In an article titled “Bikers for Jesus,” Denis Johnson described
himself flippantly as “a Christian convert, but one of the airy,
sophisticated kind.” It was the sort of claim he made often, and it
points to one of the central problems in his work. Johnson’s writing is
full of street-corner prophets and enigmatic religious language, but
it’s hard to decide whether these elements are poetic tropes or
articulations of a deeper kind of religious feeling. Johnson never
offered any guidance.
In 1993, he sat for an interview about spiritual themes in his
writing, and his answers were slippery and confusing. He talked about
television and secular culture, the Jungian notion that spirituality
will express itself one way or another and the idea that all novels
spring from the same impulse as the Bible. The nature of Johnson’s own
belief seems to have been inexpressible. Late in life, he’d given up
trying to explain. “If I’ve discussed these things in the past, I
shouldn’t have,” he said in 2013. “I’m not qualified. I don’t know who
God is, or any of that. People concerned with those questions turn up in
my stories, but I can’t explain why they do. Sometimes I wish they
wouldn’t.”
And yet these people do turn up, again and again. Johnson, who died
last year, wrote in many genres, but the through-line in all his work is
“God”: God the metaphor, God the stylistic trope, God the real and
eternal being. In Resuscitation of a Hanged Man (1991), the hero is a Catholic struggling with his belief. There are people in Fiskadoro (1985) who worship Bob Marley, and there’s a woman who prays to a loa named “Atomic Bomber Major Colonel Overdoze.” In Angels (1983), religion is worse than drugs—you can lose yourself in it more completely. In Tree of Smoke (2007),
a Vietnam-era spy novel, there’s a psyops figure who dreams of
weaponizing religious feeling in the fight against communism. On and on
it goes.
When I was 19, I read Johnson’s 1992 story cycle Jesus’ Son,
which is about a heroin addict whose friends call him “Fuckhead.” I was
a novelist who hadn’t written a novel yet, and I was interested in Jesus’ Son because
of its texture: fragmentary, episodic, surprisingly mixed in its tone.
Fuckhead, who is also the narrator, and who doesn’t object to his
nickname, has an innocence that gives the book a surprising
delicacy—it’s more like Catcher in the Rye than Requiem for a Dream. ... [mehr] https://lithub.com/looking-for-god-in-the-writing-of-denis-johnson/
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