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{{Byline |last=Worcester |first=Wayne}} | {{Byline |last=Worcester |first=Wayne}} | ||
THE HEROES OF MY YOUTH DIED IN THE | THE HEROES OF MY YOUTH DIED IN THE 1960s: my father and President John F. Kennedy in 1963,Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Sen. Robert F. Kennedy in 1968. Assassins took them all: cancer the first, bullets the rest. Losses of that magnitude, at least for a time, stripped life of its joy, reduced living to a mere alternative. It wasn't just me. The loss of my father was only a private preview of the pain, confusion and anger that was to scar and undermine my generation. Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Ray and Sirhan B. Sirhan, by themselves or in concert with powers unknown, helped to twist and turn us unproductively inward while in the background arose a damnable Asian war that left us mocking the principles, self-reliance and patriotism of our parents and their parents, and their parents before them. | ||
We have been a naïve, narcissistic and arrogant generation, the Baby Boomers, quick to blame and slow to take responsibility. Despite ourselves, we managed to achieve some good along the way, but in a country turned upside down in the 1960s, spun inside out in the 1970s, and set before a fun-house mirror in the 1980s, we remained consumed by the mysteries of the self. Our unswerving indulgence and self-absorption right through the turn of the century has finally brought us, as we flirt with the end of the new millennium's first decade, to the brink of ruin. | We have been a naïve, narcissistic and arrogant generation, the Baby Boomers, quick to blame and slow to take responsibility. Despite ourselves, we managed to achieve some good along the way, but in a country turned upside down in the 1960s, spun inside out in the 1970s, and set before a fun-house mirror in the 1980s, we remained consumed by the mysteries of the self. Our unswerving indulgence and self-absorption right through the turn of the century has finally brought us, as we flirt with the end of the new millennium's first decade, to the brink of ruin. | ||
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''Oswald's Tale'' only bears that out, and it does so with such care, conscientiousness, candor and compassion that Mailer's effort should be applauded for those traits alone. The project was fraught with obvious and unique difficulties, some of them Herculean, owing to the extraordinary volume of information, the varying and contradictory nature of it, and the involvement of no fewer than one hundred and seventy different characters, so many that the book justifiably includes a five-page glossary of names. From start to finish, Mailer seemed more acutely aware than ever that his workmanship had to be noticeably clean, his methods transparent and his motives for taking one tack or another unassailable, or if not unassailable, then at the very least, readily understandable. | ''Oswald's Tale'' only bears that out, and it does so with such care, conscientiousness, candor and compassion that Mailer's effort should be applauded for those traits alone. The project was fraught with obvious and unique difficulties, some of them Herculean, owing to the extraordinary volume of information, the varying and contradictory nature of it, and the involvement of no fewer than one hundred and seventy different characters, so many that the book justifiably includes a five-page glossary of names. From start to finish, Mailer seemed more acutely aware than ever that his workmanship had to be noticeably clean, his methods transparent and his motives for taking one tack or another unassailable, or if not unassailable, then at the very least, readily understandable. | ||
The first half of the nearly eight-hundred-page work--"Volume One: Oswald in Minsk with Marind"--is a richly detailed if hoary landscape of the Soviet Union from 1959 to 1962, and a picture of Oswald's life within it. Mailer and Larry Schiller, his friend and colleague, spent six months in Belarus KGB, poring over government surveillance files on Oswald. They were trying, Mailer said, to establish a base camp on "the greatest mountain of mystery in the twentieth century"(349). | |||
The sense of place is indelible: | |||
<blockquote>Max Prokhorchik's parents were buried alive in the Jewish ghetto of Minsk during World War II when Max was four, so he was raised by an uncle who was a Russian, not a Jew, who became Max's uncle by marrying Max's mother's sister. Max himself never heard much about the ghetto in which he was born; it was not something he wanted to know; it still hurts. When his relatives tried to tell him, he would say, "I don't want to hear." Still, everybody in Minsk knew. What is left of that ghetto is one short crooked street that slopes down a hill. It still has old wooden buildings, and at the bottom is a very small park, perhaps twenty by thirty feet in area, with a sizable hollow at the center that was left when all the bodies buried in this place were removed.(83)</blockquote> | |||
Moments of drama are handled deftly and without intrusion or histrionics. From Oswald's Intourist guide in Moscow, Rimma Shirakova, he learns that his petitions for Soviet citizenship have been rebuffed. He is deeply disappointed, sullen, depressed. The next afternoon, he is uncharacteristically late to meet her. | |||
