In the world of narrative journalism, Evan Wright might place second only to Mike Sager. Wright’s collection, HELLA NATION: LOOKING FOR HAPPY MEALS IN KANDAHAR, ROCKING THE SIDE PIPE, WINGNUT’S WAR AGAINST THE GAP, AND OTHER ADVENTURES WITH THE TOTALLY LOST TRIBES OF AMERICA, has the same undeniable, voyeuristic appeal as Sager’s.
Perhaps best known for GENERATION KILL, Wright’s journalism career began in the most unlikely of places: at Larry Flynt’s HUSTLER magazine. Working in pornography certainly paved the way for his interest in society’s underbelly, even when the subject is himself.
In the introduction, Wright details his days at HUSTLER, which sound like empty, soul-sucking times. Later, he fields more Flynt stories in “Scenes from My Life in Porn,” in which he also recalls being on set for Jasmin St. Claire’s scene in which 6-foot flames shot out her ass; hanging out with an HIV-infected, drug-addicted porn star; and taking dating advice from director Gregory Dark. He notes that in this industry, careers last as long as votive candles, and the sex is as joyless as one might expect.
Porn informs one other article among the dozen that comprise HELLA NATION, with “Portrait of a Con Artist.” The “artist” in question is Seth Warshavsky. At one time, he was a media darling for being CEO of the online porn empire Internet Entertainment Group. Today, however, he’s presumed to be in Thailand, having fled the country to avoid legal troubles stemming from having swindled millions. See, he wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, and Wright was there to witness it as an IEG employee.
Warshavsky strikes the reader as a sad, pathetic person able to pull the wool over the public’s eyes, at least temporarily. This archetype emerges in several other profiles, from the staggering-drunk skateboarder Jim Greco to the seemingly off-his-rocker Hollywood producer Pat Dollard. The true-crime tale of “The Bad American,” with its story of murder, money and HGH, is chock full of greedy, conniving losers.
Other subjects are merely sad and pathetic, including California’s taxi dancers and the men who spend good money to rent their faux affection; the hooded, American anarchist known as Wingnut; and the paranoid Aryan Nation followers of Pastor Richard Girnt Butler, where white-supremacist parents are proud to teach their toddlers to call African-Americans “beasties.” Judging from their backstage antics, the members of Mötley Crüe aren’t really sad, just infantile.
From cover to cover, Wright’s articles make for utterly compelling journalism. I hope they’re all true, because once again, real life is stranger than fiction. I bring up “hope” only because in the introduction, Wright mentions having his car window busted by a thief wanting some amateur nude photos the author left in sight; in a later chapter, the stolen item becomes XXX videotapes. It’s possible more than one break-in occurred, but you’d think he would’ve learned his lesson the first time!
Whether in the shit of Afghanistan or in the ring of the UFC, Wright puts you right alongside him, filling in the environment while letting his interviewees speak for themselves … and often dig their own graves. Like so many of the addictive personalities he profiles, I couldn’t get enough. —Rod Lott
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- America Unzipped: In Search of Sex and Satisfaction
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- The Sweeter Side of R. Crumb
