True, you don't hear that much about people eating aircraft. Just in case the title may suggest a bizarre variation on themes as diverse as international terrorism and waste-disposal-with-a-difference, this hilariously offbeat first novel is a gentle but full-blooded love story. It is also a parable of sorts, with a happy ending visible from early in a narrative as likeable as most of the characters; and twice as engaging.
So why is a man in Superior, Nebraska - of all places - determined to consume, with the aid of a metal grinder, the abandoned 747 lying on his farm? Wally is neither crazy nor ambitious, merely intent on winning the woman he loves. But first he needs to attract her attention, and as the lovely Willa is a newspaper editor, what could be better than eating his way through a Boeing 747? Such an approach has its problems. Wally's pal Nate, the local science teacher, often worries about it. "It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, watching your best friend eat an airplane. Some days you suspected he wasn't all there in the head. But then, on other days, he was the smartest, most insightful person you could ever know." After all, Wally is the sort of guy who, inspired by the hard-to-shift, glue-like powers of the dried-out cereal dregs in his breakfast bowl, once mixed the stuff up and built a dog house "without a single nail".
Into this small-town mini-epic of everyday hopes and dreams enters J.J. Smith, a man who has witnessed all forms of human endeavour through his labours as Keeper of the Records for The Book of Records. This, he explains in his prologue, is the reason he can offer The Man Who Ate the 747 as "the story of the greatest love". Aware it is "an outlandish claim, outrageous perhaps" he then describes how he "sifted through the extravagant claims of the tallest, the smallest, the fastest, the slowest, the oldest, the youngest, the heaviest, the lightest, and everyone in between" while doing his job. "I authenticated greatness," he recalls with traces of former pride.
J.J. - short for John - strikes a tone of candid wonder, which Sherwood throughout, although J.J.'s voice yields to a thirdperson narrative once the story formally begins. It works: otherwise the reader might not appreciate just how lonely, tired and shabby, the superficially glamorous figure from The Book of Records really is. For 14 years he has travelled the world on a bargain-basement expense account verifying the crazy things humans do pursuit of fame. But for all his global travel, the Keeper of the Records has not forgotten that though he now lives in frenetic Manhattan, he started out in an equally unknown place in Ohio; and it is a young boy's letter that draws him to a remote place in Nebraska.
The trip comes at a time when J.J. has begun to live on borrowed time. His job is now dependent on his coming up with a new record; the eating of a large aeroplane could be his salvation. Sherwood's plain prose suits the book. It evokes a genuine feel of small-town life without being too folksy. His style is close to that of another US humorist novelist, James Wilcox, author of Modern Baptists, North Gladiola and Sort of Rich; but Sherwood is less zany and his characters are somewhat more in touch with reality.
The dialogue is good, often catching that sense of random interest people reserve for things they only half know about. On arrival in Superior, J.J. visits the local cafe, where the waitress "had a pretty face gone flat with resignation". A mother and son at a nearby table swat flies, and J.J. falls into conversation with a local farmer who has his own theories about Wally's addiction. "Fact is, no one's sure why he's doing it. Doc thinks it's a disease called pica or something. Kids eat dirt. Wally eats a plane. Could also be a brain tumour making him do it. My wife, Sally, says it's psychological. Obsessive repulsive something or other." The farmer lowers his voice, adding, "Church-going folks swear he's possessed by the devil."
When the news about Wally hits the nation, journalists arrive in droves. Willa fears for the survival of values in her home town. Complications develop, with J.J. and Wally both competing for her. Several dramas ensue, but the locals back Wally. Sherwood steers his lively and thoughtful comic romance the safe side of syrupy. J.J. eventually discovers what love really means, and saves himself. As a feel-good novel with a moral, this performance certainly succeeds on all levels - and also beats eating aeroplanes.
Eileen Battersby is Literary Correspondent of The Irish Times
