Ripley Under Ground (1970) by Patricia Highsmith
The second novel in the Ripliad, Tom Ripley is comfortably ensconced at Belle Ombre with Heloise, Mme Annette, his gardening, his language studies, and his money. This is a novel about forgery, fakery, impersonation, and the tenuous line between the real and the imaginary.
Highsmith’s prose remains remarkable–precise, smooth–flat even, and evocative. I turned the pages to find out what happened (memory fades), but also to savor another Highsmith sentence/paragraph.
Reading about Tom Ripley in the 21st century is most interesting. While still a sociopath, Tom seems less of an outlier than he used to. Maybe Highsmith was an unacknowledged futurist–not just a crime novelist, but science fiction writer as well, chronicling the world to come.
The Talented Mr. Ripley (1955) by Patricia Highsmith
The novel that launched the Ripliad, and still a wonderful read, even when one knows what happens. One thing I find amazing (among many things) is how Highsmith is so completely Highsmith at this early point of her career. The rhythm and cadence of her prose. Her ability to amass small details into a comprehensive portrait. The sly seduction that gets a reader (well, at least this reader) on Ripley’s side.
Slavoj Zizek says that Highsmith was a master of not only telling stories, but, more crucially, of telling how stories go wrong. Despite knowing what was going to happen, I still felt a supreme thrill of pleasure when
Summary
Tom succeeds in his plan, when the Italian police mistakenly take his fingerprints found in “Dickie’s” Rome apartment as being Dickie’s, which then match his/Tom’s fingerprints all over Dickie’s luggage/items checked by Tom into Venice American Express.
It is such an elegant coup de narrative–in front of the reader the entire time–but still it appears to come out of the blue. As fine in parts as the films/series based on the novel are, they reduce Ripley, having him caught (or implying that he will be), rather than allowing him to get away with murders that he really did not want to commit. If only Dickie had let him ride shotgun in his life for the rest of his days, none of this would have ever happened.
Deep Water (1957) by Patricia Highsmith
Her next work after TTMR, this novel finds Highsmith exploring Cheever country (it is published the same year as Cheever’s The Wapshot Chronicle, and both are set in Massachusetts, and involve deep waters).
Highsmith is more clinical in her analysis than Cheever, and her prose more restrained, but both writers examine mid-century American life, and find it wanting (though Cheever, as is his want, is a little more optimistic).
Highsmith explores the discontents of middle class life, and calmly, coolly, shows how they can suddenly explode. She scrambles gender roles in the process, and even more than in the Ripley novels (at least for me) creates sympathy for all her characters. An amazing novel. I see why some people consider it her best.
You may be interested in this article, @MrKiddWint
First, thanks to Dustin for the article.
Second: Those Who Walk Away (1967) by Patricia Highsmith
A novel about one of Highsmith’s doomed, entangled pairings–Ripley & Dickie or Guy & Charles (Bruno in the Hitchcock film).
She starts out exclusively from Ray Garrett’s perspective (wife has just committed suicide), and then switches to Ed Coleman’s (father of the dead woman, and none too pleased with his son-in-law, and looking for revenge. He shoots Ray in the first chapter, but non-fatally).
A story about trauma, healing, friendship, attempts to make others understand, and those who refuse to do so, TWWA is one of the subtlest psychological thrillers I have ever read.
Highsmith knew exactly how long to stay with each character’s perspective. Through the slow and precise accumulation of details, she illuminated the psychology of her two protagonists, as well as the supporting players. I was driven to turn the pages not just to find out what happened on a plot level, but to watch the psychological evolution of one character, the stasis of the other, and the consequences of their game of pursuit/avoidance (which inverts in the last third of the novel). I can see why filmmakers love to adapt her work–the plotting is amazing. But what makes her extraordinary (and is never captured on screen) is her marriage of intricate plotting with psychological revelation.
Fascinating and sui generis. Now back to Ripley.