The “radicals-on-the-run” theme of Dana Spiotta’s second novel, “Eat the Document,” puts her in heady literary company.
Philip Roth’s “American Pastoral” and Russell Banks’ “The Darling” both have dealt with a similar topic – the repercussions of acts of political violence committed by young people, especially young middle-class women, in the 1960s.
But Spiotta, who is younger and whose previous novel was “Lightning Field,” adds an additional dimension. “Eat the Document” qualifies as a literary phantasmagoria in which the real world of contemporary pop culture freely intermingles with a parallel fantasy one.
So her book also fits comfortably on the shelf next to Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity,” Tom Carson’s “Gilligan’s Wake” and Brian Morton’s “The Dylanist.” The latter novel is an especially apt comparison, because this book’s title comes from a little-seen, never-broadcast Bob Dylan TV special referenced in the story. It’s also a metaphor for all that is hidden in plain in sight.
Another crucial development, for instance, concerns a fictional movie made by one of Spiotta’s characters – the fugitive radical Bobby DeSoto – for an actual Los Angeles rock group of the 1960s, Love. And the book frequently stops for discursive asides on the Beach Boys’ “Pet Sounds,” Funkadelic’s “Maggot Brain” and Dylan’s “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.”
Yet “Eat the Document” is not solely an exercise in inward-turning metafiction. It has a peculiarly mysterious melancholy tone that is all its own – slightly distant and secretive; protective of its characters.
At 304 pages, this is a reasonably short novel considering all that it attempts. The narrative shifts frequently between eras, and the connections made between generations is a major theme. Spiotta is more interested in her characters’ inner lives – and their thoughts on American life – than on major plot twists and dramatic revelations. In fact, the way everything comes together almost seems like an afterthought for the author.
As a result, the book’s story starts slowly and ends abruptly. But she has rendered the details of her characters’ world with clarity. And she has a special empathy for her female characters that may remind some of Ann Beattie.
Part of the story concerns the tumultuous protest years when one of the protagonists, Mary Whittaker, hastily goes underground and tries to re-create her identity while making new contacts. Spiotta doesn’t spare her pain – there’s a strange and brutally cruel scene in which Mary is raped by a motorist while his girlfriend passively assists.
Hiding in Eugene, Ore., Mary (under the assumed name Caroline) tries to comfort a friend who has been roughly treated by a crass guy she picked up in a bar. The friend explains she just wanted a dalliance with an unpretentious, non-hippie working-class guy like Kris Kristofferson.
“I guess, but Kris Kristofferson is like a Rhodes Scholar. And he has long hair. And a beard,” Caroline/Mary answers.
Mary’s life as a present-day mother keeping a big secret from her son becomes one of “Eat the Document’s” primary focuses. But running parallel to her story is that of Nash, a middle-aged manager of Prairie Fire bookstore in a ruggedly “alternative” section of today’s Seattle.
It’s a city whose post-grunge radical streak brings out some of Spiotta’s weirdest and most appealing descriptive writing. Nash’s bookstore hosts myriad mischievous political-activist groups, such as Kill the Street Puppets Project.
“That got a big crowd, as many people seemed to have a secret aversion to papier-mache and chicken wire,” Spiotta writes.
And when Nash becomes smitten with one of the store’s teenage regulars, a young idealist named Miranda, the writing is sweet and even sexy rather than disapproving or stern. But the author doesn’t make it easy for him.
Spiotta understands those who feel lost and left out of a society that seems too corporately driven, including corporate pop culture. Some of her alienated characters, searching for meaningful alternatives, are haunted by past tragedies – some of their own making. Others are young and still idealistic.
Combined, they form a resonant snapshot of disaffected American life, circa 2006.
Steven Rosen is a freelance writer in Los Angeles.
Eat the Document
By Dana Spiotta
Scribner, 304 pages, $24
This story has been corrected in this online archive. Originally, due to a reporting error, the review incorrectly stated that Spiotta had erred by saying The Byrds’ “Eight Miles High” single was never released by RCA. The original version of the song was on Columbia but RCA released an alternate version later.
