Norman Mailer's account of the 1967 anti-war march on the Pentagon is a unique and thought-provoking piece of work. In a typical account, there would usually be a concise foreword that details the significance of the event to the author. It would explain how his relationships with the people and issues involved either aided or hampered his understanding of the event. Additionally, it would describe how the events had a profound impact on him. Once these personal and subjective revelations are out of the way in the foreword, the objective account would then占据 the majority of the narrative.

However, in Armies of the Night, Mailer's "foreword" spans a whopping 213 pages, while the traditional account is only 70 pages long. This reminds me of Vladimir Nabokov's Pale Fire, which was written just five years earlier. In Pale Fire, a 26-page poem is surrounded by over 200 pages of foreword, commentary, and index by a delusional and egomaniacal "scholar." I would have loved to ask Mailer if he had read Pale Fire and how it might have influenced Armies of the Night.

213 pages about Mailer is an extensive amount. The man is unrelenting in exposing his own insecurities, prejudices, neuroses, pettiness, selfishness, and paranoia. Since he belongs to a different generation than the majority of the demonstrators and is considered a hopeless square, it feels like attending the event with your opinionated and un-hip uncle standing beside you, acting like a know-it-all curmudgeon. I wish Mailer had taken some acid and tried to participate in the effort to levitate the Pentagon and turn it orange.

Despite all this, I came away from the work believing that I had as good an understanding of the event as I could ever hope to have. Moreover, Mailer's analysis of the psychic cancer that is eating away at the soul of the nation was not only accurate but also愈发 relevant today. As a groundbreaking example of the New Journalism, I found it fascinating to compare this work to Tom Wolfe's The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.

Mailer? I hardly know her!

This simple exclamation holds a certain charm and mystery. It makes one wonder who this Mailer is and why the speaker has such a lack of familiarity with her.

Perhaps Mailer is a relatively unknown figure in the speaker's life, someone they have only briefly encountered or heard about. It could also imply that the relationship between the speaker and Mailer is not a close or significant one.

The phrase "I hardly know her" can convey a sense of detachment or indifference. It might suggest that the speaker has not taken the time or effort to get to know Mailer better.

Overall, this short statement leaves room for speculation and imagination. It makes us curious about the nature of the connection, or lack thereof, between the speaker and Mailer.

Whether Mailer is a real person or a fictional character, the words "mailer? I hardly know her!" spark our interest and make us want to know more.

Norman Mailer casts himself as "Norman Mailer" in this remarkable non-fiction novel about the anti-war march on the Pentagon in 1967.

You know, that significant event where Abbie Hoffman made the bold claim that the demonstrators would literally raise the Pentagon.

"Mailer" in this work takes on various personas. At times, he is a political militant, passionately advocating for change. Then, he can transform into a clown, adding a touch of humor and lightness to the intense situation. He is also presented as a genius author, with his profound insights and masterful writing.

Above all, he is a keen observer of America during that tumultuous time. The nation was tearing itself apart due to the war and the various social and political issues. However, there was also an odd sense of unity emerging as people came together in response to the perceived evil.

Mailer's (not "Mailer's") prologue is truly a gem. It is a heartfelt prayer for the future of the USA, with the powerful line "The death of America rides in on the smog." This prologue alone is so captivating and thought-provoking that it makes reading the entire book well worth the effort.

Mailer's "new journalism" seemed revolutionary at first. It brought a fresh perspective and a more personal touch to the field of journalism. However, as time went by, it became evident that this style had its limitations.

His approach, which often emphasized his own ego and narcissism, started to wear thin. Readers began to tire of his constant self-promotion and the overemphasis on his own experiences and opinions.

What was once considered innovative now seemed old and tired. Mailer's "new journalism" had lost its luster, and his narcissism had become an obstacle rather than an asset.

Perhaps it was time for a new wave of journalism to emerge, one that could build on the strengths of Mailer's work while also addressing its weaknesses. Only then could the field of journalism continue to evolve and thrive.

Earlier this month, rumors emerged that a major publisher was canceling a book by Norman Mailer due to objections over the title of his 1957 essay "The White Negro." This controversy reminded me that I had never read a full book by Mailer, despite browsing his egotistical miscellany "Advertisements for Myself."

