the heart of the heart of the heart of the
A review of David Gates' Preston Falls
1998, Knopf: $25.00, $13.00 pb.

There is a new literary star arising: David Gates. Perhaps you caught his Pulitzer Prize nominated first effort, Jernigan. Jernigan, its protagonist in the modern antihero tradition, has been compared to Bellow's Herzog, Updike's Harry Angstrom, Heller's Bob Slocum, Percy's Binx Bolling, and Irving's Garp-- not bad for a first try. Now, Gates is back with Preston Falls, a tale of modern marriage. Gates is a writer to watch.

True to form this is a black comedy or dramedy that pulls no punches. Gates, a devoted student of the Updikean school (not at all a bad thing, and it seems to have definitely paid off), delivers powerful modern text with characterizations so raw and truthful it is sometimes shocking. His language is not for the fainthearted. This is naturally a great part of the appeal, a voyeuristic honesty which reveals the self in the mirror of fiction. While harsh or brutal at times, his language is pure, ripped straight from the gut.

Preston Falls is crammed with details. This is a specialty of Gates' fiction. His writing may appear simple; it is not. The story may appear straightforward; it is not. His characters are multidimensional and so layered that it is breathtaking. You will be at turns enraptured, disgusted, laughing, horrified, and all-round engrossed by their actions and thoughts. He also is able to reveal the same spectrum about our culture. Gates himself has a long background writing about books and music (for Newsweek) and an obvious love for them that shows. His book reverberates with our culture-- a whizzing world of good dogs, bad friends, partying family times, fast food, loud music on battered old truck radios, masturbation, and the best inanimate minor character in modern literature: the late coffee cup JOE. Throughout the plot the personal trials and tribulations of the characters are echoed in allusions to Pilgrim's Progress, Emma, Rex Stout's Nero and Archie, to rock and roll and NPR, to Radio Shack and cheap videos probably starring Bruce Willis, etc. Anyone who can smoothly dissect Tolkien's linguistic flaws in the Fellowship of the Rings as a pointed literary aside of heroic significance while simultaneously juggling mother to daughter drudge and adolescent rebellion cum puberty versus the disintegration of marriage through the eyes of a wife not so simply trying to wash out the stains in her family's clothing albeit suffering that Clorox smell double entendre...well, what more can one say? This is what good writing is all about.

Gates relates his powerful tale the way it must be told. His writing is equivalent to rock & roll, a living modern pulse. Summation of Gates' ability lies in this act of his protagonist: "He ignores shit like Presence and simply sets Bass, Treble, and Midrange all at five: the heart of the heart of the heart of the." It is astoundingly complex in its simplicity, and continues to unravel far beyond the pages of this book . This effect is best stated in the words of his other central character: "Well. So that's my story. Short version. Your turn-- no, I take that back, there is more." We surely hope so.