Just now, Sunday morning, I finished reading, in the New York Times, Charles McGrath's excellent review of Mailer's life -- and I choose "review" rather than obituary deliberately -- because Mailer was as much a piece of extraordinary theater as he was "towering writer." As I read McGrath's review, I felt the hush that overcomes me when the curtain rises and which I remember having experienced each time I found myself in Norman Mailer's theatrical presence. And, reading about this man, this character, himself as startling and colorful as any he'd written, I cried.
More than another death, a time has gone by.
Read more tributes to Norman Mailer on HuffPost here.
I wonder how he would respond to seeing cheney laying a wreath at the Arlington Cemetary. He probably didn't have anything better to do as that was the reason for his 5 deferrments for getting out of the draft.His hypocracy is rearing its ugly head again.
During a lull in the conversation I asked Norman about (damn, I can't remember--the war, JFK, The Deer Park, something). His off the cuff answer (which I can't remember either) was susinct, germaine, right on the money--it didn't answer simply my question, it answered ALL questions, and I told him so.
He sort of grinned and said, "Yep that was pretty good."
I was in the presence of the Oracle, and I simply and foolishly don't remember what he said. I just remember that in his case, the hype was justified.
Later, I told him this little story and we laughed.
Like so many creative people who let their celebrity get in the way of their talent, he grew into a phony image. . .the tough guy he thought the people who bought his books would want.
In later years, he looked at his actions. . .stabbing his wife, for example. . .and wondered who that person was who did such a thing. But at the time, he blustered through and, in the eyes of many, became the lesser for it.
The same with Gary Gilmore. Mailer's enormous ego--I can play God--kept alive the mission to release a killer, and when he killed again, maybe inevitably, Norman laid low.
His books weren't the whole of his life, which is too bad, because his actions often overshadowed his writing. I feel the same way about Mailer that I feel about Picasso--being a great artist can't mask the fact that he was a colossal prick.
I admired Mailer's political courage, but did not think his writing was all that good. The Naked and the Dead is clumsy, though I will give him credit for inventing the substitute word "Fug." American Dream is both silly and horrifying, and not in any way I find redeeming. Tough Guys Don't Dance is just ludicrous. Mailer wasn't a tough guy. Robert Parker does tough guy worlds better, and Parker is not a tough guy himself. Lee Childs, John Sandford. These pop writers are far more convincing than Mailer on toughness.
Theatre is the right word. Mailer was a giant, and I will miss him. But a giant what?
Getting past the personality of the artist to the art, is for many, an impossiblity. Perhaps it should be our responsibility.
I talked to Mailer
he hasn’t been dead
24 hours --
I said
You’ve chased
the big book
all your life
Your life
bigger
than any book
you
or
anyone
could ever
write.
There was
silence
between us.
I suspect
he’s thinking over
what I said today.
Its not like him
to lose
his tongue
in moments
like this.
Jab
jab
kick
kick
spit
spit
over-
hand
under-
hand
chop
chop
chop
in
the
throat
no mercy
no quarter
no compromise
Tough Guys
Don't fuckin' Dance
Nothing less in death
I expect.
So I’ll be waiting.
The roar of your absence
a cacophony:
breaking plates
gun shots
Bacchus exhortations
the din
keeping me company.
No surprise
your quick-change
body-shift:
Galaxies on fire
heralding
your transit.
***
11/11/07
Jeremy Iacone
I guess I have a touch of the absurd about me . . . I still remember the day Gore Vidal punched Mailer on Cavitt . . . we only have Gore Vidal left now . . . we should treasure him.