Don't Let This Book 'L.I.E.' To You
Strong Characters Shine In Look At Suburbia Before Story Falls Apart
Harlan Kessler calls himself a rebel without a cause.
And he's right. He's loafing around Long Island, N.Y., playing guitar with his buddies and trying to lose his virginity in David Hollander's "L.I.E." (short for Long Island Expressway).
Hollander presents a bleak view of suburbia circa 1987, and he creates very strong character studies in his portrayals of aimless youth and equally aimless parents.
Harlan is surrounded by too many dysfunctional families, including his own. Neighbors are committing adultery with other neighbors, families deal in drugs, friends attempt to commit suicide and some succeed.
Hollander describes these interwoven stories best when he introduces the people in Harlan's neighborhood at a Halloween party. The scene unfolds like a Martin Scorsese introduction -- all in one fluid motion, introducing people one at a time and showing how they are related to the person whom you just met.
What almost ruins this moment of great storytelling is Hollander's use of italics. OK, so he wants to make a point. What ends up being emphasized over and over again are profane language, sex-related topics and other societal taboos:
"Terry and Mike walk side by side and discuss the deadly AIDS virus. 'You gotta wear a condom, man,' Mike says. 'Yeah,' Terry agrees, 'but what if you don't have one?' A debate takes shape: Sex versus Death. 'Man,' Terry says, 'I'd be willing to risk it!' At fifteen, Mike and Terry are still virgins."
Unfortunately, Hollander uses this device for the rest of the novel. What a shame.
But What He Really Wants To Say ...
The L.I.E. could lead Harlan out of this despair, a road to other possibilities. His girlfriend Sarah took the plunge, moving to Westchester County to attend community college. But he chose not to take it because he's afraid that the L.I.E. could be a lie. And that's when the novel starts to break down.
About halfway into "L.I.E.," Hollander tries to explore the existential possibilities that maybe Harlan doesn't exist at all, and that maybe things don't happen the way he perceives them.
The novel degenerates into surreal scenes of government workers dancing as a car knocks them over like bowling pins, or of Harlan and his family sitting around the dinner table in a mock one-act play.
Hollander's characters are very well-developed when they simply go about their boring existences. However, by the time you read the last page, Harlan, Sarah and the rest of the characters seem almost frivolous -- instead of more complex -- because of the absurd situations in which they find themselves.
