, Indian Killer." Jackson smiled up at him with green patrician lips. I'd gladly trade you, Lowboy thought, for a Swiss cheese omelet and a side of fries.
Will you two end up in bed together?
Not to be too gross about it, but I've been thinking about all day. Wray's writing is tremendously smart and perceptive, but packaged engagingly with some coming-of-age/suspense genre affects, just how I like it.
1
Remember when blogtown was fun? I do. This was a frivolous place where we could have fairly intelligent discussions about the issue of the day while simultaneously celebrating cat friday/caturday and trolling Matt into various nervous breakdowns while he was changing his medications and calling everyone racist. It was fun!
Alas, the whole fucking Sam debacle brought in some sort of ideologue brigade that wanted nothing but SRS BSNS, but unfortunately had the debate skills of lesser apes. Sam-gate sort of wrapped up, but these dipshits just found new things to have completely incompetent show-downs about. It's fucking boring, and I'm fucking bored.
I know that Rom and jake and all the other half-wits will count this as a win, to which I say "good on you". You've made blogtown insufferably stupid, well done. I'm out.
Kiala, graham, Alison, other decent people: It's been fun, and I'll miss you guys.
Mercury arts interns: by and large you all suck. Up your game.
Matt: You're a talentless hack, but you knew that. Good luck with the mental health issues.
KTHXBAI.
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