Reading California Fiction

THE CONDEMNED

    The Condemned by Jo Pagano. Prentice-Hall (1947), 215 pp.
    This book presents a fictionalized account of a murder and lynching that took place in San Jose in 1933. The narrator begins with some ruminations about the causes of the crimes -- psychological, sociological, economic, moral -- then shifts to the third person to describe what actually happens. The story mostly follows the activities of Howard Tyler, the less violent and more normal of the two killers. Slow-witted and weak-willed, he’s no match for his angry partner, Jerry Slocum, whose antisocial  behavior the narrator attributes to a brain tumor. Toward the end of the book, however, the focus shifts to Gil Stanton, a local newspaper columnist and would-be novelist. He and others in his social circle, whom the narrator dubs “the sophisticates,”affect the lives of ordinary townfolk but live in a world of cocktail parties and intellectual conversation. The novel is most compelling in its coverage of the murder and its immediate aftermath. The treatment of the lynching is a bit skimpy and does not convincingly connect the crime to Stanton and his ilk. And the narrator’s musings, annoying and unnecessary, have the effect of detaching the reader from the story’s horrific events. In the end it’s not quite clear what Pagano is trying to do with the book. Perhaps his intentions are more obvious in the movie version, Try and Get Me (1950), for which he wrote the screenplay.

THE WRONG WORLD

    Louis Paul (1901-1970) was one of those writers who had success in his lifetime but whose work is largely unknown today. He published eighteen books between 1935 and 1963, all but one or two of which were novels. He also published at least fifty short stories, mostly in slick-paper magazines. The Wrong World was his second California novel. I probably could skip a review, since the book doesn’t quite meet the standards for my reading project. About a hundred pages are set in a time (post-earthquake San Francisco) that the author did not experience as an adult. A larger chunk of the book is set outside California, mostly in New York City. But I figured that since I’d read it I’d give a few words.

    The Wrong World by Louis Paul. Doubleday, Doran (1938), 358 pp.
    The first part of the novel, which Paul calls “The Puppet,” follows the life of Ernest Morrow from his early years to his late teens. He’s deeply attached to his widowed mother, a former vaudeville dancer. She, in turn, lives through him, hoping that with rigorous training he can establish himself as a concert pianist. The novel’s second part, “The Clown,” is a coming-of-age tale in which Ernest makes his way west across the country and gets settled in San Francisco.
    By design the events of the second part are almost completely unrelated to what has happened before. Readers might wonder whether the two parts belong in the same book. But that’s not the novel’s main problem. Far more serious is the clumsiness of the author’s writing. He puts in many pages of needless conversation and provides explanations of events that readers should be able to figure out on their own. New characters keep showing up, but they don’t come to life. The prose itself is never more than functional and is sometimes just silly. Ernest’s first visit to a prostitute (pp. 180-181) is especially cringeworthy. On the basis of this novel, one can easily conclude that Paul’s work has not been forgotten unjustly.

THE INWARD VOYAGE

    The Inward Voyage by Peter Packer. McGraw-Hill (1948), 234 pp.
    Ex-fighter pilot Sam Lucas returns to Los Angeles after the war. He finds himself facing family, career and marriage issues. His once vigorous father has become debilitated by Parkinson’s disease. His parents have already sold their house, and Sam wants to help out before their finances worsen. So he’s abandoned his long-range career plan, becoming an attorney after attending law school, and is looking for a way to begin making good money at once. In redirecting his future, however, he has upset his girlfriend, Carol Siske, who was expecting to get married right away and then to work while he attended school. Sam slowly realizes that his problems will not easily be solved.
    This is a well-meaning book that sympathetically describes the sorts of issues faced by veterans returning from World War II. The title indicates a focus on beliefs and attitudes rather than events. There are few plot twists. Almost everything happens as expected. The third-person narrator, who only occasionally shifts attention from Sam, not only presents the characters’ ideas but often interprets them as well. Which might work out all right if the characters were thinking something interesting. But they are a pretty bland bunch -- led by Sam, who supplements his lack of imagination with obliviousness and ineptitude. Like its characters, the novel suffers from dullness. Unfortunately, the author’s stodgy writing style does little to brighten things up. The book might be of some historical interest to a very small group of modern readers. A large audience is unlikely. The book’s paperback title, incidentally, is Dark Surrender.

HOPE OF HEAVEN

    Hope of Heaven by John O’Hara. Harcourt, Brace (1938), 182 pp.
    Jim Malloy, a well-heeled screenwriter and the narrator of the story, wants to expand his relationship with Peggy Henderson, now merely a friend with benefits. She’s much younger (in her early twenties), works in a bookstore, lives with her brother Keith, and has an absent father who occasionally sends money. She has no connection to the handsome young man who contacts Jim about a job. He calls himself Don Miller, after the man whose traveler’s checks he’s been cashing. Jim does nothing to help him, but Don keeps turning up.
    O’Hara doesn’t use the structure of this novel to enhance its meaning. The story does not begin with a problem or conflict. Characters keep showing up, but to no obvious purpose. Jim often interrupts the narrative to provide some seemingly irrelevant background information about the new arrivals. What he doesn’t furnish is anything resembling an overall interpretation of events. Readers need to work this out for themselves. Which is not to say that the story is difficult to follow or the writing is other than smooth  -- or that the novel is especially interesting, for that matter. The book, different from O’Hara’s later blockbusters, could attract a small and selective modern audience.

