5.30.2005
about tom ripley
well, i only completed two books during the month of may, for reasons both bad (weird work schedule, volatile attention span) and good (working almost nightly in the studio). but i did manage to read the second of patricia highsmith's "ripley" novels, ripley underground.
what i like about tom ripley-- the identity-stealing psychopath at the center of the books-- has to do with his vulnerability. unlike the typical storybook villian, ripley is biased and particular. his evil is not "pure" evil. he cannot kill indiscriminately, nor proceed free of emotional entanglements. and somehow, his presence is ice cold.
highsmith creates a multi-dimensional interior landscape for him, paying close attention to his desires, fears and motivations. but she always does so from the outside, denying the reader any legitmate empathy. if the effect of her novels is to make me "root for the bad guy," i don't do so out of any sympathy for him. i can construct a theory of ripley; one composed of many complex psychological ingredients (his class envy, his strange sense of etiquette, his volatile sexuality, etc.). but as i do so, i am clinical instead of compassionate. the thrill of a ripley adventure is hypothetical. ripley is a case-study, and my interest is never humanistic.
the empathetic indifference i've felt throughout these novels is not, by any means, problematic to me as a reader. in fact, highsmith carves her very atmosphere out of this indifference. i develop an eerie fondness for ripley, occuring in the tension between my willingness to accept his logic, and my ambivalence towards his motivations. and because ripley is vulnerable and conventionally "human," my ambivalence is, itself, malevolent. i have the tools to understand him, but i can not and will not. this spectatorial predicament is extended, in a sense, to his victims as well. ripley is always more likeable than they are, but they are only "worthy" of his punishment because they bore me as a reader. my malevolent ambivalence, while strange enough to admit to, is even stranger to develop over the course of 250 pages. but for better or worse, the fun of it lies there.
what i like about tom ripley-- the identity-stealing psychopath at the center of the books-- has to do with his vulnerability. unlike the typical storybook villian, ripley is biased and particular. his evil is not "pure" evil. he cannot kill indiscriminately, nor proceed free of emotional entanglements. and somehow, his presence is ice cold.
highsmith creates a multi-dimensional interior landscape for him, paying close attention to his desires, fears and motivations. but she always does so from the outside, denying the reader any legitmate empathy. if the effect of her novels is to make me "root for the bad guy," i don't do so out of any sympathy for him. i can construct a theory of ripley; one composed of many complex psychological ingredients (his class envy, his strange sense of etiquette, his volatile sexuality, etc.). but as i do so, i am clinical instead of compassionate. the thrill of a ripley adventure is hypothetical. ripley is a case-study, and my interest is never humanistic.
the empathetic indifference i've felt throughout these novels is not, by any means, problematic to me as a reader. in fact, highsmith carves her very atmosphere out of this indifference. i develop an eerie fondness for ripley, occuring in the tension between my willingness to accept his logic, and my ambivalence towards his motivations. and because ripley is vulnerable and conventionally "human," my ambivalence is, itself, malevolent. i have the tools to understand him, but i can not and will not. this spectatorial predicament is extended, in a sense, to his victims as well. ripley is always more likeable than they are, but they are only "worthy" of his punishment because they bore me as a reader. my malevolent ambivalence, while strange enough to admit to, is even stranger to develop over the course of 250 pages. but for better or worse, the fun of it lies there.
