I just finished this book and now I am sitting down to write my first online review of anything, ever. This is the level of feeling McPheeters's work, and this book in particular, inspires in me. Directly after reading it, my gut reaction is that The Loom of Ruin should be on the bestseller list. It has all the elements of a book blockbuster: page-turning suspense, action, emotional drama, absurd comedy and a story that flashes with all the bells and whistles of a Hollywood screenplay (plot twists, surprise connections, explosive ending!). All while (spoiler) outlining the total annihilation of Hollywood and the American way of life. This is an enjoyable trick; it is no secret that people thrill (myself included) at watching their destructive impulses play out writ large in the safety of an artistic work. Any number of contemporary blockbusters signal the public's willingness to participate in the mass fantasy of complete destruction. The fictional representation of this mass current of negative affect in the Loom of Ruin is certainly the main character, Trang Yang. Less a fully formed character than a force of nature, it is hard not to cheer Trang on as he looses his wrath upon greater Los Angeles like an avenging angel. Trang's motives (and the shadowy forces surrounding them) are slowly revealed through the book and by the end the feeling of catharsis is very real, despite the slim slivers of hope offered by the author for redemption. The Sabbath quote that serves as the book's parting remark slyly winks at you that this is all only for the old horrorshow fun of it all, that we can revel in the aesthetics of apocalypse without necessarily advocating for it.
This is also a punk trick-appealing to those dark instincts while dancing around the actual ethics of it all. When Sid Vicious or the Ramones wore nazi symbols on their leather jackets, no one was supposed to take it as a serious political symbol. Like this book, the best punk music appeals to your gut while upsetting your intellectual framework. I wondered to myself while reading, is that all this book is, a literary punk song set to provide cheap thrills at the expense of gobs of senseless fictional destruction? I, for one, would have been completely satisfied with such a romp. And yet, in the Loom of Ruin there is a real undercurrent of the absurdity of living in the US in 2012; the disparateness of lives hoodooed by globalism and technology that remain tangentially connected in the amorphous blob of 21st century life moving inexorably forward into God Knows What. The book is funny, laugh out loud funny, maybe one of the funniest books I have ever read and it is the humor of a world gone mad with the speed of its own dizzy spin. McPheeters is really taking a page from Delillo here-the spare, almost robotic prose underlines the madcap-ness of it all. After having grown up with McPheeters's musical output and following his various writing projects through the years, this novel is the logical extension of the author's work. In a world of a billion things happening all at once every second, could something rational possibly hold the strings? Will all the twitches and shorts in the imperfect human organism result in a massive species wide bellyflop? Has our current technological age served only to magnify the illusory nature of any notion of supposed human dignity?
Who knows. Anyway, to sum up: buy this book. It has Barack Obama, Russell Crowe and Henry Rollins in it. It will make you belly laugh at several points, guaranteed. I read it in less than a week, you probably will too, bleary eyed the next morning at work because you'll stay up wanting to know what happens next. A worthy shot into uncharted territory for Mr. McPheeters, ensuring his place in the Valhalla of Aging Punks Who Continue to Produce Interesting Work. Here's hoping this is his first of many (now that his Crying of Lot 49 is out, could his Gravity's Rainbow be far behind?).