This is a book I wouldn't have picked up on my own. It's going on twenty years old, it's by an author I hadn't read, and the whole idea of reading more stuff about Elvis (or worse, the phenomenon of Elvis impersonators) would've initially felt like a waste of time. But my brother talked to me about the book, and then he gave it to me, and then I read the synopsis and some reviews and realized the author, P.F. Kluge, had some strong credits and at least one other book, Eddie and the Cruisers, I did recognize (because it was made into a movie I saw). So I dove in. And I'm thankful that I did. The story--part adventure, part suspense, part mystery, part romance, part sociological study, part cultural analysis, part commentary on ugly Americans (individually and institutionally) and the fact that the ugliness isn't restricted to Americans, part condemnation of the exploitation of women, but at its heart a tale of friendship and perseverance--pulled me right in and kept a hold on me all the way through.In the beginning the setting is what got my attention. For the most part the story takes place in Olongapo, the Philippines, a place I had the opportunity (if you can call it that) to visit when I was in the Navy many years ago. It was a wild place, a town built by and around the U.S. military. It may not have been the original sin city, but it had a reputation as the biggest. Hookers, bright lights, forbidden back streets, gambling, mugging, hookers, STD's, bar fights, liquor, rock and roll, and hookers. Next to it, Las Vegas was a kiddie playground at the local park. When we left port there was a long line of guys with long faces outside sick bay, hoping to get some pills for the mysterious urinary tract infection they'd picked up just recently.But aside from relating my memories of the place to the Olongapo so vividly brought to life by Kluge's writing, I was carried along by the characters. Biggest Elvis and his two co-impersonators are strongly developed and brought to life and differentiated. They're sympathetic despite their faults. They're trying to figure out life and their place in it while trying to deal with it at the same time. They learn. They grow. They change. And the author doesn't neglect the tier of characters just below the big three, and the tier just below that one, even though there are lots of characters. The father figures and manipulators and exploiters, the downtrodden, the abused, the victims, the sailors, the laborers and servants and musicians and bar girls and good girls and people with scruples and people with none.There was an overriding tendency among the real-life sailors who walked the garishly lighted, loud, smelly, streets of Olongapo, whether they were fresh out of high school and looking for their first sexual experience or a mid-thirties married lifer renewing old acquaintances, to lump the so-called take out girls all together in one sorry category--a homogenous product, all the same, something to use and put back on the shelf. But in Biggest Elvis, Kluge does a wonderful job of bringing these women (girls, in most cases) to life as individuals. Each has her own story, her own likes, dislikes, aptitudes, goals, her own reason for doing what she's doing, her own level of pride and self-respect despite her job and station in life. Under his telling, they become humanized and sympathetic and the shame we feel isn't for them it's for the systems, the U.S. and their own government, that exploited them. But even these women have their limits. They're used to adversity and standing on their own two feet, and once they've made it obvious that they're not just marching-in-lockstep objects, all they need is a little help from their friends.You may not connect with this story as I did. But the writing is exceptional, the story is engaging and unique, and the characters are memorable.
P.F. Kluge is a magician. He can pick you up and plop you down anywhere in the world with a few well-chosen words. In this trick, he transports you to Olongapo-- the world's biggest brothel. Kluge tells the story from the perspective of three Elvis impersonators (and others as well), which gives the book a vivid and intimate feel. It is simultaneously a mystery, a love story and a slice of history--told with such humor and compassion that you will be enthralled from the first word to the last.In Biggest Elvis, three unlikely Elvis impersonators wind up in the Philippines with their tripartite act: Elvis as a young man ("Baby Elvis," a rather thick young man who has had only one idea in his life), Elvis as a disenchanted, leather-clad sell-out ("Dude Elvis," who dreams of being a movie star), and, finally, Elvis as an overweight, drug-ridden has-been ("Biggest Elvis," a burnt-out college professor). The trio has high hopes for bookings in "familiar" places (Europe, America), but instead they land in Olongapo, a small town that serves Subic Bay Naval Base, America's largest military installation. Where there are sailors there are prostitutes. And, as the three unwitting Elvises discover, where there are lots of sailors, there are lots of prostitutes.It is the interplay (no pun intended) between a half dozen beautiful Filipina prostitutes and the Elvis act that forms the heart of the plot. But while Baby Elvis discovers true love, and Dude Elvis winds up with a somewhat dubious version of his lifetime ambition, Biggest Elvis lands in the midst of an insurrection. As he encounters history in the making, Biggest Elvis is transformed from being a fat, ineffectual ex-professor, to an icon, and, eventually, a target. The question is: Who wants to kill Biggest Elvis, and why?What is so appealing about this book is that Kluge manages to combine truly memorable characters and an engaging plot with Philippine history. No,it is really our history he's talking about. The Philippines were America's first true colony, and housed our largest military base, which was key to winning the War in the Pacific during WWII, and acted as a jumping-off point for all our further (questionable) military operations in the region. If we want to understand ourselves as an empire, we really should know more about the Philippines. I am embarrassed to say that I don't, although with Kluge as my guide, and Elvis as my inspiration, I intend to. Thank you Mr. Kluge.
What do You think about Biggest Elvis (1997)?
Interesting book. I read this because it was recommended by Nancy Pearl in Book Lust: Recommended Reading for Every Mood, Moment, and Reason. I'm really glad I did. I thoroughly enjoyed it. This book about Elvis impersonators was not what I would call funny. I would say that like the whole Elvis phenomenon it was funny/sad. This book reminded me of my one and only visit to Graceland. The whole thing was corny/funny/sad/even a little creepy but when we got to the jungle room, I was still like "Wow! Its the jungle room!" That said this book really has very little to do with Elvis and a lot to do with Americans and Americana. A memorable book. A great title Ms. Pearl was right!
—Michelle
Flash, size, indulgence. Both Elvis Presley and America are hard to ignore.The three ages of Elvis are on energetic display in "Biggest Elvis," P.F. Kluge's excellent novel set in a Philippines town that feels the influence — good and bad — of an American military presence. Former teacher Ward Wiggins is the "Biggest Elvis" of the title, a 40ish man of late-period Elvis girth who follows the Lane brothers, Chester ("Baby Elvis," the pure, rockin', energetic early years) and Albert ("Dude" Elvis, the glitzy movie years) in a three-pronged Elvis act that becomes the toast of Olongapo, Philippines. The Elvis impersonators aren't the only ones swiveling their hips at the rechristened Graceland, a club they've put on the map. The "Elvises" and their relationship with a group of Graceland lovelies who service, in every way, the sailors from the nearby U.S. naval base forms the core of this novel. The women's fathers may live off the land, but the daughters live off the fleet.As a character in the book says: "What happened at Graceland symbolized the whole sick thing: Americans with beers in one hand, money in the other, standing unsteadily while a beautiful nation went down on its knees."Told alternately by the three Elvises, the man who brought their act together, Graceland's female manager, one of the Graceland girls and a local priest, what the format of the novel loses in structured momentum it gains in insight. To the priest, Biggest Elvis in particular is another priest in the neighborhood, one whose magnetism he feels is hurting the town.As the act grows in popularity, some people think Elvis has to go.The premise sounds fun — and it is — but Kluge usually has more serious issues in mind than a hunka hunka burnin' Elvis. His tackling of the relationship between the Americans and the Filipinos is intricate and moving. The coda to this baby initially seems like an encore that goes on too long, but after it's all over, you realize how much you love it.You don't have to be an Elvis fan to warm to "Biggest Elvis." Kluge has created something very special here.
—Tim
