"There Were People You Kept Waiting, and People You Didn't":
Class Hierarchies as Revealed Under Duress
in John Saul's The Manhattan Hunt Club
Christopher Snyder
April 5, 2013
Little Red Schoolhouse
(undergrad vers.)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- 1 -
¶ Published the month before the attacks on the Twin Towers,
John Saul's The Manhattan Hunt Club (2001) uses the
potboiler structure to give the reader a guided tour of the
echelons of power — from top to bottom — that would only be
“encounterable” in a state of constant emergency (which is
to say: under the tension most “thrillers” aspire to provide).
Given that the novel is a National Bestseller with claims to
socioeconomic criticism on a par with Dickens, Hugo, and the
American Social Realists, one would expect critical acclaim
to be more forthcoming that it, perhaps, has been (which,
perhaps inarguably, leaves the U.S. with a widely-read,
proletariat-cum-bourgeois “fan base” who are better appraised
of the social schemata than anyone, save themselves, are
aware!).
¶ Nonetheless, what one finds on encountering the novel is a
carefully-planned — one is reticent to simply say, “carefully
plotted” — x- and y-axis drawn from the map(s) of post-
millenial, barely-internetted N.Y.C. replete with overlapping
failures of social order, from the judge whose “own satisfaction
in his judgments had been diluted, and then washed completely
away by the steady trickle of decisions from the courts above
him” to the Ivy League college student whose good deed ends up
setting the plot in motion to the people “below ground” who
have to make their own subdistinctions about the company
they keep.
¶ In none of these cases is anything less than day-to-day
survival at stake: the people may be trapped by their routines,
but it's the only routines they know. It is only under the
guise of a “thriller” that Saul could dare to show us how
dim the chances are, in practice, of breaking beyond the
rim of one's personal horizon: “They knew that people in their
position never discussed their true desires in public … The
truth, always, was reserved for intimate conversations in the
most private of settings.”
¶ In these sorts of circumstances, the odds of the Truth
getting aired, maintained, or even validated to begin with
are dim at best: these people, with more power than 99%
of the population of the city they “rule” could imagine
of being possible to wield, are as constantly protective of
their own backs and place in the pecking order as the street
denizens Saul's hero Jeff Converse falls in amongst
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
- 2 -
with: “You don't look at people, they won't look at you. You
don't talk, they won't talk. An' if you just keep walkin',
they transit cops won't even bother you.”
¶ Already, the possibilities are dimmed to a dull resignation
of one sort or another: it is precisely between the unknowing
hopefulness of the child and the seen-too-much-to-kid-oneself
“maturity” of most adults (in the novel, and thus, begging the
question, in the macrocosm outside it) that Saul places
his still-hopeful college student in the “protagonist” role of
his work, a bildungsroman of opportunities available, not
opportunities hypothetical: “Whatever Jeff expected as he
stepped through the door, it wasn't this.” Even in the incidental
references, down to the minutiae of what the characters come
across, Saul is careful to frame it in terms of how they,
inwardly, approach the situation — in other words, “where”
they came “from.”
¶ “And always the homeless”: like the mind-chatter of the hive
mind of culture & commerce residing above, the situation of
cast-offs is revealed to be endemic, a collateral damage of
progress, as much an inevitability of a healthy ecosystem as
the “parasites” of the well-known aphorism: with only so many
opportunities to go around, they are only so many choices
available, as well.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
B-
Christopher: on the one hand, the scope of the ideas you're trying to put across in the first two paragraphs — certainly more admirable than a dearth — beggar your ability to ably find an apt quote from the text to cover them all. On the other hand, stick to the "one citation per paragraph" rule: you'll find it delimits the argument YOU want to make, not the other way around. Sound clear? As it is, this paper somehow manages to feel both a wee bit short and, at the same time, as though it would be better served if expanded to ten pages — or , alternately, three others of commensurate length. Make sense?
Still, though: this is part of the process, wrestling through your ideas to come up with a single, tangible thesis, one with backbone. My comments above, befitting the purpose of this class, were not meant to "discourage" you: it is simply a process we all have to go through, of vetting our best ideas to come up with even better ones, that I am trying to impart.
And . . . you certainly have no shortage of those! Keep wrestling!
Johnson de Johnson
Prof. Emeritus, Eng. Lang & Lit.
Univ. of Chicago