In college, way back in the late 60's to early '70's, it was believed by many scholars and critics that the great American novel had yet to be written. I've read a lot of classics, but I'm certainly no scholar or critic, although I do not hesitate to air my thoughts on any book I've finished. Ask ten readers which is the greatest American novel, and there are liable to be ten different responses. I believe it was published in 1884 -- Mark Twain's examination of the human condition in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. It may have been the first modern novel in that the author had the audacity to write it entirely from the point of view and in the vernacular of a semi-literate teenager. And he pulled no punches, using language only hip hop artists get away with these days. Yahoos in the education industry are now issuing white-washed versions of it, a travesty. Despite its un-literary language, it is poetry. Are there flaws? In my opinion, yes. Huck does not drop the g in words ending in ing. Although genuine, Jim's slave dialect is tough going. Early drafts of my third novel, Killing, contained almost no compromise in the Brooklynese. I wanted this work of fiction to be as true as possible, as true as Twain's masterpiece. I caved when friends said it was too difficult to read. What began as 95% accurate became perhaps 50%. Hopefully it retains enough of the fascinating flavor I hoped to communicate. As for Huck Finn, he does not find permanent enlightenment. He remains uniquely human until the end, baffled by life's mixed messages. The book was written by a wise man -- with wit to die for. Here are a few lines from the novel. Anyone offended by what it means to be human should pass:
"You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain't no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth."
"What's the use you learning to do right, when it's troublesome to do right and ain't no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?"
"I do believe he cared just as much for his people as white folks does for their'n."
"H'aint we got all the fools in town on our side? And ain't that a big enough majority in any town?"
"I knowed he was white inside."
"...he was most always right; he had an uncommon level head for a nigger."
I hadn't had a vivid dream in months, until last night. I was at some kind of party. Bert Convy was behind the bar. He extended his hand to shake, and knew a lot of intimate details about me. Why Convy? Who knows? I haven't encountered his image in a long time. Freud believed dreams are wish fulfillment, so I'd guess this one had something to do with the desire for literary success and the celebration that goes with it. If that's the case, why wouldn't my subconscious have conjured Twain or Dostoevsky or Saul Bellow rather than Convy? Weird, as usual.
I expected the floating book shop to be rained out today, but the precipitation held off. The return was small but it beat being indoors. My thanks to the gentleman who purchased two paperbacks. I also had a nice laugh when a guy, frustrated by one of those newfangled machines that was eating up quarters without dispensing parking vouchers, slammed the side of his fist into it and caused coins to cascade as if it were a casino slot machine. He and his female companion chuckled delightedly.
Vic's 4th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Horror Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3
Vic's Rom-Com Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kny5llp
Vic’s Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
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