64 pages • 2-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide features depictions of violence, racism, and religious discrimination.
As a private detective, Hicks feels as though he has little control over his life. He insists that he does not work on “matrimonials”—typically, cases in which one spouse suspects the other of infidelity—for example, yet Boynt keeps assigning him to such cases. Though he insists he does not want the assignment to track down Daphne Airmont, he is propelled along on the case until he accepts that he has no agency over where his life is headed. In New York, Hicks’s lack of control over his existence is made clear: He is injected with “a needle full of something in the chloral hydrate family” (132) and bundled aboard an ocean-liner, sent to another continent on a case he does not want to work because his boss and his wealthy patrons insist that he must. In this way, Hicks is shown to lack any agency over his life. His existence is a passive one, buoyed along by forces more powerful than Hicks and by systems that he either does not understand or does not know exist. The underground cheese syndicate, for example, is responsible for Bruno Airmont’s disappearance, but Hicks has never engaged with any kind of dairy fraud. As Bruno’s actions and the syndicate’s decisions echo through society, however, Hicks feels their effects. The ticket system, in which Hicks tries to handle his fate through petty bureaucracy, leaves him at the mercy of others. The result is that the titular shadow ticket is a reference to the unseen forces that control his life and rob him of his agency.
These hidden forces come in many guises. Uncle Lefty reveals the seething fascist movement in a brand-new Milwaukee bowling alley. By the end of the novel, such forces have conducted a military coup in the United States. When Hicks meets with the FBI, he is threatened with coercive language that closely resembles the intimidation techniques of the Mafia. When Hicks’s life is threatened by Don Peppino, the don’s henchmen arrive dressed as Christmas elves, disguising their true allegiance in the aesthetic of a family holiday. Likewise, the repurposed U-boat that lurks beneath the ice and follows Hicks across the Atlantic shows the prominence of smuggling operations. Alcohol is banned, yet it is everywhere; these hidden commerce routes work outside the boundaries of the law, creating a network of exchange both essential and illicit, an illegal system that controls people’s lives. Hicks cannot comprehend these forces in their totality, yet he feels their effect over his life. To console himself, he (and others) settle on the mantra of constant forward momentum. So long as they keep moving, they tell themselves, they can delude themselves into believing that they have agency over their lives. They assure themselves that they can stay “safe long as [they] keep moving fast enough” (248)—as Ace says of the Wall of Death motorcycle stunt—even as they surrender their agency to the unseen forces that govern the world.
The most common expression of the lack of individual agency is the way in which people talk about the future. A decade after the end of World War I, most people expect another war to break out soon. Uncle Lefty, Alf, and Slide all speak about the coming war as though it is inevitable. They do not believe that any individual or community has the capacity to stop the rising tide of fascism; they believe that history is essentially on the rails, that their fate is set. Hicks, absorbed in the pessimism of the moment, embodies this loss of agency. Throughout the novel, he never regains control over his life. Even as he is forced into exile by April’s pregnancy, he turns to Terike to take care of him. He places his life in another’s hands, surrendering his future to her because he cannot envision a life of his own choosing. Hicks accepts the view that war is inevitable, particularly after he has witnessed the violence that is now commonplace across Europe. The novel is not a reclamation of agency, but an acknowledgement of the hidden forces that dominate human existence.
In Gravity’s Rainbow, Pynchon depicted the violent death throes of fascism at the end of World War II. From the chaos of the collapsing Nazi regime, the characters find themselves in the Zone, a geographic space in which preexisting structures and mental barriers break apart. The Zone represents the final days of fascism, yet Shadow Ticket, set a generation before the events of Gravity’s Rainbow, shows fascism as a rising tide. Taking place in 1932, a year before Adolf Hitler seized power in Germany, the novel shows the extent to which fascism and Nazism were already present in American and European societies. Shadow Ticket functions as a counterpart to Gravity’s Rainbow in this respect, depicting the historical and cultural forces that led to the rise of fascism and positing a counterfactual history in which this poisonous ideology takes root in the US as well as Europe.
To many of the novel’s characters, fascism represents a novel response to the social and economic devastation that followed World War I. The dinner conversation with Uncle Lefty illustrates the ease with which many ignored the racism and violence of Adolf Hitler’s rhetoric so long as it did not appear to be directed at them. According to Lefty, “Der Führer […] is der future” (29). A former policeman with ties to institutional power, Lefty believes that Hitler has been treated unfairly by the press, attributing this supposedly unfair treatment to antisemitic conspiracy theories about Jewish control of the media. Later, Alf Quarrender frames the rise of fascism as “a second chance, not only for Germany but for all civilization” (136), an opportunity to correct the mistakes of the end of World War I. While they may not be explicitly fascists, these men’s willingness to entertain the ideology illustrates the widespread loss of faith in democracy after the destruction of World War I, as economic insecurity made many people willing to scapegoat minoritized communities and put their trust in authoritarian leaders.
