I am about a third of the way through Wolfe's newest novel, I Am Charlotte Simmons, and it hasn't yet let me down. His first novel BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES dealt with New York City and Wall Street in the 1980s. 1998's A MAN IN FULL was about an Atlanta real estate magnate losing his grip on his business. CHARLOTTE SIMMONS is about college life at an upscale academic university through the eyes of several characters, most notably the title character, a brilliant young lady from a poor family in the North Carolina mountains. The school is also seen through the eyes of geeky boys, "student" athletes and frat boys each with their own take on the importance of college life.
If it weren't written by Wolfe I wouldn't have taken the time with the subject matter. Wolfe is the only current novelist that I'm anxious to read. His three novels in 16 years are far too few and yet it may be the time that he takes that makes them worth it. Wolfe does a great job of making you root for certain people and laugh at the others. It's a shame that the BONFIRE movie was such a debacle, but much of Wolfe's genius lies in the fun way he tells a story and those descriptions can never quite translate to the screen in the same way.
This story opens with the frat boys walking home drunken through the orchard only to happen upon the Governor of California (the next day's graduation speaker) and a young lady in flagrente.
Bango! Something grabbed Hoyt's right shoulder from behind in a terrific grip, and a tough-guy said, "What the fuck do you punks think you're doing?"
Hoyt spun around and found himself confronting a short but massively muscled man in a dark suit and a collar and tie that could barely contain his neck, which was wider than his head. A little translucent coiled cord protruded from his left ear.
Adrenaline and alcohol surged in Hoyt's brain stem. He was a Dupont man staring at an impudent simian from the lower orders. "Doing?" he barked, inadvertently showering the man with spit, "Looking at a fucking ape-faced dickhead in what we're doing?"
The man seized him by both shoulders and slammed him back against the tree, knocking the breath out of him. Just as the little gorilla drew his fist back, Vance got down on all fours between his legs. Hoyt ducked the punch, which smashed into the tree trunk, and drove his forearm into his assailant - who had just begun to yell "Shiiiiit" from the pain - with all his might. The man toppled backward over Vance and hit the ground with a sickening thud. He started to get up but then sank back to the ground. He lay there on his side next to the big exposed maple root, his face contorted, holding one shoulder with a hand who's bloody knuckled were gashed clear down to the bone. The arm that should have been socketed into the stricken shoulder was extended at a grotesque angle.
Vance whispered, "Whatta we do?"
"Run like a bastard," said Hoyt.
Rolling Stone Magazine serielized that chapter in August and I've been waitng for the book ever since. This is my first day off in 12 days and I think a good deal of it will be spent reading the 700 or so pages.
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