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The true protagonist - or I should better say, the hero (and most certainly the referent of the title) - of this book is Conrad Hensley, the underdog family man who works in one of Croker's frozen food warehouses, undergoes a long series of unlikely adventures, and accidentally discovers the ancient Stoic religion, which becomes his salvation. The whole point of Stoicism is that it doesn't matter who you are socially, what you have, or what people think of you. All that really matters is what you alone can control: your own emotional/mental/spiritual state. Happiness lies in not letting yourself be controlled by externals. Let go of your attachments to them - accept that they are beyond your control - and nothing can touch you. This is what it means to be a true man, and in the book it is Conrad, not Croker, who achieves this ideal. Croker and the whole Atlanta scene are just there for contrast (false power and glory vs. Conrad's true greatness), to provide an arena for Wolfe to make some of his secondary points about the failings of our society, and as an endpoint for the karma (for lack of a better word) which Conrad achieves by taking his spiritual fate into his own hands under the guidance of Epictetus and Zeus.
Towards the end of the book, Wolfe evens points this out, to make sure you can't miss it. Two of the other characters are reading a newspaper story about Croker's equanimity in the face of his creditors, under Conrad's guidance, invoking the protection of Zeus. Conrad, his home health aide, is briefly mentioned in the story. The characters shake their heads at how an impressionable young man could be taken in by Croker's crazy new beliefs; they're unable to imagine that the humble nobody, rather than the mover and shaker, could be the instigator of anything that creative and unusual. If you are criticizing A Man in Full because it's not a very good story about Charlie Croker, et al., you are making the same mistake - even after Wolfe drew it out for you like that at the end of the book! Perhaps a small part of this misunderstanding can be laid at Wolfe's feet: maybe he drew the Atlanta high society a little TOO larger than life, with a little too much florid detail. Maybe. Or maybe what he's trying to criticize is, sadly, too deeply engrained in our collective consciousness to be undermined by even such a great work of art as this.
Where is the last half of this book? Did Wolfe lose interest? Did the publishers balk at a 1,500-page novel? Did the printers forget to bind the final five chapters? For an author who spends 15 pages describing in excruciating detail two horses breeding to end this complex novel with a three page "conclusion," "Uh... and everything worked out for everyone and life was good. The end." is simply baffling. This novel ends with more loose ends than your granny's shawl.
That said, the journey to this unfortunate end was an enjoyable one -- I couldn't put the book down. Sure, the characters may have been a bit cliched and two-dimensional, but they were quite entertaining and, like it or not, probably a lot closer to reality than most of us would care to admit.
A few quibbles: While he tried valiantly, Mr. Wolfe is obviously not in touch with youth culture, and his attempts at prison dialogue and "rap" lyrics were often downright excruciating. A rapper named Doctor Rammer Doc Doc? Pu-lease! And if I heard the term "peel yo cap," "jookin'" or worse, "shanks akimbo," one more time, this thing would been forced down the shredder post-haste.
All in all, a compelling, entertaining and detailed look at contemporary American society and the male animal with a criminally terse conclusion.