Shadow Ticket suggests that the United States is not immune to the ideological threat. As well as Uncle Lefty’s defense of Hitler over casserole, Hicks gradually becomes aware of the broad fascist movement hiding in plain sight in America. Lefty takes Hicks to a well-appointed bowling alley. The “expensively designed” (63) interior suggests that this movement—the bowling alley is actually a gathering spot for young fascists—is well-funded and popular. Inside, Hicks runs into an old acquaintance who has changed his name to sound more German. These fascists, Hicks realizes, are not just distant, isolated political extremists. They are people he knows, from similar backgrounds, and their movement has resources. The only official response to the rise of fascism is outdated and ill-equipped. There are “half a million” (62) fascists in the United States, Lefty claims, and they are ready to overthrow the government at any time. By the end of the novel, they have done exactly that. While the victory of American fascism is counterhistorical, the novel’s depiction of a well-funded fascist movement in the US aligns with historical reality. Of the many fascist and pro-Nazi organizations in the US, the largest and most influential was the German American Bund, established in 1936 with the express goal of promoting Nazi ideology in the US and promoting an alliance between the US and Nazi Germany. The Bund ran several Nazi training camps in New York and New Jersey and organized a now-notorious rally in New York’s Madison Square Garden in February 1939, in which an audience of roughly 20,000 listened as Bund leaders delivered virulently antisemitic speeches and called for the establishment of an openly white supremacist US government. Shadow Ticket departs from reality only in showing what might have happened if this movement had been victorious.
In Europe, the disintegration of the Kingdom of Hungary illustrates the breakdown of social structure that paved the way for fascism. The old borders have collapsed, leaving people with a fractured understanding of their national identity. D’Annunzio has marched into Fiume—a city that has changed hands numerous times in the decades before his arrival and is presently bifurcated between Italian and Yugoslavian control—in the name of fascism, while guerilla training camps are being set up on the borders. Fascism is seizing upon the fractured identities, giving a sense of purpose and identity to the traumatized young survivors of World War I. Antisemitism is ubiquitous, with the Vladboys turning their violence on anyone who might be Jewish. Their directionless blunt force shows the vapidity and incoherence of fascism as an ideology, yet their power and energy warn that these deficiencies will not prevent fascist victory, at least in the short term. Fascism in the novel is a fundamentally violent ideology resisted with violent force ,whether from on-the-run jazz clarinetists or “a sort of snub-nose golem” (226). The Zone is being established, war is seemingly inevitable, and fascism is the fuel that powers the machine violently, terribly forwards toward the brutal conclusion.
Though Shadow Ticket depicts a world rife with conspiracies, violence, and fascism, perhaps the most significant theme is the possibility of redemption. This possibility is embodied by Hicks McTaggart, a former strikebreaker who decides to put violence in his past. After being abandoned by his parents and raised by his aunt and uncle, Hicks fell into strikebreaking as a venting mechanism for his pent-up frustration. The job allowed him to unleash this repressed violence while getting paid. It mattered little to him whose side he was on; years later, he “still isn’t sure” (31) what the word Bolshevik means. Back then, it was a word thrown around by his bosses to create a target for his mindless violence. This changed when Hicks nearly killed a man; he was only prevented from clubbing a young student by the unexpected asportation of his beavertail. The incident haunted Hicks, who was forced to confront his role in the social violence of the anti-labor movement. He quit as a strikebreaker but is still haunted by the incident and how close he came to killing another person. As a consequence, Hicks very rarely uses violence and never does so unless he is threatened first. He is moving toward redemption, even if he is not aware of it. Hicks may not understand the hidden forces that determine his existence, but he does feel a profound regret for his past, and in small but significant ways, he seeks to atone for his mistakes.
In Europe, the divergent fates of Ace Lomax and Bruno Airmont demonstrate the extent to which redemption is offered to everyone. Bruno is the Al Capone of cheese, a member of the criminal underworld who uses violence to amass money and power. He commits fraud against the InChSyn and is forced on the run, but he never attempts to reckon with his past. Instead, he continues to offer bribes as he flees across Europe, trying to outrun his problems rather than reckon with his culpability. In contrast, Ace Lomax shows a willingness to make up for his mistakes. He was once Bruno’s righthand man and was as morally culpable as Bruno, right up until Bruno threatened to have him killed. Ace was shown the true violence of his past, and like Bruno, he tried to dodge responsibility by escaping across Europe. After rescuing him from the Vladboys, however, Hop Wingdale gives Ace a choice: He can continue to run away, as Bruno did, or he can seek redemption by helping Jewish people in Europe to escape the rise of fascism. Quite explicitly, Hop frames this choice as “a chance to reform” (277). Ace considers the offer, though he does not make his decision. As with Bruno ignoring various opportunities to turn himself in, the significance lies in the offer redemption being offered: Every character has a shot at redemption, whether they accept it or not.
The fate of the U-Boat also indicates that the power of redemption is not limited to people. The U-13 and her crew were active participants in World War I; after witnessing atrocities, however, they made the decision to refrain from violence. The submarine itself was set to be scuttled and dismantled, right up until the crew disobeyed orders and struck out on their own. They decided on a life of “nonbelligerence” (280), refusing to simply be torn apart by the same governments and institutions that once instructed them to kill. The crew and the submarine itself have a chance at redemption, turning to smuggling as an alternative to war. Earlier in the novel, Thessalie describes how objects can carry the traces of actions, just like people. Objects, she says, “lie open to every vibration that comes their way, law-abiding, criminal, everything in between” (41). For the U-Boat, these traces of militarism are still present. The object, as Thessalie suggests, bears those traces. The submarine, as an object, can also seek redemption from the past, removing these traces as Hicks seeks a way to leave his violent past. The possibility of redemption exists for all, even inanimate objects.



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