Today's left identitarians object to Mailer's manifesto of the 1950s "hipster," which defines the white man as a Beat Existentialist imitating "the Negro." However, Mailer's argument can also be seen as a proto-postmodern celebration of the decentered subject resisting modern domination.

To assess Mailer's literary merit, I read his classic "The Armies of the Night." Subtitled "History as a Novel / The Novel as History," it is a fictionalized account of Mailer's participation in a 1967 march on the Pentagon. The first section, "History as a Novel," follows Mailer's consciousness from his decision to join the march to his arrest. The second section, "The Novel as History," documents the entire march.

For literary purposes, "History as a Novel" is the more engaging part, with its central character, the cantankerous and charming Mailer. Adam Gopnik called the book "a poem," and Toni Morrison praised Mailer as a "worthy adversary." However, Gopnik overpraised Mailer's writing about rural whites, which was more fantastical than his reflections on African-American subjectivity.

Mailer's triumph is his ability to observe and describe the changes in his own milieu. He sees the emergence of a radical political left subsumed by the cultural concerns of the professional middle class. He also understands the limitations of the Old Left and the appeal of the hippies' aesthetic revolt.

In the end, Mailer's most effective protest against totalitarianism is his literary performance of his own chaotic and poetic personality. The true armies of the night are the forces within him. While I wondered if a fictional novel would pale in comparison, I came away convinced of Mailer's literary merit.

Really, this is a truly bizarre and almost narcissistic take on non-fiction.

It's quite an extraordinary approach that Mailer has taken. However, despite its oddities, it is a thoroughly entertaining read nonetheless.

The way Mailer writes in the third person is unbelievably good. It adds a certain detachment and yet a captivating charm to the narrative.

His ability to tell a story in this manner is truly remarkable.

One can't help but be drawn in by his words and the unique perspective he presents.

Even though the subject matter may seem a bit outlandish at times, Mailer's writing skills make it a must-read.

He has a way of making the reader feel as if they are part of the story, even though it is being told from a seemingly distant point of view.

Overall, this is a work that defies expectations and manages to be both strange and engaging at the same time.

It has been an incredibly long time since I delved into the works of Mailer. Back in 1993, when I was a Mormon missionary in Grand Junction, Colorado, I read The Executioner's Song. I remember that moment vividly, sitting in a Lazyboy while my companion snored loudly in the next room. Later, after my sophomore year in college, I devoured Harlot's Ghost. Mailer has always held a certain allure for me. On one hand, he can be an irritating egoist, constantly chasing the shadows of Twain, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald, yet never quite able to catch up. But on the other hand, at his very best, he is a force to be reckoned with in modern journalism. He, along with Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, and other New Journalists, proved that print media was far from dead. In the age of TV, it simply needed to reinvent itself and shatter some of the static and nearly lifeless boundaries. When Mailer misses the mark, his writing can be cumbersome and overwrought, almost oozing with a literary excess. But oh, when he hits it just right, when he grabs the Universe by the balls, there is an energy in his words that is truly无与伦比.

It is truly strange to think that this book was written over 50 years ago. The events it describes took place over just a few days in late October 1967, and the book was published in 1968. What's even more uncanny is that Mailer was exactly my age when all of this happened. I find myself feeling both old and young simultaneously. I've had the intention of reading this book for years, and now it just seems like the perfect time. It was a complete accident that I'm reading it at the same age Mailer was when he wrote it, but it does give me a unique perspective into his motives, his perspective, and his mood. It also feels strangely appropriate in the current times. No other period in recent history seems as close to the late 60s as the last few years. I have this uneasy feeling that something has to give, or perhaps a new and powerful force is about to be born. I truly hope that Mailer isn't right and that we aren't on the verge of a terrifying totalitarianism emerging. Maybe, just maybe, it's already too late. Deliver us from our curse - indeed.

“Once History inhabits a crazy house, egotism may be the last tool left to History.”
― Norman Mailer, The Armies of the Night: History as a Novel, the Novel as History

A Fantastic Book

This is truly a remarkable book. For anyone desiring to comprehend the complex and often tumultuous history of the Left in America, this wild, ironic, and visionary work must be included on their reading list. It offers a unique perspective on a crucial era.

