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Reviewers praise William Gaddis and A Frolic of His Own
“Magnificent . . . both cutting-edge, state-of-the-art fiction and a throwback to the great moral novels of Tolstoy and Dickens . . . wonderfully complex . . . a stupendous achievement.
—Steven Moore, Review of Contemporary Books
“Gaddis tackles our litigious culture, and he does so with a spirited vengeance. . . . A Frolic of His Own manages to take a whack at nearly every sacred cow in our culture. Broadly satirical, it nevertheless mirrors with devastating accuracy our clamoring, ill-mannered times. . . . Rich, hilarious, teeming with life, A Frolic of His Own reminds us of all that literature can be.”
—Alicia Metcalf Miller, Cleveland Plain Dealer
“One of America’s greatest post-war writers . . . Like all good satire, this is a very funny but also a very serious book.”
—Peter Guttridge, Independent on Sunday
“Gaddis keeps up an astonishingly high level of energy as well as verbal and narrative invention . . . Like the English masters of the conversation novels, Firbank and Waugh, Gaddis will plant a hint of some disaster, enlarge on it slightly, circle back, and reveal its full horror and idiocy only when it assumed almost mythic proportions.”
—Rhonda Koenig, New York
“The all-seeing Swift of our messy times, an unchallenged master of the dialogue-driven narrative—William Gaddis has captured the paranoia of modern life. He continues single-handedly to reinvigorate an American literature created by living speech in dazzling, energetic masterworks of relentless perception.”
—Eileen Battersby, Irish Times
“Practically rebuilds the Tower of Babel from the sounds and furies of the late 20th century.”
—Richard Lacayo, Time
“The writing is brilliant.”
—Malcolm Jones, Jr., Newsweek
“A stunning novel . . . wildly funny . . . I doubt that a more finally fine book will be published this year.”
—Frank McConnell, The Boston Sunday Globe
“Gaddis remains one of contemporary fiction’s true originals. He is funny, relentless, and uncompromising.”
—Scott Bradfield, Independent
“Brilliant . . . the first genuine depiction of the bloodlust that is our national legal farce.”
—Rick Moody, Details
“As a guide to our world, no one is better, or funnier, than William Gaddis . . . A superb comic novel, one in which you begin by laughing at the characters and end by caring for them deeply.”
—Michael Dirda, Washington Post Book World
“His most accessible novel . . . pitched very close to the key of black humor.”
—Sven Birkerts, The New Republic
“Pure gold, an original.”
—Neil Schmitz, The Buffalo News
“Shamelessly comic and entertaining—in every sense a frolic of his own.”
—Peter Keough, The Boston Phoenix
“A dazzling achievement.”
—David Kipen, LA Reader’s Review
“A hilarious critique of our litigation-crazed society.”
—Judith Wynn, Boston Sunday Herald
“The wittiest novel to be published in many a year.”
—Thomas McGonigle, Chicago Tribune
“When the history of 20th-century American letters is written, William Gaddis will occupy a prominent place as the most devastating satirist of American postwar society.”
—M. D. Carnegie, The Washington Times
“William Gaddis’ name will be synonymous with major fiction for decades to come.”
—Peter Wolfe, Post-Dispatch (St. Louis)
“A technical masterpiece . . . Perfectly timed and perfectly biting, it exposes the absurdity of today’s litigation-happy society.”
—Vanessa V. Friedman, Entertainment Weekly
“Gaddis is funniest when he’s gunning for the barbarians at the gate—for the culture of the game show, the shopping mall, the tabloid newspaper. . . . Gaddis builds around the reader a magnificently ornate and intricate house of words. . . . There’s a bed for us all in this oppressively realistic, beautifully designed Long Island madhouse.”
—Jonathan Raban, The New York Review of Books
“This is classic modernist comedy.”
—The New Yorker
For Muriel Oxenberg Murphy
What you seek in vain for, half your life, one day you come full upon, all the family at dinner. You seek it like a dream, and as soon as you find it you become its prey.
—Thoreau, to Emerson
Justice? —You get justice in the next world, in this world you have the law.
—Well of course Oscar wants both. I mean the way he talks about order? She drew back her foot from the threat of an old man paddling by in a wheelchair, —that all he’s looking for is some kind of order?
—Make the trains run on time, that was the . . .
—I’m not talking about trains, Harry.
—I’m talking about fascism, that’s where this compulsion for order ends up. The rest of it’s opera.
—No but do you know what he really wants?
—The ones showing up in court demanding justice, all they’ve got their eye on’s that million dollar price tag.
—It’s not simply the money no, what they really want . . .
—It’s the money, Christina, it’s always the money. The rest of it’s nothing but opera, now look.
—What they really want, your fascists, Oscar, everybody I mean what it’s really all about? She tapped a defiant foot against the tinkling marimba rhythms seeping into the waiting room somewhere over near the curtains, where the wheelchair had collided with a radiator and come to rest. Trains? fascism? Because this isn’t about any of that, or even ‘the opulence of plush velvet seats, brilliant spectacle and glorious singing’ unless that’s just their way of trying to be taken seriously too —because the money’s just a yardstick isn’t it. It’s the only common reference people have for making other people take them as seriously as they take themselves, I mean that’s all they’re really asking for isn’t it? Think about it, Harry.
