Book Review - Classic #7 - The Prince of Tides

I had several people ask me after choosing this novel, why I considered Pat Conroy's The Prince of Tides a classic.

First of all, it was written in 1986. That is twenty-four years ago. When I was in high school, Harold and Maude was considered a classic (is it still? Creepy.) and it was only twenty years old. So, I think The Prince of Tides safely falls into the Modern Classic genre.

Secondly, they made a movie out of the book. I know that movie adaptations from books aren't required to stem from great books (I may be referring to the last book I reviewed - Julie & Julia) but a book has to have some kind of staying power to attract the powers that be in Hollywood.

Lastly, the title was familiar. Given, I like to read as a hobby and have thus spent a fair amount of time perusing titles in libraries, bookstores, and online sites, but I had read, seen and heard the title The Prince of Tides long before choosing to read it. I was curious. I wanted to be "in the know."

That's not to say I had any idea what it was about. For some reason, I think I had mistaken the movie adaptation (which I have never seen) with Cape Fear thanks to some unexplained ability of my brain to remember Nick Nolte was in both movies, and thought it was a kind of psychological thriller. Tides....Capes...hey - I'm from Montana. Those nouns aren't exactly part of our everyday vernacular. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that it was more of a family drama, the kind that makes you appreciate your own, non-psychotic family.

The Prince of Tides follows Tom Wingo, a disgraced high school English teacher and football coach, spending a summer in New York visiting with his sister, who is hospitalized following another suicide attempt, and her psychiatrist who convinces Tom to help his sister by meeting with her and revealing their mutually troubled childhood. Tom's sister, Savannah, is a famous poet and during her breakdown, shouts out a string of incoherent words and phrases, which her psychiatrist, Susan Lowenstein, writes down. Convinced these exposed words are really memories at the root of Savannah's psychological troubles, Dr. Lowenstein asks Tom about each of them, triggering a series of narrative flashbacks that unlock the secrets of Tom and Savannah's childhood in South Carolina, along with their older brother, Luke, and their mismatched parents who, like many a parents, had no business raising children.

What I loved about this book was the outstanding narrative. Tom is smart, and Conroy allows his thoughts and memories to be beautifully worded and vividly described. Tom also has a biting, sarcastic wit that keeps the dialogue and conversation interesting and enjoyable. Unlike a lot of characters, I believed that Tom could be. He is your basic good guy, whose life is falling apart and isn't sure there is a whole lot he can do to fix it. The reverence he has for his beloved South, flaws and all, is felt in his descriptions of its pungent smells, rich soil and overly-polite manners. Susan, on the other hand, is a perfect contrast with her New York point-of-view and high brow lifestyle. Their disdain for each other's choice of where to live allows Conroy to not only narrate the South's beauty, but to defend it against the perceived superiority of its Yankee neighbors.

I also loved the depth that came from having multiple conflicts. There's Tom's marriage that is imploding, his stalled career and lack of plans to do anything different, there's Savannah's illness, the forbidden attraction between Tom and Susan, Susan's troubled marriage to a world famous violinist, her angry and aloof son who wants to play football instead of the violin, the anger between Tom and his mother as well as the constantly building tension that is a result of the controlled disclosure of a painful past.

What keeps me from loving this book is its raw violence. I simply cannot adore a book that makes me cringe. The scene that is eventually described at the climax as the source of most of their dysfunction is so brutal, so horrible, that I actually wish I hadn't read it. It's like pornography - it imprints on your brain whether you want it to or not. Unfortunately, whenever I now think of The Prince of Tides, in spite of it having multiple scenes that are much, much more pleasant, I think of this horrible day in their lives. Perhaps that was the author's intention. Perhaps the fallout from it - failed marriages, death, fear, repression and an escalating mental illness - and the limited ability of those involved to put back the pieces - is what this book is about. I like that they try. I appreciate that the human spirit always strives to repair itself. But, in this case, the horror overshadows the recovery. I can't love that.

I am glad I read this book. I am even more glad that I was able to read without Nick Nolte or Barbara Steisand in my head while I did so. Neither seems to be appropriately cast as the characters of Tom and Susan, and I'm glad I only had the book cover to suggest to my brain that these actors were actually the characters, instead of a whole movie to cement their faces to the names. I enjoyed it a lot more imagining Susan to be the attractive, tall, leggy dark-haired psychiatrist the book described and Tom not having that sun-beaten look that Nolte has.


The Prince of Tides proved to me that it deserves its modern classic status. With an epic story and unforgettable characters, Conroy surprised me with his beautiful language and powerful testament about what the human spirit can endure.