In 1987, Jim Dodge wrote Not Fade Away, a hymn novel to the free and restless souls of the early rock and roll era. His character, George Blow–off–the-head, rushes at top speed across the continent to set fire to a stolen Cadillac at the crash site of Buddy Holly, Big Bopper and Richie Vallance. Hey, George, slow down!
Oh, the roads…
The road attracts lost souls. It beckons like a magnet. The road is an eternal stream of life, an eternal change, a search and an epiphany at the end. Ask Grandpa Jung – our Conscious goes on a journey into the Unconscious to fight its dark side, find a cherished treasure and come back refreshed.
Here he is – George Gustin, an honest hard worker, working on a tow truck during the day, and hanging out in sweaty clubs in the evenings to the accompaniment of the inhuman screeching of a rusty saxophone. And here it is – America of the late 50s, bubbling with the fresh juice of nascent freedom. The puritanical rules and cold calculation of parents are being replaced by hotheads – their children. They ask the question “Why?”, they don’t want to be like their ancestors and are going to turn the world around. There’s nothing to argue about – you’re either for or against. You’re either here or there. So are you coming with us?
And now we’re speeding along in a lovely Cadillac El Dorado ‘59. Georgie makes the most of it–he just doesn’t know how to do it any other way. The road leads us across the continent straight to the crash site of the three rock’n’roll lambs: Holly the Holy Buddy, Big Burly Bopper and Richie the Valance Guy. We have an important matter – the burning of a wheelbarrow in this holy place, and so be it. If everything goes smoothly, we can purify our soul, strengthen our faith, and be reborn for something new, bright, and real.
And of course, do not forget the suitcase for special music – yes, there are forty of the latest hits: “Chantilly Lace” by Bopper, a bunch of records by Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Bill Haley, Chuck Berry, five or six howls of Little Richard.. and of course, the eternal “Not Fade Away” helps us see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Time is thickening, everything is getting weirder and weirder. Einstein was right – space is not what it seems.
George, what are you doing in this desert? Go home, cool down, buy a beer, take a bath– forget this nightmare. You haven’t slept for three days now and you’re pushing forward without stopping. Bearded Jim from California is going to write a book about you, and I’m going to read it, unable to keep up with you. Eventually I’ll fall asleep. And in a dream, we will again drive along an endless highway behind a huge eternally shining moon, and we will not miss our chance.
The fairy tale is taking effect soon, but it’s not getting done soon…
The novel did not become a bestseller, some criticize it for its “lightness” and “excessive eccentricity”, the author did not get rich and does not wear gold pajamas. But this mix of magical realism, road prose and rock’n’roll mythology has captured the hearts of those who believe that real life lies somewhere between the first chord and the last mile traveled.
In the evenings, I look out the window and it seems to me that somewhere out there in the night a luxury Cadillac has been speeding along the road for several days without stopping. And he has no peace until he finds his last parking lot in a field where, as they say, music once died. And it doesn’t exist anymore, but there is only an endless echo of that crazy time that we hear over and over again.
