Showing posts with label East of Eden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label East of Eden. Show all posts

Monday, April 30, 2012

Book Group: In Cold Blood

In Cold Blood: A True Account of a Multiple Murder and Its Consequences by Truman Capote (New York: Random House, 2007; originally published in 1965. 343 pp)

A Brief Recap 
“Mister Clutter was amused. ‘I’m not as poor as I look. Go ahead, get all you can,’ he said. Then, touching the brim of his cap, he headed for home and the day’s work, unaware that it would be his last.” (13). 
Reading like a precursor to one of the many CSI crime television series, the quote above summarizes the feel of In Cold Blood incredibly well, a novel where both innocence and brutality collide, where beauty meets tragedy. 

In Cold Blood highlights the grisly murders of the Clutter Family in Holcomb, Kansas. Four people with fatal shotgun wounds to the head. No apparent motive. No apparent suspect.

A lead appears only after a tip from a prison inmate. The inmate, having worked for Mr. Clutter on the farm, shared stories of the rich farmer with two convicts. In typical prison grandeur, these inmates—the prurient Dick and the unstable Perry—boasted of the eventual robbery and murder of the farming family.

With a lead, Dick and Perry soon find themselves caught. After a quick trial and verdict, the pair resides on death row with the gallows looming.

A Nonfiction Novel 

Andrew: In Cold Blood reads like fiction but presents reality. What were your thoughts, Donovan, on the truth-value of this book?

Donovan: For starters, the nonfiction nature of In Cold Blood makes for a frightening tale. It is easy to set aside violent fictional stories due to the widely understood falseness of a tale. However, the Clutter family senselessly died in real life at the hands of Dick and Perry.
“Somehow he haunts me the most, Kenyon does. I think it’s because he was the most recognizable, the one that looked most like himself—even though he’d been shot in the face, directly, head-on. He was wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans, and he was barefoot—as though he’d dressed in a hurry, just put on the first thing that came to hand. His head was propped by a couple pillows, like they’d been stuffed under him to make an easier target” (64).
I find affinity with an historical individual. Just as I breath, think, eat, and sleep, so too did Herb, Bonnie, Kenyon, and Nancy Clutter. For this reason, the grisly end of this family conjures horror because I can imagine myself in their shoes.

Donovan: How about you, Andrew. Any thoughts on this “non-fiction novel”?

Andrew: It should be known that Capote wrote In Cold Blood as a literary experiment, as an attempt to see if he could write a nonfiction “novel”, one that read like fiction, but was, in fact, nonfiction at its core. As a result of his experiment, it is incredibly hard for the reader to decide whether or not In Cold Blood is a journalistic report, an actual novel, or something in between.

The Purpose of Setting 

Andrew: Donovan, you mention the real-life nature of the case as frightening. Does Capote add anything else to the novel to instill fear in the reader?

Donovan: Certainly. Another cause for horror resides in Capote’s mundane portrayal of murder in the book. Capote masterfully interweaves non sequiturs about life in rural Kansas. As a result, the horrific actions of two individuals settle among descriptions of mundane tasks.

Photo by Trey Ratcliff
For example, Capote depicts Alvin Dewey, the FBI the investigator on the case, meandering often around the crime scene:
“The detective moved from room to room. He had toured the house many times; indeed, he went out there almost every day, and, in one sense, could be said to find these visits pleasurable, for the place, unlike his own home, or the sheriff’s office, with its hullabaloo, was peaceful. The telephones, their wires still severed, were silent. The great quiet of the prairies surrounded him. He could sit in Herb’s parlor rocking chair, and rock and think” (152-153).
Instead of a yellow-taped crime scene, the detective explores the Clutter household finding the serenity of the Kansas countryside pleasurable.

Donovan: What are your thoughts on In Cold Blood’s setting?

Andrew: In all honesty, Donovan, I disagree. I think Capote meant to use the setting as a contrast to the murders.

In creative prose, it seems as though Capote made some artistic choices within the book. The setting, true to reality, is in a beautiful place, which he intentionally juxtaposes against the brutal murder of an entire family. The book begins and ends with striking descriptions of the landscape; the serenity of the plains becomes an unlikely setting for an eerie tragedy.
“This hitherto peaceful congregation of neighbors and old friends had suddenly to endure the unique experience of distrusting each other; understandably, they believed that the murderer was among themselves” (88).
Fragmenting the community, the murder sows seeds of extreme suspicion among the entirety of the previously peaceful and placid town of Holcomb. Much like in Steinbeck’s East of Eden, the reader is able to see their allegorical fall, where sin enters the community, and the first time the community is forced to reconcile with the presence evil.

