Burned Pride

The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson, reviewed by Steve on September 23rd, 2008.

Andrew Davidson's debut novel tells the story of an unnamed narrator, whose career as a male-pornstar has filled him with selfish pride and cynicism. Our narrator gets behind the wheel while high on cocaine and drunk on bourbon and swerves off a cliff, thinking he was dodging a flight of flaming arrows.
As the car crashes to the bottom of the ravine, a fire starts and rapidly spreads throughout the car, immolating the narrator, who is trapped in his seat. Somehow, help arrives, and the narrator awakens in a hospital burn unit, where he undergoes various burn treatments. While there, a mysterious former psych-ward patient visits him and talks with him. Her name is Marianne Engel, and she claims that she and the narrator were lovers once in medieval Germany.
Slowly, as the narrator begins the healing process, he finds himself at once believing and questioning the validity of Marianne's stories. Nonetheless, there is both an attraction and a sense of impotence, as the narrator questions how a woman could possibly love one such as he. His sense of self is effectively shattered: pride, ego, and vanity no longer have a place. But just as the narrator starts to come to love someone other than himself, Marianne tells him that her time is near and she will soon have to leave.

For a debut novel, this work is stunning. Not in the "will impact your life forevermore" sense, but nonetheless, the novel leaves you wanting more. Part Chuck Palahniuk, part Catcher in the Rye, Davidson's style is feverishly lucid and flirts with dark humor. His analogies and metaphors do not necessarily score many points on the literary scale, but they are clever and poignant all the same. One example is where the narrator observes, "A cheese strand dangled from her mouth to the edge of her nipple, and I wanted to rappel it like a mozzarella commando to storm her lovely breasts." Not exactly a touching, sentimental, or "high-literary" metaphor, but it's appeal is in its in-your-face grittiness; a sort of literary nod to punkdom.

In regards to characterization, Andrew Davidson nicely wraps the readers interest around his main characters: namely, the narrator, and Marianne Engel, but also the doctors, physical therapist, and Marianne's agent, all of whom seem very authentic and real. Our narrator is credible--sort of. He does not lie perhaps as outright as Holden Caulfield, but what he says must be taken with a grain of salt. He is, after all, a self-admitted addict and a selfish chauvinist to boot.
Another admirable trait to this novel is that we experience the story through the eyes of the narrator, who cannot confirm Marianne's story, but cannot deny it or discredit it either. As such, the reader is more or less invited to interpret as he/she will. There is ample evidence to suggest that what Marianne says is true, and just as much to say that she is delusional. What matters, though, is what the narrator came away with. Regardless as to whether or not he believes Marianne, he was touched; he was reformed; he did fall in love.

Like the other debut novel I've read this summer (The Tale of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski) I do have some quibbles about the ending to this novel. I shall not give anything away, but the end felt rather flat and anticlimactic. I think more could have been done with the ending than what Andrew Davidson chose to do. I was disappointed that I had ventured through this tumultuous rollercoaster ride with the narrator only to find that there was no grand finale. The ride simply stopped.

All told, I very much enjoyed the novel. The pacing was fast, intense, and Davidson held my interest all the way through. The characters interested me, the themes and motifs intrigued me, and I would highly recommend the novel. I would rate this a 4 out of 5 stars.

Cheers,
Steve