<blockquote>The floor lady at the elevator landing said, 'He's still in his room, because I don't have his key.' | |||
Rimma said, 'Come with me.' They began knocking. Nobody answered. His door was locked from the inside, and so the floor lady couldn't put her extra key in. They called someone from Internal Security and a locksmith from their hotel crew joined them, but the locksmith had difficulty opening the door, and finally pushed it open with such a bang that both men fell into the living room. They saw nobody. Rimma, behind them, saw nothing. Then these two men went on to the left and into Oswald's bathroom. Rimma doesn't know where they found him, whether in the tub or on the bathroom floor; she couldn't see from where she was in the hall, and she did not want to. Then they came out and said, 'Get an ambulance.' Rimma went down to call, and soon after, a policeman told her that he had cut his wrists ... From a moral point of view, she thought it was good that she had come in time. When they brought him out on a stretcher she saw that he was dressed. His clothes were dry. He was lying unconscious on this stretcher and she sat next to him in the ambulance. Up front, was a man drivinc, and another fellow who had helped carry his stretch. She was alone with him in back, and he looked so weak and thin. His cheeks were hollow; his face was bluish. He looked like a person about to die.(50)</blockquote> | |||
The scene is clear, effectively drawn, and within it, typically, hides a deceptive amount of reporting. "Please tell me what happened," Mailer may have said to Rimma Shirakova, "in as much detail as you can recall." Reporters have issued such instructions since time immemorial. Rarely does the response ever come in the sort of clear and well-ordered sentences that need only be taken down and then reported. More often, especially in a reconstruction, the interview subject's retelling has to be interrupted countless times, or at its close, many of the statements revisited for clarification or elaboration. Writers cannot write or describe that which they do not understand. The process of reporting, even for this one relatively uncomplicated, tightly presented, scene, would be painstaking. For example: | |||
<blockquote>"You said the floor lady couldn't get into his room? | |||
"did she try her own key? | |||
"Why didn't it work? | |||
"Did you call the police for help? | |||
"Which branch or division would have responded? | |||
"Who takes care of such things? | |||
"It was just one person? | |||
"It's he and the locksmith who end up forcing the door open, separating the bold the door jamb while they are pushing on the door and that's why they fell into the room when the door gave? | |||
"Both men fell into the room? | |||
"And where were you at that moment? | |||
"Did you follow them into the apartment? | |||
"Where did they find Oswald? | |||
"Was he on the floor, or in the bathtub? | |||
"Did you go inside? | |||
"Why not? | |||
"Did you or the floor lady call for the ambulance? | |||
"You used the same telephone, the one downstairs? | |||
"Who told you that Oswald had cut his wrists? | |||
"What did you think when you heard that? | |||
"Was he clothed when they carried him out of the room? | |||
"Was he conscious? | |||
"How many people were in the ambulance? | |||
"In back, you were alone with Oswald? | |||
"How did he look at that point? | |||
"What were your thoughts on the way to the hospital?</blockquote> | |||
Throughout parts of the first volume, swaths of silken exposition are interrupted by transcripts of conversations captured surreptitiously by the KGB. While their form lends the content a stamp of authenticity, the effect of the change, regardless of the author's skill in creating segues, often is jarring. COnsider this spat between Oswald and his wife, Marina. | |||
<blockquote>WIFE: ... Why are you afraid of people? What scared you? | |||
LHO: (''yells angrily'') Shut up, shut up ... You stand there and blab. | |||
WIFE: You're afraid of everybody!... | |||
LHO: Shut up! | |||
WIFE: Are you afraid that they'll steal everything from you, a pot of gold that you have? (''laughing'') At times like this you could kill me. You have to have some kind of strong will. | |||
LHO: How about some potatoes? | |||
WIFE: They're not ready yet, what can I do? | |||
22:37 (''the go into the kitchen'') | |||
22:40 (''Wife makes LHO wash his feet'') | |||
23:00 (''it's quiet in the room; no conversation'') | |||
It was painful for Yuri Merezhinsky to see this marriage. Alik (Oswald) had a good apartment, quite acceptable if you were a single man. No matter if Yuri's English was good or bad, he was going to tell interviewers everything in English. (228)</blockquote> | |||
Much of Mailer's narrative in Volume One gently and effectively mimics a Russian command of English. the verbiage is clipped and coolly efficient. As a literary conceit, it is noticeable, but not obtrusive, and it succeeds as a subtle reminder that the reader has a window on a most singular world. | |||
