I just finished the 1987 apocalyptic doorstopper of a novel, Swan Song by Robert McCammon.
My first thought:
As 80s as Chuck Norris stabbing a dirty commie.
If any one piece of literature embodied the pop-culture zeitgeist of a particular decade, it is this novel. This book could not be more eighties if it was sporting a mullet and fronting for Van Halen. It’s eighties like a block of government cheese, leg warmers, and slasher movies on VHS. Don’t believe me? Let me list some of the elements we’re introduced to:
- The homeless bag lady.
- The pro wrestler.
- The crazy ‘Nam veteran.
- The computer nerd who’s into gaming so much he has trouble distinguishing the game from reality.
- A fleet of homemade armor-plated cars straight out of the Road Warrior.
- The Cold War, natch.
- At least one Rubik’s cube.
My second thought:
The book is enjoyable, but I suspect those with a more sfnal bent may have some substantial problems with it. It works as an apocalyptic fever-dream, or an extended allegory, but if you try to bring any real-world logic to the proceedings after the bombs drop, your brain will hurt. (Example: If you know anything about dressing game, the wolf-hunting scene makes about as much sense as the turkey dinner scene in Eraserhead, and has a similar effect on the audience. ) One of the points to the book seems to be the nuclear war creates a literal hell-on-earth, and everything from physics to biology seems to be twisted to this purpose. In this sense, it may almost qualify as a proto work of bizarro fiction.