—I’ve thought about it, now look. How long do we have to wait. I’ve got to be in court in an hour.
—He’s been in therapy they said, it shouldn’t be long. The nurse said he’s in a highly agitated state.
—Ever see him when he wasn’t?
—Well my God can you blame him? She was digging deep in the shopping bag on the floor there between them —after all, being run over by a car?
—Looks like he’s planning a long stay.
—Well of course he wanted his own robe and pajamas, the rest of it’s mail, notes, papers, how he expects to get any work done here.
—Probably as much as he ever gets done anywhere.
—And do you have to start that? I mean that’s why I asked you to stop up here and see him isn’t it? to show a little family concern for him? Maybe you can even pretend it was your own idea, here . . . coming up with whatever brightly wrapped, —you can give him this.
—But what . . .
—It’s just a jar of ginger preserves, the kind of thing he likes with his toast in the morning. I’m sure all he gets here is that loathsome Kraft it’s grape because it’s purple.
—You don’t think he’ll believe it do you? that I went out and bought him ginger preserves for his morn
ing toast?
—I think he’ll think you were very thoughtful.
—I was. I picked up a copy of this Opinion in the Szyrk case for him.
—That was very thoughtful Harry, it was just the wrong thought. You know he and Father hardly see eye to eye on anything as it is, do you think this asinine business about the dog all over the papers will help matters?
—And something else here about that big Civil War movie, he may want the . . .
—Well my God you’re not going to show him that! I mean I just told you he’s in a highly agitated state didn’t I? Isn’t it all bad enough? When I drove out there to pick up his things the lawns hadn’t been cut, that south veranda still hasn’t been repaired I don’t know what holds it up, he was going to have the garage doors painted and they haven’t been touched, the way he’s talked about getting the ignition on that terrible car fixed for months, and then of course Lily drove in, that was all I needed. In a BMW. I wish you wouldn’t drum your fingers that way, and can’t you do something about that awful music? His hands came to grips on the attaché case flat on his lap, and she closed her knees as though in restraint against the tum, tum, tum tum tum, tum being accompanied without great success by stabs from the wheelchair. —A new BMW, she’ll probably be here any minute. I didn’t want to tell her what had happened but of course I knew Oscar would be furious if I didn’t, it’s like everything else. I thought it was that real estate woman driving in but it turned out he’s never even called her, it’s just as well though. You can’t imagine anyone wanting to buy the place the way it looked this morning.
—Exactly.
—What do you mean, exactly. It’s Father who’s making noises about selling it after all.
—That Oscar doesn’t want to see the place sold.
—Well I know that Harry my God, we’ve gone over it for a hundred years. I mean we used to talk about one of us buying the other one out when we grew up, but if something happened to him and the whole place would come to me he’d get violent because it had belonged to his mother when Father married her and he’d say he’d come back and haunt me, he’d jump out from behind doors to show me what he’d do, grabbing me and tickling me till I screamed, till I couldn’t breathe till, till somebody came, until my mother came and pulled him off, or Father. That’s all he was afraid of. Father.
—Sounds a little unhealthy, if you ask me.
—Well I didn’t. I mean we were just children, after all.
—Exactly.
The music had taken up a Latin throb livened by haphazard thrusts, lurches, abrupt leaps of hands from the wheelchair where she turned her back, left an awkward leg behind in her impatience, and which opera, if it came to that, ‘true love defying family hatred’? a ‘tragic tale of family ties and superstition’? tapping the deviant foot behind her —but where he ever thought he’d get the money, unless he married it like Father did. I mean you can see why Lily’s parents gave up on her, he told me her father’s putting all his money into her brother’s hands, getting around the estate taxes in case he dies, so of course she pictures herself marrying Oscar and moving right in if she can ever get her divorce straight, which of course she can’t. Where are you going.
—Look he’s probably going to be here for a while, why don’t I come up later in the week when he . . .
—You can come up later in the week too Harry, I mean this whole thing will give you both a chance to get to know each other a little better won’t it, spend some time just chatting? Because I still think he paid off her first lawyer when she went on to this second one, half Oscar’s age and she’s already managed a mess of a marriage and this mess of a divorce and her mess of a family and now this mess she’s got herself into getting her purse stolen? Of course they won’t give her a penny no, no but Oscar will, lending her money as though she could ever pay it back while he’s talked about getting the ignition on that car fixed for months, the way he’s talked about his teeth, will the car last long enough to justify getting new tires. Two thousand dollars for new teeth no, no he’ll give it to Lily but he won’t go out and buy himself new oh my God! What happened!
—Woman getting off the elevator, she sailed into that nurse with a tray of blood samples and wait, wait Christina sit down, don’t . . .
—But it’s Trish! and she was up. —Trish!
—Oh God. Teen how sweet, how did you know I’d be here, look at it. Blood and broken glass all over the floor, it’s just like home.
