Don't
you just hate meddling characters? I know of two, though one was far
more maddening than the other. I just couldn't like her, although in
her lovesick state I don't suppose she could prevent herself from
being tiresome, since she was so invested in her crush she couldn't
see, as the recipient of her affections put it, 'she's barking up the
wrong man.' This was not a tree (or a man) she could climb. His heart and mind lay with another; another who didn't return his feelings yet consumed him day and night, and he, like her, wouldn't be told his pursuit was in vain. The lovesick girl made clumsy overtures, while the lovesick man had grander plans which were far more dangerous to anyone or anything that stood in his way of getting the girl. The other girl. The one he loved who didn't love him back and had twice married someone else. And with one had a son.
Both the lovelorn wanted something to materialise, however the girl had more realistic expectations. She saw what was for him out of reach, as did his work colleague and friend, yet only managed to infuriate him with her overzealous interest, whilst he went above and beyond to make his fantasies true, not realising (as we all sometimes do) that it's impossible to predict the behaviour of others.
His was more than a crush. Hers was mild by comparison and fairly typical when all you want is for someone to like you back. Or to notice you in that way. And yet, although this man got increasingly erratic and delusional, it was her I grew to dislike. A lot. She got under my skin so that I too barked up the wrong man and sided with the anti-hero.
Does it matter that this anti-hero was fictional? No, because Highsmith Country is peopled with characters that on the surface lead ordinary lives. They're liked (for the most part) and deal with themes that still happen in the world at large, despite the changed and changing times. Disbelief is quickly suspended when it comes to human nature. Highsmith just pushes the situation a bit further along, to its extremist point, until the characters break.
And on the way to that cliff edge you identify because life as most of know throws curve balls, maybe not exactly the same as in novels, yet still the circumstances in which they arise may exhort you to perhaps act out of all proportion, out of character. Or they allow the fantasy you use as an escape to take over until the door dividing the two can barely be slipped through, as it finally does in This Sweet Sickness.
Overwhelming emotions cloud thinking, like wearing glasses with a different coloured lens, not always of the rose-tinted kind, and these emotions, if unable to be controlled, need to be fed and the consequences of that can be fatal. Reality departs as paranoia sweeps in, or worse, a red mist that places you at the centre as well as detaches you from the situation and any others that you've involved or somehow they've mixed themselves up in.
The Situation, as Highsmith's David Kelsey refers to it, has similarities to A Midsummer Night's Dream without the comedic element, for what starts out as a straightforward case of unrequited love turns him psychotic, which then escalates to murder, and later suicide.
Attraction is indeed a sickness, chemically, though I question its sweetness, having very little experience of a mellowed relationship i.e. beyond the intense stage where I've been told it's more cosy and comfortable, because, to be frank, for a private person such intensity is a struggle. And if it's mutual, it's not just yours you contend with but also somebody else's so it's a double whammy.
One-sided? Well, it's easier if you can accept it as that and actually like distance from your 'pin-up': the one that to you oozes perfection or charisma. But there's healthy teenage-like crushes and then there's creepy obsessions. It's (I think) okay to hold a torch for someone if you don't exert your will, interfere in their lives or invade their privacy, especially if you know your feelings aren't nor are ever likely to be reciprocated. Although I'm not talking fan worship of some star because, seriously, that can be borderline...but somebody ordinary who you encounter. I mean, who hasn't occasionally barked up the wrong man (or woman) and tortured themselves?
Picture credit: Statue of Liberty, Henri Silberman
