As I write this, I just finished reading Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer. It wasn’t by any means the most thorough reading I’ve done, and for that I feel that much was lost on me. I had to take a break of several weeks, due largely to my book signing tour, but also (I’m not ashamed to say) the energy-draining demands of pregnancy.
I’m always touting my own two personal goals as a reader: To read good and read well. And yet, I didn’t read this incredibly good book nearly as well as I would have liked. However, I read the last quarter of the book nearly in one sitting, and so perhaps allowed myself to become properly engrossed in the world of Binx Bolling’s life and somewhat unstructured journey.
I hesitate to attempt to write a review, analysis, or even a summary of this book. Rather, I will be content to ramble on a bit in my humble attempt to let the literature properly steep and to savor it before jumping into my next book.
Binx is on a spiritual quest- a theme I love to come across in literature, as with Levin in Anna Karenina and Pierre in War and Peace. That sense of feral lostness is something that drew me in to the character of Holden in The Catcher in the Rye, and aroused empathy in me for the irrational Holly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote. Yes, he is on a spiritual quest and feels keenly the yawning sehnsucht in his life as a young southern stock broker and war veteran in the 1950’s. He feels the call, but becomes increasingly restless in his lack of success in satiating that unidentifiable yearning.
I first heard of The Moviegoer when my husband introduced me to the prolific and (in many senses of the word) challenging writing of blogger/author/journalist Brett McCracken. His blog, at www.stillsearching.wordpress.com is inspired by Percy’s novel, and is one to add to your subscriptions if you enjoy being challenged by what you read.
A key quote from The Moviegoer:
"What is the nature of the search? you ask. Really it is very simple; at least for a fellow like me. So simple that it is easily overlooked. The search is what anyone would undertake if he were not sunk in the everydayness of his own life."
I couldn’t help but constantly compare Bolling in a favorable light next to Holden Caulfield. While the two share the same sense of lostness and struggle to cope with the social demands surrounding them, they also have an interesting way of interacting with complete strangers and exhibit a kind of ingratiating candidness that I imagine is rare outside of any fiction. However, there are several acute differences: Binx is markedly more mature, intelligent, and self-controlled. After a while of reading Binx’s metaphysical musings and Percy’s exquisite descriptions, poor Holden begins to sound excessively whiny, dramatic, immature, and, well, a lot less interesting. Granted, Holden is intended to be those things; he is an adolescent. But I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to discover the grownup version of the Holden charm.
I will say that the one thing Binx lacked for me was a truly meaningful punch. I grew tired of his passivity, understated behavior and replies to the people around him. And, admittedly, some of Percy’s descriptions sounded so unique, and took so many liberties with the English language, that I began to doubt their very meaning. I think a lot of readers are satisfied with language that sounds nice and are impressed with a certain level of verbal acrobatics, but if the author fails to actually communicate something in the process of saying it beautifully, then I think it never should have ended up in print. I can’t definitely lay that claim on Percy, as it may very well be my own inadequacies that cause the breakdown in the communication, but it is enough to make me wonder if other readers felt the same.
Aside from those two small disagreements with Percy’s writing (and I think a book is not properly digested until you’ve discovered one or two things with which you disagree), I really do love and appreciate the protagonist.
But it is not Binx that pulls on my heartstrings. It’s his cousin and love interest, Kate, who is constantly on the verge of coming completely unhinged. She wavers dangerously on the brink of suicide, uttering fantastic contradictions in an effort to explain herself to Binx, who is inexplicably able to reach through to her in a way that nobody else can. I was struck by the way these two almost certainly are the same person, as Kate insists that they are. And yet, I wondered, can they be good for each other? Can they help one another?
A few random quotes to entice you to read the book yourself:
“It was ten years ago that I last rode a train, from San Francisco to New Orleans, and so ten years since I last enjoyed the peculiar gnosis of trains, stood on the eminence from which there is revealed both the sorry litter of the past and the future bright and simple as can be, and the going itself, one’s privileged progress through the world.”
“Kate is shaking like a leaf because she longs to be an anyone who is anywhere and she cannot.”
“I no longer eat and sleep regularly or write philosophical notes in my notebook and my fingernails are dirty.”
“The moon hangs westering and yellow over winter fields as blackened and ancient and haunted as battlegrounds.”
SPOILER ALERT:
I was surprised to compare my own interpretation with what I could find online. I suppose one was meant to come away with a feeling of defeat- that Kate and Binx submitted to the demands of society and resorted themselves to a dissatisfying life of boredom and meaninglessness. I didn’t come away with that impression, however.
The ending is subtle and does not answer all the questions, but perhaps softens the madness with a peaceful and (for me, anyway) profound depiction of compassion. Does Binx find the answers he’s looking for? Perhaps not (or, says the optimist, perhaps not yet), but I do think he is onto something. We cannot taste the healing balm of compassion without having come a step or two closer to knowing Christ. And as Christ is the only satisfying end to anyone’s “search,” and the fulfillment of that sehnsucht which I believe is hardwired in all of us for the very purpose of pointing us to our very need for Christ, I am at least encouraged to know our protagonist has made it thus far in his journey.
In short, although Percy doesn't provide the answers, he paints the question masterfully.
I highly recommend Percy's novel to anyone who appreciates the sometimes sharp-edged musings and journey depicted in The Catcher in the Rye. I highly recommend it to anyone who has felt that unidentifiable yearning, that nostalgic something just out of reach, or who is perhaps on their own search for the meaning of life. I hope you'll read it. And if you've already read it, let me know what you think.
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What was your take on The Moviegoer, for those who have read it?
What blogs do you find challenging and recommend for me to read?
