Identity Crisis

Reality gets poked and prodded in the hilarious debut novel from David Gilbert '90 

By Blair Kloman, M.A. English '94

When considering the daily life that swirls around him, Billy Schine is a consistently clever—and highly vocal—observer. He's got an endless repertoire that veers from trivial pop culture to religious fanaticism to lofty literary allusions. And while his quick-release wit may seem annoyingly glib at first, it's soon clear that Billy's ability to cope depends on it.

As the protagonist in David Gilbert's debut novel, The Normals (Bloomsbury USA, 2004), Billy has an innate fear of reality, of experiencing life on a real level. So he skims the surface of his New York City life with a shrewd observance here and a cutting remark there. It's no surprise that his girlfriend has written him off, his employment is limited to perpetual temp—despite his Harvard degree—and his non-driving parents only recall his existence when they need a ride.

But Billy wants desperately to matter. And so, among other antics, he fosters a paranoid fantasy that he is being stalked by a cutthroat collection agency calling in his college loans. Ragnar, of Ragnar & Sons, is after his money or his life. As Gilbert (a 1990 graduate of the College and a 1994 graduate of the Bread Loaf School of English) writes early on, "You could say Billy suffers from an unhealthy sense of drama."

It's this heightened sense of drama that impels him further along a twisting and hilarious—and often quietly profound—journey into the world of "the normals," everyday people who participate in the testing of prototype drugs. As part of his planned escape, Billy volunteers for a two-week antipsychotic drug trial. The session will earn him money to pay off his debt, as well as time to elude Ragnar's meaty grasp.

"I read an old article about people who do this sort of volunteer drug testing," explained Gilbert, when asked about his inspiration for such an odd plot. "It seemed like an interesting environment to throw a character into." Gilbert further researched the idea by spending time in a CPU—clinical pharmacological unit—just as Billy does. Though he wasn't able to participate in an actual drug-  testing session, he interviewed both doctors and normals while there. "It was like summer camp for them—eat, sleep, hang out, watch TV—except you had to take your pills and give your blood."

Many of the support characters are well-rounded and intriguing, but Billy is clearly the main event as he tumbles through this societal amalgam of cultural highs and lows. While he dutifully totes around The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations and claims Hart Crane among his life's inspirations, he is equally entranced by mindless late-night television, including the schmaltzy and entreating Jerry Lewis of telethon fame. And his occasional sense of compassion finds the most unlikely targets, including a promiscuous divorcée and a slightly deranged roommate—who is not so "normal" after all. Even when Billy wants to connect with people, it seems he just can't.

But the tale is not all gloom, and Gilbert deftly grants Billy a reprieve from his self-protective wit. In a bizarre medical twist that finally lands him incapacitated and dependent on his estranged father, Billy does find his moment of grace. And, of course, he does it in his own ironic style. 

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Finding Her Way Through Theirs 

In 1998, Sarah Erdman '96 spent two years in Nambonkaha, a small Ivory Coast village. As a health worker with the Peace Corps, she arrived with only three months of basic training and was immediately faced with a culture steeped in animistic tradition while teetering on the precipice of a national AIDS crisis. Pondering the goal of her mission, she writes: "How do you promote behavioral change so that people have more control over their bodies but stop at the threshold where important traditions get destroyed?"

It's a daunting task, yet she finds her way, and Nine Hills to Nambonkaha (Henry Holt & Co., 2003) is her story. As a narrator, she lets just enough of her own personality come through while spending more time describing the daily existence of the village's mischievous children and remarkably diverse adults. While the color of her skin—and more particularly the unfamiliar green of her eyes—strikes fear in the children she's so desperate to help, it's also what allows her the status to dine with the mayor and other male elders. Here she earns the respect she needs to further her ideas and implement small but meaningful changes—such as the Healthy Baby contest at market day. With the women, she finds friendship and support through village talk and daily chores—but they're always quick to remark that she never does get her laundry hung before noon, as is the custom.

In the end, it's less a tale of the Peace Corps' success than of one person's quiet ability to foster broadened change in an isolated and traditional culture. Erdman is still with the Peace Corps, and she's clearly dedicated to her personal and professional mission. 

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Wake Up and Be Thankful You're Not  a Rat Collector

Justin Racz '97 has conceived the irrefutable answer to those of us who complain about our jobs. In 50 Jobs Worse Than Yours (Bloomsbury USA, 2004) he reviews some of the worst occupations out there. In a recent interview, he was happily ensconced in his New York City office, where he works at an ad agency coining catchy and alluring copy for "fast food, salty snacks and soda." Here's what else he had to say.

On the idea: As a temp in New York City, I had plenty to complain about. But every day I'd see this guy just standing in the middle of Fifth Avenue wearing a sign that said "99¢ Store This Way" with a big arrow plastered to him. He was there for months! And I thought, "I could have it worse." And so the idea to find out just how much worse was born.

On the research: Every one of these jobs is real—and the photos are of the actual people who do them. Hopefully they all have enough of a sense of humor not to be offended by making the list. "Corporate lawyer" just missed the cut. And "investment banker" had some potential early on. Yes, it pays well, but at a price. No sleep, no weekends, no life.

On the future: I'm putting together a page-a-day calendar of 365 Jobs Worse Than Yours so we can all wake up knowing someone is waking up to worse. And I'm looking for more bad jobs. If anyone from Midd has one, I'd love to put it in the calendar. 

Night Table

What's on Justin Racz's night table?