Setting aside some really discomfiting 1970s casual racism and homophobia in the first chapter, the book is even more soapy than I’d recalled. Hooper’s sexual liaison with Ellen Brody may lead to the frustrated housewife’s reassessment of her life, but it also solidifies Hooper as the kind of callous, spoiled frat boy for which Quint (criminally underdeveloped here, and not even a resident of Amity) instantly pegs him. Brody likewise is mostly a cranky cipher, spending a lot of the book wondering if his wife is banging the ichthyologist. The subplot of Mayor Larry Vaughan’s ties to the mafia is a bit underdeveloped, and there’s nothing about the boys from the karate school “karateing” the picket fences.
As for the titular leviathan, its attacks (aside from Chrissy’s opening kill, which mostly mirrors the film) are not nearly as impactful in prose as in film (which may be an unfair comparison), and its ultimate demise is the definition of anti-climactic. Hell, the ORCA doesn’t even go after the fish until two-thirds of the way into the book… and then they go back home every night!!
If anything, reading JAWS again has given me increased appreciation for Steven Spielberg’s storytelling instincts, and made me love the movie even more.
Originally posted on social media, July 18, 2022
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