An exquisitely strange novel by
Michael Chabon, published in September of
2000 and awarded the
Pulitzer Prize in April of
2001. I suppose you could summarize it as "Czech refugee boy comes to the USA, collaborates on comics with American cousin; story of their partnership." But it's both more and less than that. More: several aborted left-turns toward
magical realism, a very good dovetailing of the history of
comic books in America with the history of the
pre-war and
WWII and
McCarthy eras, an interesting
female character attached to both
protagonists. Less:
coming-of-age cliches, very sketchy detailing of a major
sexual identity subplot, gratuitous
gore in the middle of the book, and overuse of the word "
masturbatory."
It's strange to me that I was able to accept the presence of the
golem more than I was able to accept the weird detour into madness and death in
Antartica. Both seemed out of place to me, but I suppose that's because I'm just not refined enough to grasp all of the ideas in
Nobel and Pulitzer books. The critics (who loved this book) say these departures make the book "
larger than life," like the
superheroes that the protagonists,
Joe Kavalier (the Czech) and
Sam Clay (the American), write and draw.
I have no response to that. I guess I could have asked Michael last week, but I hadn't read it at that point.
This brings us to the best thing about the book: the
ring of authenticity that (to me) is lacking in the exploration of
homosexuality, is fully present in the passages about the trials and triumphs of the
comic book industry. From
brainstorming and
artist's block all the way to
exploitation and
fame, Chabon has nailed the life of a
comic book artist. You'll even note a reference to
Wondercon in the opening paragraph. This is because Michael is a cool guy, not a
literary snob, and regularly attends Wondercon, the
Alternative Press Expo, and so on. He's a
fan.
If the rest of the book were as consistent as the parts dealing with comic books (okay, and with kids' fascination for
stage magic and
escape artistry), it would have been an excellent book. As it is, I'll dare say it's very much flawed; too consciously trying to be "High Art about low art." Most of the reviews I've read don't mention the incredibly dark tone of the book; so it's possible that I was somehow overly sensitive to the dark portions. That said, I would recommend this only to those who like to keep up with award-winning books, or with a serious interest in the history of English-language comic books.