The Great American Novel?

This is the copy of "Native Son" I got. After some research I found out it is not a true first edition. Though it says FIRST EDITION on the copyright page, the book was published earlier that year with a different book jacket. Still, it's quite a find.

It reminds me that during the middle of the 20th century there was a quest by novelists to write The Great American Novel, the piece of fiction that would define who we are and what we stand for. No one ever wrote it, but it was a tantalizing quest. After the upheaval of the 1960's and the burnout of the 1970's no one talked about it any more. It was only after I read "Native Son" and Ralph Ellison's astonishing and brilliant "Invisible Man" that I realized The Great American Novel could only be written by someone who lived in the United States but was denied access to its mainstream; someone who could see American life but was not fully a part of it. To truly "see" America for what it is, one has to have it dangled before one's face but not be able to grasp it. And that was the reality of African Americans in the 20th century. "Native Son" and "Invisible Man" come closer to realizing the goal of being The Great American Novel than anything else written by any other American writer.

Agnes Owens

A few years ago I briefly subscribed to The Scottish Review of Books. It introduced me to some authors I had never heard of, the most memorable being Agnes Owens. Agnes Owens could be compared to Charles Bukowski; she writes about the indigent, homeless, semi-homeless alcoholics, drug addicts and all around lowlifes. To compare her to someone else, however, cheapens her unique qualities. Her first short story, Arabella, is, by turns, horrifying, repellent and hilarious. She has a memorable view of the human condition.

If I have read correctly, Ms. Owens has been a house cleaner among other low paying jobs. I don't know her state right now, but I get the distinct feeling that she writes from experience in telling tales of dole-cheaters and boozy layabouts. She has had several novels published in the U.S., but I have not read them as yet. She is one of those hidden treasures that people thrill to discover. Truthfully, some people I have urged to read her stories have come back to me puzzled. They recognized her talent but did not appreciate it as much as I. One can only hope her day will come.

Wuthering Heights

Our perception of classic literature and the reality often times are very far apart. I recently read "Wuthering Heights" and was surprised to find out that Heathcliff is not the brooding, romantic hero that he is commonly thought to be. Rather, he is a psychopath and sadist who does everything he can to keep everyone around him miserable. Ostensibly this is because he yearns for his lost love, Catherine. The reality is that he is unhinged from his obsession with her. And with Catherine dead the only outlet for this obsession is to punish everyone around him for being alive.


As "Wuthering Heights" so little resembles its popular representation, I found it to be a fascinating book. Fascinating by just how terrible Heathcliff is. Fascinated by Catherine's multiple pronouncements that she could never marry Heathcliff as much as she enjoys his company. It is Catherine's perception of and relationship with Heathcliff that motivates all the action.


When first seen Catherine is a spoiled child. When Heathcliff is introduced as the adopted gypsy boy, Catherine enjoys toying with him rather than playing with him. Heathcliff, the poor, confused orphan, is out of his depth and completely captivated by Catherine. When, as a teenager, he overhears Catherine declaring she could never love Heathcliff, he runs away.


When Heathcliff reappears he is a grown man. What he has been doing in the interim is only hinted at, but he has come back a cruel and vengeful person.


Another aspect of the novel I found intriguing was the idea of the supernatural. The supernatural, magic powers, the dead returning as spirits, are all mentioned, setting up the idea that many people believe in these things. This has led to, in my opinion, the mistaken idea that Catherine has come back as a ghost and, when Heathcliff thankfully dies, he joins her.



My belief is that Catherine does not return from the dead. Heathcliff, driven mad by his own obsession, begins hallucinating that he sees her until, in his psychotic state, he starves himself to death. The turning point for Heathcliff is the realization that he cannot keep everyone around him sunk in the same misery he wallows in. Catherine's daughter, forced to live in Heathcliff's home, defies him. She falls in love and declares that no matter what he does he will not prevent her happiness. The moment Heathcliff loses the ability to control those around him, he loses control of himself. It is only after he is defied that his hallucinations begin. And, as unlikely as it seems from all that has come before, "Wuthering Heights" has a happy ending.