The Road to Jonestown – A Detailed and Disturbing Account of Fanaticism at its Worst

The tragedy of Jonestown ministry still haunts the American collective psyche. In November 1978, in the Guyanese Jungles, Rev. Jim Jones dictated his 900 plus followers (including at least 300 children) to drink the cyanide-laced drinks and commit suicide (Jones took a bullet to his dead and followed them). Five others, including an American Congressman and three journalists, were shot dead at the Guyanese airstrip by Jones’ disciples. It’s one of the largest mass killings outside of warfare and terrorist attacks. How did the pristine idealism of Jones’ Peoples Temple led to mass murder? How did the charismatic, gregarious preacher turned into a paranoid demagogue? What propelled these cult members, who hailed from different walks of life, to heed their warped leaders’ command? Jeff Guinn’s compelling and richly detailed The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple (published April 2017) takes us through the mind-boggling sequence of events that eventually led to the irreparable tragedy. Through the unforeseen rise and fall of Peoples Temple, Guinn taps into the tumultuous era (early 1960s to mid 1970s) in American sociopolitical history. This dark saga is also a universal cautionary tale as the common public still remains a vulnerable prey for psychopathic demagogues who clamarously promise utopias and superficial escape from the burdens of modern life.

Jeff Guinn’s non-fiction books often try to dig deep into true stories that are almost mythologized by hazy public perception. Go Down Together (2009) promised untold story of outlaw couple Bonnie & Clyde. The Last Gunfight (2011) offered the myth-busting chronicle of O.K.Corral gunfight, an incident upon which countless Western genre movies were made. With the 2013 book ‘Manson’, Guinn delved into the life of notorious cult leader & fiendish murderer Charles Mansion. The Road to Jonestown, which shares the same turbulent era of Manson, distinctly portrays the unraveling of a once-innocent community, wholly dedicated to economic and racial justice. Guinn opens the book with the chilling discovery of corpses at Jonestown by the Guyanese soldiers. Then it jumps back in time to tell the story of Jones’ family, before Jim Jones’ birth.

Jeff Guinn

Born to an unaffectionate and overdrawing mother, Lynetta and a sickly, disenchanted father, Jim Jones (born 13 May, 1931) had a miserable childhood. Fascinated by his mother’s delusions of grandeur (Lynetta proclaimed that her son is destined for 'greatness'), Jones grew up as an ambitious and weird kid. He attended all the churches in their small Indiana community, held funerals for road-kills, and during World War II when kids dreamed of becoming American GIs, he studied and admired Adolf Hitler. He showcased genuine empathy and easily connected with individuals, yet also honed his manipulative skills to get what he wanted. Tenacity and flattery are really not the worst traits in a human being. And despite his dysfunctional family, Jones didn’t commit any crime as he was on the cusp of adulthood. Jones was simply super-charged and hyper about religion, God, and socialism.

 

Guinn brings in all the facts and digs up all the new perspective about Jones as a child (from numerous interviews with the townspeople). Each stage of Jones’ life, constructed through different sources, gradually exhibits how his rallying cry against racial injustice and impoverishment transformed to unbridled narcissism and paranoia. As a young man, Jones a white guy, preached to black people (in a community known for high Ku Klux Klan membership) and opened his first storefront church in Indianapolis in 1954. Jones saw himself as a socialist messiah, but to lure the common folks, he reverted to (staged) faith-healings and other assortment of trickeries (used chicken offal to make it look like cancer tumors which he supposedly pulled out of people). But Jones’ honest advocacy and actions against social injustice gained him more loyal followers, even though the tricky healing sessions helped to fill the temples’ coffers.

