Book Review: Day of the Locust

The Day of the Locust, by Nathanael West

This short novel, written in 1939, portrays Hollywood as it was seen at the time -- insular, bigoted, contrived, full of ego and fury. Which, likewise, is pretty much how it is seen now.

The book was made into an Oscar-nominated film in 1975, long after its author was dead. Since then, it's been pretty much forgotten, but a friend and movie buff recommended I read it. It seemed like a short and easy read, so I did.

Short it was; easy not so much. Its writing is good -- tight but descriptive. But its story is meandering and vague, and sometimes seems like a series of random vignettes. More than halfway through, I wondered where the tale was going, and whether it had a point.

In the end, it got someplace with a vengence. And, oh my, it certainly has a point. It wasn't pretty, but is was a conclusion.

The tale centers around Tod Hackett, an artist and designer who moves to California with a goal of striking it big in the movie industry. There, he meets a series of chracters, each who seems to personify a Hollwood character, a stereotype, perhaps even a trope. There's the savage and angry midget, the starlet whom everyone lusts after, the losers, and the clowns. Tod is the guy who wants to be part of the surreal scene, and fit in with the Hollywood upper crust. 

Did I say surreal? Listen to a part of the description as Tod wanders around a Hollywood lot, looking for some of his friends: 

"He left the road and climbed across the spine of the hill to look down on the other side. From there he could see a ten-acre field of cockleburrs spouted with clumps of sunflowers and wild gum. In the center of the field was a gigantic pile of sets, flats, and props, While he watched, a ten-ton truck added another load to it. ... When he saw a red glare in the sky and heard the rumble of cannon, he knew it must be Waterloo. From around a bend in the road trotted several cavalry regiments. They wore capes and chest armor of black cardbord and carried long horse pistols in their saddle holsters."

Then there is Homer Simpson, who represents us -- the smiling yet vacant fan, who knows he will never be part of  the elite, but is content to linger around the edges and be exploited. Listen to how Tod describes him: "(Homer) was grateful and increased his smile. Tod couldn't help seeing all its annoying attributes, resignation, kindliness, and humility."