Anyone who retains an interest in the era that spawned the Kennedys, the Jet Set and the 'Beats' will enjoy Palimpset. Gore Vidal had one of the world's worst mothers; drunk, vicious and hilarious- the less related you got. She was the gorgeous daughter of a prominent Senator named Gore. After divorcing Gore's father, Gene, she married the Hughdie Auchincloss who later would wed the equally frozen and gold digging mother of Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. Indeed Gore and Jackie shared the same bedroom (at different times) as Hughdie's prominent but and penniless stepchildren. It was from Hughdie, according to Vidal, that he developed his lifelong passion (against?) bores. The memoir is filled with Jackie and Jack stories, that are less worn for their genuine, eye witness
accounts. Gore recalls something of the private life of those two; at Palm Beach, having cocktails after the beach, and speaks a bit of how Jackie's value had become enhanced with her husband and her raucus in-laws as she more and more captured the attention and heart of the and some would argue, the world. Previous to her rising star, we are told, Jack virtually ignored her. So much for the glamour of the mythic couple. Jackie and Gore, one-time stepsibs, would later part ways. This enmity arose from the consuming hatred between Gore and Bobby Kennedy- so combustible that a violent episode was just barely avoided at a White House official dinner.
Vidal's ill-fated runs for political office are the most boring parts of the memoir; however they're well compensated by his reminiscences over Tennessee Williams called affectionately, Bird. With his aristocratic disdain, Vidal's eye as well as his pen cut satisfyingly throughout his well-attended and celebrated life.
Frequent references to an alcoholic and promiscuous life are not, tastefully followed by countless depraved incidents- the few liasons and debauches detailed belonged more to the story than a tabloid. He waxes funny on Anais Nin, who bore a remarkable likeness to his mother histrionic, self-obsessed and a great fraud.
Allen Ginsberg is well drawn here, less of the Buddhist, suicidal, Beat poet than as a promoter. Kerouac, himself a mother-obsessive, and one night stand of Vidal, is seen as more tortured. His last days, were not spent on the road, but in an alcoholic psychosis in his mother's home where he spent the final days of his life running at her and ranting anti-Semetic epithets. Shut away with his mother, impotent and symbiotic- powerful- eh? As to Vidal's personal sexuality, he does not appear to wish to fit into a compact mold. He ascribes his long, successful relationship with another male as platonic, and therefore longstanding. Vidal has a political prescience that I regret I have only learned of recently. He is no friend of the National Security Agency and claims that even Truman was aware that the CIA was its own government and that Kennedy's assasination was validation of that. However, one need not share his liberal viewpoints to enjoy this biography.
It is first and foremost a love story. A teenage introduction to romantic sex and a marine dead at Iwo Jima, the love that has been his life. It is through this refrain that he winds and returns, this was the central organizing factor of his life, and one that he never advanced far from. It is an evocative and bittersweet saga.