<blockquote>How was Alik in bed, he did not know. That could be described only by a woman. But on outside, Alik was never aggressive. Yuri would give examples. Once, in Oswald's bachelor days, somebody grabbed Alik by his shirt. There, right on the street. Yuri saved him. Alik could not defend himself. Couldn't even hit somebody. Yuri would defend him many times ... At that time, Yuri could say, he was a good fighter. Russian world for wimp is ''sleeznyak,'' a jelly. Not true for Oswald, said Yuri. Lee was not one to round off a sharp corner, but he was not ''sleeznyak.'' It's just that Yuri was boss of situation such as this.(229)</blockquote> | |||
Mailer candidly notes that he took "certain liberties" in presenting Oswald's letters and writings, but he leaves no doubt as to their nature or why it was necessary to do so. | |||
<blockquote>Oswald was dyslexic, and his orthography is o bad at times that the man is not revealed but concealed--in the worst of his letters he seems stupid and illiterate ... let us also recognize how prodigiously crippling is dyslexia to a man who would have a good polemical style. Indeed, it is as intimately crippling as arthritic fingers on a violinist.(197-98)</blockquote> | |||
Mailer also is careful to explain why the entire first volume of the book is devoted to Oswald's time in Russia. "We are, in effect," he said, "studying an ''object'' (to use the KGB's word for a person under scrutiny) as he tumbles through the prisms of a kaleidoscope. It is as if by such means we hope to penetrate into the psychology of Lee Harvey Oswald"(197). | |||
Near the end of Oswald's sojourn, the author takes stock and declares: "It is obvious that whatever we have learned about Oswald in Russia is not enough to answer our basic question"(315). | |||
Perhaps not, but it is startling at that juncture in the book for the reader to recognize that one of the most reviled men in history has been the subject of more than three hundred pages and not once was he maltreated or viewed with anything but dispassionate curiosity. We see him as largely alone, even in his marriage. He loves and needs Marina; he is indifferent to her, sometimes despises her. She is strident with him, hypercritical. He knocks her around. He is capable of doting on his two young daughters. He is disillusioned with Soviet communism and Cuban dictatorship as he is with American democracy. But he is buoyed by his mounting conviction that given the opportunity, even a cipher could rise to become a person of great and historic importance; in his own mind at least, he has that potential. He even prepares his own manifesto, and he becomes comfortable with the conclusion that his only real impediment to greatness is opportunity. | |||
<blockquote>Oswald was a secret agent. There is no doubt about that. The only matter unsettled is whether he was working for any service larger that the power centers in the privacy of his mind. At the least, we can be certain he was spying on the world in order to report to himself. For, by his own measure, he is one of the principalities of the universe.(352)</blockquote> | |||
Volume One then, provides both subtext and context for Volume Two, "Oswald in America." It is in Volume Two that Mailer weighs Oswald as an assassin. The author is present almost from start to finish, but there is no confusion as to his role. He assumes no persona other than that of a writer. Because he must tack together parts and pieces of so many reports and investigative works, he describes his own role as "a literary usher who is there to guide each transcript to its proper placement on the page" along a dizzying trail of facts, reports, dialogues, suppositions, presumptions, inferences and theories. The author also explains clearly and at length that while the second half of the book also is nonfiction, it is a mystery and in order to solve it, speculation based on what he has learned of Oswald and what he understands about the man, may be necessary and justified (352). | |||
The notion of speculation was, by itself, enough to send a few critics into paroxysms of condemnation, and the response might have been justified if Mailer's speculations were presented as anything else, but that was not the case. So when the inevitable red-flag verbiage appears, telling phrases such as, "it is possible that," or "there is a real chance that," it is still the reader's choice to accept or reject the scenarios they herald. That is hardly dishonest; quite the opposite. The inclusion of speculation, labeled as such, does nothing to erode the distinction between what is verifiable fact and what is not. I suspect Mailer had no real choice but to engage in speculation at some point. Without pursuing each specific conspiratorial skein at great and exhaustive length, how else could they be accounted for? The author clearly allows that there may, in fact, have been other plots afoot to kill Kennedy, plots that may even have been operative that grim day in Dallas, but given what is known of Oswald and understood for a certainty, what conclusion can be reached about his actions? | |||
Mailer's deductive reasoning is worthy of the immortal Sherlock Holmes. Listen closely as the detective says to his compatriot, Dr. John Watson, "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"(Doyle 274) | |||
Mailer found no association conspiracy to be sufficiently encompassing, believable, and realistic enough to withstand long and cold scrutiny, and so he allows the answer to gradually emerge from what is palpable, known and understood. | |||