Jack Ruby in Libra

As soon as I realized which Jack the two strippers in "12 August" were talking about, Jack Ruby instantly became one of the most interesting characters in Libra to me. I have no idea how historical DeLillo's version of Ruby is, but I almost hope it's not too realistic; I'd hate to think I feel as much affection for an actual murderer as I do for this fictionalized one. Sure, he's not a good guy by any stretch of the imagination -- the sexism and occasional violence is a bit hard to excuse -- but you can't really blame him. It's not quite the same as with Lee, either. I have sympathy for Lee, and in a lot of ways I understand him, but he's never as immediately fun as Jack Ruby is. He's a very interesting character study, and DeLillo does a fantastic job using him to examine the human thought process and the ways it can go "wrong," but the separation he feels from other people does kind of extend to the reader. By comparison, Jack Ruby seems to feel almost no separation from other people; he's the definition of the sadly boisterous and out of touch middle-aged white guy, continually let down by how much stock he puts in people he doesn't really understand. We see him talk to the patrons at his strip club, or bring sandwiches to the cops, and think that he's a very friendly guy with good intentions, who for whatever reason doesn't actually get along with people all that well, and often goes a bit over the line of social convention.

One "type" he kind of reminds me of is that of the old man on the bus -- the kind who'll talk to complete strangers for the duration of the ride about how the Illini are doing or what the weather's been like lately. Maybe I'm biased due to how much time I spend on buses, but I feel a lot of sympathy for these kinds of people. They seem like people with fairly reasonable expectations of friendliness from other people who nonetheless seem completely out of touch with the realities of how the social world is structured. You don't talk to strangers on buses and you don't bring sandwiches to the cops out of nowhere, because even if those are positive actions, they're not expected and they make a lot of people a little bit uncomfortable. But still, these things aren't actually bad -- they come from a place of thinking the world is just a little bit better than it really is, and seeing that belief not work out in reality can be heartbreaking.

For Jack Ruby in particular, he has a lot of positive expectations that go nowhere. He wants to help people get off the street -- he goes into debt. He wants a loan from his mafia buddy -- Tony can't do anything to help him. He invents an all-new exercise/recreation tool -- no one hears about it except for his roommate and the Warren Commission. He expects respect as a successful business owner -- readers deride him for running a strip club. Jack just can't catch a break. When we consider just how badly his positive expectations get mangled on a daily basis, it makes it a little more understandable why he feels the need to drug himself and get in fights and have everyone reassure him that he doesn't seem "queer." It also fits in nicely with his patriotism -- the idyllic image of America he has in his head, which seems like something out of a 50's sitcom, has absolutely no basis in reality, but at the same time makes sense as something you would want to defend if you do happen to believe in it. And let's not forget, even with his massive debt and shoddy car, the life he has in Dallas is probably better than the one he had in Chicago. If he feels like he's fulfilled the American dream, then maybe that's as good as if he really had.

All this said, Jack is still a flawed character. No one who would commit an impulsive assassination is going to be spotless. But he's flawed in ways that are relatable, believable, and even endearing. Like the old man on the bus, he seems too good for this sinful (introverted, pragmatic, realistic) earth, and it's hard to blame him for trying to keep that image alive.

(Also, this is unrelated, but I really like that the owner of several strip clubs appears to employ exactly two strippers. Do we ever hear about anyone other than Double DeLite (maybe Don DeLillo's own would-be moniker?) and Randi Rider? I hope not.)