Blonde; by Joyce Carol Oates; The Ecco Press; 738 pages; $27.50."Blonde," according to prolific novelist Joyce Carol Oates in her author's note, "is a radically distilled 'life' in the form of fiction." Using the historical record of the legendary Marilyn Monroe, Oates has gone a step beyond novelist -- she has imagined the inner spiritual life of Norma Jeane Baker, an unusually tragic figure, who died in 1962 at the age of 36.
Anyone who might be misled by the prodigious length of the book should quickly realize it is no biography. Oates studied almost everything she could get her hands on, but then she consciously changed or ignored so many factual details that even the most knowledgeable reader might be confused.
Originally intended as a short novel in Oates' series of novels about young American women, it grew to mammoth proportions by the time she finished. It must be said that it would have been a better book had it been significantly shorter. Yet its overwhelming, impressive impact would have been lessened.
The sheer rush from Norma Jeane's breathless voice, even in print, is surprisingly effective.
That is why it is so hard to realize it is not the true story of this movie icon. Rather, Oates tones down the factual part of the story, reducing ex-husbands like Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller to "the ex-athlete" and "the Playwright." The result is to make them seem more like symbolic figures than real people.
Oates actually softens much of the story, often allowing major crises in Norma Jeane's life to be symbolized into one. The effect becomes an emotional, runaway approach that seems stream-of-consciousness. Oates obviously identifies so strongly with her subject that she has poured her talent and her psyche into the project, determined to free the perpetually picked-on Norma Jeane from misunderstanding.
Oates' version of Marilyn is no bimbo.
The book reads best in the early "Norma Jeane" stage and becomes almost unmanageable in the latter part of the "Marilyn" stage. That is partly because the reader knows less about the younger years and therefore is less likely to quarrel with her assumptions. In the latter part, the reader is likely to feel the strange sensation of being manipulated by confusing, inaccurate details.
But one thing is always clear -- Oates is painting a picture not only of a woman who is wronged and mistreated by society -- by males in particular -- she is formulating the nature of the feminine ideal. Her intention is much more sweeping than to tell the sad story of a movie icon; she is focusing on Marilyn as "Everywoman." The terrible things that happened to Marilyn happen to every woman, even if the society at large doesn't realize it.
Oates desperately wants us to understand that.
There are many dark, disturbing portions of "Blonde," not the least of which is the incredibly harsh approach Oates takes with John F. Kennedy, one of the historical figures who is most easily identified. Most of us have a vague recollection of the sexy, tipsy Marilyn singing "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" at a gala in his honor. We also know of the various rumors of his sexual liaisons with Marilyn -- but Oates describes those liaisons in disturbing, graphic terms, not from documents, but from her imagination.
The reader is bound to be overcome by the astonishingly unfair circumstances that objectify every woman. Oates' cumbersome technique portrays Marilyn symbolically as victim for all women everywhere -- and because she was who she was -- it works.
You can reach Dennis Lythgoe by e-mail at dennis@desnews.com