Colors Insulting to Nature

The snake has at last swallowed its own tail and postmodern fiction has found a defining moment. Literature found postmodernism in 1961 with Thomas Pynchon's novel, V, and is characterized by an indistinction between high and low art, parody and irony, celebration of ambiguity, regurgitation and assimilation of previously original work, a preoccupation with the organization of knowledge (not what you know, but how you know it), and a rebellion against consumer capitalism. As such, Cintra Wilson's novel, Colors Insulting to Nature (HarperCollins 2004), serves as a sort of meta-postmodern fiction. From the moment 10-year-old Liza Normal is awestruck by the movie Ice Castles, she dreams of the glory of stardom. Unfortunately, Liza is not the sort of girl who becomes famous. Vulgar in both looks and personality, Liza is saddles with a maniacally ambitious stage mother and devoid of any marketable talent. Propelled through her mother's bizarre homegrown performing arts boot camp, her stage debut in The Sound of Music is an unqualified disaster that serves only to label Liza a freak at her suburban San Francisco high school. But Liza has one talent of which she is not aware - an indomitable ability to bounce back fighting from any setback or humiliation no matter how devastating by sheer force of will. Through failed love affairs, drug experimentation, New Age religious adventures, and searing rejection, Liza finally discovers that she is a much stronger and better person than the starlet she thought she wanted to be. Colors Insulting to Nature is easily one of the funniest black comedies of the last decade. The entire price of the book in hardcover is alone worth the deconstruction of the 1978 smarm-fest that was Ice Castles (Columbia TriStar Pictures). I challenge anyone to get through Liza's trials at her mother's summer theatre camp without laughing hard enough to wet themselves. The camp's delightfully bizarre production of The Sound of Music is Barbara Robinson's The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (HarperCollins 1972) for grown-ups. Wilson's novel is certainly metafiction. Self-conscious narrative interruptions point out the reader's expectation of particular plot devices. Wilson uses this brilliantly to mock the very same tortured tango that she herself is dancing. Liza story contains subtlely hideous intimations of modern Hollywood's best-known templates - not just Ice Castles, but Carrie (by Stephen King, published by Random House in 1974 and adapted for film in 1976 by Lawrence D. Cohen), Pretty Woman (Touchstone Pictures 1989), and The Wizard of Oz (by L. Frank Baum, self-published in 1900 and adapted for film in 1939 by MGM Studios), among others. Despite Wilson's unapologetic inflations of reality, Liza is an utterly human, sympathetic, and believable character. Her indestructibility masks such a completely credible vulnerability that it's impossible for anyone with a heart not to have it break for her even as we're gasping with laughter

While in a drunken depression, Peppy Normal discovers her life-path from the movie Fame. She'll enroll her children in the New York High School of Performing Arts--on their way to become celebrities. Their modest talent didn't matter--she'd incorporated the lessons of the movie deeply into her life. Unfortunately, that also meant inflicting them on her daughter, Liza. The first step toward New York was, perversely, in the opposite direction--to California. There Peppy opens the Normal Dinner Theater (where dinner was never served) and dresses pre-Freshman Liza like a tramp to take her to auditions and cattle-calls. With this background, Liza grows up (to the extent her aging process can be called growing up) confused and waiting for that one magical break. A colony of elves teaches her to use drugs to help the breakthrough and she tries this. While her brother retreats into himself, Liza takes the opposite course, finally ending up in L.A. in an ultimate moment of degradation and humiliation. The one thing she finds that she can make money at has no appeal to her. She wants to be a famous singer--no matter how modest her talent. Author Cintra Wilson teases the reader with author notes, and sends us on a roller-coaster rides of laugh-out-loud humor (certainly the performance of Sound of Music qualifies) and dark depression. The curse of fame and the easy myths that Hollywood perpetuates conspire to keep Liza from enjoying the few good things that do happen to her--there's always hope of that big break just around the corner. Wilson's writing style is conversational, engaging the reader. Her characters are definitely over-the-top, but Liza's horrible high school experience will ring true with many readers, and who hasn't toyed with the notion that they are only a discovery away from being a star. COLORS INSULTING TO NATURE is a fascinating and highly readable novel. I recommend it.

