Review: Tom Levine's Paradise Interrupted
Adam Pridemore
Tom Levine's Paradise Interrupted
Edgewater, FL: Defiant Worm Books, 2007.
www.defiantworm.com
Sometimes, you find books you love by chance. Sometimes, though, authors and their books find you, especially when in Florida, where such weird reversals seem to be par for the course. Tom Levine and his books first found me as he stopped to potentially buy a cargo van from my brother, who runs a car lot in Vero Beach, Florida. Levine and my brother spent most of the morning chatting and jawing away, and, though he didn’t buy the van, he did sell my brother my birthday gift that year: an autographed copy of Bite Me: Tom Levine’s Most Excellent Stories; a collection of autobiographical articles and fiction he had written over the course of his career as a correspondent for Florida Sportsman Magazine.
After reading those most excellent stories (Levine’s claim was true), I then bought my copy of Paradise Interrupted when I was searching for a book to use for a composition course based on Florida literature; as it turned out, my students absolutely loved Levine’s fiction. Levine, a colorful personality, and a staunch defender of the natural beauty being spoiled by the “Disney Effect” that he chronicles in Paradise Interrupted, tends to shock readers into enjoying his text.
For those not familiar with Levine and the many hats he wears (as a nature writer, humorist, fisherman, failed politician [he ran for mayor of Orlando and city council on an absurdist platform, several times], and native Floridian) his first full length self-published novel, Paradise Interrupted, might seem a bit too stylized and too exaggerated to effectively serve as anything more than an awkward homage to our fine state; much like being hit on by a drunken patron at a bar when you think that admirer is below your consideration. This surface evaluation shows its flaws, though, as one considers the text fully.
Levine’s meandering plot focuses on, among other things, the trials and adventures of a mismatched amalgamation of characters: from protagonist Mortecai Cohen, a shiftless, sarcastic pastor, founder, and originating member of his own nature based religion, to Ray Macon, an apathetically affable, good looking, drunk but stupid sidekick (and his wife Daisy, who Ray, as the typical fisherman, must always escape), to Violet Chance, purveyor of Eco-asswipe, toilet paper made from trees not yet born. True to its form as a satiric parody and praise of all things Florida, including Florida fiction, the misguided environmentalists stand up to the greedy, corrupt (both morally and legally) developers. In the end it is Mother Nature herself who ultimately triumphs, saving us all from developer Vinnie Barbosa, who, in his efforts to destroy Florida’s natural habitat meets with an uncanny accident involving juggling a chainsaw.
Thus Levine's humor and exaggeration riff, both subtly and not so subtly, on the traditional idea of the Florida eco-novel. Yes, the basic form of the plot follows forth, like many a Florida based novel, highlighting eccentric characters and fantastic locales, while praising the environment itself as the true source of all things Floridian. Yet, as they say, the fun is in the journey.
From his lampooning of Orlando’s longstanding city council (given extra bite in light of his many failed attempts to run, unsponsored and unfunded, for political office); to his pastiche of inserted animal memoirs (featuring rabbits, squirrels, owls, and gators); to his consistent polyphonic inclusion of newspaper clips and 911 phone calls regarding the Orlando Police department’s unwillingness to do anything about rogue, marauding alligators, because well, the gators hadn’t done anything “illegal” – these multi-voiced, multi-perspective digressions help Levine’s text shine.
Levine's humor, as well as his intrinsic knowledge of central Florida, creates a caricature of environmental struggle more than worthwhile for the reader. In fact, the only knock to Levine's text also ties awkwardly into the novel's success. As a parody of all things Florida; its nature, tourists, and eccentrics, Levine himself appears to at times overly indulge in parody, going beyond the realms of good taste in seemingly sophomoric humor that is only exacerbated by his heartwarming promise, in the text's "Introduction" not to use a certain singular curse word that starts with “f,” so as not to offend his 11 year old son (similar sounding signifiers are fine, though).
Much like Florida's own weird, wild, nature, the reader must either take or leave Levine's extreme fascination with the body and its functions. And, though I would not go so far as to agree with Bob Whitby, the editor of the Orlando Weekly, who claims a desire “to have [his] eyes surgically removed after reading Tom Levine’s book so that no other piece of literature, no other written word, can despoil the pleasure this masterpiece has given;” I would definitely recommend this text to anyone who is tired of tourism and overdevelopment.
And, for those who love the natural Florida, the old Florida, the historic Florida seemingly being consumed by the cluttered condensation of condos upon our coasts, I offer you a quote from Paradise Interrupted’s Mother Nature: “‘Time, not fire, roasts a marshmallow . . . Disney is a mosquito fart in a gardenia hedge.’ She waited impatiently to reclaim the heart of her exquisite peninsula. Even in the bleak period emerged signs, however indistinct, of her second coming…”