Jim Jones and his 'rainbow' family

At Indianapolis, Jones helped Church (temple) members even with utilities and housing. His dedicated wife Marceline ran temple nursing homes and drug detox centers. Furthermore, Jones spear-headed the integration in his city when civil rights protests were at the peak. He and wife Marceline also practiced what they preached: they adopted African-American and Korean children (called themselves ‘rainbow family’), a gesture previously unheard of in white suburban community. By the early 1960s, Jones congregation outgrew his simple storefront Church. He relocated to Ukiah, a small community in northern California and rechristened his church as ‘Peoples Temple’ (without an apostrophe because it is said to symbolize ownership). Jones also chose the location to avoid the alleged nuclear apocalypse, at the height of Cold War (after reading an Esquire magazine article about 'possible safe places for nuclear fallout'). Jones’ enthusiastic and fiery preaching led to large influx of black residents and white liberal youths. After Jones’ temple quickly and strongly integrated itself into the local community, they moved on to larger cities (Los Angeles) and hoped to fulfill its socialist fantasies.

Around this time, Jones the master manipulator overtook his inner feelings of empathy and selflessness. Boosted by drugs, he became erratic, petty, sexually deviant, and consistently gave into barbarism. Physical punishments and psychological humiliation were increasingly practiced to control and quell the thoughts of his ever-growing congregation. The preacher’s insistence on socialist cause made many followers to overlook his apparent flaws and blatant fundraising practices. Moreover, Jones’ idealism was a respite for many of its members, reeling in the fragmented American society of the era. Nevertheless, the optimism and perseverance quickly turned to paranoia and fear. Jones and his congregation started to increasingly close themselves off from the remaining world. He became obsessed with the idea of nuclear apocalypse and political conspiracies so as to start a self-sustaining agrarian community. After few failed trips around South America, Jones zeroed-in on Guyana a former British colony which gained its independence in 1966. An advance team was sent to clear and built the utopian community to house thousands of followers in the jungle. Facing increasing pressure from authorities and reporters (the family members of Jonestown sect became concerned about the safety of their loved ones), Jones flew to Guyana with nearly 900 followers. Tougher reporting followed, and Jones’ paranoia touched new levels. He feared a plot concocted by CIA, American and Guyanese government. It all resulted in a truly terrifying and unforgettable endgame.

Dead bodies are strewn around the Jonestown Commune in Jonestown, Guyana

The Road to Jonestown is a tale of self-deification, depravity, and cold-blooded murder. The last chunk of the book is very hard to read, especially when Guinn drops us into the mass suicide scenario, re-telling facts and recreating the atmosphere through (surviving) witnesses’ confessions. The mind-image of mothers standing in line with their infants to drink the cyanide-laced ‘Flavor-aid’, who somehow believed in their preachers’ ultimate message of socialist defiance, deeply haunted me. “They worshiped Jim Jones, believed that they were making a grand revolutionary statement, and looked forward to a new consciousness on some higher plane,” writes the author. Guinn portrays Jones as the man of many talents. His admirable achievements to elevate the down-trodden weren’t understated or misrepresented. At the same time, Guinn deftly lays out the demagoguery that eventually betrayed and killed his followers. He warns us about cloistered, utopia-promising communities which are rather riddled with violence, greed, and hate.

Guinn foretells the method of modern false prophets in one fascinating passage: “Those as gifted as Jones use actual rather than imagined injustices as their initial lure – the racism and economic disparity in America that Jones cited were, and still are, real – then exaggerate the threat until followers lose any sense of perspective.” The recent Netflix documentary (Wild Wild Country) on ‘Rajneesh Cult’ and Jeff Guinn’s The Road to Jonestown is a must see & read experiences to learn of the lives and dreams crunched to service the dreadful demagogues. The book’s ultimate hard-hitting aspect is not simply a well-written passage, but the inclusion of an old, bitterly ironic photograph of the corpses in a Jonestown building, adorned with a placard ‘Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it.’ 

Jonestown, PBS documentary

We Have Always Lived in the Castle – An Enduring Classic of Gothic Horror Tableau

"Poor strangers, they have so much to be afraid of."

