the beard – andersen prunty

Andersen Prunty has a style I really like, and I’m not afraid to admit that. While so far I’ve only read one of his other books, Zerostrata, I feel I can comfortably order the rest of his collection without fear. Especially after reading The Beard.

Plotwise, it’s a funky one. Basically, a young boy witnesses his grandfather being abducted by a herd of elephants in a scene I really really liked. I, too, could smell the elephants and I will never look at a storm in quite the same way again. He grows up with aspirations of being a writer, however his single manuscript is rejected so he decides instead to grow a beard. Returning home, he is confronted with his mother’s death and the revelations his father may not be his father but an imposter (imposters are a common theme in this novel), who convinces him he must go to the mystical island of the Nefarions to return a sacred flame his grandfather had stolen from them in hope that might appease them and thus earn the lifting of the family curse. The trip is, quite literally, a trip, and it was dealt out with masterful prose in a quiet and near-dreamlike manner which suited the book’s use of naps and sleep as a central theme.

Along his travels, our hero journeys through some strange towns, cities and states. He is witness to some truly interesting moments while being pursued by his own imposter and two other mutants from the island of the Nefarions. Accompanied only by the man he thought was his father who may not be but could be his father or an imposter of his father (just go with it), and at one stage a nice dwindling team of bodyguards, he discovers not just resolution to the family curse, but a resolution of the spirit which may allow him to live his life as he is comfortable.

This summary, of course, does absolutely no justice whatsoever to the book. Mister Prunty’s gentle voice lulls you into accepting the surreality of his world despite the often macabre imagery he conjures. A scene involving a lawnmower in a field of grass springs to mind as one which I could see in my head and made me feel a little more afraid of fields than I already am. They’re spooky things at the best of times, and so I can only thank Mister Prunty for keeping me strictly a cityboy for the rest of my life.

The recurring naps in the book made me feel more comfortable and I found myself feeling like a leaf flowing down a river. Even if sometimes the river seemed to twist in a strange way, I didn’t really mind because I was floating along quite nicely – all things considered. Something he says about naps also resonated quite nicely with me and my own philosophy on laziness, and that was a brief moment where our hero, David, nods off while his father/imposter/father is driving. He wakes to find his driver, too, has nodded off and the car is sitting there idling while they both snooze. He doesn’t really consider waking him as “It was rare to find another person with such an affinity for napping. I could have awoken him but, for the nappers of the world, sleep is a sacred thing that should never be interrupted except in cases of life and death.” I could use that as a near-biblical quote to base my life on, really. It’s second only to a quote from one of my favourite movies where the main character is told to get a job and responds with, “Who’s got the time? I’m already busy doing nothing.”

My wife had to listen to me tell her all about this book and she immediately began telling me about a favourite anime of hers, Kino’s Journey. I find this genre of literature to be very akin to the more surreal anime out there, and I think that’s a good thing. Surreality is a brush which needs using more often I think. Too often books these days compete to be ultra-real. That level of reality I think just makes for a boring book. You might as well go and watch the news on tv. Or a documentary. Books are the last bastion for all-enveloping creativity – a place where the writer can take the reader on a journey unavailable in any other medium and so, for me, reality is a waste of my time. I get enough reality at work. When I read, I want to escape to somewhere else.

Mister Prunty has firmly grasped this goal, run with it, scored a touchdown, then kept running out of the stadium with the ball. Good on him, I say. I hope he never turns back. Mister Prunty, if you read this – the hounds of Hell are on your heels! Don’t look back! Run, sir! Run like you’ve never run before!

I loved this book. I loved its feel, its pace and its imagery. I also loved the final lines of the book which I would love to quote for you but won’t, so you don’t have it ruined for you. It gave me chills of Dr Seuss and Spike Milligan. Let’s just say it’s another one of those phrases you can take to the bank and deposit it to see how much interest you can make on it.

I bet it’d be a lot.

Tags: andersen prunty, assassins, dreams, imposters, lazy heroes, surreality