A
deck of playing cards is a mainstay of modern society. For as ubiquitous as board games have
become, playing cards are still the standby.
But we take them for granted—because it’s easy. The numbers 2 through 10 are a universal
aspect of existence with an obvious relationship. King and queen also have an easily recognized
relationship, and few question their place at the top. The joker is, well, the joker—as crazy-wild
as can be, and the ace is the ace: a lowly one or number one—trumping them
all. But the jack? Who is he, and how did he get mixed in? Why not a knight or
vizier? Seem more relevant. And the one-eyed jack... This is the legacy explored in Tim Power’s fantastical
Last Call (1992).
Last Call is the story of
Scott Crane (aka Scarecrow Smith), the one-eyed adoptee of one of the greatest
poker players ever to drift through the US’s casinos and poker tournaments in
the early 20 th century, a man named Ozzie Smith. Ozzie a superstitious guy, he warns Scott against
playing in a wide variety of strange situations, one of which is over
water. But a son doesn’t always listen
to his father, especially aged sixteen, and Crane, intrigued by the stakes
being offered on a house boat on Lake Mead, heads out for an evening of
gambling. Feeling he walked away a winner,
it takes some time to discover just how, in fact, he was a loser. Crane’s world slowly cracking at the edges,
his life gains only greater and greater subjectivity as larger forces at play are
revealed. It seems one can hazard more
than money in poker.
Ostensibly
a novel about poker, Last Call
reveals its interests to be more bound up in the history and mythology of
playing cards, particularly their relationship with the tarot deck and the
supernatural beyond. Tarot nothing like toothy
old gypsy women hovering over crystal balls, Powers takes the historical view,
aligning the various assignations from the cards with Egyptian, Greek, and
other powers that were (or if you want, be), then superimposing them over a
good old fashioned gangster story set in Las Vegas.
Possessing
many of the same idiosyncrasies, there are times Last Call feels like a novel in good friend James Blaylock’s
so-called Christian trilogy—The Last Coin,
The Paper Grail, and All the Bells on Earth. Eccentric characters, occasionally
esoteric dialogue, and hints and glimpses of a supernatural beyond (not to
mention the novels were all published within the same time period), I wouldn’t
be surprised if late night conversations over whiskey and cigars between the
two served as inspiration.
When
it comes to poker, it seems there are two types of people in the world: those
passionate about it, and those indifferent.
I consider myself strongly in league with the latter, but Powers makes
things interesting. I will not start my
own Monday night table with the guys after reading Last Call, but the tension of the game is captured—something poker
enthusiasts will undoubtedly suck up with a straw. Walking the middle ground, Powers requires
the reader to have a basic understanding of the idea of poker, all the while
discreetly filling in any gaps with the complexities. The card game central to the novel, it never
outpaces other aspects of good storytelling, however. When it comes to table time, quality is
emphasized over quantity.
While
I personally believe Powers would have been better off to let nature take its
course in the climactic scene (i.e. a random deal instead of a fixed deal,
which would have increased the suspense, not to mention better emulated a real
poker game), I can’t complain. The
overall story is highly satisfactory, and it goes without saying, very
original. No other story I’ve ever read
so successfully combines poker, Las Vega mafia lore, the imagery of t.s.
eliot’s poetry, and tarot cards into a idiosyncratic, enjoyable plot. We now know who the one-eyed jack is.
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