Expensive People (3 page)

Matricide is an extreme solution to the dilemma of the Female Gothic. Oates acknowledged in her Afterword that “the novel's thinly codified secret” was “the execution of an ambitious woman writer as fit punishment for having gone beyond the ‘limits of her world’—upstate New York.” Nada is no suburban mom, but an artist, trying both to fit into the “normal world” of the American family and also to compete in the macho world of publishing. Like Virginia Woolf's essay on “Killing the Angel in the House,” Nada's fictional execution is Oates's nightmare solution to the burdens of femininity facing the serious woman artist.

Some of the metafictional aspects of
Expensive People
carried over into Oates's next novel,
them.
Oates introduced her epic story about a white working-class family with an “Author's Note,” describing the book as “a work of history in fictional form,” based on the recollections of one of the characters, “Maureen Wendall,” and some readers took it literally, writing to ask how the Wendalls were doing. Oates herself appeared as a character in the novel, as the recipient of two letters from Maureen, who says she took a course on “Introduction to Literature” from “Miss Oates” at the University of Detroit in 1964, got an “F,” but has never forgotten the teacher's apparent sense of control, happiness, and faith in books like
Madame Bovary.
The letters allow Maureen to confront the novelist, and protest against her relative powerlessness and insignificance as a woman whose life is much drabber than those in books.

Indeed,
them
cannot imagine any self-determination for its women characters. Its central story contrasts the experience of Maureen and her brother Jules, growing up in inner-city Detroit. She is the more bookish and intellectual sibling, but like Clara in
A Garden of Earthly Delights,
Maureen is doomed by her femaleness; she is frantic to escape, but has no way to earn money or get away except prostitution. When her stepfather finds out that she has been getting paid for sex, he beats her so badly that she becomes virtually comatose for two years. And this is a metaphor for all women's lives; even a rich woman, as one character says, “lives in a dream, waiting for a man. There is no way out of this, insulting as it is, no woman can escape it.”

In contrast, Jules, partly modeled onjulien Sorel of Stendhal's
The Red and the Black,
understands that even at his weakest he has more power than a woman. “A woman in a car only appears to be in control!” he thinks as a teenager. “Inside, her machinery is as wobbly and nervous as the machinery of her car.” One of Jules's first jobs is playing messenger boy for a petty gangster who gives him a gun and sends him out to buy a Cadillac. Yet Jules has grandiose dreams of greatness; he feels fated to become an important man, and wants to model himself on the Indian mystic and theorist of nonviolence Vinoba Bhave, about whom he reads in
Time
magazine. He internalizes Bhave's words: “Fire
merely burns … Fire burns and does its duty. It is for others to do theirs.”

But Jules misunderstands this message as an endorsement of violence and anarchy and carries it with him until he sees it embodied in the Detroit riots, with which
them
ends. Oates's version of the riots is apocalyptic, with Mort, the professor who is the leader of the student radicals, on a death and ego trip, the students arguing about whether Lyndon Johnson or Martin Luther King would be more suitable targets for assassination, the black families looting, and the police as brutal and out of control as the rest. Jules joins the radical group and speaks on television for its “beliefs”: “It is only necessary to understand that fire burns and does its duty, perpetually, and the fires will never be put out.… Violence can't be singled out from an ordinary day! … Everyone must live through it again and again, there's no end to it.” In our last sight of him, Jules is heading to California in an air-conditioned car, to use political organizing as a route to making big money in real estate. Somehow he has become the American Dream of success who will profit from the destruction of the weak.

Wonderland
covers some of the same historical period as
them
but from a more surreal and openly Gothic perspective. In her Afterword, Oates has called the book “bizarre and obsessive,” a “torrential experience of novel-writing,” and a plunge into the “vortex of being.” Her hero, Jesse Vogel, is the only survivor of his family's massacre by his deranged father; by good fortune, and through the help of various adoptive parents and mentors, he becomes a neurosurgeon who is fascinated by and drawn to the freakish, the grotesque, and the monstrous, although he wishes only to heal.
Wonderland
ends with Jesse's daughter Michelle—Shelly, or “Shell,” as she calls herself—running away with a counterculture guru, Noel. Jesse sets out to rescue her from a commune on Yonge Street in Toronto—an ironically hellish haven for the drugged young.

As soon as Oates had finished the novel, in 1971, she became unhappy with its ending, in which Jesse takes his emaciated daughter out on a boat in Lake Ontario. “I think it is a very dark, relentless work,
and I wonder if you might not be receptive to a modified ending?” she wrote to her editor at Vanguard. As Oates later explained, she “could not end with a small boat drifting out helplessly to sea … it had to end with a gesture of demonic-paternal control” (Afterword to
Wonderland).
In the new ending, Jesse “rescues” Shelley, but of course she is once again forced into the role of the Gothic heroine, dependent on male intervention. As Oates herself observed in the Afterword, “In retrospect, it seems that Shelley Vogel was crying out for a novel of her own, a story that was not a mere appendage of her father's; but this was a novel that I could not, or would not write.”

In many respects,
Wonderland
was a turning point in Oates's career. As she told
Newsweek
reporter Walter Clemons in December 1972, she decided to “move towards a more articulate moral position,” and to show ways of transcending problems. One way in which she achieved this goal was to allow her female characters novels of their own—to imagine them as autonomous figures, with their own dreams and voices, who could change their lives through will. Another way was to move beyond her poor white characters and take on the experiences and perspectives of another “them”—the black Americans who are observed, feared, and sometimes envied by the white protagonists of the Wonderland Quartet, but who never speak for themselves.

—

In every decade and in every novel, Oates has powerfully reinvented herself, but the Wonderland Quartet, written in the “white heat” of youthful imagination and fervor, remains not only relevant but prophetic about the widening social and economic gulf in American society, the self-destructive violence of political extremism, and the terrifying hubris of science and technology. Bringing to life an unforgettable range of men and women, the Wonderland Quartet offers a compelling introduction to a protean and prodigious contemporary artist.

^*
Frank McLaughlin, “A Conversation with Joyce Carol Oates,”
Writing!,
September 1985, pp. 21-23.

^*
GregJohnson,
Invisible Writer: A Biography of Joyce Carol Oates
(New York: Dutton, 1998), p. 160.
lbid.

FOR KAY SMITH