9944. RUDIMENTS, pt. 75

RUDIMENTS, pt. 75

Making Cars

Things you don't much here of anymore are

things I used to like, and what I remember

most. For instance, there was a guy, just 

recently died, in fact, a writer, named J. P.

Donleavy. In about 1964 I read a book of 

his, from 1955 or so, called 'The Ginger Man.'

And then, in 1970, another one, titled, 'Meet

My Maker, the Mad Molecule'. Interesting,

off-kilter books, for their time; the sort of

reads far afield from the enlightened canon

of 'literary' reads. The old word that used 

to be bandied about  -  and which caused 

such a fuss for 'The Ginger Man,' was 'earthy.'

That was a word the stiff-lips used back then

to signal that a person or book was fairly

sexual in content, blue, off-color. Yes, it 

was  adifferent world then, and the flags were

all of a different color. I always liked that 

word, 'earthy'  -  having nothing to do with 

or without its context with the book. I just 

liked the word. Something 'earthy' connoting

'real'  -  someone authentic, unruly. Donleavy

was unable even to get the book published for

a long time. When it was published in the USA,

chapter ten was omitted, and numerous sentences

were blacked out throughout the book. Omitted. 

(Nowadays it would probably be fully illustrated,

and printed in scratch n' sniff ink too. I'd bet).

It was what was once called (also neat old word) 

'expurgated'. Being in the seminary and learning

my fair dose of Latin, I knew that expurgated, a

compound word, as many in Latin were, was a

construction carried forth that way into our own

English. Ex : from  &  purgatio : cleaning. In the

roughest, barest transliteration, by me. So the

book was 'cleansed of' its 'earthiness,' supposedly.

Purgation is also the root of what they call, in the

religion business, 'Purgatory  -  a totally silly, 

halfway concept invented by Catholics to cover

that strange gray area of people (SOULS) not quite

ready for Heaven, but not bad enough for Hell.

Kind of a place where they simmer a while ('a 

while?' What's that? Why is there a time concept

in this entire idea of post-time? Lost me), during

the intermediate time they 'get clean.' It sure

and soon became clear to me how so many things

and concepts we live with were interconnected.

And that was another one : why just not 'connected'?

What's the idea with 'inter' connected? And wasn't

that the same thing really? Latin again: Inter.

Con, which in Latin meant 'with', from the Latin

word 'cum' (no, not that) meaning with. So

it was a way of saying 'with connections.' I

guess, but it still doesn't answer the need for

the redundant 'inter.' 

-

Everything's so crazy-changed now, no one would

look twice at J. P. Donleavy or anything he wrote.

But it was a cool book back when. Like John Ashbery

too, and also recently dead. He had these early 1950's

poetry books published and he kept having hunky

photos of himself on the cover. The kind of photos

that used to sell tobacco, or grace racy books. I

little knew, never even suspected, back then, that

he was gay as ever, and perhaps that was the 

hunk-factor being portrayed. Mustachioed.

Suave. Inquisitive. With burning eyes. I used

to look for the outlandish like that  -  Donleavy

and his British tweedy-craziness, all those weird

habits and sayings. Ashbery, with his steely yet

apt confusions. They were right, for sure. It was

the rest of the world gone nuts. I remember

back, about 1963 I guess, at the seminary the 

almost perverted brouhaha (now THERE's a

word for you  -  brouhaha. It's onomatopoeia

for the 'sound of the Devil's laughter'), over
the simple little book entitled 'The Catcher

In the Rye', which any grown person, in a

cassock or not, should have been able to

willingly accept, for what it was  - an 

adolescent, coming of age tale of no real 

import except to other writers. The kid was

snarky, had an attitude, a faker, confused,

maybe irreverent, a bit twisted, and, within 

the book there was perhaps a 12-second scene,

of absolutely no irreverence, with a prostitute.

Yet there were grown men, (well, mentally

half-grown and half-men), the faculty there,

who carped and interdicted everywhere about

this book  -  this to 360 adolescent boys

probably out wanking every chance they 

could get in toilet stalls, showers, fields, 

sheds, woods and barns. I guess not in the

chapel, but you never know. Something about

that incense smoke or whatever, makes idiots 

of everyone earnest. The present state of book

'publishing' has, by contrast, a segment called

YA (young adult) where, by contrast, by page

23 in every book the kid is undergoing either

a sexual crisis, conversion or perversion, and 

from it the rest of the plot is built  -  vampire or

wizard  -  and being used as a positive influence

advancing the plot of the 13-year within the

story, which problem is often solved by spell,

orgasm, Onanism, or some form of necrophilia,

and applauded by supposed adults for the good

it does the kids. (Funniest thing, after a million 

words of correction and double-checking, 

often reluctantly, I just now did so and found

my Spell Check not recognizing 'onanism' and

just offering  instead 'unionism'. I jocularly 

want to say 'close, but no cigar.'

-

I used to eat up a lot of those 'outsider' books

early on  -  the little library in Avenel had

the store of books I needed, just my speed, 

and the 1960 era library lady there, Mrs. 

Mucilli, as I knew her, was the mother of 

two of my school friends, and an erstwhile 

family acquaintance too, through church

connection. I have no idea what she ever

thought of my selections, or of me, for that

matter, but she smilingly and willingly let

me library-borrow whatever I chose, and

once or twice in fact kept a new volume of

poetry or something else just arrived, aside

for me. Smooth, pleasant environment, and

it's funny how such environments, without

even knowing it, can harbor, in their hominess 

and comfort, revolutionaries, writers, bomb-

throwers, intellectuals, or philosophers. You 

just never know where that 'earthy' type

will come from.