Eyeing the Flash, Peter Fenton's coming-of-age memoir, approaches readers like a boardwalk smooth-talker selling its readers a peek behind an extravagant velvet curtain. Promised a behind-the-scenes look at a seedy carnival and its resident flimflam men, it is just as difficult for the reader to resist peeking inside as it is for the marks walking the midway. Unfortunately, like those carnival peep-show agents, Fenton's promises are far more elaborate than the sights that are ultimately delivered.
The book is not disappointing because of the definite sense that Fenton is "cutting up jackpots," carny speak for telling tales that may be embellished, but because he is doing it so poorly. He writes:
The book is not disappointing because of the definite sense that Fenton is "cutting up jackpots," carny speak for telling tales that may be embellished, but because he is doing it so poorly. He writes:
"A good call was an agent's bread and butter. Without one, he couldn't make a dime. The midway was a noisy, colorful place, with plentiful distractions, so the first challenge an agent faced was enticing the mark to look his way. This was the call. In its simplest form, as practiced on a Hanky Pank, the call was a wave of the hand and a shouted "Come on in, it's time to win" or "Break a balloon and pick a prize." That, however, was only the most basic approach. In more sophisticated hands, the call was a highly stylized endeavor, with endless variations depending on the situation and the agent's mood." (p. 124)
A fanciful and irresistible call might be enough to justify this book, but Mr. Fenton's approach is too low-key to make Eyeing the Flash enjoyable as a piece of believe-it-or-not gonzo journalism.
A fanciful and irresistible call might be enough to justify this book, but Mr. Fenton's approach is too low-key to make Eyeing the Flash enjoyable as a piece of believe-it-or-not gonzo journalism.
The book's subtitle, "The Education of a Carnival Con Artist," has a double meaning: it is about both Fenton's education as a con artist, and as a human being. Although the book describes how a couple of the rigged games work, including the Swinger and Play Football, information about how games are gaffed represents a small and none-too-satisfying portion of the book. It may be that these revelations are dissatisfying because, as with magician's tricks, they are less impressive when you have been let in on the secret.
But the education of a con artist has less to do with the precise details of the scam and more to do with the psychology of con man and mark alike. Despite taking seventy pages-nearly a third of the book-to leave high school and arrive at the carnival, Fenton tries to keep himself out of the book. He portrays himself as something of a rube at the beginning, with poor taste in flashy clothing, no luck with girls, and a refusal to drink borne out of his experiences with an alcoholic father, but beyond that he's a cipher, just a normal seventeen-year-old kid who is good with math and runs away to join the carnival.
But the education of a con artist has less to do with the precise details of the scam and more to do with the psychology of con man and mark alike. Despite taking seventy pages-nearly a third of the book-to leave high school and arrive at the carnival, Fenton tries to keep himself out of the book. He portrays himself as something of a rube at the beginning, with poor taste in flashy clothing, no luck with girls, and a refusal to drink borne out of his experiences with an alcoholic father, but beyond that he's a cipher, just a normal seventeen-year-old kid who is good with math and runs away to join the carnival.
If only Fenton had circled back to himself, let us see him for more than an instant after he leaves the carnival-we discover only that he drops out of college - his personal journey could have been the emotional focus of the story. But we never really discover what happens to him as a human being as a result of his 'education.' Without that story, the stakes are terribly low: even the triumphant if unbelievable conclusion of Fenton's quasi-oedipal struggle with his mentor Jackie seems of no consequence. Slim and easy to read-the author's fifteen years as a tabloid reporter at the National Enquirer have paid off in terms of craft - Eyeing the Flash is a hard book not to pick up, but just as difficult to find a satisfying read.
