I, Judas by James Reich
Posted on 25th October 2011
I Judas by James Reich
Soft Skull Press
2011
Transplanted (to New Mexico) Bath, UK, author, musician and, briefly, bookshop owner James Reich has just had his first novel published by Soft Skull Press in America. The first thing to make clear is that this is no mystery novel or international thriller; it is indeed serious literature.
And as such it succeeds, impressively so.
As the title attests, it is the story, or perhaps I should say a story, of Judas Iscariot. But this is not, does not attempt to be, a history. Rather, it is a poetic discourse of the role of the Judas figure through time, especially in relation to the Christ. It is anchored in the biblical era — in fact it is anchored in biblical language — but it easily changes time periods with the assumption of the Judas role, characterised by betrayal or suicide, in other historical figures. Some of these are familiar subjects for those acquainted with James' songs, e.g., Jacques Rigaut, the early Dadaist suicide, also the title of a Venus Bogardus (James' band) song. Whether Salome, Bob Dylan or Van Gogh, the reader must put together the pieces of this Judas continuum to understand the essence of the book. Judas always stands in relation to Jesus, his boyhood friend, lifelong companion and instrument of Judas' influence. The two are familiar human types: Judas, smart, cynical, perceptive; Jesus, impressionably naïve but with the deadly combination of idealistic severity and wild passion.
The book is not without humour, some of it found in the depiction of Jesus, other often with the interjection and juxtaposition of modern scenes with the ancient: Jesus addressing journalists during the Baghdad bombings of this century, Pontius Pilate enforcing a no-fly zone from the aircraft carrier USS Eldritch.
While reading through I, Judas, I often felt that I was reading the lost Gospel According to William Burroughs. The writing is surely influenced by Burroughs, not the random cut-and-paste that he became misunderstood for, but for the dreamlike, deep description and absolutely personal quality, the almost forensic sensual awareness of our physical bodies, blood and organs, bloom and decay, all very much evident in the first half of I, Judas; it somewhat gives way to the episodic story line in latter parts, but makes a potent return at the end.
William Burroughs is, of course, not the only influence here. I often thought of Flaubert's Salammbô with its bloody sensuality, historical setting and redolently lush prose. Generally, though, James Reich is a sensible product of 20th century literature, Faulkner, Joyce, Cortazar, Ginsberg, Dylan, with a healthy respect for biblical prose thrown in — and perhaps one other stretch, not a writer: film maker Kenneth Anger. Not only for the similar blasphemy and humour of Scorpio Rising, but for the juxtaposition of time, the imagery and the general causticism of Anger's work.
Beyond all these influences and interpretations, there is one thing that sets James Reich's I Judas apart, and that is the quality of his writing. While it's pretty clear James has a big brain, filled with encyclopedic knowledge, the attribute that serves him, and the reader, best is his surprising ability to strike home continually with an exalted, consummate phrase, paragraph, even a word. All the other qualities of the book indicate a fascinating thinker; this last means a genuine writer.
Charley Dunlap
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