I really enjoyed Joseph Peterson’s Wanted: Elevator Man, an allegorical/absurdist novel in which, Barnes, a major institution-graduate turned waiter settles for an elevator job in a big city high rise with the hope that he’ll land a corner office gig after impressing the suits. Elevator Man is, foremost, a meditation on mortality (which I’m always a sucker for), the quest for Barnes to understand and come to terms with his father’s life and death, and make meaning of his own existence. Barnes is weighed down by the belief that his father was a “highly brilliant” scientist who died after traveling to Hiroshima to study the effects of nuclear radiation on the survivors, and that there’s little chance anything he does with his life can ever compare. Peterson writes: “[Barnes]…felt that his pedigree was such that he could never—and should never, for that matter—settle for the crumbs. To do so was to fail.” A near-death experience for Barnes during the kinda-sorta-rescue of a woman stuck in the elevator seems to shake him from his stupor and propel him out of his father’s shadow. Barnes muses to his cat: “My first day on the job, and I almost died. Yes, I almost died. And it wasn’t nearly so bad as I thought.” Peterson raises some interesting questions for me. Does self-preservation keep us from truly living? Does it prevent us from being able to fully give love? If we don’t sacrifice our own well-being for others, can we ever really feel good about ourselves? Can we ever feel pride?
To me, a secondary theme in this book is the power of language. Its power to sway our emotions this way or that. Barnes initially decides to take the elevator job after being inspired by self-help pamphlets. “Admit you’re a loser.” “Think downward!” And not only the power of words, but punctuation too (“My advice to you, if you ever write advice…use the exclamation point! Use it liberally!”)! Peterson also touches on the power of the words we use to ourselves, the self-defeating things people say on repeat that become truth. After his first day on the job, Barnes thinks, “…I’m burdened with vain hopes. Where the hell did I get these hopes anyway? And why does my life have to be pestered with them? …But you certainly don’t have what it takes to fulfill your hopes. You don’t have what it takes to cut the mustard in the real world.”
Peterson writes tight, clean prose. And the book is so well-edited and nicely bound. Thumbs up all around.