Scan barcode
A review by rebus
Now and on Earth by Jim Thompson
4.0
Thompson's first novel has many of the hallmarks of his later work, the focus on the underclass and how they despise their so called superiors, but it's hardly what I would call a crime novel. It's autobiographical, exploring themes of family, absent fathers, and the alcoholism that ran through his family and his class as well, painting a horrific picture of life in America 100 years ago. Thompson's insight has never been greater, Dillon's (Thompson as a character) father acknowledging that class is everything when he said that he succeeded as a lawyer largely because of his size and confident speaking voice--usually how the inferiors in the upper middle class thrive--but that he was always scared, just scared enough to be desperate always to win, knowing he was under more scrutiny due to his impoverished origins.
It's heavy stuff to see generational trauma portrayed so well in 1942, at least 75 years before the term was coined. Dillon mentions a Heinlein story in which a man appears to be delusional and suffers a persecution complex, which turns out in the end to be an actual conspiracy by all who know him. Dillon began to feel similarly when a potentially life changing criminal enterprise is foiled, later when he is screwed over on a stock deal, though he admits then that he never wanted anyone's help and always wanted to be alone, the last refuge of the alcoholic writer (his father had said that once one feels walled in, some vice would ensue, chastising his son not for his alcoholism but for failing to realize that his father had a food addiction; both had no ability with relationships or caring for a family).
Stephen King lauds Thompson for his unflinching and balance examination of the alienated mind--like another Thompson, one Hunter, which makes me think we've always needed a punk band called the Thompsons, a triple entendre invoking also the machine gun--though we should discount a hack establishment tool like King, a man who secretly despises and fears the lower classes from his bubble of upper middle class wealth. He said Thompson was unrelenting and would never stop. The shame is that Thompson died very young in 1969 and King didn't stop 45 years ago.
It's heavy stuff to see generational trauma portrayed so well in 1942, at least 75 years before the term was coined. Dillon mentions a Heinlein story in which a man appears to be delusional and suffers a persecution complex, which turns out in the end to be an actual conspiracy by all who know him. Dillon began to feel similarly when a potentially life changing criminal enterprise is foiled, later when he is screwed over on a stock deal, though he admits then that he never wanted anyone's help and always wanted to be alone, the last refuge of the alcoholic writer (his father had said that once one feels walled in, some vice would ensue, chastising his son not for his alcoholism but for failing to realize that his father had a food addiction; both had no ability with relationships or caring for a family).
Stephen King lauds Thompson for his unflinching and balance examination of the alienated mind--like another Thompson, one Hunter, which makes me think we've always needed a punk band called the Thompsons, a triple entendre invoking also the machine gun--though we should discount a hack establishment tool like King, a man who secretly despises and fears the lower classes from his bubble of upper middle class wealth. He said Thompson was unrelenting and would never stop. The shame is that Thompson died very young in 1969 and King didn't stop 45 years ago.