the dead are dying

just finished the fight by norman mailer. it's about the real life event of ali coming back from a boxing exile to defeat foreman in zaire. and it's also about motubu and the city of kinshasa. and it's also about magic and a man called norman mailer.

does this kind of journalist exist anymore? are they all dying and being shot out of cannons? mailer has a style reminiscent of greil marcus. they use popular refences and derive things from the gutter. they are humanist and never forget they are on the longest journey. they never relent and never stop thinking. they never stop pushing and they never stop pushing even when they know they should. they jog when hungover and when their souls are stuffed with last night's dinner.

poor journalists. they spend time over their words and ideas. they travel all over. they eat bad food and stay in murderous hotels. they smile when a punch in the face is more appropriate. they push and shove and live on the whim of sweaty officals. they meet interesting people. they meet powerful people and go to places were others don't. they live off their wit and instincts. they write and they make a living. poor journalists.

mailer also loves boxing. he is not only a student and a fan but also folk narrator of the sport. the way a fighter punches reveals a history of boxing for mailer; textbook examples by ancient practitioners, theories by trainers, development and delivery by the young and willing. he looks into the mystical side, the energy and the mood. he reflects on the dreams and the routine to build up. he looks at not only the faces of the fighters but the managers and sparing partners. the overarching anticipation of the fight is available on every page as well as the precarious safety of zaire.

he talks about himself and how he (being on the side of ali) feels he may jinx the fight. how his little rituals may effect the outcome and his human habit of attaching the galactic to the meaningless. on one page, in his drunken state, he convinces himself that he can help ali if he steps from his hotel balcony to another. he's several stories up. if he can do it, he says to himself, then ali can do the impossible and beat foreman. of course mailer knows that his stepping from one balcony to another cannot possibly affect the fight. he knows that it is true. but he believes it matters. he believes in luck. he believes in spirit and fortune. he believes the human will can propel you and lift you and even sometimes, makes you float.