Peppy Normal is a bit eccentric and she becomes obsessed with the movie "Fame." Somehow, she believes if she could just get her two children, Lisa and her shy brother Ned, into the New York City High School of the Performing Arts, then their lives will he set. So she does the most logical thing, from her point of view, and moves to California to start her off spring in training for their eventual audition for the school. She buys an aging farmhouse and converts it into a theater with the helps of some gay friends, Mike and Ike. Then she starts up a summer drama camp for kids. Ned hates performing and eventually winds up as a reclusive artist, but Liza takes to the stage like a duck to water, however she isn't very good. Don't tell her that, though, because she's bought into her mother's dream hook, line and sinker. Liza's life turns into a journey through the subcultures that surround Hollywood and its edges, but close as she might get, she isn't ever able to grab that brass ring called fame. However she manages to keep hope alive, her dream too, for over a decade, despite sex, drugs and rock and roll, she plugs on. Despite horrible performances and the laughter of her peers, she plugs on. Despite the parade of one wrong man after another, she plugs on. Despite it all, she does not give up. Does she eventually get there? I can't say, that would be telling, but I will tell you this, Cintra Wilson has written a non-stop, laugh a paragraph book stuffed with so many chuckles that you'd think you were kidnapped and being held captive in The Laugh Zone, sort of a Bill Cosby, Jackie Gleasen, Robin Williams version of the Twilight Zone. You just have to read this book.

The profuoundly gifted Cintra Wilson is the Roland Spring of modern cultural criticism--"rare, supreme and without context, like a zebra born in an abandoned grocery store." Certain writers are so adept at language and acute in their observations on life, and the modern world, you find yourself unconsciously imitiating their form of expression--not because you want to steal their thunder but because their prose is so resonant and inspiring that it's subliminally altered your consciousness. Although very few can do it as gracefully and with such rapier wit as Wilson. I've only read a few essays from _A Massive Swelling_ previously, but I was similarly stunned at the breadth of her pop culture savvy and her strikingly original, eloquent and hilarious writing style. I was so sad when the novel ended, I'll need to begin reading the essay collection as soon as possible. _Colors Insulting to Nature_ is a scathing yet deeply heartfelt story of a moderately, if unexceptionally, talented teen would-be chanteuse with ambitions of fame bordering on Faustian--willing, in effect, to sell nearly every molecule of self-respect she's been dubiously endowed with by her boozy, self-absorbed and delusional train wreck of a mother. Peppy Normal's parenting skills are questionable to say the least, but she does manage to pass on to Liza the legacy of dreams and values gleaned directly from sappy/"inspirational" movies, a masochistic bloodlust for attention in all its debasing forms, a desire to immerse oneself in the world of artifice, and a taste for garish eye makeup. A class-A vicarious-living stage mom, she tries to brutally impose the song-and-dance act on Liza's brother Ned, who is pathologically anxious, socially withdrawn and hopelessly uncoordinated. The narrative follows Liza, first wobbling precariously in ridiculous spike heels at 14; stomping defiantly in kickass steel-toed combat boots at 16; fluttering barefoot as a strung-out sprite in a hallucinogenic reverie at 21; and sauntering in dominatrix-lite fetish footwear at 23, down her pothole-addled Yellow Brick Road toward self-discovery (although the character would rightfully roll her eyes and spit out some type of withering invective at that statement). Her quest for true love is arguably even more tunnel-visioned than her quest for fame--and what is that longing for fame, really, except universal and unconditional acceptance and love?--which takes her through a number of wretchedly compelling affairs, from an adolescent love/hate banter with a wealthy young rogue to a slick hustler with a Pygmalion complex to a fallen boy-band idol, while she pines for her formative Ideal Object, the fantastically talented and magnetic Roland Spring, whose true, effortless star quality she emulates as much as envies. Liza, a deeply flawed but very sympathetic protagonist (and not just because this reviewer had similar, ahem, Star Search pretentions in the early 80's) suffers humilation upon humil

Even if I hadn't known Cintra for over ten years and enjoyed her previous work, I would still have loved this book. Liza speaks to that core of many of us who want only to be loved and admired and to feel like we fit in. I was as touched as much as I was amused by Liza's adventures, and the dead-on authenticity of the cultural backdrop contributed equally to the hilarity and the poignancy. For those who have yet to enjoy Cintra's style, imagine Hunter S. Thompson on a date with E. Jean Carroll (okay, don't imagine it) overdosing on truth serum, nitrous oxide and a pint of raw ether. Or maybe not. In any case, buy this book. You won't regret it.