Kapitel 1
The Intoxicating Dance of Art, Desire, and Self-Destruction
Eve Babitz's "Sex and Rage" stands as a shimmering time capsule of 1970s Los Angeles and the seductive pull of self-destruction. This semi-autobiographical novel follows Jacaranda, a surfer-turned-writer navigating the treacherous waters of artistic ambition, alcoholism, and toxic relationships. The book has experienced a remarkable renaissance in recent years, with celebrities like Lena Dunham and Emma Roberts championing its rediscovery. Babitz herself has become an icon of literary Los Angeles-her candid explorations of pleasure and pain resonating with a new generation seeking authentic female voices. With its unflinching portrayal of addiction alongside creative awakening, "Sex and Rage" captures the dangerous allure of living on the edge while maintaining a wry, knowing perspective that makes it feel startlingly contemporary even decades after its publication.
Kapitel 2
A Child of the Ocean and Unconventional Heritage
Jacaranda's very name-pronounced "Jack-ah-ran-dah" like jack-o'-lantern-signals her uniqueness from the start. Named after a Central American flowering tree that grows in Los Angeles, she emerges from a lineage as unconventional as her moniker. Her father was a Trotskyite descended from bomb-throwing Russian anarchists, while her mother was born illegitimately after her grandmother refused to marry her rapist. This rebellious heritage perfectly suits someone destined to live outside conventional boundaries.
Growing up in a mortgage-backed bungalow near the Santa Monica shore, Jacaranda develops a profound connection with the Pacific Ocean that becomes her true north. Tan-skinned with streaky blonde hair and tar-stained feet, she looks nothing like her more feminine younger sister April with her reddish-brown curls. What Jacaranda does inherit from her father Mort is an unusually large head-a physical trait that mirrors her outsized personality and appetites.
The ocean defines her existence from childhood. She progresses naturally from body-surfing to surfboards, mastering the rhythm of waves and tides with an intuitive understanding. Surfing becomes her religion, her practice, her escape-she surfs before school, after school, and sometimes during school when her mother writes excuse notes about "coming down with a cold." While her father works as a violinist at Twentieth Century-Fox for $150 weekly (secured through his great-aunt Sonia's Hollywood connections), Jacaranda develops her own artistic talents, painting custom surfboards for $25 each by high school graduation.
What's fascinating about Jacaranda is how she transforms this ocean connection into a spiritual framework. The Pacific becomes her divine force, her compass, her salvation. When others call her lucky, she knows better-she understands that she needs to see the world before encountering the "brick wall" everyone warns California children about. But even as she ventures beyond her oceanic sanctuary, it remains her true home, the place where she finds herself when everything else falls apart.
Kapitel 3
The Seduction of Dangerous Men and Toxic Love
When eighteen-year-old Jacaranda meets twenty-nine-year-old Colman at Barney's Beanery, she encounters the first of several men who will lead her away from her oceanic sanctuary. With his black curly hair and reputation as a genius acting teacher, Colman reminds her of her father-a psychological pattern that will repeat throughout her relationships. Despite his peculiarities-keeping his windows covered with black curtains because he hates L.A.'s light-Jacaranda falls deeply in love and moves into his ramshackle, passionflower-covered house in West Hollywood.
The relationship establishes a pattern of deception and self-deception that will characterize Jacaranda's romantic entanglements. Three weeks after she moves in, Colman announces his wife isn't divorcing him after all and will be returning with her cats. Yet rather than ending the relationship, this betrayal only deepens Jacaranda's attachment. She initially dismisses his constant lying as just what actors do offstage, failing to recognize the profound damage of these deceptions.
What's particularly striking is how Colman's charm extends beyond Jacaranda to her entire family. Even her grandmother, who normally dislikes Irish people, makes an exception for his black hair. His New York Irish accent drives Jacaranda "wild with desire," and being in love with him transforms her appearance-she looks especially beautiful in purple, as though his gaze itself enhances her beauty. For five years after moving out, they continue meeting at an apartment belonging to Gilbert Wood, a student of Colman's whom Jacaranda never meets-another example of how these relationships exist in shadowy, borrowed spaces.
This pattern of attraction to dangerous, deceptive men foreshadows Jacaranda's later relationships with Gilbert and Max. Each man offers a different flavor of toxicity, yet all share the ability to make Jacaranda feel both special and disposable simultaneously. The emotional whiplash of these relationships mirrors her later relationship with alcohol-both provide intense highs followed by devastating crashes, both promise transcendence while delivering destruction.
Kapitel 4
Riding the Wave of 1960s Excess and Disillusionment
West Hollywood in the sixties becomes Jacaranda's next sanctuary after leaving her oceanic home. She finds herself in an "open city" where life revolves around rock-'n'-roll, where $120 a month rents a two-bedroom apartment in a bohemian ecosystem of dope dealers, musicians, actors waiting tables, screenwriters, and people with "no visible means of support." Through Colman's friend Hal, she secures work making $175 weekly circling names in industry publications and attending rock concerts-a job her groupie friends envy.