Wherefore Art Thou, Protagonist? 

Andrew: Donovan, did you find a protagonist in this book?

Donovan: Not really. In fact, it felt like Capote worked tirelessly to keep everyone situated in a moral gray area.

Truman Capote
Despite the clear evidence linking Dick and Perry to the murders, Capote refuses to let the citizens off the hook. As pious Christians opposed to capital punishment, the citizens hypocritically seek retributive justice.

Perry, the murderer, notes:
“Those prairiebillys, they’ll vote to hang fast as pigs eat slop. Look at their eyes. I’ll be damned if I’m the only killer in the courtroom” (289).
Donovan: Were you able to find a protagonist, Andrew?

Andrew: It’s incredibly hard for me to pinpoint a definitive “protagonist” as a result of the great suspicions in Holcomb. Because everyone is a suspect, it was hard for me to root for any one person. It could be argued that Alvin Dewey, the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation is the best protagonist, but it’s hard to say. 

Perry Edward Smith and Dick Hickock are assumed to be the murderers (the antagonists), but Dewey assumes it must be someone close to the family. However, just as it seems that the murder investigation is going nowhere, Dewey finds the truth.
“The crime was a psychological accident, virtually an impersonal act; the victims might as well have been killed by lightning. Except for one thing: they had experienced prolonged terror, they had suffered. And Dewey could not forget their sufferings. Nonetheless, he found it possible to look at the man beside him without anger—with, rather, a measure of sympathy—for Perry Smith’s life had been no bed of roses but pitiful, an ugly and lonely progress toward one mirage or another.” (245)
What’s truly interesting about the novel is that Dewey finds it nearly impossible to condemn the two men responsible for killing an entire family, as they have also suffered in other ways. To Perry and Dick, the Clutters represent what they never had in life, and though they liked the family, they still murdered them.
“I didn’t want to harm the man. I thought he was a very nice gentleman. Soft-spoken. I thought so right up to the moment I cut his throat” (244).
The murders were not due to the hatred of the family, but rather because the family represented everything the two gentlemen could not attain in life. Dewey offers no absolute moral judgment on any scenario. Dewey finds it difficult to press condemnation, perhaps because the novel is set in paradise. Because of the easygoing nature and the near perfection of the town, it is difficult for any of the characters to recognize evil.

Has the Jury Found a Verdict? 

Andrew: Any concluding thoughts, Donovan?

Donovan: I enjoyed In Cold Blood, Andrew. I would recommend it. For starters, the book brings clarity to Capote, a critically acclaimed film starring Philip Seymour Hoffman based on the making of this book. In present times, In Cold Blood might not seem like a genre-defying masterpiece. But it was ahead of its time.

Donovan: What did you think, Andrew?

Andrew: Overall, In Cold Blood was thrilling. At times, it was a slow read, but the suspicion among the characters made it incredibly intriguing. Reading like an NCIS or CSI investigation, it was simply fun. I think that Capote succeeded in writing a nonfiction “novel”, as it read well, sounded like a genuine story, and kept me entertained as a reader. I think Capote deserves high praise for bringing a real-life event into a brilliant light.

Donovan’s Verdict: 4.5 out of 5

Andrew’s Verdict: 4 out of 5
---
Truman Capote, born Truman Persons, was an American novelist best known for Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood. Capote died in 1984.

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Monday, November 14, 2011

Book Review: East of Eden

East of Eden: A Novel by John Steinbeck (New York: Penguin Books, 1952. 601 pp

Born in Salinas, California in 1902, John Steinbeck grew up in a fertile agricultural valley about twenty-five miles from the Pacific Coast. In 1919, he went to Stanford University, where he intermittently enrolled in literature and writing courses until he left in 1925 without taking a degree. During the next five years, he supported himself as a laborer and journalist in New York City. He published his first novel, Cup of Gold, in 1929. After a marriage and a move to Pacific Grove, California, Steinbeck continued writing novels. Popular success and financial security came with Tortilla Flat in 1935 and he became best known for his novels on the California laboring class with Of Mice and Men and The Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck spent the last decades of his life in New York City and Sag Harbor, New York with his third wife. Having won the Nobel Prize in 1962, he died in 1968.