The quotes within the book provide fascinating insights. Regarding the change in mood within the hippie movement during the 1960s, it describes how a generation of American youth, different from previous middle-class generations, had a complex set of beliefs. They believed in technology but also in LSD, witches, tribal knowledge, orgies, and revolution. Their radicalism stemmed from a hatred of authority, which they saw as the manifestation of evil. The authority had created suburbs where they felt stifled as children, bombarding them with commercials that influenced their minds in surreal ways.

The book also details how, after years of relatively tame reports about LSD, suddenly an entire generation of acid-heads seemed to have taken a darker turn. The hippies had gone through various phases, from Tibet to Christ to the Middle Ages, and now they were revolutionary alchemists.

Finally, the book's last paragraph is a gothic and hyperbolic masterpiece that sums up 1967 in America. It describes America as a once-beautiful country now with a leprous skin, heavy with an unknown child, and in the throes of a fearsome labor. It poses the question of what will be born: a fearsome totalitarianism or a brave and tender new world? It ends with a powerful plea to rush to the locks and deliver America from its curse, as we journey towards a mystery where courage, death, and the dream of love promise of sleep.

The Pentagon, that colossal structure, rose up like a strange anomaly from the gentle Virginia fields. Its pale yellow walls seemed to be some kind of plastic plug emerging from a hole made in the flesh by an unmentionable operation. There it sat, with its perfect geometrical aura, completely isolated from the natural world surrounding it.

Mailer's account of the October '67 March on the Pentagon won him the Pulitzer Prize for Nonfiction and the National Book Award. This work is associated with other nonfiction novels of the time, such as Capote's In Cold Blood, Thompson's Hell's Angels, and Wolfe's Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. As I reread the book, I noticed two non-diegetic running commentaries in the narrow margins of my old Signet paperback. RC1, written by a previous reader, and RC2, written by me in 2018 before a trip to Washington. RC2 had some thoughts on Mailer's narrative, but disappointingly focused a lot on RC1, often with open contempt. Maybe I was too judgmental of RC1. Mailer's style in this book is just him doing his nonfiction thing, observing everything in minute detail. But perhaps RC1 is right, and it's worth thinking about Mailer's stylistic choices.
In the early part of the book, Mailer suggests that the March on the Pentagon was an ambiguous event whose value or absurdity may not be known for decades, or maybe never. If any meaning can be derived from it, he says, it must be through the act itself, rather than beforehand or afterwards. He views the action on the Pentagon as he views writing, as a way of discovering what one truly thinks. Mailer really does attempt to mimic consciousness throughout the book, correcting and amending himself mid-sentence. Given that this is not a traditional way to write history or journalism, Mailer employs the style of a novel, with a narcissistic main character named Mailer. Maybe the effect has worn off over the years, but there's still something refreshing about being reminded that even noble actions can be accompanied by self-involved and ignoble thoughts.
Mailer's contemporaries, like Chomsky, would have interpreted events differently. Chomsky, a very different kind of writer and thinker, is a minor character in this novel. Mailer, instead of endorsing the logic of the next step or law and order propaganda, writes about the selfish and somewhat ridiculous truth of interior experience. He acknowledges the risks involved in engaging with social, moral, and political issues, but also understands that there is no escape for a serious writer or person. If you read Armies, I think you should also read Siege. Armies is immediate and visceral, but also feels rushed, and Mailer's willingness to follow every strand of conscious thought sometimes leads him to dead-ends. Additionally, his America-centric perspective misses a chance to connect the American Left's resistance to the Vietnam War with the struggles of oppressed people around the world. That being said, I particularly appreciate the chapter "Why are We in Vietnam?" Mailer doesn't make his case with the geopolitical sophistication of Chomsky, but he is more attuned to the unconscious currents of the zeitgeist.
Ultimately, Armies of the Night feels very relevant today, when we have a flourishing protest movement in the US and are faced with similar questions. Mailer does not offer definitive answers, but he does describe what it felt like to be in the midst of things as an individual. The Pentagon, for its part, endures and continues to thrive, with the US Senate allocating a huge budget to it just this past summer.

