Say Hello To My Little Review
By Doug Miller
December 2003
Readers of non-fiction will rejoice at the release of Pamela Miller's Say Hello To My Little Friend. A tale of action and romance, Say Hello will keep you guessing until the surprise ending. Careful analysis of the author's recent works reveals a transition from more whimsical, carefree musings to this bold new voice that is ready to tackle the serious issues of the day. Pamela Miller has indeed come of age and isn't afraid what anyone may think.
The flower motif may escape the casual reader. Fortunately this keeps reviewers such as myself in business. Take for example this riveting exchange during the dramatic courtroom scene where the fate of a man's life hangs in the balance:
Chopping me down at the ankles, the only thing I had sole final cut on was the cake. My choice: chocolate cake with fudge icing and an interior layer of custard and fresh strawberries.
"You didn't get flowers on it, did you?" she asked in a tone reminiscent of Joan Crawford shouting "No wire hangers!"
"Flowers. Are you kidding? There will be no icing flowers."
And it was so.
In this passage flowers are obviously a metaphor for personal accountability in a world gone mad. Should the hopes and dreams of the individual matter more than the mindless conformity of a bakery run by a madman?
Which brings us to the question of the David character, perhaps the most enigmatic of the participants in the birthday party scene. While he has no dialogue, it seems he has the most to say. Those new to the works of Pamela Miller may be shocked to learn of her brief, yet torrid, affair with the great philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. The attentive reader will instantly recognize the following passage as a thinly veiled barb at the great philosopher’s unfortunate habit of mumbling under his breath and then excusing himself to the bathroom whenever questioned about the merits of Hannibal Lecter:
“Because he couldn't talk, there wouldn't be that awkward period of discovering he had nothing of consequence to say.”
It would seem that our delicate flower indeed has thorns. It is a documented fact that she discarded Kierkegaard like a used tissue when she was finished with him, leading him to write in Prefaces, one of his most misunderstood works when taken out of context:
"I am so stupid that I cannot understand philosophy; the antithesis of this is that philosophy is so clever that it cannot comprehend my stupidity. These antitheses are mediated in a higher unity; in our common stupidity."
Clearly he never got over her.
So is it any wonder that the David character literally screams out her ambivalent love/hate relationship when you consider this line from Kierkegaard's The Journals?
"There are men who are wanting in the comparative, they as a rule are the most interesting."
Pamela does little to veil exactly what is wanting with David/Søren, and yet multitudes of faceless women in the story desire him. Consider this passage:
I watched my doll being carried across the park. Then I watched a bevy of young women kiss him during the photo. The doll didn't mind, but I did. I didn't want another woman's lipstick on my man.
Here we see Pamela at her most playful. The protagonist is dealing with possessiveness issues the same way a child will kill a flower in order to possess it. Perhaps it was in this playful mood that the central theme of this story is embedded in a line the casual observer may have overlooked. I’m talking, of course, about the reference to Wayne Newton. Here the author practically screams out her deepest desire, as it is readily apparent that the name Wayne A. Newton is actually an anagram for We Want Anyone. Careful Pamela, when you play with old flames, you’re bound to get burned.
This work heralds in the dawn of a new age in existential literature. Keep your Man and Superman, your Steppenwolf’s, your Gregor Samsa’s, and all of your Brothers Karamazov. Say hello to the new paragon who transcends ordinary existence, his name is David.
Back to Borderline Mensa Archives
Back to Borderline Mensa