Customer Reviews

Henry of Atlantic City

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4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

the dialogue is witty. the boy-saint is an absorbing epic character. the history gives it an atmosphere of magic and grandeur...

This weird book about a brilliant kid stuck in the weirdest family situation is set, like many contemporary novels, between the old world (the church, an orphanage) and the bright, shiny, new one (Atlantic City). Many authors are using playlands -- Las Vegas for Tim Powers, theme parks for George Saunders -- as metaphors for contemporary society. Thus the bizarre casino land in which Henry is raised, and the makeshift families he moves between, are something he may need to escape from but can't. And Reuss perhaps says this is a good thing. What is this novel saying about gnosticism and faith? And what's that whole zoo thing? Of course, in every novel there's a supreme intelligence hovering over the action -- that of the writer. Here the writer's hand seems to be forcing the action into the form of an allegory. Don't get me wrong; it's an enjoyable read. Do the good guys win? Not necessarily.

I've gotten hooked on Frederick Reuss. After devouring "Horace Afoot," his first novel, I couldn't wait to start "Henry of Atlantic City." I wasn't disappointed.

Henry is a little boy, age indeterminate, with an unusual response to an unusual upbringing. He communicates primarily through references to ancient Gnostic texts. He appears to perceive the world around him through a warped lens that shows, by turns, the streets and palaces of ancient Byzantium and the modern-day boardwalk and casinos of Atlantic City. Not surprisingly, virtually none of the adults he meets have any idea how to treat this bright but puzzling child who thinks he is (or is becoming) a saint.

Through Henry's eyes, the other characters become Byzantine figures that serve as almost Jungian archetypes, offering insights into the nature of humanity and inhumanity, cruelty and love. Continuing, in a fashion, a theme explored in "Horace Afoot," Henry is who he is in part because of what he reads, and how he applies it to the world around him.

I loved this book, and I loved Henry.

Reuss's previous novel, _Horace Afoot_, was wonderful; this one is...pretty good. The difference? The narrative technique. In both books, Reuss explores the way people use the stories they read to make sense of the world they see. In the first book, we heard Horace in his own witty words; in the second, we hear the child Henry in the third person and it unfortunately comes off as condescending. "Oh, isn't he cute with his big words and his big ideas -- let's chuckle at him." It's really too bad, since _Henry of Atlantic City_ deals with serious moral and theological questions in possibly funny situations. Who's responsible for the world? What powers do we have in it? I wish I could say that I found the narrative a gripping medium for these problems, but I didn't.

On the other hand, the allegory -- reminiscent of _The Pilgrim's Progress_ and eighteenth-century moral novels like Sarah Fielding's _David Simple_ -- is an interesting form and deserves more attention. Bravo to Reuss for trying.

Henry's character is a bit stretched, but his perceptions certainly are not. This is a strange book that is also lovely. The horrors of the world do not have to be spelled out - it is enough to know that evil is part of the world. That's the way Henry finds out, that's why the close of the novel is so perfect.