Mailer's incredibly sharp intellect blazes with a white-hot intensity here.

The echoes of this era still resound powerfully today, as seen through the Occupy and Black Lives Matter movements.

It is truly disheartening to realize that in this nation, we have not made significant progress from the barbarism that is vividly described within these pages.

Mailer's work serves as a poignant reminder of the ongoing struggles and the need for continued social change.

His insights into the human condition and the state of society are as relevant now as they were when he first wrote.

We must take heed of his words and strive to create a more just and equitable world.

Only then can we hope to break free from the cycle of violence and inequality that has plagued our nation for far too long.

If this had been published in the nineteenth century or before, rather than in the era of mass-market paperbacks, I firmly believe we would be hailing this as one of the classics, on a par with Swift, et. al.

In the grander scheme of things, the Vietnam War protest march on the Pentagon that Mailer chronicles was not truly one of the momentous events in US history, or even within the context of the Vietnam War. Instead, Mailer employs it as a sweeping and passionate microcosmic study of the American psyche and the stance of a relatively centrist white male of his generation towards it.

The book is a writerly outpouring of the most deliciously undisciplined kind. It is messy, overreaching, verbose, and digressive. However, when the punchlines arrive, they do so with great force and sharpness, and their relevance endures through time.

It is very much an author-centric book. The hero and anti-hero of the book is none other than Mailer himself, discussing his flaws, ideas, and ego in the third person. Some reviewers here, being rather ordinary, thought the book would have been better written in the first person "I". This, however, would have deprived the account of several layers of what Mailer is attempting to achieve. Not the least of these is to infuse the book with a knowing sense of humor, along with a questioning of his own motivations - always a healthy exercise. Fortunately, such individuals are not writers but merely woefully inadequate readers.

Really, despite its subtitle, this is not a novel. It firmly belongs in the category of a historical essay. The third-person format simply enables Mailer to create a character out of himself, a way to play with himself, so to speak. No, not in that sense, although there are some adventures involving bodily fluids, and one might call this a bit of a frolic in authorial self-indulgence. But what an accomplished self-indulger he is.

Norman Mailer was a chaotic mess, the epitome of privilege, if you will, and he managed to get away with some rather odious behaviors in a time when bad publicity was as good as good publicity. For all that, The Armies of the Night remains a relevant work. Much has not changed, and many of the alarming aspects of the American psyche and body politic described herein have only intensified into what Mailer terms the insanity of the American Center, the self-victimhood of the masses whipped up into an unthinking frenzy. Therefore, this is recommended, as long as you can put certain outdated notions common to Mailer and men of that era into proper perspective. I see little evidence that many people, and readers, today are capable of doing so. But that's not really my concern. Critically stepping back to sift out the pearls and learn from the unreliable narrator is a learned skill born of experience.

This was a tour-de-force, an astute and beautifully crafted analysis of the psychology of crowds and the American political animal. It remains relevant enough to be rediscovered and pondered upon today.

EG-KR@KY 2021

Look, the fact that I felt an urge to hurl this book against the wall on at least five distinct occasions likely implies that it holds some value. After all, it managed to evoke a certain emotion within me. I'm certain there are even some astute thoughts present within its pages. I respect the fact that Mailer was able to create a character I despise so intensely (himself). The descriptions of brutality towards the conclusion were truly shocking, as they should be. Additionally, Mailer's appearance on Gilmore Girls made me earnestly attempt to like this work.

However, taking all of that into account, I absolutely loathed this book. I simply detested the writing style. I failed to establish any connection with anything in it, and I skimmed through large passages (so please take this commentary with a grain of salt) because I simply couldn't be bothered. Mailer takes himself far too seriously. Moreover, I can't overlook the fact that he stabbed his wife and yet still won two Pulitzers. I mean, I'm aware it's not the Nobel Peace Prize, but on what plane is that acceptable?

This is by no means an articulate review, and I won't trouble myself with crafting one because I don't wish to dwell on this book for any longer than necessary. I'm sure there are valid reasons to like it, but I truly don't.