—But what wait, it’s all over your coat wait, nurse?
—Nurse! Whose blood is this no, don’t touch it Teen God knows what you’ll catch, nurse? Can’t you do something?
—Just step over here Ma’am so we can, Jim? Where’s Jim. Tell him to bring a mop I’ve got to go wash my hands, tell him to put on gloves.
—Will this blood come out of my, where did she go. No I’d better just burn it, like that floor in the upstairs foyer it will never come out, it’s as bad as red wine stains on a marble table people can be so damned careless, simply facing that smirking bitch at my cleaners after the last time she’ll come up with cela va devenir une habitude Madame? and have it all over the upper east side, but how thoughtful of you to be here Teen. Always thinking of others.
—No it’s Oscar, a car accident, he was run over by . . .
—But how clever! I mean he can sue for millions can’t he, if you read about these marvelous awards they’re handing out every day in the papers? Is he still at that dreary writing or teaching business or whatever it was? He’ll be quite set for life won’t he, I remember the time he took us all to the beach at Bailey’s and lost his, oh God look at that! She thrust out the point of a 9AAA in mauve peau-de-soie, —look at them!
—But they’re lovely, simply exqui . . .
—Don’t you see it? right there on the toe, the blood?
—It’s only a speck, no one would . . .
—Do you think Gianni would ever sell me another pair if they could see that? She seized the near shoulder,—just steady me . . .
—It’s only a speck wait, don’t . . .
—You can’t think I’d wear them now, spreading God knows what disease all over town? kicking off one, then the other, —I mean they were designed to go with the coat in the first place, maybe they’ve given Oscar a pair of these little paper slippers like that mad man over there in the wheelchair waving his arms around conducting the music Teen don’t look now, a rather slick looking fellow over by the door giving you the eye.
—Where, what oh, oh it’s Harry. Harry? Harry this is Trish, we were at school.
And as he came in reach —Oh! seizing his hand, —and he’s your doctor?
—He’s my husband Trish, Harry Lutz. He’s a lawyer, we . . .
—Teen I didn’t dream you had a husband!
—Well I didn’t a year ago, we . . .
—But how clever of you. Getting one right in the family I mean, where he won’t send you these ridiculous bills and then sue you like mine always do, because I’ve got to call Bunker the minute I get home. Of course I’d hate to sue over this mess but after all he’s on the hospital’s board isn’t he? and it’s not as though I haven’t given those damn white tie diamond benefits year after year till that night in the elevator when they ripped the diamonds right off my throat and took poor Bunker’s billclip, his old daddy’s gold billclip shaped like an outhouse it was just the sentiment, he advertised for weeks and now it’s black tie and we just call it the Winter Party to keep it low key which is simply incongruous isn’t it, I mean Harry Winston doesn’t turn you out for a church supper in Kalamazoo and Gianni wouldn’t make me a shroud if they could see this coat right now with God knows whose blood on it spreading God knows what, this new depravity they’ve come up with just to get back at the rest of us who thought the bad news for a good fucking went out with penicillin but it’s not like that loathsome Mister Jheejheeboy anymore is it, making a career out of marrying us we were all such damn schoolgirls but so long after school
was out, now you don’t dare touch anybody under thirty Teen I’ve got to talk to you.
—Yes but just, Harry? Harry wait a minute . . .
—Because I mean marriage at our age Teen, suddenly it’s half the fun at twice the price will you call me?
Maracas, bongos, chichicaboomchic, he’d got as far from the commotion in the wheelchair as the waiting room allowed, standing there drumming his fingers on the attaché case when a nurse tapped his arm, pointing down the corridor to —six twelve B.
—Christina?
—Yes I’m coming. And that shopping bag will you, oh you’ve got it. Trish? Call me?
—Love to Oscar, and Teen? I meant to say how devastating for your father, all over the papers with that horrid dog, and you’ll call? Someone should simply shoot it, nurse? Are you going to simply leave me standing here like this?
—Here, this way . . . and down the corridor, —talk about Lily . . .
—Well what about Lily! Striding out ahead —no, there are two kinds of people in the world Harry, one of them gives and one of them takes, think about it. You don’t think those benefits that Trish gives are breadlines do you? Her third husband owned half the timber in Maine, and here’s Lily squeezing money out of poor Oscar when he won’t even buy himself new teeth, like that car, buying new tires for the car or will it fly to pieces first.
—Like that . . . catching her aside as a nurse came bearing down on them with the wheelchair from behind.
—Like what.
—Parkinson’s, as the wheelchair passed with silent leaps of a hand, jerks of the head, —palsy, Christina. Palsy.
612 B: in the first bed an inert figure lay absorbed in the chaos of a traffic report from a hand sized radio; and beyond the drawn curtain from a welter of newspapers, —Well. You’re finally here.
—We’ve been waiting out there for hours Oscar, they said you were in therapy or something.
—Did you think I’d be out playing baseball? Hand me that glass of water will you? Hello Harry.
—Harry wanted to stop in and see you Oscar, he brought . . .