Published by Forge Books on January 11, 2022
A Thousand Steps is an interesting but frustrating novel. I couldn’t quite lose myself in its setting or plot, notwithstanding that both are a bit offbeat, because neither are quite convincing.
The setting is Laguna Beach in 1968. Timothy Leary is one of the characters, although he is more a caricature than a character. Various gurus, artists, hippies, cops, bikers, and high school kids also populate the novel. I suppose that Leary and Be-Ins and acid tripping might be how people remember Laguna Beach today, but there was clearly more to the city than T. Jefferson Parker acknowledges.
In addition to the flower children, acid consumers, and obligatory criminals, the story features Matt Anthony, who is 16-going-on-40. Matt has a paper route and is always hungry. Matt’s brother is nearing the end of his tour in Vietnam. Working as a waitress, his mother barely makes enough to pay their rent. Strait-laced Matt tends to judge his weed-smoking mother harshly, particularly after she graduates to weed laced with opium. Oddly, he is less judgmental of his father, a former cop who bailed on the family and is gone for years at a time. Since Matt’s mother stayed around and raised him, you’d think Matt would cut her more slack than he gives his dad.
The novel opens with the discovery of Bonnie Stratmeyer’s body on the beach. She’s a couple years older than Matt, about the same age as Matt’s sister Jasmine. Bonnie has been missing for a few weeks. Shortly after Bonnie’s body appears, Jasmine disappears. Jasmine just turned eighteen. She fights with their mother, making it possible that she’s just asserting her independence and getting away from home, but it soon becomes clear to Matt that she has been abducted. The police are less certain, although the police don’t seem to have much interest in any crime that isn’t related to drugs and hippies. That seems about right, given the time and location.
Apart from rampant drug use, Matt is exposed to a variety of sketchy behavior, from hippies stealing his wallet to a biker gang stealing his wallet, from vaguely pornographic photo shoots to constant invitations to smoke weed. Smoking up might be good for Matt. He’s a perfect patsy, which is why he’s chosen to commit various crimes that he doesn’t know he’s committing, even though the reader will want to shake him and acquaint him with reality. He’s annoyingly uptight, even when his wallet isn’t being stolen. The portrayal of hippies and drugs in Laguna Beach is largely negative, although Parker balances the karma with an equally negative portrayal of the police.
The police and Matt’s father are the kind of “Love It or Leave It” flag wavers who can’t say the word “hippy” without adding the word “scum.” They exemplify the narrow-minded version of conservatism and selective patriotism that was abundant during the Vietnam War and is little changed today. Matt idolizes his brother who has gone to war (fair enough) but he doesn’t grow sufficiently during the course of the novel to recognize that the war was a mistake, that advocating peace and love isn’t necessarily a bad use of one’s time, or that his dad is a bully. Matt’s father returns from his six-year absence both to find Jasmine and to “put the sinful world back right,” which might include taking out hippies, Asians, and anyone who opposes the Vietnam War, including Walter Cronkite. Matt’s dad insists that Matt own a gun because without one he’s not a man. In fact, Matt must buy that gun from his dad because that’s “the Anthony way.” Matt clearly comes from a messed-up family but he shows little ability to stand up to his father or to recognize the harm that his father continues to cause.
Conversations that Matt has with Timothy Leary and Swami Om seem unlikely. Since Matt clearly isn’t part of their scene, I doubt that anyone in that scene would pay him much attention. Beyond that, the entire plot is unlikely. The identity of Jasmine’s kidnappers and the reason for the kidnapping is just silly. The story spends too much time on Matt’s paper route and on the various chores that are making him big and strong, although there are a couple of fun scenes in which Matt gets to first and second base with his female friends. Apart from the almost-sex and action scenes that lack credibility, the story is a little dull. On the other hand, Parker’s prose is sharp and his characterization of Matt as a kid who is ready to come of age but never quite does is convincing. Balancing aspects of the novel I liked against those that troubled me, I can’t give A Thousand Steps an unqualified recommendation, but I wouldn’t tell anyone not to read it.
RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS