Thanks to Ivan Thays for the link to author Belinda Webb's blog post Literature Gets to Modern Maladies Fastest at the Guardian Unlimited site.
In the post, Webb clues us into psychologist Oliver James newest book The Selfish Capitalist, which is apparently a follow-up to his work Affluenza. (Webb actually calls the book Selfish Capitalism, leading me to wonder if she actually read the book or just the Guardian review.) According to Webb, "affluenza" is "a miserable psychological syndrome growing out of conspicuous
consumption in a never-ending drive to keep up with
neighbours/colleagues/whoever, and cueing mental illness."
Webb goes on to wonder whether psychologists like James are really pioneers of these concepts or if we could get deeper enlightenment opening up a good novel or two. As example, Webb cites Sloan Wilson, JG Ballard, Shakespeare and, of course, Richard Yates as writers who blazed the affluenza trail years ago and argues that these authors convey "how [affluenza and other social ills] affect us better than any clinician could."
But what really catches me in the post is the central theme Webb chooses to take from Yates Revolutionary Road: "It portrays the stifling corporate conformity of the fifties, and
centres on the deep frustrations and thwarted desires of characters
Frank and April Wheeler."
To steal a line from my friend Nicole: "Mirror, mirror."
I guess to a reformed office worker such as Webb, Yates' masterpiece contains a lesson on how corporate life can drag down a would-be artist (or a thinkin' man like ol' Frank who doesn't even know what his talent is). Conversely, to a creative office worker, who might have already turned away from the full-time artist life as impractical, Revolutionary Road could be a lesson on how second rate artists such as April -- and what rate is Frank? Fifth? -- fool themselves into thinking the world deserves to choke down their mediocre creative output.
And that, to me, is the beauty of Revolutionary Road (and even Easter Parade, for that matter): It's a mirror that's one-size-fits-all.
We're all not as talented as we imagine. Whatever path we take could be -- and probably will be -- met with failure. And we're not fooling anybody, if we think otherwise.
