sand in my joints
Quite by accident, I've been reading two books set in similar milieus, separated by a few decades, about people who seem to have a disproportionate amount of problems and existential angst and- oh yeah- income. Maybe Puffy was right- the more money we've got, the more problems we see. I don't think I'm going out on too thin of a limb in supposing that Maria (pronounced like the troubled pop singer's name) of Play It As It Lays and Clay of Less Than Zero might agree with the aforementioned rap mogul.
As you'll know if you've been watching VH1's wholly premature I Love the 90s, Less Than Zero was that decade's best case for just saying no. (it was also a pretty swell Elvis Costello song before that) In it, brat packers drive around in expensive cars and watch helplessly as coke and the like cause their petty lives spin out of control. But before it was a movie that almost flawlessly allowed Robert Downey Jr. too act out his future, it was a semi-shocking first novel by Bret Easton Ellis, who later attracted even more notice with American Psycho, in which a yuppie does his best Hannibal Lecter impersonation. The movie wasn't what caused me to check out the novel; in fact, the Costello reference is probably most responsible.
Here's what happens, basically: Clay returns to L.A. from his first semester of college at some fancy school back east to find things both just as he left them and unmistakably changed. He's no longer too interested in his girlfriend, or any of his other friends, or anything at all, for that matter, with the exception of cocaine and MTV. These two narcotics take up a great deal of his time, and most of his mental energy. He watches his friend Julian (Downey in the film) sink into an inescapable life of prostitution and heroin use. And in the end, he leaves- for better things, one hopes, because despite the unlimited lines of credit and the dinners at Spago, the sheer amorality about him threatens to swallow him whole.
I picked up Joan Didion's novel the other day because I had seen it recommended in a few different spots (which I can't recall at the moment). It just so happens that it is also set in sunny California which, once again, is more of a gilded cage than the earthly paradise it's been built up to be by... well, itself, mostly. This clearly isn't that new of an idea, but Ms. Didion was at it before most, and her economical, deliberate prose is right on target. Ellis was easy reading since it was in a recent vernacular, but Didion is in a whole different league entirely.
Maria may or may not be pregnant at this point, with her director husband Carter's child (though this, too, is kind of up in the air- L.A. wasn't at a loss for decadence then, either). While he's on location, she's at home stewing over this, and contemplating an abortion as a way of finally freeing herself from Carter, who she has become "anesthetized" to. Their first child Kate is some sort of hospital, and Maria has found her in the unfortunate position of trying to play the game of winning her back from Carter's control. But then games have always been salient metaphors for her life- she's from Nevada, after all, and her father, a washed up casino operator, wrote her, "Don't let them bluff you back there because you're holding all the aces."
A few paragraphs, the crux of the novel is revealed by Maria herself: "I mean maybe I was holding all the aces, but what was the game?"
And this situation, as well as the character's name, lead me to think of Sonic Youth's latest pop star song subject: Mariah Carrey. Years ago it was Madonna who inspired New York City's premier noise rockers to create The Whitey Album, an album that was more or less about the Material Girl. On their latest album, Sonic Nurse, Kim Gordon shouts and sneers her way through "Kim Gordon and the Arthur Doyle Hand Cream," which is unmistakably about Ms. Carrey. "Come on little baby break down," goes the refrain and even if it's a little less than timely, many can remember the singer's post-Glitter public meltdown. Chances are she isn't the only person involved with that mess that has suffered emotional problems as a result.
The cover of the library's old Bantam paperback edition heralds Play It As It Lays as the most brilliant novel of the year, and I'm inclined to believe that that's more than just publishing industry hyperbole.
As you'll know if you've been watching VH1's wholly premature I Love the 90s, Less Than Zero was that decade's best case for just saying no. (it was also a pretty swell Elvis Costello song before that) In it, brat packers drive around in expensive cars and watch helplessly as coke and the like cause their petty lives spin out of control. But before it was a movie that almost flawlessly allowed Robert Downey Jr. too act out his future, it was a semi-shocking first novel by Bret Easton Ellis, who later attracted even more notice with American Psycho, in which a yuppie does his best Hannibal Lecter impersonation. The movie wasn't what caused me to check out the novel; in fact, the Costello reference is probably most responsible.
Here's what happens, basically: Clay returns to L.A. from his first semester of college at some fancy school back east to find things both just as he left them and unmistakably changed. He's no longer too interested in his girlfriend, or any of his other friends, or anything at all, for that matter, with the exception of cocaine and MTV. These two narcotics take up a great deal of his time, and most of his mental energy. He watches his friend Julian (Downey in the film) sink into an inescapable life of prostitution and heroin use. And in the end, he leaves- for better things, one hopes, because despite the unlimited lines of credit and the dinners at Spago, the sheer amorality about him threatens to swallow him whole.
I picked up Joan Didion's novel the other day because I had seen it recommended in a few different spots (which I can't recall at the moment). It just so happens that it is also set in sunny California which, once again, is more of a gilded cage than the earthly paradise it's been built up to be by... well, itself, mostly. This clearly isn't that new of an idea, but Ms. Didion was at it before most, and her economical, deliberate prose is right on target. Ellis was easy reading since it was in a recent vernacular, but Didion is in a whole different league entirely.
Maria may or may not be pregnant at this point, with her director husband Carter's child (though this, too, is kind of up in the air- L.A. wasn't at a loss for decadence then, either). While he's on location, she's at home stewing over this, and contemplating an abortion as a way of finally freeing herself from Carter, who she has become "anesthetized" to. Their first child Kate is some sort of hospital, and Maria has found her in the unfortunate position of trying to play the game of winning her back from Carter's control. But then games have always been salient metaphors for her life- she's from Nevada, after all, and her father, a washed up casino operator, wrote her, "Don't let them bluff you back there because you're holding all the aces."
A few paragraphs, the crux of the novel is revealed by Maria herself: "I mean maybe I was holding all the aces, but what was the game?"
And this situation, as well as the character's name, lead me to think of Sonic Youth's latest pop star song subject: Mariah Carrey. Years ago it was Madonna who inspired New York City's premier noise rockers to create The Whitey Album, an album that was more or less about the Material Girl. On their latest album, Sonic Nurse, Kim Gordon shouts and sneers her way through "Kim Gordon and the Arthur Doyle Hand Cream," which is unmistakably about Ms. Carrey. "Come on little baby break down," goes the refrain and even if it's a little less than timely, many can remember the singer's post-Glitter public meltdown. Chances are she isn't the only person involved with that mess that has suffered emotional problems as a result.
The cover of the library's old Bantam paperback edition heralds Play It As It Lays as the most brilliant novel of the year, and I'm inclined to believe that that's more than just publishing industry hyperbole.