 Shirley Jackson published her well-known short story ‘The Lottery’ and debut novel ‘The Road through the Wall’ in 1948. She was one of the well-read writer of her times, until her death in 1965, at the age of 48. During her writing career, Shirley Jackson has penned numerous short stories, six novels, and two non-fiction works. After her death, Jackson’s works dwindled gradually from collective memory. Her novels were either dismissed as high-toned Gothic horror or went out of print. But Jackson is one of the great writers whose deep, dark worlds are worth discovering (or re-discover) and her relentlessly creeping prose offers crypto-feminist take on the elemental terrors of childhood and adulthood. Ruth Franklin’s biography on Shirley Jackson captures the grueling upbringing, domestic life, and marriage of the author, which is perhaps often hinted in the gradual disintegration of her heroines.

Married to literary critic Stanley Edgar Hyman, Jackson spent much of her adult life in the small village of North Bennington, Vermont. Jackson had confided to friends & family that she and her (four) children were condescended and ostracized by the townspeople. It served as a constant source of anxiety for Jackson, which also led to abuse of alcohol alongside tranquilizers. This personal dissatisfaction, self-loathing, loneliness, uncertainty, and paranoia helped Jackson create the eerie and unforgettable fictional realms. I was initiated into the author’s world through her famous 1959 novel ‘The Haunting of Hill House’. Then I read her overlooked classic ‘The Sundial’ (and of course also read few short stories including ‘The Lottery'). But after reading Ruth Franklin’s ‘Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life’ I think I gained a little more clarity in interpreting her works (of course the biography also makes us very sad). Subsequently, the first-time reading of Shirley Jackson’s last novel We Have Always Lived in the Castle (published 1962) had bestowed me a rich and strangely creepy read.

Unlike most of the horror writers, Jackson never pulls any cheap shots and her element of horror is almost uncategorizable. As one familiar with the author’s literature could expect, We Have Always Lived in the Castle is about outsiders, living close to a small American Midwestern village that promulgates ostracism and narrow-mindedness. It’s full of macabre elements and dark humor, narrated by an amiable yet weird 18-year-old girl named Mary Katherine ‘Merricat’ Blackwood. She lives with her elder sister Constance Blackwood and wheel-chair bound Uncle Julian in a giant mansion built in the sprawling acres of lands belonging to the Blackwood family for generations. The darker note about this family is uncovered in Mary’s introductory passage that includes the sentence, “Everyone else in our family is dead.” The three are the only survivors of arsenic poisoning that killed every other Blackwoods (six years ago). The poison was sprinkled on the sugar bowl. Constance who never took sugar, Mary who was banished to her room before supper, and Uncle Julian who took little amount of sugar were sparred (although Julian’s mind and body are half-dead). 

Author Shirley Jackson

Constance was suspected of poisoning, but got acquitted due to lack of evidence. However, the villagers were too wary of the remaining Blackwoods that Constance hasn’t ventured outside ever since the trial. To not give into the isolation and deprivation, the sisters strictly adhere to a routine, neatly marking their boundaries and tasks. Two times a week, Merricat goes outside to the village in search of food and books. Those are the days, Mary explains, are the worst moments in her life as the ever-vigilant people of the dilapidated village taunt her. The children even chant awful songs: “Merricat, said Connie, would you like a cup of tea? Oh no, said Merricat, you’ll poison me. Merricat, said Connie, would you like to go to sleep? Down in the boneyard ten feet deep!”  There’s clearly a hint of class issues in the villagers’ treatment of the Blackwoods, who are seen as lofty and mistrustful ‘others’. The villagers, unlike us readers, also look at the Blackwood sisters through a narrow window of prejudice and fear. The sisters’ inherent strangeness only exacerbates their situation. Nevertheless, Constance and Merricat are content with their current undisturbed, idyllic life.

