Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is ostensibly about the comics industry, and in a sense it is: Chabon clearly has a real passion for the Golden Age of Comics and for comics in general, and he displays a true fan's casual knowledge of the most detailed minituae of that era. But in another sense, Chabon's novel is not really about the comics industry at all: instead, Chabon uses the Golden Age as a window into mid-twentieth-century America in general, and, true to Kavalier and Clay's status as a Great American Novel, a parade of Great American (and non-American) Figures passes through the novel, including Salvador Dali and Orson Welles.

I personally found those sections a little tiresome. When played for laughs, as in Forrest Gump, integrating real-world characters into a fictional novel can be an effective (if one-tone) joke. Played straight, however, such encounters feel unnecessary and even profligate, the waste of a perfectly good chapter (and dozens of paragraphs precedent and subsequent) waxing large on America and its progress through history, rather than on the adventures of the titutular protagonists.

It is in dealing with the story of Josef (Joe) Kavalier and Sam Clay, two cousins brought together when the Nazis drive Joe out of Europe, that this novel really shines. The story begins innocently enough, with Joe arriving in Sam's room one night, smelling of cigarette smoke and clutching all his worldly possessions in one hand. The two strike up a quick friendship and hit upon the optimistic scheme of making millions in the comics business, creating superheroes and (in one inspired moment) superheroines who will represent the secret aspirations of children and adults around the country. Their youthful enthusiasm could easily be the setup for a huge, crushing fall, but the first half of Chabon's novel admits no such adult pessimism: Joe and Sam's rise in the comics world is a beguilingly genial narrative, filled with many obstacles but no real disillusionment. The first half of the novel is almost a fantasy, in its own way, and Chabon charms the reader into a feeling of security in the strength and solidity of the framework supporting his two likeable protagonists.

Halfway through the novel, however, the team of Kavalier and Clay are struck by twin disasters that mark a turning point in the novel, a transformation from the almost tranquil first half to the harsher, more melancholy second half. It is a testament to Chabon's talent that he handles both halves of the novel with equal skill, drawing us deeply into the lives of his protagonists and helping us feel the world through their hearts. Chabon's characters are vivid, their motivations honest, and Chabon is just as honest in treating their eventual declines, letting the blows fall where they may rather than pulling punches that we would rather not see land home.

It helps that Chabon is a wonderful writer, neither flashy nor plain but with a smooth and easy-going style that occasionally sparkles with brilliance: he clearly delights in the craft of writing. Early in the novel comes an unexpectedly funny but appropriate line, one of my favorite from any novel: "Sammy had little direct experience of actresses but shared in the conventional notion that by and large they posessed the sexual mores of estrous chincillas." And somewhat later in the book, Chabon invokes a wonderful analogy: "This conviction was not something rational or even seriously believed, but somehow it was there, like some early, fundamental error in his understanding of geography--that, for instance, Quebec lay to the west of Ontario--which no amount of subsequent correction or experience could ever fully erase."

I suppose Kavalier and Clay is a coming-of-age story, both for Joe and Sam, as well as for America (though I liked Joe and Sam's story better). It is striking, however, how much this novel sees growing up as escape--from the Nazis, Brooklyn, or the harsh realities of life; and into comics, the relative security of denial, and (in one memorable if slightly out-of-place segment) Antarctica. In a sense the whole novel is about moving from escape to transformation, or acceptance of transformation--a theme that makes the conclusion, seemingly so hopeful, actually bittersweet.

There is a wonderful scene near the end where Joe and Sam meet after a lengthy separation. Their conversation is awkward, their inquiries into each other's health stilted and overly formal. (Chabon likes sentiment, but as I said he is brutally honest about reality.) You can nevertheless feel the love that connects the two, even after all the horrors and lesser disappointments that have been heaped upon them. The two may have changed dramatically since their first encounter in the cramped darkness of Sam's childhood bedroom, but this memorable novel will ensure that the team of Kavalier & Clay stay together for a long time yet.

Copyright © 2003 Steven Wu