
A Review of Tono Rondone's Novel, Pop Goes the Weasel
by Saab Lofton 2008
"Even the wretched and despised have their allotted place [in a utopian society]. Freed from all conflict we have time now to explore new concepts, new frontiers, charting the space inside our minds as we once did the outer void, with pioneers drawn from the hopelessly addicted; psychonauts prepared to risk their sanity in chemical reconnaissance of new, interior continents. We call them 'spacemen.' Every child's ambition is to be one when they're grown."
-- Alan Moore, Miracleman #16
Clearly, author Tono Rondone is a psychonaut of the first order and Rondone's first novel, Pop Goes the Weasel, reflects that. The protagonist of Book I is Dante Tutticosa, a slightly balding, self-depreciating everyman who's bi-polar ("The World is Wonderful and The World Sucks. He oscillated between these two opinions more than a Mississippi window fan, sometimes several times per hour.") and trapped in a horrid day job as "a fortune cookie fortune inserter" for a business humorously called The Hong Kee Cookie Company of all things. Rondone proves himself to be one of Alan Moore's aforementioned spacemen by putting his protagonist through paces such as the following:
"Dante would go into that studio, turn his amp up to maximum volume, and thunder away on his electric guitar, getting out all his angst and anger and frustration, because of the imperfectness of life, because he had not yet become right, because he was not yet fully himself. He understood intuitively that if you could realize exactly who you are, and maintain that realization, then you would have achieved immortality, you would become one with the eternal spirit which was already in existence before your body was created, and which will still exist, unchanging, after your body passes away."
And:
"Maybe we all walk in the same shoes as devils and angels too, Dante figured; he believed in other states of consciousness, other vibratory levels in which beings like angels and devils actually exist just as much as humans exist. In fact, they existed side by side, we passed through them and they through us constantly ... Dante figured that there were several planes of existence in reality, not just the one we know when we are alive and awake. Each one of these levels or planes manifest at a different vibratory rate, that is, the entities of each plane are vibrating at different rates, therefore, even though they occupy the same 'space,' even though, in fact, they are passing through one another continuously, they normally do not perceive each other, except when, on occasion, communications or observations occur between different planes through a rent in the fabric of consciousness, as when you see a ghost and it sees you. Witness the rings of Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy, levels of existence: demons, ghosts, human beings, angels, gods. All real, all existing at different vibratory levels. That would mean, Dante shivered a little to think of it, that there must be a heaven, and there must be a hell. Unfortunately, knowing that did not also give him knowledge of where he might end up. He therefore vowed, as best he could, to try to be as good as he could and learn to vibrate in a heavenly direction henceforth, while he still had time. How much time he had left, however, was not known to him, of course."
Verbose and convoluted (sometimes gratuitously so,) Pop Goes the Weasel is a highly metaphysical but mainly an experimental novel -- not just in terms of content (or its inclusion of poems and mini-plays) -- but the way in which its told. For instance, Rondone shifts in midstream from an omnipotent narration to a first person one -- a literary first as far as I know. And the beginning of Chapter 18 gets downright schizophrenic:
“Dante: Hey, who the hell are you? How did you get in here?
"Rondone: I'm the guy you were talking to. Or are you in the habit of talking to yourself?
"Dante: Listen, don't worry about my habits. I'm the main character in this novel, so I can pretty much do and say what I like, when I like. Don't change the subject and get outta my room, whoever you are. Anyway, I don't see as it's any of your business.
"Rondone: That's where you're dead wrong, bub. It is very much my business. In fact, you owe me plenty. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even exist.”
Rondone doesn't just break through the proverbial fourth wall, he smashes it to bits with a wrecking ball.
It's hard to discern an actual, linear plot in Pop Goes the Weasel (other than Dante's circular exploration of San Francisco's mystic underbelly and its citizenry or his similar stint in New Orleans). Rondone provides plenty of great, elaborate description but precious little action. Just as TV's Seinfeld bills itself as "the show about nothing," the reader is expected to derive pleasure from Dante's search for truth and an endless succession of his surreal/slice-of-life observations, which makes Pop Goes the Weasel an acquired taste to say the least.
Even the author admits this on page 74 of Book I: "There is no narrative, no dialogue, no plot, no characterization. Half of the time there is no delineation between when the narrator is speaking or thinking or pontificating and when it is Dante who's doing it. The book is going nowhere."
And again on page 171 of Book II: "I don't care if none of this makes any sense; I don't care if what I’m writing now doesn't move the plot."
In keeping with Rondone's Divine Comedy theme, a character with the name Virgil is introduced in Book II -- a middle aged disgruntled misanthrope, like Dante, who stands out early on by commendably stating the following at a cafe: "I didn't want to go over to Vietnam and dump flaming, jellied gasoline on innocent women and children." However, book II is as randomly anecdotal and as devoid of anything linear as Book I -- anecdotal as in:
"Tse, Virgil's young, Asian, rapper-poet-writer-backpacker, street dwelling friend, came in and told Edgar and Virgil that he had just got mixed up in a scam whereby he and the guy he was with had ended up ripping off this blond haired gaffy girl in the Upper Haight for a sizable amount of green bud. He subsequently rolled a spliff, and they toked."