Genesis 4:3-5

In the course of time Cain brought to the LORD an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel also brought of the firstborn of his flock and of their fat portions. And the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard. So Cain was very angry, and his face fell.

Without digging too deeply into the Genesis narrative, I find it interesting to reconsider the story of Cain and Abel. For a farmer, the offering of first fruits is symbolic and significant. Not only does the offering represent months of toil and cultivation, it also means forgoing the consumption of a long-awaited treausre. In many ways, I feel like Cain. His offering is a sacrifice; it could very well have been offered in pure heart. But it was not enough. I, too, have felt the sting of jealousy and the hollowness of unworthiness. In our broken and fractured state, humans have a tendency to do bad things to people. While I’m grossly exaggerating, I do feel that circumstance partly explains the difference between a Nazi and a saint.

Genesis 4:16

Then Cain went away from the presence of the LORD and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden.

John Steinbeck
In one word, brokenness defines John Steinbeck’s East of Eden. Outlining the narratives of two families – the Trasks and the Hamiltons – settled in the Salinas Valley in Northern California during the late 19th century and early 20th century, East of Eden feels similar in scope to One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Márquez without the magical realism.

On one side, the Hamilton clan settled on hard land. With a will to work and a creative gifting, Samuel Hamilton – the patriarch – massages every last ounce of productivity from the land. On the other side, the Trask family lived on fertile ground. Blessed with a large inheritance, Adam Trask found no need to toil on his land.

Commenting on Adam Trask, Samuel Hamilton speaks through Steinbeck’s pen,

“Well, he moved around as if he was alive but he left no evidence. The Lord in his wisdom gave money to very curious people, perhaps because they’d starve without” (197).

Genesis 4:10

And the LORD said, "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground.

Perhaps occupying a central seat in the pantheon of 20th century antagonists, Cathy Ames – and as Adam’s wife, Kate Trask – is a cold, calculating, and manipulative person. 

Speaking of Kate, Steinbeck ponders,

“I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents. Some you can see, misshapen and horrible, with huge heads or tiny bodies; some are born with no arms, no legs, some with three arms; some with tails or mouths in odd places. They are accidents and no one’s fault, as used to be thought. Once they were considered the visible punishments for concealed sins.
And just as there are physical monsters, can there not be mental or psychic monsters born? The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul” (71)?

Experienced in prostitution and murder, Kate embraces her lot as bad person. Having birthed twins on the Trask farm, Kate leaves her husband and infants. Without the loving care of Lee, the family’s Cantonese cook, Adam and his twin boys would surely have suffered an undesirable end.

Genesis 4:13

Cain said to the LORD, "My punishment is greater than I can bear.”

As the final half of the book unfolds, the narrative focuses on the lives of the Trask twins, Cal and Aron. Sharing the genetic makeup with the malformed soul of their mother, the boys grow up never knowing conclusively about her. Yet through the grapevine, the boys hear hints of the family’s sordid past.

"Cain Slaying Abel" by Peter Paul Rubens
Stated differently, these final passages in East of Eden wax poetically on the topic of brokenness in human nature. As the characters interact with the world, they often grimly conclude that they are bad people no matter the outcomes. And this feeling emerges in direct correlation with Steinbeck’s understanding of the story of Cain and Abel.

He writes,

“The greatest terror a child can have is that he is not loved, and rejection is the hell he fears. I think everyone in the world to a large or small extent has felt rejection. And with rejection comes anger, and with anger some kind of crime in revenge for the rejection, and with crime guilt – and there is the story of mankind” (268).

As such, Steinbeck suggests that Cain’s diabolical actions are an outcome of God rejecting him. Like a child acting out when he or she is ignored, Cain murders his brother in revenge of this rejection.

For some, the direct and clear links between East of Eden and Cain and Abel will hurt the overall evaluation of the novel. I, however, feel like the shameless connection between the stories adds to the depth and gravitas of the novel. Yes, East of Eden is long and, at times, meandering. But I find the many sections of beautiful prose and the clear biblical allusions to transform a good story into a great story.

Steinbeck is a brilliant talent and East of Eden deserves every ounce of praise it has received over the last sixty years. Please read this book.

Verdict: 5 out of 5

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