March 13, 2004
DOES ANYBODY EDIT TOM WOLFE (via Buttercup):
The Word Made Flesh: Stoicism and the Incarnation (Steven Garber, February 25, 2004, BreakPoint)
In his novel [A Man in Full] [Tom] Wolfe tells a tale of a wealthy entrepreneur who is largely responsible for reshaping the Atlanta skyline over the course of his career. This is the Atlanta of the biggest airport in the world, of the 1996 Olympics, of the New South and the New America. “The last great white football player at Georgia Tech,” Charlie Croker at 60 has a far-flung business empire, spanning the continent. But in his greed he overreaches, and his accountant suggests he lop off a venture in California that involves huge frozen food warehouses. To Croker and his accountant, it is only a line item in a very complex budget.To Conrad Hensley, the last man hired at one of the warehouses, it is his job—and he has a wife and two small children, and no other marketable skills. Going into downtown Oakland in an attempt to address his situation he gets a parking ticket. Protesting his innocence all the way into court, the judge tells him to either pay the fine or go to jail. Believing himself wrongly accused, he takes imprisonment—leaving his family to fend for themselves.
Preparing for the months of his confinement, he chooses a book from the prison library. But the wrong book comes! Rather than his choice, he is given the Stoic philosopher Epictetus. Very bright but unschooled, Conrad begins to read, surprising himself with the interest he has in the Greek philosopher’s meditations. In particular he is intrigued with the call for “detachment,” to be someone who knows about the sorrows and pains of the world, but finds within himself the ability to stand clear of them, maintaining his happiness and humanity—which is the goal of life. Apatheia allows one to live in the world without being overwhelmed by it.
It is not a cheap answer. To look unblinkingly at the complex corruptions in the world—in our own hearts and rippling out into the farthest reaches of the universe–and not be crushed by them is very hard. Who wants to take on the wounds of the world?
And so Conrad takes up the Stoicism of Epictetus, whose words ring true, giving light to his path in a very dark place. He finds that through the Stoic virtue of apatheia he can hold onto his humanity in a very inhumane setting, the county jail.
“When you see anyone weeping in sorrow… take care not to be overcome by the apparent evil; but discriminate, and be ready to say, ‘What hurts this man is not this occurrence itself—for another man might not be hurt by it –but the view he chooses to take of it.’ As far as conversation goes, however, do not hesitate to sympathize with him, and if need be, to groan with him. Take heed, however, not to groan inwardly too.” (The Enchiridion, 16)
It is not a cheap answer.
A year or so ago I had lunch with Wolfe on Capitol Hill. Several of us who had honest interest in the thoughtfulness of his essays and novels sat and talked about wide-ranging topics. At one point I told him that I had read most of his work, enjoyed it very much, and regularly assigned it to my students. And then I told him of the week I spent reading Man in Full. It is a long story, wonderfully imagined, setting forth a vision of what it means to be a complete human being, fully alive, a man in full.
But then I paused, telling him that I loved it all the way through—until the last 15 pages…. There was an ellipsis in the conversation. He looked across the table, and with remarkable candor said, “I don’t finish my novels very well, do I?”
What could I say? One of best writers we have, one of the best-selling novelists in history; he doesn’t finish his stories well? But he was right. He had not finished it well; while showing the fundamental flaw of Stoicism at the point of greatest tension in the story, in the end he offers it as an honest answer. Wolfe then continued, “I thought of a Christian conversion, but that’s been done.” Against Epictetus, I groaned inwardly, and thought about Crime and Punishment, Les Miserables, and what might have been.
There was a time when even a writer as gifted and as certain to sell books as Mr. Wolfe would have been working with an editor who actually would have forced him to improve his already quite good book. sadly, those days are long gone. Posted by Orrin Judd at March 13, 2004 6:26 AM
The ending of "Bonfire" was subtle, but it seemed rushed. The ending of "Full" was flat, because Charlie should probably have died. He was not going to agonize like King Lear, after all. And he certainly was not going to be transformed like Scrooge. So what else is left? It might have been best for his trophy wife to shoot him.
Posted by: jim hamlen at March 13, 2004 9:00 PM