I wonder how someone who has been gorgeous all his or her life
would react to Ken Siman's wildly comic and sharply satiric first
novel, Pizza Face. After all, its protagonist, Andy, could only
be described as ugly and therefore probably wouldn't inspire much
empathy among the beautiful people. For those who were
misfits as children and adolescents, however, Pizza Face
is both a nasty good time and a painful trip down memory lane.
Tall and skinny, with a face ravaged by severe acne, Andy grows
up in North Carolina in the mid 1970s. He's lonely and despised
by his peers, so he turns to following political campaigns for
solace, relishing the hoopla and bright lights. He starts collecting
campaign buttons, writes letters to politicians, and eventually
develops a particular liking for Jimmy Carter, who is the only
candidate to send Andy a personally autographed photo. After
high school, he takes off to Washington D.C., hoping to fit in
to politics somehow, and ends up the assistant to a cocaine-snorting,
boy-crazy political gossip monger.
Siman uses Andy's misfortunes to create a deadpan, picaresque
novel about the attractions and shallowness of beauty and power.
As Andy grows up, developing crushes on a series of handsome
boys and having just about everything he attempts to accomplish
fall flat on its face, Siman's amazing control of tone lets the
novel teeter on the borders of bitchiness, sympathy, and cruel
humor without once sliding into distastefulness or sentimentality.
Andy had planned his outfitthe slippery parakeet shirt, puka-shell
necklace, and earth shoes. Plus he wore a big pimple on his chin,
his first...He looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror
and spit on it...Andy took off his clothes. He was about to meet
[Jimmy Carter] the man of his dreams and looked like doo. He
settled for a plain white shirt and pinned on his favorite button,
"Jimmythe Spirit of '76." He put a little piece of
masking tape over his pimple, since the only Band-Aids around
were concussion size.
While Andy is the protagonist of Pizza Face, Siman creates
a weird universe of peripheral characters whose lives barely but
significantly intersect with Andy's life. In a series of odd,
but entertaining asides, Siman takes the reader into these people's
goofy lives. The most extended reverie concerns the fictitious
North Carolina governor's wife, Carolina ("C.C.") Chesire,
whose recipes in the "Carolina Living" section of the
daily newspaper inspire Andy. Carolina's "acorn-brown hair
was piled high, nearly up to providence, and made her a little
taller than her husband, Governor Lucius Chesireeven though
his own pompadour was pretty big, too."
Pizza Face is full of the awful and the wonderful of 1970s
American culture, and one might be tempted to cry "nostalgia"
if the references and details weren't so funny or perfectly integrated.
The novel could also be dismissed as just another Southern grotesque,
but Siman's strong sense of comedy keeps the weirdness close enough
to reality to avoid self-indulgence. By far the most impressive
thing about Pizza Face is the level of seriousness that lurks
beneath the comedy.
Siman infuses a lot of pain into the book, forcing us to laugh
even when it seems more appropriate to cry or glumly shake our
heads in empathy. Pizza Face looks at the disenfranchised
and marginal, using an ugly gay man as its focus, and gets the
reader to see the silliness behind America's obsession with politics
and beauty. Andy's twin obsessions mirror the whole country's
obsession and, like too many people, when his attempts at being
like the rich, beautiful and famous continue to fail, Andy's actions
finally take a darker turn.
Yet Siman's off-the-wall, somewhat twisted sense of humor keeps
bubbling up from the work's serious core and covers the book with
a tart and frothy coating. Anyone who enjoyed John Kennedy O'Toole's
A Confederacy of Dunces or Fay Weldon's The Live and
Loves of a She Devil will find similar delights in Pizza
Face. It's a fast, compulsive read that brings belly laughs
the first time around, but offers enough intelligence and insight
to encourage another look.
Originally published in Bay Area Reporter, June 13, 1991
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