Undoubtedly one of the best novels I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, and it almost never happened. I was first turned onto Mark Helprin after picking up “Memoirs from An Antproof Case” in the discount bin, a move measured in equal parts of risk and chance. I had reservations about both the author and the book, the synopsis yielding little in the way of description and the author’s own obscurity not helping my evaluation of his work. It turned out to be one of the best literary decisions I’ve ever made and I became an instant fan of his writing. His novels have had me incapacitated with laughter more than any other media before them or since. Whereas one might laugh aloud once or twice whilst reading a novel or viewing a film, I can’t think of any other writer (or filmmaker or actor) who can elicit a laugh from me 50 times, and still have me pause throughout their work in contemplative reflection. What more could anyone ask for from fiction?
“Freddy and Fredericka” is a novel that borders on the fanciful satirical, if not for its devastating and lasting significance. The titular characters are the Prince and Princess of Wales destined to be ruling monarchy of England. Freddy is a highly (not “over” as stated in the jacket cover, if such a thing even exists) educated eccentric whose ill-perceived exploits covered gleefully by the press give way to a public questioning of both the legitimacy of his right to rule and the legitimacy of his sanity. To himself, and the sympathetic reader, Freddy seems anything but insane – rather, one begins to question one’s own sanity and that of the population when confronted with Freddy’s take on the world and his reactions to its actions. He is a man who deeply feels the burden of royal inheritance and attempts to battle his own feelings of inadequacy with his sense of responsibility and duty. He has little patience for society’s behavioural doctrine, and though he pays it lip service in his efforts of adherence, his unique intellectual flamboyance will inexorably exert itself in outlandish fashion. Having read Helprin previously, I recognized common character traits immediately, though by making Freddy British Royalty, Helprin has opened the doors to an entirely new plateau of farce and philosophy.
Fredericka is a seemingly scatter-brained, dim-witted aristocrat whose sole redeeming qualities appear to be her remarkable beauty and comedic counter-point to Freddy’s stuffy intellectualism. In actuality, the reader discovers that her apparent lack of cognizant sophistication is a product of environment rather than nature for she reveals snippets of intellectual capacity far greater than Freddy’s. Together, they make a couple that is equally endearing, entertaining, and eccentric as any other I’ve encountered in fiction. I challenge anyone not to laugh as Fredericka, when asked about Cervantes, believes it to be a dip for shrimp.
The story itself is a classic “fish-out-of-water” tale, where Freddy and Fredericka are required by Royal mandate to conquer a barbarous, wild land – America. How they adapt themselves and interact with the natives is the type of plot setting that should make readers water in the mouth. There is ample room here to exploit Helprin’s preferred literary device, chaos from assumption and bedlam from presumption.
His prose varies from the poetic to the irreverent but is always filled with his singular philosophy. Superficially, one can readily identify the connections he makes between healthy mind and healthy body – Helprin values physical strength so highly as to make it akin to an intellectual approbation. However, a deeper analysis of Helprin’s protagonists will yield more satisfying insights. His heroes can benignly be called irregular or on the societal fringe, their behaviour marking them as both thought-evoking and delightfully farcical. Yet Helprin imbues them wholly with strong moral values, deep sensitivity to their own mechanisms and motivations, and a naïve imperative that breeds a wisdom seldom seen in mainstream novel characters. They are at once children and philosopher kings.
And, if this weren’t enough, the novel is wickedly, wickedly funny.
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