High Energy

When I first read Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test some decades ago I thought of it as a self-indulgent, repetitively sloppy piece of writing. Meretriciously clever enough to capture something of the spirit of 'hippy-culture' circa 1964, of which I knew next to nothing. I know a little bit more of that culture now from other sources, and I know enough about what it takes to create a world through words to appreciate that I was completely wrong about Wolfe as a writer.

His book is painstakingly crafted and, I suspect, very carefully researched. I can't be entirely certain of the latter but the signs are there. The shifting points of view can be traced to individual participants in the on-going saga of the Merry Pranksters when Wolfe is not around and, when he is, everything rings true regarding his limited participation in and understanding of the culture Kesey and his companions were consciously building. (Not one to last, I may add.) As for the style, once the reader is accustomed to the various devices adopted to re-create the mental atmosphere or subjective reality of it I suppose it starts to look lazy since the acid-head perspective on the world doesn't really change in its broad outlines. But the nuanced detail does shift and there are changes in tone and the geography of events which, reading the text closely as I don't think I did way back when, are substantial. 

What is astonishing about Wolfe's book is the sheer energy it manifests, almost over-poweringly at times. As a reader you have to bring a similar level of energy to reading closely. It's temptingly easy to skip the lists, obsessive as they are, but to do so means you are on the surface of this world and can never get inside the minds of the young people Wolfe tries to open for us. And being open & non-judgmental is something he's supremely good at. Does he admire Kesey? Does he despise him? Does he think he's deluded? Genuinely illuminated?

Was Wolfe right to build his narrative around his fellow writer? I think time has vindicated that decision. And the narrative, for there is one, is beautifully shaped, I've come to realise. 

Final point, or, rather, pointed question: Why are American writers so good at energy?