Ducks
Ducks are basically a pet term for potentially interesting male romantic partners for Weetzie and her gay best friend, Dirk. In a sense, the novel can be boiled down to existing as a story in which they both embark upon the streets of L.A. in search of the Duck of their dreams. Chapter Two, “Duck Hunting” commences with imagery presenting a portrait of the prey:
“THERE WERE MANY KINDS of Ducks— Buff Ducks, Skinny Ducks, Surf Ducks, Punk-Rock Ducks, Wild Ducks, Shy Ducks, Fierce Ducks, Cuddly Ducks, Sleek, Chic G.Q. Ducks, Rockabilly Ducks with creepers and ducktails, Rasta Ducks with dreads, Dancing Ducks, and Skate-Date Ducks, Ducks in Duckmobiles racing around the city.”
Post-Postmodern Sense and Sensibilities
The whimsy that characterizes the metaphors and similes which dominate the imagery in the novel takes a darker turn toward the end with a death in the family. Emotions are emotions, however, regardless of what they are expressing and so metaphorical imagery is called upon once again to convey the fullness of Weetzie’s post-modern pop-culture sensitivity to those feelings simmering beneath the façade of hipster coolness:
“Grief is not something you know if you grow up wearing feathers with a Charlie Chaplin boyfriend, a love-child papoose, a witch baby, a Dirk and a Duck, a Slinkster Dog, and a movie to dance in. You can feel sad and worse when your dad moves to another city, when an old lady dies, or when your boyfriend goes away. But grief is different. Weetzie’s heart cringed in her like a dying animal. It was as if someone had stuck a needle full of poison into her heart. She moved like a sleepwalker. She was the girl in the fairy tale sleeping in a prison of thorns and roses.”
Beware: High Voltage
Thanks to the intervention of a genie who grants wishes—seriously, a genie in lamp with the curly-toed shoes and a turban (although it is quite possible that he might technically have been sporting a fez)—grants Weetzie three wishes. These wishes serve to expand her circle and that is part of both the charm and the controversy of the book. There are too many people for the situation to qualify as a bizarre love triangle, but certainly it is some sort of bizarre geometrical designed powered by the currents of love:
“Weetzie's heart felt so full with love, so full, as if it could hardly fit in her chest. She knew they were all afraid. But love and disease are both like electricity, Weetzie thought. They are always there—you can't see or smell or hear, touch, or taste them, but you know they are there like a current in the air. We can choose, Weetzie thought, we can choose to plug into the love current instead. And she looked around the table at Dirk and Duck and My Secret Agent Lover Man and Cherokee and Witch Baby—all of them lit up and golden like a wreath of lights.”
Walking in L.A-ish!
The book presents a portrait of Los Angeles that certainly feels real. Or, at least, feels like the references and allusions are to places that could possibly have really existed. Did they or has the author made it all up? Tough call that is likely going to require calling up some search engine for help. Or, just bask in the imagery that really doesn’t matter if there is any genuine historical precedent to it:
“She was thinking about buildings. The Jetson-style Tiny Naylor's with the roller-skating waitresses had been torn down. In its place was a record-video store, a pizza place, a cookie place, a Wendy's, and a Penguin's Yogurt. Across the street, the old Poseur, where Weetzie and Dirk had bought kilts, was a beauty salon. They had written their names on the columns of the porch but all the graffiti had been painted over. Even Elvis Land was gone. Elvis Land had been in the front yard of an old house on Melrose. There had been a beat-up pink Cadillac, a picture of Elvis, and a giant love letter to Elvis on the lawn."
