This is a sad day for me indeed. Having finished reading The Demon means that, barring a posthumous collection of some kind--given the appearance of certain non-published texts in spoken word collections not an impossibility perhaps--I have read everything written and published by my second favorite author of all-time, Hubert Selby Jr. The Demon came last in my reading simply because it took me a rather long time to find a copy; but find it I did--last summer at Aardvark Books, my favorite second hand bookshop in San Francisco, CA--and I put off reading it until now mostly because of the bittersweet feeling that I knew would come from arriving at the totality of Cubby's fine pages.
Well, personal affections aside, this is Selby's most traditionally plotted, detailed, and therefore realistically-portrayed narrative, and also his most openly Christian text, arriving quite nearly at the parable level. I was a tad surprised and even disappointed at these two features of the novel which otherwise paid off completely in the things that I enjoy most about Selby's work in general, the feeling of one-ness that I feel with the rest of humanity through reading his perspicacious descriptions of human suffering, the great empathy we come to feel for the despicable characters that we otherwise would dismiss and ignore in everyday life, the feeling that I am not alone in all of the mess of being a human being.
The reason that I note the heightened realism and more obviously Christian theme of this particular novel is not because I'm against either technique--my third favorite writer is Dante Alighieri, very Christian, and probably next is Ernest Hemingway, master of modernist literary realism--but because I think that these two elements weaken those strengths that I mentioned above, what usually makes Selby's work so uniquely effective at ripping my guts out and making me want to run out and find, shelter, and bed down with the first homeless leper that I can in order to keep them warm and safe all through the night. Really, at his best, no writer gets under your skin like Selby except perhaps for Steinbeck in Of Mice and Men or The Pearl.
I was just teaching a short narrative by Italian writer Pier Paolo Pasolini the other day called "Rital and Raton" and in this story the narrator/Pasolini himself apparently declares that to morally judge another human being is to create a power structure, is to lord it over your fellow human beings. As a political anarchist with an a priori bias against power itself--I believe that there is only abuse, never a correct use of power--I objected to the overtly Christianizing of Harry's (Yeah, the protagonists of all of Selby's novels and many of his short stories are named Harry, I love that too) sickness in The Demon. Such a rationalization of his problem tended, in my opinion, to let the reader off the hook, to let the smugly saved look down from a higher position at poor suffering evildoer Harry and his obsession with pity--and that nullified, or at least weakened, for me, the radical empathy that I feel for Harry, Tyrone, Sarah, and Marion of Requiem for a Dream or the man stuck in the cell in The Room or Tralala or any of the many other unforgettable characters of Last Exit to Brooklyn.
Perhaps it's just that I prefer the more overt critique of capitalism/materialaism of Last Exit and Requiem to the more pointedly Christian attack on the sin of pride here, for pride, being personal rather than systemic, makes us readers condemn the character rather that the character's weakness in escaping the sick system surrounding them of the other novels. (For, in this anarchist's opinion, institutional pride is the real sin that creates abusive hierarchies of power: i.e. governments, armies, syndicates, banks, bully systems of all kinds.) It is interesting, however, to see Selby writing about a successful business man here--even with the familiar Brooklyn roots--than the usual lower and lower middle-class tortured souls of his other novels and stories.
It occurred to me that this novel was reminiscent of, kind of a modern-day updating of Mathew Lewis' Gothic gem The Monk. Also note that it came about only a year after Blatty's The Exorcist and both novels seem bent on convincing us that evil comes through us from without, from demons. I also just saw P. T. Anderson's recent film The Master and I thought that they shared themes of American alone-ness and the anguish of the search for freedom: to follow no master is to live alone, not to surrender is to become a killer, to lay down with a sandcastle woman, to come to despise others because their physical closeness mocks their actual empathetic distance.
FYI: Requiem for a Dream, The Room, and Last Exit to Brooklyn are all, on a scale of 1-6 stars, eight star novels. Selby's collection of short fiction, Song of the Silent Snow is between 8 and 6, but his last two novels, The Willow Tree and Waiting Period, are, like The Demon a bit weaker. Of them I think I liked The Willow Tree the best although it's still flawed, even overly sentimental. Still, all of Selby's work is so much better than most writers can even dream of being that I recommend them all--but only with your seatbelt fastened for they will take you to places where you do not want to go but you will be better for having gone there and seen those things and wept for those who live there.