In terms of wisdom, The Painter ranges from obvious, “one of the problems…of being somewhat famous is that…hardly anybody you are connected to really knows you,” to hilarious, “Hey, don’t leave a goddamn mess for your friends…Use the gun, stand in a pond,” and serious, “I shook her hand warmly and realized that I could not save everyone. This is a novel for manly men at large: “My dick was as surprised as I was,” and a recurring refrain, “fuck the fuckers.” Stegner is often distracted and comforted by his girlfriend’s body: “her breasts did that thing where they dominated the universe for a minute.” But the tone is vividly American − a Wild West valentine, with throbbing dialogue that is sparse and colloquial. The novel’s central theme of murder and guilt echoes Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, and Stegner’s almost mystical relationship with his paintings could be a remote allusion to Dorian Gray. Eliot, and Salinger receive mention throughout. Rilke’s poetry appears seamlessly throughout Neruda, T.S. That is, until Heller pulls an impressive and cocky literary throw-down by explicitly calling out themes from Moby-Dick and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (the madman’s quest for revenge, a psychological burden), ostensibly communicating his intention to create a great American classic. With its numerous zen-like fishing scenes, The Painter is a dark relative of David James Duncan’s The River Why. For the rest of the story, he hides in plain sight from the police, from those who wish to exact revenge, but most of all, from his own conscience. One night, when a rage born from unspeakable loss takes over, Stegner kills a local criminal in cold blood. But his connections with women are genuine, and varied, even long lasting. His leading lady is spirited, though lacking in an agenda of her own. Devout in his recovery from alcoholism, Stegner is somewhat of a womanizer, and with James Salter-like swagger he dives into an Ocean of Women, some of whom (feminists beware!) burst forth like gunfire and fade just as fast. His quirkily shamanic paintings come to acclaim after he crushes the hand of a radio host during a live interview. Stegner is a once jailed, twice divorced artist who fishes often and lives quietly between Colorado and New Mexico. And so are you.Īnd so is Jim Stegner, in Peter Heller’s second novel, The Painter. This is to say, I am somebody’s anti-hero. An unfunny, insensitive, none-too-bright, all-around Bad Person. A morally-questionable hurter of feelings.
My enemies might think of me as a self-promoter with more ambition than talent.
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