The Overton Window: More Poodle Than Panther
The most surprising aspect of Glenn Beck’s novel The Overton Window is the banality of its politics. Coming from an entertainer whose trademark is blackboard diagrams connecting Nazism, the Lincoln penny, Woodrow Wilson, and the impending destruction of America by organizations promoting social justice, and with a back cover promise “to be as controversial as it is eye-opening,” in the end the book posits nothing more than a boilerplate conspiracy run by an evil New York public relations magnate. Could Beck have taken on a less controversial player? Perhaps he initially considered risking everything by vilifying Wall Street bankers, or telemarketers, or child molesters, before gritting his teeth and pledging his life, his fortune, and his sacred honor to outing such a powerful and well-defended foe.
But on second thought, Beck’s choice of conspiracy villain makes a kind of sense. After all, has Beck ever gone after a player who could actually hit back? Whether it’s a politically powerless organization like ACORN or the Tides Group; a peripheral bureaucrat like Van Jones or a politician so prominent he’s already a lightning rod for criticism, like Obama; or concepts so broad or amorphous that railing against them is as dangerous as screaming into a pillow, like “progressives” or “the liberal media,” Beck’s villains are always carefully screened to guarantee the only repercussions he’ll endure for choosing them is a boost to his ratings. This is true for his television and radio shows, so it stands to reason it would be true in his first attempt at a novel, too.
In fact, a reasonable rule of thumb for testing the seriousness of anyone’s claim to the role of underdog in the fight against vast, powerful forces, is this: what actual damage has the claimant sustained? Ask this question of Glenn Greenwald, or Michael Hastings, or Carol Rosenberg, or Jeremy Scahill, or Marcy Wheeler, or of any other real journalist, and you’ll learn of doors closed and financial opportunities lost. Ask it of Glenn Beck, and you’ll learn of multi-million dollar television contracts and book advances. Ah, the sacrifices this man has made in exposing the powerful forces who secretly control America.
The safe silliness of Beck’s villain aside, progressive readers would be hard-pressed to disagree with the novel’s main premise: a misinformed and apathetic populace has allowed America to be captured by oligarchic elites, elites who masterfully manipulate public opinion to perpetrate the system by which they engorge themselves on the citizenry. Not such a different conception, in fact, from the one that undergirds my own recent novel, Inside Out. Beck and I both even include an author’s note and list of sources to help readers sift out the fact upon which we base our fiction. And we both clearly intend for our novels not just to entertain, but to elucidate.
Which makes it all the stranger to consider that the author of this earnest book is the same man The Daily Show hilariously demonstrated to be in the grip of Nazi Tourette’s, whose obsession with race led him to declare that Obama “has a deep-seated hatred for white people or the white culture,” and who has composed virtual love letters to President Bush and Sarah Palin. If I hadn’t known Beck the television huckster before encountering Beck the novelist, I would have thought that, politically, at least, we might have much in common.
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Back in Black - Glenn Beck's Nazi Tourette's | ||||
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But similar premises don’t necessarily lead to a confluence of conclusions. A sobering thought for anyone hopeful that, say, the Tea Party’s small government rhetoric provides possible common ground for some sort of progressive outreach. Progressives think government is too big and therefore want to reduce secrecy and prevent the president from imprisoning and assassinating American citizens without due process; Tea Partiers think government is too big and therefore want to prevent universal health care. Progressives think the national deficit and debt are out of control and therefore want to shrink the military; Tea Partiers think the national deficit and debt are out of control and therefore want to eliminate social security. The differences in such world views are far more significant than the similarities, and an attempt to minimize the differences and try to build on the similarities is apt to lead to extremely disappointing results.
The good news, I suppose, is that whatever readership The Overton Window finds, the book’s impact is apt to be benign. Most of its readers are probably already Beck’s fans, in which case the damage is done. Those who get through the book without prior knowledge of Beck will likely be distracted from deep thought by the one-dimensional characters, unending political speeches masquerading as dialogue, and absurdity of the conspiracy Beck proposes. The Overton Window is dull and disjointed more than it is dangerous or disquieting, and therefore, as both political primer and political thriller, ultimately, inert.
3 comments:
Barry, your description of Beck's novel as comprising "one-dimensional characters" and "unending political speeches masquerading as dialogue" is, as I'm sure you know, the criticism leveled against your recent books.
I haven't read your recent books, nor have I read Beck's, but your review reads like an ideological rant -- the very thing you seem to be accusing Beck of.
In any case, you have clearly forgotten (or chosen to abandon) your own rules for this blog. You write in the right-hand margin: "This blog aims to be a haven from fulmination, disrespect, polemics, and other attack-style debate." You certainly do not live up to that standard in this latest blob entry.
Candidly, this blog is devolving into something that is anything but serious political discussion. Too bad.
Luke, thanks for your thoughts. In retrospect and with the benefit of reader feedback, I've come to agree that Hort's speech at the end of Inside Out was too much. Many people love it, but I realize now that in a more abbreviated form, it would have accomplished its story purpose while taking fewer readers out of the story.
But as much as hindsight and reader feedback have helped me realize that scene's shortcomings, an even more useful exercise was reading an entire novel composed of political speeches -- Beck's. Political speeches mouthed by one-dimensional characters makes for a boring thriller. That's the critique in my post -- does it really feel like a rant to you? It doesn't to me, not even when you cite it as criticism leveled against my book.
I suppose reasonable people can differ about such things, but if you feel HOTM has come to be characterized by rants, fulmination, disrespect, polemics, or other attack-style debate, it might be that you're unusually sensitive -- in which case, why waste your time here? When I come across a blog with non-serious political discussion or other characteristics I find unpalatable, I tend to just move on. Life's so short, and there are so many worthy blogs to read. Though given your apparent threshold for being disappointed by what strikes you as a rant, I don't know how many you'll find acceptable.
Thanks again,
Barry
Reading Beck's novel would require the destruction of too much grey matter, the waste of too much time, and the pain of feeling like I was living in his head. I don't know how you did it.
I spite of the last scene in Inside Out I still like the book.
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