Anxiety-ridden, twenty eight year old Constance is pretty much like the real Shirley Jackson, while Merricat, a tomboy who likes running through tall grass-fields with her beloved cat Jonas, is the author’s alter ego. Merricat suggests earlier that something terrible is about to happen which might wholly stop her bi-weekly trips to the village. Consequently, the sisters’ routine life is upset by the arrival of unannounced and unwanted visitor, Cousin Charles Blackwood. Merricat intensely dislikes Charles who slightly resembles her father and whom she (rightly) suspects is visiting only to get his hands on the family’s vast fortune. Alas, to Mary’s dismay, Constance seems to be falling for Charles’ charms. She plots ways to get rid of him, which only billows the sisters’ reclusiveness and strongly embeds the infamous legacy of the Blackwoods in the villagers’ collective memory.

Alexandra Daddario (left) & Taissa Farmiga playing Constance and Merricat respectively in the upcoming movie adaptation

Shirley Jackson’s creepy stories often remain as a commentary on intolerance and ignorance within the  familial and social set-up. Unlike the wild, super-detached objective gaze in ‘The Lottery’, We Have Always Lived in the Castle has a finely-crafted subjective perspective, fraught with themes of conservatism, ascetic existence, and womanhood. Through the unsettling eyes of Merricat, Jackson showcases both Charles and the villagers in a non-sympathetic manner. Earlier in the novel, the narrator makes an assumption that ‘the villagers have always hated us’. It clearly hints at the unerasable antipathy between the poor and rich, which later brings up destruction in complex ways. The Blackwoods are written as a dying class whose silver, money, and sprawling lands can’t save them from the ever-changing tides of history. At the same time the brilliant worth of a Shirley Jackson’s story couldn’t be just reduced to its built-in social commentary.

Much of the bliss in reading her work comes from the haunting disquieting atmosphere she creates. She lures us through her grimly fascinating personas whose cryptic nature resists simple interpretations. One interesting and darkly funny framing technique in the novel is the attempt by Uncle Julian to intimately retell the fateful events that took place six years before. The novel doesn’t have much of a grand mystery but the slow encapsulation of Constance into Merricat’s morbid world is utterly disturbing. They become living ghosts, haunting their own charred mansion. ‘Chilling cheer’ is the word used to denote Merricat’s morbid enunciation. It could very well be the perfect phrase to describe the feeling of reading We Have Always Lived in the Castle.

 

 

A Gentleman in Moscow – A Worldly Man Finding Joy among the Lowest Points of Life

As both a student of history and a man devoted to living in the present, I admit that I do not spend a lot of time imagining how things might otherwise have been. But I do like to think there is a difference between being resigned to a situation and reconciled to it.

Author Amor Towles has worked more than two decades in the investment business. From 2006 he started to intensely pursue his dream of being a novelist. The novel later known as Rules of Civility chronicled a young plucky heroine’s (Katey Kontent) ascension in the 1938 Manhattan social ladder. The novel was published in 2011 and proclaimed as a sleeper hit. Eventually Rules of Civility went to sell more than 300,000 copies in US and was translated into 17 languages. Mr. Towles followed it up with a middling novella (set in the same universe as his debut novel) titled ‘Eve in Hollywood’. The author’s new novel A Gentleman in Moscow (published September 2016) once again finds him at his most suave, elegant, and relentlessly charming mode.

The characters of Amor Towles have earned the superlative Gatsby-esque label; people of graceful manners and refinement with their own code for social etiquette. Maybe Towles’ sophisticated retro-era fiction doesn’t fully scale the heights reached by F. Scott Fitzgerald, but the immaculated lucidity in building the characters and atmosphere makes A Gentleman in Moscow a delightful read. Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov is the protagonist of Towles’ novel. In the year 1922, Rostov is summoned before the Emergency Committee of the People's Commissariat to annul his aristocrat status and provide due punishment for being one. He is sentenced to house arrest in a Moscow luxury hotel named ‘Metropol’. Moreover, he is shunned from using his opulent suite (room 317). Instead, Count Rostov is confined to a dingy attic above the fifth floor. There the ‘former person’ tries to make the best out of his new life with gusto and fortitude. The novel unfolds between the years 1922 and 1954 as Rostov is transformed from being a man rejoicing the luxury hotel’s amenities to a headwaiter, which naturally allows him to put all his knowledge of wine, food, and culture to good use.