Book II does seem to center (somewhat) around a concern over Virgil's friend, Jimmy ("who went missing for weeks after "neglecting his anti depressant medicine") and his next move in life. Deciding where Virgil is to live provides Rondone with another reason to invoke the mystical:
"The first card in the Thoth Tarot deck Virgil drew on the full moon night just prior to the 13th day of January was the Death Trump, and initially it shocked him somewhat. He wanted to know if he should leave San Francisco, if he should go to Philadelphia; he had implicitly suggested the question, subliminally rather than overtly queried, and he had thrown the Tarot after his first sitting in meditation in months ... The Death Card, the 13th Trump in the Tarot deck, represents change ..."
Magic plays a starring role in both books, but only as an incidental supporting actor. Great concepts are brought up:
"Dante in the abnormal course of events began consorting with his VCR. At length, he found, quite by accident, a small red plastic button on the remote control of the device, which was cut into a strange upside down five pointed star and circled with a thin red line. No mention of the purpose or function of this button was made in the device’s operating manual, even though it was printed in several languages. Some tongues, however, must remain unwagged, he discovered. Only one line seemed to pertain to the control: Note: The function activated by the pentagram shaped button can also be accessed by entering the numerals 666 on the numeric keypad ..."
Only to be vaguely alluded to much later:
"Dante had noticed, on the corner of Haight and Cole, a bewildered looking man standing next to a building with a far off look in his eyes and holding a remote control in his hand, not unlike the remote control Dante used to covet from his enchanted VCR. There was something strangely familiar about the guy. Later Dante wondered if he had been techno journeying like Dante had done; if true, the consequences substantiated a serious setback. For if this man had a enchanted VCR and was videotape traveling, then he was in Dante's movie. That meant that Dante's life was not real, but only a movie, only an illusion, like the flickering images of a film projected against a blank screen in such rapid succession as to give the illusory impression of movement. Maybe that's why nothing ever happens here, Dante thought. Or is it that nothing ever changes? Maybe I shouldn't take this life too seriously after all."
And then this intriguing concept is dropped altogether, which leaves the sci fi fan in me longing for more. I could see a whole movie based on nothing more than that VCR.
It wouldn't take too many pages for a mainstream American reader to begin asking, where in the name of Timothy Leary is Rondone going with this? The short answer is nowhere in particular, but as the old expression goes, not all who wander are lost.
Though it tends to ramble, Pop Goes the Weasel does provide a variety of entertaining eccentric characters, such as Tagy, a lanky rock musician who's "fond of remarking to anyone within shoutshot that he did not trust anyone but his mother" and wallows in frivolous lawsuits ("For litigation was a favorite pastime of the millionaire, whom had engaged in so many legal battles in the past that he could probably past the bar examinations in at least fifteen States in the Union.") or Hapless Hadley Dunn, a bartender who produces "perverted" postcards, one of which is called Sacred Fart, Cosmic Yolk.
And then there's Edgar, "The Egg Man," More: "An idiot savant, all six foot four and 250 pounds of him. Forty something, unemployable, on permanent disability, the holder of secret esoteric knowledge on a thousand subjects."
Not to mention: "Big Isaac, the well dressed, six foot five inch black man who reportedly wears lifts and carries a polished pine wood club half his height, and has a seemingly unending supply of Tylenol #4 with codeine."
In addition, Rondone is quite the philosopher and has collected some of the best quotes I've ever read in Pop Goes the Weasel -- I compiled a short list of my favorites:
"Poverty is a very humbling experience."
"We all prostitute ourselves for money one way or another."
"What's the big deal about cloning? The Germans have been doing it for the last two hundred and fifty years!"
"Such disrespect for the most precious of births, a human birth."
"Isn't it funny how the Dalai Lama and Henry Kissinger have both been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize?"
"Anger is nothing but thwarted desire."
"He wasn't overly sensitive and easily agitated; they were just assholes!"
"If all else fails, follow your bliss."
"I need a miracle everyday."
"There are six hundred Vietnam War vets living in Golden Gate Park, and they're gonna take the Presidio."
Referred to as "an instruction manual for the obliteration of the ego ... A bible of the perverse and the pedantic, the profane and the philosophical," Pop Goes the Weasel is best read while under the influence of something harsh.
Saab Lofton is an author and a freelance writer based in Seattle. Formerly a regular featured columnist for the Las Vegas magazine, CityLife, he also writes for The Seattle Sinner, TREWS.org, and any other venue that pays him up front for his erudition -- except when he does it for free altogether