Splendid Omens by Robley Wilson
Such a fluid, easy read drove me to the conclusion that, just like the narrator of this story, the author must also be a professor of literature. So convinced was I that an investigation of the
author’s background proved me right and I also discovered that he has been praised and awarded by the literary community. This smooth flowing work drew me in right away carrying me against my better judgment down the river current until I hit a bump two-thirds of the way through. Here is a story that begins chalk full of lovely character descriptions and detailed emotional inner workings of the mind and heart. Usually I only read books with female central characters but broke my own rule as I was driven along almost without realizing it. For what, dear readers, do I have in common with a sixty year old white man? But again, the character was made interesting, likeable, heck, even enjoyable so that I started to believe that perhaps this would be an exception like that of the Tim Cavanaugh character in
Jan Karon’s books. The difference of course being that Father Cavanaugh is an Episcopal priest and is written by a woman.
I can only say that I was totally and completely duped. I was driven to finish this book so that I could relate my true feelings with the knowledge that I saw it through to its conclusion. But ugh, having to relive this horrific story is like having a root canal and all four impacted wisdom teeth cut out in the same day.
Let me just give you a brief plot summary here. The central character has died and is only seen in flashback. He was a cad. An old, incestuous cad that is, but we don’t find this out until well into the story. He died as he was just about to marry the daughter he had impregnated with his second child. Sickened yet? Well, hold on just a sec because it gets even more twisted and gut wrenching. The narrator, himself an old man, falls in love with this woman only to find out that she is his biological daughter. Confused yet? Well, he spends the last third of the book wrestling his conscious with whether or not to act on his romantic feelings for his daughter. People, is this really a question that should be pondered? Don’t decent humans avoid screwing their children?
This is a simplified version of the plot but it’s really not worth revisiting the whole thing. Suffice it to say that this is a story terrifying in is normalcy. What makes it so impalpable is the seeming ordinariness that surrounds the characters. These folks appear to be average, everyday folks who have actually convinced themselves that they aren’t doing anything wrong. Very Twin Peaksesque and quite sickening to both the stomach and the mind.
A subtler theme underpinning this madness is the implication that women are the cause of all this philandering. The dead central character cannot be blamed for his desires and actions and neither can the narrator. I guess they’ve never heard of free will. Ultimately, he decides not to have sex with his biological daughter and I guess we readers are supposed to throw up our hands and jump for joy that he made the right decision and was able to keep his penis to himself. As if there was ever a choice here! What’s ironic, once again, is that initially this guy is portrayed as a decent, average, ordinary fellow.
Conclusion: One of the worst books that I’ve read in quite a long time and is to be avoided like
Mad Cow Disease. -
Flourish