Author Amor Towles

Rostov isn’t markedly political, although he is sympathetic to the communist ideals (it is recurrently mentioned that Rostov returned to his homeland from Paris after the revolution). At the same time he doesn’t impetuously pledge himself to lifeless, inhumane schemas of Bolshevik Party. The claustrophobic setting and heavily weighing existential questions do push Rostov towards depression. But the other denizens/workers of the hotel -- the chef Emilie, the seamstress Marina, and the maitre'd, Andrey -- often bestow him with renewed purpose. Then there’s nine year old Nina Kulikova, a determined, winsome young girl who befriends Rostov. The beautiful friendship Nina shares with the Count later makes her (when she is a young woman) to demand Alexander Rostov to take over an unexpectant yet profound role. For more than three decades, Rostov’s routine in the hotel is simple: he tries and fails to finish Montaigne’s essays; he regularly visits the hotel barbershop for a trim; he exercises; he observes people; and enjoys his nightly rendezvous in the suite of a wealthy actress, Anna Urbanova. As Rostov’s friend Mischka says, “Who would have imagined when you were sentenced to life in the Metropol all those years ago, that you had just become the luckiest man in all of Russia?” Most of the grim doings of Stalinist Russia occur out of sight, even though the harsh realities and savagery of the era sets in motion Rostov’s later elaborate plans.

A Gentleman in Moscow is one of those novels that must be read for it’s breathtaking, if not overpowering, prose. The layered texture of the novel comes from the synergy of Towles’ playful imagination and his fascination with Russian literature & cultural history. Mr. Towles’ primary success was transporting us into the shoes of the protagonist and watch life unfold over 32 years without making it a claustrophobic, tedious read. Although set within a limited space, the author’s underlying structure steadily moves the story outward. The initial chapter begins on June 1922 and the subsequent chapters of first-half unfold over a day, two days, then over a week, month, year, and so on until the sixteen-year midpoint. In the second-half, the chapters reverse the structure (or time-period). It’s called as ‘diamond’ or ‘accordion’ structure. This transient story-telling mode allows Towles to choose particular days or weeks to deftly swirl together the characters, their changing roles and emotions. The structure also allows to flawlessly detail the protagonist’s early days of confinement and the later days building up to his escape, while the ever-changing political landscape, Rostov’s parenthood status, and career status were swiftly observed across time.

Kenneth Branagh to star & adapt 'A Gentleman in Moscow' for Television

For the most part, Towles’s evocation of Russia throughout the first half of the 20th century is well-focused and rich in historic details. Nevertheless, it feels that the novel is packed with charm and warmth to a fault. Especially, in the second-half where the story seems to move towards an uncertain destination, the great gloom of Stalinism is merely used as a tool to pursue a feel-good ending (the writing in these portions also becomes a bit clunky and too formal). But it could be said that Towles’ novel is never concerned with the very real-world politics of the era. It pretty much focuses on the notion of individual resistance against a repressive regime. Furthermore, it accounts a heroic soul’s graceful existence, in the face of diminished circumstances. The post-revolutionary Stalinist Russia could of course be substituted with any oppressive regime from different time-periods. In fact, many American readers and critics interestingly find Rostov an inspiration to deal with Trump presidency.

A Gentleman in Moscow might be accused of being too stuffed and for not doing justice to the atrocities committed during the era. But Amor Towles’ story is ultimately a poetic expression of individuality, which despite its flaws offers a purely pleasurable reading experience.