A lovely, baffling metamorphosis

January 22, 2009|Ted Weesner Jr.

A classic remains a classic because it continues to be of "use" to readers, and surely Ovid's "Metamorphoses" is one of the oldest works of literature that can feel absolutely timely. Working what must have been the fertile fault line between B.C. and A.D., the Latin poet produced work that's still provoking readers 2,000 years later. Artists too - whether composers, movie directors, sculptors, playwrights (including Shakespeare) - continue to pick over his sumptuous 15-book epic for useful ideas and storylines. In her third novel, "The Sky Below," author Stacey D'Erasmo joins the gang.

Clearly, these "inspired by" or "re-imagining" projects are irresistible to working artists, but one question must be asked of the new/old work. Could it live on its own, minus the classical drapery?

In the case of "The Sky Below," one will likely answer with an immediate yes, followed by a fast suspicion that old Ovid may not have been necessary in the first place. Here's the reason. At the center of this novel resides a spectrally lit, oddly motivated albeit unnervingly compelling protagonist who is alive unto himself - beyond and even in spite of the Ovid overlay. Or: Isn't this a character caged by a conceit?

The novel gets underway in Gabriel Collins's early youth and hopscotches floridly up through his middle age. It's hard to take your eyes off this guy. At the same time, one encounters - via first-person narration - a variety of experiences that stem from the character's unusual (and often utterly bewildering) decision-making. These odd swings seem to turn less on his essence - erasing any notion of character as fate - and more on chance. When a surprise is sprung on us, Ovid is invariably invoked, change striking out of nowhere from the hand of an incomprehensible god.

Gabriel's father leaves when he is still a boy, which sends the family south to run a motel in Florida. Despite his increasingly outlaw ways, Gabriel manages to escape for college with a burgeoning hunger for sex (largely gay) and art-making (magpie and Joseph Cornell-style). From there he leaps into a highly varied existence in Manhattan's East Village.