I grabbed Tales of the South Pacific because it was the first novel given the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. That the fiction prize was previously called the "novel" prize dating back to 1917 was news to me when I started this task. Because of this realization, my blog is off to a shaky chronological start and I just added 50 books to my task. My Decade in Litzs.
I had never heard of the author or book. Michener himself served in the Pacific theater during World War II, and used his experiences and conversations to create this novel. My literature experience to the European side of World War II stops at Catch-22. The rest is filled in by a good number of films and television series. I don't think I'll count video games.
If I were alive in the 50's or attentive to Broadway musicals I would have known that the novel was turned into a popular musical. They chose certain stories from the many in the book and increased the attention to racism.
I don't suppose you could make a popular musical (or movie) dealing with the empty space before a battle. A small quote from the beginning of the book illustrates this major theme of the book:
"Why, hell!" the major snorted. "Seems all he did was sit on his ass and wait!"
"That's exactly it!" I cried, happy to find at least someone who knew what I was talking about.
The book consists of 19 short stories that often have recurring characters.
A large-scale attack on the island of Kuralei is being planned, but in the meantime the soldiers must wait. For the snob Bill Harbison, waiting means courting and breaking the hearts of nurses for kicks. Tony Fry passes his time in leisure and reflection. A simple man named Joe avoids trouble, has an emotional line thrown to him, and finds it quickly and mercilessly severed. Another man, Joe Cable, finds a mutual infatuation with a beautiful native girl but is unable to fully commit to love and loses her. Several commanding officers take their down-time jobs very seriously and crack down heavily on all soldiers, deserving or not. Some of these officers earn respect in this way, some of them are hated.
In the last 20 pages the invasion on Kuralei plays out, with our narrator describing the action from a distant boat (not necessarily out of harm's way). The deaths are brief and the victory is difficult. In the end, the narrator spends time in a graveyard amongst the fallen heroes, thinking on the loss of good men and if they could ever be replaced.
Notable Characters
Having admitted that Catch-22 is the extent of my World War II literature knowledge (I doubt the sequel, Closing Time, counts), I would consider Tony Fry to be a realistic counterpart Yossarian. I immensely enjoyed Yossarian in the books and even the film, but have yet to meet someone with his dedicated detachment. Tony Fry, like Yossarian, does not care about rank or orders, but does, however, care deeply about his fellow soldier.
He is first introduced as the relaxed officer on the island of Norfolk. An admiral wants an airstrip put in, but the only place available would require the downing of the only green part of the island: great pine trees dating hundreds of years old. The natives (descendants of the mutinous crew of the HMS Bounty), of course, don't want this to happen. When some of the trees are excavated, the only working bulldozers are sabotaged. Tony Fry's reaction is a shrug.
Later we hear of an Australian soldier hiding out on a Japanese occupied island, radioing in daily to spoil any surprise attack the Japanese have planned. Tony Fry becomes obsessed about this soldier and tries to pry into what makes Remittance Man risk his life for such a feat. At first annoying his superior officer, he eventually connects deeply with him over the great Austrialian soldier's sacrifice.
Tony Fry is a fine example of how to survive and even grow to love the downtime before battle. Unfortunately, in the end Tony Fry dies in the battle at Kuralei. His death is contrasted with the continued living of Bill Harbison, the creep who felt his talents wasted while waiting for battle, but cowered out to safety. Tony Fry may not have respected rank, but when the time for brave and decisive action was needed he was one of the good men for the occasion.
Favorite Passage
When he arrived at the camp the chaplain was waiting for him. The padre was a Catholic and Joe was a Methodist, but they were friends. The chaplain's business was brief. Alice Baker had been killed. An auto accident. Her sister sent the news.
The padre had never heard of Alice Baker. All he knew was that a human being of greater or less importance to some other human being was dead. No message could transcend that. He cast about for words, which never seemed to be available for such emergencies. The day was hot. Sweat ran down Joe's face until it looked like tears. "Brave people are dying throughout the world," the chaplain said. "And brave people live after them." There was nothing more to say. Joe sat looking at the priest for a few minutes and then left.
He went into the brilliant sunlight. Glare from the airstrip was intense. Even the ocean was hot. Joe looked at the waves whose beauty Luther Billis had discovered. They came rippling toward the rock in the overwhelming monotony. Joe counted them. One, two, three! They were the months he had been on the rock. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. That was when he had met Luther Billis. Seventeen, eighteen. The yeoman had committed suicide. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. Alice Baker had become his girl. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty seven. They were all the same, one after the other, like the dreary months.
Joe dropped his head in his hands. A girl he had never seen. A funny town he had never visited. "I want to get out of here," he muttered to himself. "I got to get out of here!"
Conclusion
Charles Dickens had a way of making a bland main character/narrator and then rounding off the rest of the cast with very colorful characters. I have always felt that this mild main character gave the story a detachment from both the action and the rest of the characters in the story. As readers we weren't able to go into the depths of the main character's heart and our empathy and imaginations are only sparked when they ran into their eccentric friends/foes.
I make no secret of my love for the works of Dostoevsky or for Moby Dick. Dosteovsky looks as far into a man's heart as possible, and I've never read anything more exhaustive and satisfying than Mellvile's book about a fish. These books are about very specific situations and people . I tend to agree with Roger Ebert in the below quote:
One human life, closely observed, is every one's life. In the particular is the universal. Empathy is the feeling that most makes us human.
When I reached Guadal I found that all the heroes were somewhere farther up the line. And while I sat in the safety aboard the LCS-108 I knew where the heroes were. They were on Kuralei. Yet, on the beach itself only a few men ever really fought the Japs. I suddenly realized that from the farms, and towns, and cities all over America an unbroken line ran straight to the few who storm the blockhouses. No matter where along that line you stood, if you were not the man at the end of it, the ultimate man with his sweating hands upon the blockhouse, you didn't know what war was. You had only an intimation, as of a bugle blown far into the distance. You might have flashing insights, but you did not know. By the grace of God you would never know.
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