I was originally going to write a paragraph on the book and then get to talking about the movie, but my thoughts on the book ballooned so I'll make it a separate post now and write up the movie maybe tomorrow.
domino harvey wrote: I haven't read Mailer's novel (and based on this adaptation and his films from the Eclipse set, that will likely remain my status til death
While I don't blame you, it's actually a readable book! I put off reading it a long time for a similar reason...only instead of Mailer's films, it was his other novels! How you guys talk about the stuff in the Eclipse set is exactly how I feel about the two other novels of his I read, both of which were the worst things I read that year. I tried
An American Dream and
Why Are We In Vietnam? (a novel despite the title). The former starts with its narrator throwing his wife out a window and then immediately running off to bugger the maid in celebration. It alternates between being boring and ludicrous—and it’s the better of the two! The latter is 200 pages of word salad. Mailer had the bright idea of trying his hand at stream of consciousness, but from the perspective of a crass teenager. Imagine
Ulysses if it were written by the village idiot. Unreadable. It also ends with its narrator buggering his friend in the woods on a hunting trip before they’re both off to Vietnam. Mailer had something of a fixation there that is better left unexamined.
But
The Naked and the Dead is a good book. It's imperfect and not a masterpiece by any stretch, but it's readable. Mailer excels at describing the physical and emotional torments of being a soldier. There are moments of fatigue so profound that you can't believe the men haven't just died on their feet. And the terrors of being shelled or shot at and the attendant physical sensations are convincing. There is a sequence where the men have to haul artillery pieces through the jungle overnight whose precise itemization of each horrific sensation, each bit of physical and mental collapse, becomes a vision of hell on earth, and isn't something I'll forget any time soon. A late hike up a mountain cross-narrated with carrying a soldier through the jungle on a stretcher, are equally impressive for the same reasons. I haven't read a book that gives you such a tangible sense of physical torment since Golding's
Pincher Martin.
Mailer is also good at the tedium and unstructured nature of war. There is no narrative or main character; there is just a set of characters, most in the same platoon, whose perspectives we move between at random. No overall sense of the structure of war emerges. The book is a series of moments as experienced by various people in the chain of command, with most of the action just characters interacting with each other as they wait around for something to happen. Nobody knows what's happening in anyone else's head, nobody has a handle on the battle as a whole, everyone's caught up in their own petty needs and desires, their own tiny blinkered views of the world, as this war happens around them. It's a gaggle of selfish, blinkered assholes caught up in a meaningless chaos.
So its vision of war is strong. It's vision of humanity, tho', is...eh. Gore Vidal in his review of Mailer's
Advertisements For Myself called Mailer's war book a fake full of characters ripped right out of the novels they both had been reading at the time, and it's hard not to disagree. For as persuasive as Mailer is on the sensation of being in war, he has a hard time creating persuasive or interesting characters. You have the psycho squad leader, the horny yokel, a childlike Mexican (who speaks in a broken English that shows only Mailer's lack of interest in how non-native speakers actually talk), a couple weak and resentful Jews, the general who's a "latent homosexual" (Mailer's words from
Town Bloody Hall) and fixating, Billy Budd style, on a young Lieutenant. They feel out of the fiction of the era. And they're no fun to be around. They are all, to a man, total assholes, just self-absorbed, quarrelsome, ucommunicative, prickly little fucks. There's a point there, probably, about what war does to a man, but it's not a point that requires 720 pages of people being shitty to each other to make. It gets wearisome to read the same kind of character interactions over and over at this length. And then there's the misogyny. Every character here hates women and treats them miserably. They talk endlessly about women as either sex objects or pains in the ass (and only seem to think of them as human after the women have died). There are visions of each character's home life, clunkily labled 'Time Machine' whenever they come up, each one a kind of Theodore Dreiser/John Dos Passos attempt to relate the man to his times. And in each we get a vision of the men's deplorable treatment of women (none of them are happy to be doing anything with a women outside of sex, and even then...) while the women themselves are only ever whores, schrews, scolds, ice queens, or whiny victims. This may well be a realistic portrait of the average enlisted man's vision of the opposite sex in the 40s, but the endless, unrelieved misogyny wears you down.
Mailer plainly wants this to be
War and Peace, so the vision is not only panoramic, but full of theorizing on the nature of war and society and depictions of the political and social issues of the time. Again, for as good as Mailer can be on the nature of exhaustion and fear, he's feeble when it comes to the more essay-style sections. At least much of the socio-political theorizing is put in the mouth of the General, so you're under no obligation to take it seriously. But the Time Machine sections suffer from Mailer's stock characterizations. The men's misogyny comes across more forcefully than their interactions with the social and political forces of their day. It's here you feel Mailer trying to brute force his way into Great Novel territory. Mailer does have a Dreiser talent for American realism, but these Time Machine sections haven't much life to them, seem dutiful and pulled off through sheer concentrated craft rather than artistry.
A very imperfect novel, and yet one full of talent and ability whose lasting impression, ultimately, comes from its strengths. Its unconvincing characters and misogyny fades into the background while stuff like its treks through the jungle, its terrifying battles, its sense of the landscape as a physical force bearing down on you, loom largest in the mind. I see why later satirical novels like
Catch 22 and
Gravity's Rainbow have eclipsed Mailer's work in the public's eye, but I also see what about this novel so captivated my grandparent's generation. It's a striking example of war as hell whose relentless physicality overgoes even antiwar works from the prior era like
All Quiet on the Western Front and
Storm of Steel, and whose vision of the average soldier as a crabby rotten shithead working more on self-interest, exhaustion, fear, and compliance than heroism, goodness, or duty has an honesty to it, even if the characters as individuals seem lifted more from fiction than life.
If this is an era of American history you are at all interested in, you should give this one a read, if for no other reason than it formed part of the mental architecture of a whole generation.