I’ve read most of Percy’s other books—my favorites being Love in the Ruins and The Moviegoer (with a special fondness for his venture into semiotics and philosophy, Message in the Bottle)—but all this took place more than 25 years ago, and my recollections are hazy. The later novels (Second Coming and Lancelot went down easily, as I recall, but left me wanting), so I was not sure what to expect of this last (?) novel, read so many years after my last Percy experience.The voice and the setting were similar to those I’d encountered before, and that was in itself a pleasure. Percy’s voice is soothing, whether as a first- or third-person narrator, and the Parrish regionalism is a specialty of his that makes it clear you’re in his neck of the woods and no other.As the novel came up on its climactic showdown at the Bel Ame school, I recollected the strange discontent I felt in reading Smilla’s Sense of Snow when it was still hot off the presses. That novel began promisingly with a strong and poetic voice, an interesting character, and a beguiling and curious perspective, but then it led from a simple tragedy to some horrendously grandiose and preposterous conspiracy with life-changing consequences for all of humanity. I felt betrayed by that book, and I felt to a lesser extent betrayed by Percy’s novel in pretty much the same way. The Bel Ame portion of the book, its revelations of pedophilia, and all of the machinery involved in getting to that point just went too far, and I longed for the simpler reality of the Moviegoer’s Binx Bolling, one where well-drawn characters like Bob Comeaux, John Van Dorn, Tom More, Lucy Lipscomb, Rinaldo Smith, and the Uncle (and minor characters like Hudeen, Chandra, Vergil, et al.) could move in more quotidian circumstances.Hovering over Feliciana is Father Rinaldo Smith, ensconced in a tower 100 feet above the ground, on the lookout for fires, a volunteer job that comes to take up 100% of his time when the hospice he directed is shut in favor of “the qualitarian center” which practices in the name of “quality of life” euthanasia on terminal children and adults. Father Smith possesses the vision of what will come of this change in his personal encounters with German eugenics before and during WWII. The novel’s narrator, Tom More, like his saintly namesake, is offered a chance to exculpate and even sanctify the changes he and Father Smith see are taking place in Feliciana. He’s returned to his home after a two-year hitch in prison, which he served for illegal mass sale of drugs for truckers (both uppers and downers), and he’s noticed that there’s something different about people, including his wife. There’s something in the water, he concludes, after some skullduggery with his cousin Dr. Lucy Lipscomb (and assistance old family friend Vergil) reveals that waste water from the nuclear reactor is contaminated with heavy sodium (Na 24) and is being diverted into areas of Feliciana, including the prison and NIH complex housing the qualitarian center.Robert Comeaux and John Van Dorn are both behind a covert scheme to alter the brain chemistry of people at a macro level, much as fluoridation was introduced in the 50s to reduce tooth decay. By introducing trace levels of heavy sodium in the drinking water, they have observed a positive drop in crime of all sorts and signs of improved general mental health. Comeaux and Van Dorn both try to bring Tom More into the program, but he continues throughout the novel to balk, until finally he controls the cards (after the showdown at the Bel Ame school), and he dictates terms that will restore everything in the community to a pre-Na 24 state.Essentially the novel is presenting a case against tampering chemically/organically/eugenically with man’s inherent nature. There are lessons to be learned from such attempts in the past, and Percy extrapolates to another time and setting (the present, in Feliciana) to illustrate the unintended consequences of such an endeavor. Again, I lament that such an engaging narrator, several interesting characters, engrossing regional observations, and some amusing and all-too-human interactions are being put to such a purpose in this humanistic parable.
Not exactly what you'd expect from Walker Percy, and the GoodReads write-up doesn't begin to give you a sense of what this book is about (for starters, it's published in the '80s so someone should fix that blurb!), The Thanatos Syndrome sounds like a Ludlum novel from the get-go and reads a little like one, too, although a less-forumulaic Ludlum novel penned by a far more literary author.I read it in Nepal back in 1988, a brand-new paperback sent to me by Tom Yates that I sold off a few weeks later when I was done to a second-hand book seller in Thamel for a few rupees to buy apple pie and daal bhaat.Today, I remember little about the novel, other than the drinking water supply of a town in Louisiana being tainted with chemicals resulting in highly sexualized behavior by otherwise not-so sexual individuals.Pages were turned and details rapidly forgotten, and these three stars are really based on nothing more than a favorable impression that has lasted with me over the past three decades. So read it if you like. I don't care. I'd actually say it's better than The Moviegoer, but there's probably no one else in the world who'd agree with me. I don't know what was wrong with me when I read The Moviegoer, but I just did not like that book at all...
What do You think about The Thanatos Syndrome (1999)?
I've never seen dialogue like this. It's so smart--so full of subtext--and funny at the same time. Dr. More, the protagonist, tells the story, adding ample details and freely giving his guesses about people and their intentions. But in his interactions with other characters, he keeps his mouth shut. He takes abuse from them. When people talk nonsense or start (intentionally) revealing information about their inner selves, he responds with a reserved, "I see." I kept turning page after page, stumbling over myself to get to the next word, just to keep hearing him speak. It was a wonderful last novel for Percy--he went out with a bang.
—Joe Walls
I've spent time with select essays by Walker Percy and benefited from them very much, still do, as a matter of fact, so I felt it about time to read one of his novels. The story is tightly woven and intricate. He also does a superb job of gliding us into the ending, which, was brilliant in my opinion. My only minor criticism is that it was hard for me, despite his depth of knowledge and lived experience of the area, to fully realize and imagine the Louisiana of the story. I know that's a small contention, but he writes about the place with such detail and sometimes lost me in spending too much time placing me there. Other than that, though, I am greatly enjoying the afterthoughts of the book and his agenda as a thinker, the thoughts he managed to weave into the tale without himself as the essayist/thinker getting in the way. I'll definitely be looking into more of his novels.
—Jamie Grefe
This is the second Walker Percy I've read, and I think I liked it better than the first one I read (The Second Coming)(although I don't remember the rating I gave that one). It's a very quick read and very plot-driven, although still manages to hit on quite a few philosophical/ethical issues. I will warn the reader, toward the end the story gets very very dark and there is a bit of disturbing imagery. However, Percy manages to capture both the depravity and redemption that humans experience quite well. He is a master of writing dialogue: the kind of conversations that were so snappy sometimes I had to go back and make sure I knew which character was talking. I would recommend this book to fans of Southern Fiction or people who like novels that explore ethics (in this case specifically medical ethics).
—Scarlett Sims
