Book Review | Total Recall by Arnold Schwarzenegger

At the very outset, here’s a disclaimer: I’m an Arnie fan. I’ve been an Arnie fan since I was 12 years old, and first saw him drive a car through a police station wall, calmly get out and riddle everyone in the immediate vicinity with bullets of varying calibers. It was my first introduction to gratuitous violence and it was love at first sight. So it was with surprise and delight that I pounced on the last remaining copy of Total Recall at an airport a few weeks ago, wondering how the hell I hadn’t heard about this.

In an era when a few million YouTube hits is deemed worthy enough to warrant a ‘life story’, it’s strange that it’s taken Mr. Schwarzenegger this long to get around to writing his autobiography.  And let’s be clear-this is a guy with a story to tell. Thirty five years ago, he was The World’s Greatest Bodybuilder.  Twenty years ago, he was The World’s Biggest Movie Star. And five years ago, he was The Governor of America’s most populous state.

Of course, this being an autobiography what we get is Arnie’s version of his life. I wouldn’t exactly call it sanitized (he gleefully admits that his first ever words to Eunice Shriver, his future mother-in-law were “your daughter has a great ass”) but let’s just say that if you’re looking for the brutal, soul- baring honesty of Andre Agassi’s ‘Open’, you’re probably reading the wrong book.

For example, a large portion of the first half of the book is (justifiably) dedicated to his glorious bodybuilding career- his training regimen, his mental preparation, his Mr. Olympia rivalries with Sergio Oliva, Lou Ferrigno & Frank Zane and his enduring friendship with Franco Columbu. But nowhere is there any mention of anabolic steroid use. Granted, he does passingly admit to steroid use later on in the book, but to go through more than a 150 pages without so much as a mention cannot possibly be accidental.That being said, Total Recall is never less than compelling- chock full of humor, intensity and even the odd bit of self-deprecation.

As a lifelong Republican, a fair portion of Schwarzenegger’s book is dedicated to describing what it’s like to be married into the most famous Democrat family in America. But let’s be honest- we all know why we’re here; the movies. And Arnie doesn’t disappoint.From Conan the Barbarian to The Expendables 2, this book touches upon most of his catalogue. Some (the Conan & Terminator franchises, Predator, Twins, True Lies, Last Action Hero) are discussed in a fair amount of detail while others (The Running Man, The 6th Day, Collateral Damage, End of Days and the cringe inducing monstrosity known as Batman & Robin) mercifully warrant no more than a mention.

If you like his movies, you’ll love the trivia this book delivers. Arnold writes at length about clashing with James Cameron on the set of The Terminator regarding his most iconic line. Schwarzenegger preferred ‘I will be back’, arguing that a machine wouldn’t use contractions while Cameron insisted on ‘I’ll be back’ which he felt sounded better.

He talks about crawling through the jungles of Mexico filming Predator a day before his wedding and the ignominy of having to turn up in Church with a crew cut. And of course he talks about the genesis of his famous answer to ‘What is best in life?’ from Conan the Barbarian (to crush you enemies, see them driven before you and hear the lamentation of their women- in case you were wondering).

On the personal front, Schwarzenegger goes to telling lengths to paint a picture of love and respect for his family- both immediate and distant. Of course, we all know where this is leading- to the final few chapters of the book, where he finally addresses his infidelity and his illegitimate child.

Thankfully, this incident appears only at the end of an exceptionally readable book and does nothing to take away from its immense enjoyability.  

Sure, Arnold may not be Mr. Perfect, but then who is? The author of an autobiography earns the right to tell his story his way and that is exactly what he does.  This may have a marginal impact on the factual accuracy of the book, but none whatsoever on its fun quotient. 

A little bit about our reviewer

John Thangaraj is 34 years old, and spends most of his time reading comics, listening to obnoxiously loud metal and playing with his dog (who does not like the obnoxiously loud metal).  He also occasionally finds the time to work, though given that he works in advertising, the actual definition of ‘work’ is ambiguous at best. Having been traumatized by his parents at the tender age of 7 by being made to watch The Omen, The Exorcist and Salem’s Lot in quick succession, he has a somewhat unhealthy obsession with horror and fantasy. His favourite authors include Stephen King, Road Dahl, Bill Bryson and Neil Gaiman. He thinks The Lord of the Rings rules and The Fountainhead sucks.  

