This is but another novel I
took along for the trip, but did not get around to reading it until I
returned. Although I finished it a while
ago, it's been on my mind.
Part Franz Kafka, part Woody Allen, and throw in a touch
of Mickey Spillane, unlike any book I've read in a long time, Nowhere by Thomas Berger is a dystopian
view of the "future" which, as it was written in 1985, might as well
be now. It's about a second-rate gumshoe
(he's no Mike Hammer), who aspires to be a playwright, but never seems to get
the second act done, who slides down a rabbit hole into the "Kingdom"
of Saint Sebastian, ostensibly on "assignment" by the US Government
to find out something about the little Kingdom, its monarch, Prince Sebastian
XXIII. It is a little like the country of
"Duchy of Grand Fenwick" in The
Mouse That Roared, one of my favorite films about the Cold War, but far
more bizarre.
Things appear to be topsy-turvy in the Kingdom, but are
they? Children are formally educated by
being forced to watch take-offs of old Hollywood movies, Blonds are second
class citizens and in fact are "obliged to have sexual relations with
anyone who asks them," and although "condemned to menial work,
waiting on tables, pulling rickshaws, they also "practice law (people can
be severely punished for rudeness) and certain other professions that are more
or less honorific elsewhere" As Russel
Wren, our protagonist comments, "and it should be noted that the Blonds
are splendid physical specimens, tall and strong and comely, unlike any other
oppressed people on record."
There is a "government" which functions like a parody
of Alice In Wonderland, where "official scholars" maintain an encyclopedia
for the land which no one reads as it is completely idiosyncratic, and
hopelessly out of date. Lawmakers are
hard to be found or are completely ineffectual.
And our Prince is a corpulent over-eater, who encourages sodomy throughout
the land, but one who is also considered by the people (that is, the non-Blonds)
to be benevolent. No wonder, there is
unlimited credit in the country.
Our perplexed gumshoe has an interesting exchange with a
clerk concerning credit and economics at the Sebastian cable office (whether
and where cables go is unclear):
"Saint Sebastian is then a microcosm of
Europe? Surely you have as well your own Versailles, Brandenburg Gate, and
Erechtheum with a Caryatid Porch?"
He shrugged in satisfaction. "We are
peculiarly blessed, I must admit. For that reason we Sebastianers are not great
travelers."
"Also, on leaving the country one's
overdraft and credit balance must be paid, no?"
"In fact that would be against the
law."
"To leave the country?"
He shook his head. "No, no: to discharge
one's debts in toto."
"Can you be serious?"
The clerk spoke gravely. "It would be a
profession of lack of faith in one's countrymen. No crime could be more heinous. Every Sebastianer has a God-given right to be
owed money by others. Only in this way does he establish the moral pretext for running
up his own large debts. Else our economy would collapse."
The dismal science has never been my strong
suit. Whenever I've tried to understand how, in the same world, filled with the
same people, buying and selling the same things there can be regular periods of
great prosperity, followed immediately by recessions, my brain spins on its
axis (this would make sense only if the good times resulted from the purchase
of Earth goods by visitors from Mars, who however on the next occasion took their
business to Jupiter).
If you say so" was my response.
As it is in part a "mystery" novel, I'll not
let on about the final resolution, but, hint, there is a Sebastiani Liberation
group -- one of the reasons Wren is thrown into the rabbit hole in the first
place. Blond Olga, who Wren first meets
as a stewardess on the Sebastiani Royal Airline, is connected to the group,
explaining to Wren "Foreigners sometimes do not understand our vays. Ve do not have to screw under every
circumstance," just a little foreshadowing.
Written in 1985, Berger's book is one to be read today
and to be pondered, and to be enjoyed for its ironic, satiric sense of humor.
