LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
BOOKED Solid |
Reviews by Rebecca James |
The Double Bind (2007) Chris Bohjalian
Before I begin my unit on The Great Gatsby, I try and find a way to get my iPod-bopping juniors to appreciate both the time period (1920s) and the party lifestyle of that decade's young adults. Although theoretically, they should connect right away, Fitzgerald is a little wordy for them and they struggle with his division of new money and old money into West and East Eggto inner city kids, rich is rich. We make a chart on the board and divide modern famous faces based on how they spend their money. On one side, we have "Diddy" Combs, Prince, Jennifer Lopez, Donald Trump, Britney Spears, and Paris Hilton. On the other, we have Bill Gates, Hilary Clinton, Barack Obama (I get bonus points for the Government class connection while teaching literature) the "other prince" (Charles? William?) and "the guys who own Google." While we can't divide them based on how long they've had their money, the kids get the ideaWest Egg blows it on purple suits and lavish parties and East Egg keeps a really nice stable of polo ponies. It's not perfect, but it's a start. The only problem is, my students sometimes forget what is fiction and what is not. Gatsby, with all its ostentatious adultery, bootlegging, intoxication, and murder may be based on the rip-roaring 20s, but it is in fact fiction. It turns out, they're not the only ones who make that mistake. Chris Bohjalian, author of several of my favorite books like Midwives and Trans-sister Radio, jumps into a complex psychological portrait yet again. This time, instead of post-op death and post-op love (you have to have read the two novels above to get that joke), we have more of a mystery. Like Fitzgerald's character Nick Caraway (although not in first person), Bohjalian creates a main character through whom readers grasp most of the important details of the story, at least in the beginning. Laurel Estabrook is a young social worker several years out of college. She grew up in West Egg in Long Island, and moved to Vermont for college. In the fall of her sophomore year, she was attacked while biking on some back roads. She seems to have moved past most of the anxiety that plagued her following the attacks, even if she continues to live with her protective college roommate and exclusively dates protective older men. Indeed, her vulnerability following the near abduction seems to give her an edge when working with her homeless clients at the local shelter where she is employed. They trust her. What initially turned me off about the story (but later made me want to reread the book) was the way Bohjalian incorporated the Gatsby twist. For the first half of the book, I was confused by how stiff the insertion of characters, locales, and plot details seemed. Having read the book either aloud or with my classes close to thirty times, I am overly familiar with the book. Want the page number where Gatsby famously utters, "[Daisy's] voice is full of money"? How about the exact words used to describe Jordan Baker in a cocktail dress? That would be jaunty, as if she were wearing sports clothes. And Myrtle? Well, she was "violently extinguished," left breast swinging loose in the ashy road after the "death car" ran her down. Bohjalian used many of the words and phrases directly from the classic novel when describing those people he included in his own writing. Laurel recites the history behind her neighborhood's swim club, supposedly the old Gatsby mansion, and the equally large, yet less gaudy, Buchanan estate across the sound. "Oh," I thought to myself, "he's pretending that the novel is real." It wasn't particularly creative. I was compelled to continue, however, because I liked the modern plot. A mentally-ill man who recently came through Laurel's shelter has died, leaving multiple professional-quality photographs behind. Many of them, it seems, were taken during the 1920s and featured the legendary Gatsby and his circle of friends. However, as I read on, something interesting began to unfold. The details surrounding Laurel's attack in college become shakier; the psychiatrist's notes opening each chapter grow more specific; Laurel's interest in the photographs grows exponentially until it becomes an obsession, particularly after she realizes that one more modern photo is actually of her biking on a back road in Vermont. She meets more and more of Fitzgerald's characters throughout her self-imposed investigation into the photographs. Finally, in a frenzied two-hour-no-interruptions-midnight-reading binge, I charged through to the tremendous conclusion. Bohjalian has always been a favorite of mine; his stories are complex, entertaining, and frequently have a special twist. While it took him a little longer to hint at it (or me longer to get it), The Double Bind is no exception. Next year when I assign Gatsby to my Advanced Placement students, I may very well assign them Bohjalian's novel as well. I love the balancing of the two narratives; it worked well for Michael Cunningham's The Hours when he fed off Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway and it works now for Bohjalian. I would recommend reading (or re-reading) Gatsby first. I promise it won't be as painful as it was in high school. Just remember: Britney is West Egg. Bill and Melinda are East Egg. Nick is 30, and that's too old to lie to yourself, apparently. And Gatsby's better than "the whole damn bunch put together." Rebecca James divides her time between Allentown, Pennsylvania, and Rehoboth Beach. She may be reached at jamesr@allentownsd.org. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 17, No. 7 June 15, 2007 |