HOLLYWOOD CEMETERY

    Liam O’Flaherty (1896-1984) was one of the most acclaimed Irish writers of the twentieth century. He is best known in the United States for The Informer (1925), a story about Irish revolutionaries in the 1920s.  O’Flaherty came to Hollywood in the early 1930s, probably in conjunction with the screen adaptation of the book. His experiences may have formed the basis for those of Brian Carey in Hollywood Cemetery. O’Flaherty did little or no work on the film, however, and had no luck later in establishing himself as a screenwriter. He did, incidentally, serve as the inspiration for Cosmo, the down-and-out Irish author in Mad Hatter’s Village (1934). Who wrote that book remains a mystery.

    Hollywood Cemetery by Liam O’Flaherty. Gollancz (1935), 288 pp.
    Film producer Jack Mortimer, always looking to make a buck, has purchased the rights to a novel about a young Irish woman’s emigration to the United States. He’s also signed up the book’s author, pessimistic intellectual Brian Carey. He and Carey go to Ireland, seeking a new face to star in the movie. The search ends when they come across a beautiful if slightly under-aged young woman making love in a field. Renamed Angela Devlin, she’s soon under contract. The three head for Hollywood, joined by Mortimer’s devious but ingratiating assistant, Larry Dafoe.
    There’s nothing subtle in this satirical assault on the American film industry. For O’Flaherty Hollywood is a crazy place run by philistines and staffed by dullards and sell-outs. All the book’s characters are motivated by self-interest. When they’re not bickering with one another, they’re plotting to gain advantage at someone else’s expense. The plot becomes zanier as the story moves along. The final twist is the most outrageous. If all of this isn’t amusing, of course, the book will simply be a source of irritation. A few modern readers (Brits more than Americans perhaps) might enjoy the over-the-top humor. But most interest in the novel is likely to come from curious fans of O’Flaherty’s more serious work.

FLINT

    Charles Norris (1881-1945) belonged to one of California’s most notable literary families. His brother Frank was among the founders of American naturalism and author of the classic McTeague. His wife Kathleen was a popular romance writer who published more than fifty books in a career that spanned a half-century. Beginning in 1916, Charles wrote ten novels, six of which were set in California. They often focused on social issues and usually had one-word titles. Flint was his last.

    Flint by Charles G. Norris. Doubleday, Doran and Co. (1944), 354 pp.
    The Rutherford family is among San Francisco’s most prominent. Hot-tempered J. O. B. Rutherford runs a large merchant fleet. His brother Lloyd is a leading corporate lawyer. Their sister Charmion Baxter is married to a large-scale rancher in the San Joaquin Valley. Their children, now in their twenties, are less promising. Chris Baxter is clever but dissolute. Frank Rutherford has disappeared. Eleanor Rutherford may be too haughty to make a good marriage. Her cousin Daisy may be too egalitarian. Stan Rutherford is the most likely prospect, but he suffers from open-mindedness. The family gathers for Christmas on the brink of the 1934 longshoremen’s strike. In one way or another labor troubles will plague the Rutherfords for the next several years.
    A powerful family faces social forces that it tries but fails to suppress. That’s a story line that might have made an engrossing book. Sadly, Norris (coming to the end of his career) was not the guy to write it. He’s unable to give depth to the many characters who come and go during the story. They have a few defining qualities, not a range of thoughts and emotions. The plot twists in ways unforeseen by the reader and perhaps by Norris himself. In particular, characters seem to die just to keep the story going, and the Job metaphor fizzles out with 75 pages left to go. Sometimes Norris interrupts the narrative with tedious disquisitions on labor-management issues, especially the threat posed to capitalism by unions. The book unaccountably ends with a melodramatic scene that answers questions previously unasked. The novel is of some minor historical interest, perhaps, but a sizable modern audience is unlikely.

THE MARRIED LOOK

    The Married Look by Robert Nathan. Knopf (1950), 195 pp.
    Edward, a middle-aged microbiologist, wakes up early one morning to discover he can’t recall his wife Ruth’s face during their courtship some twenty years before. As he reflects further, he realizes that his love for her is now based on her household administrative skills. Ruth’s original attractive qualities have faded from his memory. Edward decides to get up and go to work. As he drives into town from his home in the Hollywood Hills, he gets lost in the fog. When he gets into the clear, he spots a horse and wagon tended by a beautiful young woman in an old-fashioned dress. She introduces herself as Clementine and soon manages to instill in Edward feelings of mastery and contentment that he has not experienced for many years.
    Edward narrates the story in a meditative and often wistful voice. He tries to find meaning in events that defy rational explanation. Nathan suggests that Edward’s scientific mindset keeps him calm as he tries to figure out what role Clementine will play in his life. Edward is on top of all this as much as he can be. Readers will not be annoyed because they see things that he doesn’t. Robert Nathan (1894-1985) is known for well-crafted romantic fantasies, notably The Bishop’s Wife (1928) and Portrait of Jennie (1940). Anyone in the mood for that sort of novel (and also perhaps in a long marriage) is likely to enjoy The Married Look.