This period marks Jacaranda's immersion in the excesses of the era. She drinks Southern Comfort with rich young men in Hollywood Hills mansions, attends the Monterey Pop Festival on "Sunshine acid and Icepack grass," and dresses in skintight satin pants with bleached, tangled hair. The rock scene becomes her new religion, replacing the ocean's rhythms with the pulse of music and chemical experimentation.
Yet the narrative brilliantly captures the moment when this lifestyle begins to lose its luster. At a Rolling Stones concert at the Forum, Jacaranda has an epiphany of disillusionment, declaring "I hate rock-'n'-roll" in the midst of what should be a transcendent experience. This moment of clarity drives her back to her first love-surfing with her sister April-and she discovers with relief that her balance remains intact despite years away from the waves.
The cyclical nature of Jacaranda's journey emerges here-each time she strays too far from her authentic self, she returns to the ocean for renewal. Her decision to move back to the beach, away from the rock scene that had consumed her, represents her first attempt at self-rescue, though certainly not her last. This pattern of immersion in destructive environments followed by retreat to healing spaces becomes the rhythm of her life, mirroring the ebb and flow of the tides themselves.
Kapitel 5
Finding Sanctuary and Setting the Stage for Transformation
Jacaranda's Santa Monica apartment on Third Street becomes her attempt at creating a sanctuary away from her previous excesses. This "rickety rectangle with three rooms all facing the Pacific Ocean" offers spectacular sunsets and, crucially, a garage where she can airbrush surfboards for the Eye of God Surf Company at $35 each. Despite its leaky roof, the place represents a return to authenticity-for six months, she devotes herself to "honest labor, reading novels, and surfing," allowing the ocean to purify her from her past indulgences.
When Colman visits this new space, his reaction reveals the fundamental incompatibility of their worldviews. He's horrified by the light streaming in-the very quality that nourishes Jacaranda-and asks incredulously, "Aren't you going to get sick of looking out at that ocean all the time?" When he discovers she wakes at seven in the morning and sleeps at night, their relationship effectively ends, unable to survive her shift toward healthier patterns.
The apartment becomes a physical manifestation of Jacaranda's attempt to reclaim herself. She adopts a black cat named Emilio, embracing domesticity and routine even as her friends complain that Santa Monica is "so far" from the Troubadour, Tana's, and everything that matters to them. Her declaration that she's tired of rock-'n'-roll despite it being "the pulse beat of art in America" marks her growing disillusionment with the scene that once defined her.
Yet this sanctuary proves temporary. Just as she's establishing this healthier existence, she boards a plane for Hawaii-setting in motion the events that will introduce her to Gilbert and, ultimately, to Max. The apartment remains as a touchstone, a place she can return to when the outside world becomes too chaotic, but it cannot protect her from her own self-destructive impulses or from the magnetic pull of dangerous men who recognize her vulnerability.
Kapitel 6
The Fateful Encounter That Changes Everything
At twenty-three, Jacaranda finds herself caught between worlds-"too old by her previous standards yet too young to brood over the past like Marcel Proust," whose book she reads on the plane to Hawaii. She considers herself an "Innocent Virgin," wondering if the sixties have permanently disrupted the simple life patterns of Jane Austen novels that once seemed possible.
When a hurricane cancels her connecting flight from Oahu to Maui, fate intervenes in the form of Gilbert Wood-the same Gilbert whose apartment she'd never visited during her years with Colman. Watching him surf fifteen-foot hurricane waves with reckless abandon, Jacaranda is immediately drawn to his dangerous beauty. With his ashy hair and "vicious profile," Gilbert embodies risk and self-destruction-qualities that have always attracted her despite her better judgment.
Their connection is immediate and physical. On their flight back to L.A., he impresses her by biting the back of her neck "so that time stood still"-a gesture that signals the passionate but ultimately harmful nature of their relationship. More significantly, Gilbert introduces her to Max, setting in motion the central relationship that will define the rest of the narrative.
What Jacaranda doesn't initially realize is that Max has been watching her for a month before she notices him. It's Max's intense curiosity about her affair with Gilbert that keeps Gilbert interested in her-without Max's influence, their relationship would have lasted "merely two days after returning from Hawaii instead of dragging on for a month." This revelation exposes the manipulative dynamics at play, with Max pulling strings from behind the scenes long before Jacaranda becomes aware of his existence.
When Max finally arrives at Gilbert's apartment one Sunday morning, emerging from his green Jaguar "like a tall drink of water" with golden hair, bright blue eyes, and a slender frame, Jacaranda is immediately captivated by his refined presence and passionate elegance. Despite Gilbert dismissing him as "just some fag," Max's declaration that "Secrets are lies that you tell to your friends" transfixes Jacaranda, who finds herself drawn into his orbit with an invitation to drinks at his place in the Sacramento. As she wonders what she'll wear "now that everything was going to be perfect," she has no idea of the destruction that awaits her in Max's carefully curated world.
