Bookspot: Was

This is one of the saddest novels I have ever read. No one has a good time, except maybe Bill, and even then I'm not sure.

I'm obsessed with Oz, and via Oz I'm obsessed with fairy tales and children's stories.  Stories written for kids are invariably dark: full of wicked stepmothers, ravenous wolves and toys which come alive at night.  Often this is because these stories are intended to play a role in raising the children, and are important for teaching them safety and reinforcing social norms.  Jack Zipes suggests framing the story of Red Riding-Hood within that of puberty, she strays from the path her mother warned her to keep to and meets a terrifying creature, only to be rescued by the clean-cut woodsman, who will no doubt get a good degree, become and accountant and be a decent father to all the little baby Riding-Hoods.  The wolf on the other hand was probably a no-good high school drop out, he wouldn't treat Red Riding-Hood like the lady she is, and would probably end up wrapping his truck around a tree while sipping from a hip-flask, that is if he weren't just a character and hadn't been horribly cut down by the woodsman next door.

The land of Oz in L. Frank Baum's Oz books is not directly like the dark forest off the path.  Baum is keener to make points in his The Wonderful Wizard of Oz about America, about the Gold Standard, or about things not always being as they seem.  Dorothy is in Oz not because she has strayed from the path, but to learn more about family, simple aspirations and the importance home in another setting.  Books have a habit of having a life of one's own, and that's exactly what happened with Oz; this is how the darker elements are allowed to creep in.

To begin at the most familiar point: the 1939 MGM movie.  A simple internet search will dig up a decent amount of dirt about the film: the shenanigans of the Munchkins; the silver paint poisoning the original Tin Man; Margaret Hamilton catching fire, to name a few.  Was picks up on this by allowing Judy Garland herself to be one of the characters.  Judy doesn't get the opportunity to speak plainly often about herself; it's clear that 'Judy Garland' is her own construct, a construct that allows her to get though the day, but her very presence there, the presence of this young woman shoehorned into a child's role, her breasts strapped down to aid the disguise, which allows us a glimpse into the some of the miseries on set and behind the scenes.

Judy is one of three characters we focus on, another is Dorothy herself, the third is Jonathan: a flighty actor who reveals in the first few paragraphs that he is dying.  Jonathan has made his name playing a Mort, a long running killer in a slasher series, but is unable to settle in more high-profile roles, until he is offered a chance to play the Scarecrow in an Oz production.

The 'real' Dorothy Gael described in the book, who goes on to meet L. Frank Baum and inspire his tale, does not have the simple but happy life of enjoyed by her fictional self.  Beyond their shared recognition of Kansas as the greyest of places, there is not much that Dorothies Gael and Gale have in common.  Aunt Em has married beneath herself and Uncle Henry is not the hard-working farmer of the children's story.  Dorothy Gael's life is hard, and I'm not sure after reading Was if the character Baum has done her a kindness or a disservice in rendering her story in a fantasy.  In this case the dark forest beyond the path is much, much darker in real life than it ever could be in Oz. 

The overall effect of reading Was is one of deep sadness, occasionally tinged with touches of magic.  For all the horror she lives through, Dorothy regularly glimpses moments of the fantastic, Judy Garland has her make-up and show lights, and Jonathan on his arrival at Manhattan airport is transfixed by the MAGIC DZ.  Even Bill, who may or may not be happy, is touched by it and longs to have a deeper understanding of the magic, in the way that Jonathan does. 

All of these people, all of these stories intertwined: all because of a little girl in Kansas.  It could be hokey or twee, but I'm glad to say it isn't.  Geoff Ryman will certainly be on my to read more of list, and not just because of the Oz obsession.  Although even at the age of nearly thirty, just the thought of Margaret Hamilton as the Wicked Witch of the West sends a shiver down my spine!