The Day of the Locust
Thursday, March 22nd, 2007 @ 22:54
by Nathanael West (1939)
Set in Hollywood in the era of the Great Depression, The Day of the Locust is a short but painful satire of the visions of American disillusioned dreams and fantasy factory. Todd Hackett, a talented set-designer, drifts through a city deliberately reduced to its most base depiction of failed dreams and false glitters, peopled with characters plucked out straight from tabloids and noir-ish B-grade movies – desperate, alienated, saying acting things they read from tabloids and movies, with what West said succinctly at the beginning of the novel:
It is hard to laugh at the need for beauty and romance, no matter how tasteless, even horrible, the results of that need are. But it is easy to sigh. Few things are sadder than the truly monstrous.
Personally I’m more fond of Miss Lonelyhearts (despite its more “predictable” ending), but it is a welcomed gut-wrenching tug you crave every now and then. Those familiar with the more well-known F. S. Fitzgerald (The Last Tycoon, or even The Great Gatsby) are bound to enjoy West. He has ways with words (especially in Miss Lonelyhearts, I’d think) that cannot be conveyed on screen. The usual: the book is better than the movie.
