Celebrating The Fourth With RebellionFrom the moment Huckleberry Finn sat on his raft and decided, "All right, then, I'll go to hell," great American books have featured people setting off on their own. Washington, D.C., writer, teacher and musician Will Layman offers three books about rebellion.
Will Layman is a writer, teacher and musician in the Washington, D.C., area. He is also the jazz critic for PopMatters.com and has remarkably strong feelings about saxophones.
"Three Books ..." is a series in which we invite writers to recommend three great reads on a single theme.
From the moment Huckleberry Finn sat on his raft and decided, "All right, then, I'll go to hell," great American books have featured people setting off on their own, bound for the new. I'm crazy about these three rebellion stories — tales of young folks splitting from parents, from society and from their past. Each is personal and political — just right for the July of an election year rife with questions of youth, age and change.
Commonwealth, by Joey Goebel, hardcover, 350 pages
The hero of Joey Goebel's brand-new novel, Commonwealth, is in a state of fascinating flux. "Blue Gene" Mapother rejects his past as a polo shirt-wearing prepster in favor of monster trucks and a mullet. This makes him the black sheep of his wealthy family. That is, until he joins his brother's congressional campaign and woos small-town blue-collar voters with common-man charm.
All is well until Blue Gene falls for the lead singer of the rock band "Uncle Sam's Finger," who points out that Gene's elite family is using him and the rest of the town. Enlightened, angry and elaborately tattooed, Blue Gene breaks from his family and uses his inheritance to serve the poor — throwing a monkey wrench in his brother's election.
Goebel's writing begins as cartoonish insight, but ultimately, Commonwealth defies stereotypes, cutting Blue Gene free not only of his family but also of the author's sledgehammer style.
'Lord of the Barnyard'
Lord Of The Barnyard, by Tristan Egolf, paperback, 432 pages
Tristan Egolf's 1998 novel, Lord of the Barnyard, is another over-the-top tale of a small town iconoclast. The hero, John Kaltenbrunner, is described as "the freak on the tractor, the corncrib fascist."
Kaltenbrunner takes over his mother's poultry farm with such prodigious skill that he runs afoul of adult authority before the age of 12. His reckless spirit becomes the subject of myth when he organizes his fellow sanitation workers in a garbage strike just to spite the town for misunderstanding him.
Egolf writes likes a bottle-rocket in the night — sparks fly as the story zigzags from a barroom brawl to a riot in town hall. It's done with manic hilarity but not a lick of dialogue.
Vineland, by Thomas Pynchon, paperback, 400 pages
The natural precursor to these antic fictions of individuality is Vineland, Thomas Pynchon's 1990 novel about Prairie Wheeler. Prairie's dad is an aging hippie, and her mom vanished during the radical 1960s after selling out her friends to a federal prosecutor. Prairie's quest to track down her mother introduces her to rock 'n' roll, feminist martial arts and underground filmmaking.
Vineland is chock-a-block with hijinks. In what other serious book can you experience a convention of waltzing zombies or a ninja singing the song, "Just a Floozy with an Uzi"? But it also contains Pynchon's most ambivalent and realistic character: Prairie knows she's not like her doper dad but fears being her turncoat mom. The only smart thing she can do is strike out on her own. Independence, however, is never easy.
The characters in these three books fly free of convention and so does the wild language. I can't think of a better time to enjoy some good, old-fashioned American rebellion than the Fourth of July.
Three Books ... is produced and edited by Ellen Silva and Bridget Bentz.