Revival Review | The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty

The year is 2012. We are surrounded by vampires- most of them ridiculously good looking. Werewolves are largely misunderstood, but still manage to find the time to work on their abs in between bouts of angst ridden brooding. The world’s most watched television drama is about a zombie apocalypse. Three of this year’s most successful animated movies center around a young boy who can speak to ghosts, a dead dog brought back to life and a luxury resort for monsters run by Count Dracula.

Horror has become a pop culture staple, never more so than when it comes to demonic possession. In the last year alone we’ve been subjected to The Rite, The Devil Inside, The Last Exorcism and The Possession.   Yup, we’re surrounded by horror. And we love it.

But in 1971, the world was a very different place. Horror was predominantly escapist fantasy for teenage boys featuring classic movie monsters, things from outer space and scantily clad 50 feet tall women. Then along came a book that changed everything. That book was called The Exorcist and it taught us that horror was real, that it was lying in bed, upstairs. Waiting.

                                                                                               Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells was the perfect 

soundtrack to the movie and continues to be haunting.

41 years hence, The Exorcist may no longer be as shocking and visceral a read as it was when it was first published, but it still remains one of the greatest horror novels ever written. As the New York Times Sunday Book Review memorably put it, “The Exorcist is to most other books of its kind as an Einstein equation is to an accountant's column of figures”.

The Exorcist created the original blueprint for what has now become Demonic Possession 101: young, innocent girl is possessed by malevolent demon and is then exorcised by Catholic priest.  But its power lies not in its fairly linear plot, but rather in its tone, manner and immensely compelling style. The Exorcist is not a horror novel written in a literary style. It is a literary novel that just happens to be terrifying.

William Peter Blatty shuns fast and easy thrills in favour of slow paced, simmering characterization. The book’s three principle protagonists - conflicted Jesuit priest Damien Karras, traumatized actress Chris MacNeil and her possessed daughter Regan all become living, breathing people that you actually find yourself caring about. The book’s titular character, Father Lankester Merrin only really joins the proceedings in the last 50 pages, yet at no point preceding this does one feel the need for things to get a move on.

While the 1972 film (as brilliant as it was) relied largely on visual shock tactics to deliver most of it scares, the book is more restrained and instead worms its way into your psyche far more insidiously. It is far more than a simple tale of good vs. evil and raises some profound questions regarding the nature of evil, faith and God himself.

Given the increasing amounts of real world horror that we are exposed to these days and the resultant nonchalance with which we have come to treat it, The Exorcist may no longer pack as terrifying a punch as it did all those years ago. However, its message and its underlying implications have never been more relevant than they have today.  Is an emaciated, foul mouthed, head spinning little girl the only manifestation of demonic possession? What about the child molester? The rapist? The murderer? The terrorist? The man who shoots his neighbour over a parking space?

We often talk about how the world we live in ‘is going to hell’. The Exorcist raises the chilling possibility of that particular metaphor being a little too literal for comfort.

Is The Exorcist ‘the scariest book ever written’? Probably not. But is it one of the most disturbing? Most definitely.Ultimately, the book’s power lies not in its ability to make you want to sleep with the light on (though it’ll do that as well, trust me) but instead in its ability to make you think about your own particular belief system- or lack thereof.

In his poem The Generous Gambler, Charles Baudelaire famously wrote “the most exquisite of the Devil’s wiles is persuading us that he does not exist”.

The Exorcist reminds us that not only does The Devil exist, but that he’s waiting for you. In that little room. Just up those stairs…

A little bit about our reviewer

John Thangaraj is 34 years old, and spends most of his time reading comics, listening to obnoxiously loud metal and playing with his dog (who does not like the obnoxiously loud metal).  He also occasionally finds the time to work, though given that he works in advertising, the actual definition of ‘work’ is ambiguous at best. Having been traumatized by his parents at the tender age of 7 by being made to watch The Omen, The Exorcist and Salem’s Lot in quick succession, he has a somewhat unhealthy obsession with horror and fantasy. His favourite authors include Stephen King, Road Dahl, Bill Bryson and Neil Gaiman. He thinks The Lord of the Rings rules and The Fountainhead sucks.  

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