Nathan Larson has nearly drained the psychoses well dry in creating his character, Dewey Decimal. We are looking at OCD, PTSD, ADD(maybe), claustrophobia, addictions (smoking, those little pills), anxiety disorder, and paranoia here (although, in fairness, to quote Joseph Heller, “Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't after you...). Larson's purpose is not to create the skewed mental perspective of a psychotic. Instead, he seizes on this mix with a writer's gusto, embedding incongruous jagged riffs into the most tension-laden scenes. Shot in the kneecap by Iveta, the wife of the man he is directed to assassinate, he pauses long enough to note that Iveta now owes him a new pair of pants. Stalking the menacing Yakiv Shapsko at the Ukrainian Social Hall, he recalls: “I've heard good things about the food here, but don't do buffets. Bacteria. The thought of it makes me grab a handful of P[urell] and rub the bad away.” Even caressing a woman proves awkward. The first thing that pops into Dewey's head is that bottle of Purell!
He has adopted the name Dewey Decimal because he can't remember his own name. He lives in the shell of the New York Public Library, post-Event (referred to as 2/14). Ninety per cent of the population has left. There has been a global economic crash. The social order has collapsed leaving only predators and prey. Part of his compulsion is reorganizing the stacks of books. In this futuristic setting, the library references feel like a self-comforting effort to re-create a simpler more stable time. No sprawling Library of Congress cataloging or digital searching for Dewey! It is hinted that Dewey is the victim of a military experiment involving implanted false memories; yet flashbacks of a home and family in a neighborhood called Gun Hill feel too emotionally genuine to be totally discounted. The back story does account for the fact that he appears to be fluent in several languages: Ukrainian, Russian, and Cantonese. His obsession with fashion, however, remains a mystery. Not just Armani, but Marc Jacobs, Paul Smith and Ed Hardy are readily summoned in his mental catalog of characters in hot pursuit.
The plot is a labyrinth of shady characters, violence, and double-crosses. A reader familiar with New York City will recognize the varied public transit references and locales from the Cathedral of St. Sava to Trump Towers. The flat-comic book characters fit the noir style of the writing, but fail to lend substance to their supposed and actual motivations. What I liked about this book was the promise of growth on the part of the author. He has created an unusual character balanced between survival and sensibility by the complicated rules of his “System.” This is the first in a promised series involving the character Dewey Decimal. I hope the potential seen in the DEWEY DECIMAL SYSTEM is fulfilled.