Kapitel 7
The Allure of Max's Curated World and Its Golden Haze
Max's apartment in the Sacramento becomes the center of Jacaranda's universe-a carefully constructed stage for the drama that will consume her life. Located in the middle of Hollywood-"not the mystical state but the neighborhood that was decidedly 'not All Right' by Los Angeles standards"-the Sacramento represents Max's ability to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary through sheer force of personality and aesthetic vision.
When Jacaranda arrives for her first gathering at Max's self-proclaimed "penthouse" (though most wouldn't consider a five-story building grand enough for such a designation), she discovers an unexpected oasis of luxury: white tablecloths, beautiful dishes, perfectly ironed napkins, and gleaming bottles of spirits. The wooden floors glow, and the walls display impressive artwork-Jasper Johns, Rauschenberg, Hockney, and a prominently placed Julian Wasser photograph of Marcel Duchamp playing chess with a naked woman.
What makes Max's world so seductive is its perfect curation. His apartment isn't ostentatious-just perfectly chosen, from the fine silverware to the friends he collects. His gatherings have a magical quality that transforms ordinary evenings into transcendent experiences. Los Angeles locals arrive skeptically, unsure about the Sacramento and Max's intentions, but within moments they're enveloped in his delight. The atmosphere becomes "smooth and golden" as the entire gathering seems to "ascend to heaven."
Max himself remains enigmatic. No one knows exactly where his money comes from-some claim his family pays him six thousand dollars monthly to stay out of Alabama, while others say he's "just rich." When Jacaranda directly asks what he does, Max vaguely replies he does "a little bit of this and a little bit of that." Rumors suggest he serves as a "social director" for the Beautiful People, with his friend Etienne Vassily covering expenses.
The narrative brilliantly captures how Max's world operates like a cult, with its own rules and hierarchies. His cooking is extraordinary-his salads perfectly dressed, his French bread at the exact right warmth, his rice always perfect. Even ordinary foods taste better when served by Max. Though he claims Louisiana origins, he remains mysterious, notably being the only man who doesn't fall in love with Jacaranda's mother-a detail that suggests his fundamental disconnection from authentic human emotion.
What Jacaranda cannot see, blinded by the golden haze of Max's world, is how this perfect curation will eventually extend to her-how she too will become an object to be displayed and discarded when she no longer serves his purposes.
Kapitel 8
The Poisonous Transformation and Barge Metaphor
The narrative brilliantly employs the metaphor of a barge to describe Max's social world-a vessel floating down a river, picking up interesting people and discarding them when they no longer amuse. This metaphor captures both the transient nature of these relationships and their fundamental disconnection from solid ground.
Somewhere along the way, Max's "tender-hearted gleeful spirit" transforms into something poisonous. His once-golden compliments about Jacaranda being "the best-dressed woman in Los Angeles" begin to sound mean-spirited and vile. The charm washes away, leaving behind only "the smell of suitcases and dry cleaning" instead of his former childlike joy. Jacaranda, like everyone else close to Max, keeps waiting for him to return to his former self, never understanding why he doesn't.
The people brought aboard to amuse the barge suffer terrible fates-they either overdose, develop health problems like hepatitis, or become like Marianne, a heroin addict who can barely function. After twelve White Ladies (a vodka cocktail), Jacaranda realizes how "Impossible" everything has become-the same people, places, and conversations everywhere. They only discuss the newest restaurants, slimming techniques, and fabulous people, while dismissing anyone serious as "boring."
What truly damages Jacaranda isn't a single dramatic incident but rather Max's casual cruelty. When he questions her choice of blue paint on a surfboard, she stops painting altogether-his offhand criticism destroying her confidence in her art. Gilbert warns her that Max is "dangerous"-getting close to people, softening them up with questions, then abandoning them once they lose their edge. This pattern becomes increasingly clear as Jacaranda witnesses Max and his friend Tom gleefully recount how they questioned a homeless man collecting bottles until police arrived and arrested him, showing no concern for the harm they caused.
The "sin" that finally gets Jacaranda ejected from the barge is her writing. When she publishes a surfing essay in a prestigious magazine with a centerpiece spread and a $250 check, people begin calling to say, "I didn't know you could write." At twenty-eight, she's supposed to overdose, not get published. Etienne takes her aside and commands: "Don't write." Max suggests she write only poetry, nothing with "ideas" and "facts." The women at parties whisper, "Don't write, darling. It's not nice."
After the "fourteen White Ladies incident" where Jacaranda dramatically exits a party declaring "this town isn't big enough for both of us," Max leaves Los Angeles. Neither he nor anyone from the barge-except Lydia Antonia-ever returns or contacts Jacaranda again. She has metaphorically jumped off the barge into the "crocodile-loaded river," somehow surviving when most girls used for "local color" died before thirty.
Kapitel 9
Rebuilding Through Work and Unexpected Opportunities
Jacaranda's path to recovery begins with humble work-finding employment at a Postal Instant Press branch near Santa Monica, a red, white, and blue establishment that serves as a hub of Los Angeles cultural activity. She enjoys the clean, spacious environment where aspiring screenwriters and actors bring their scripts and scenes for copying. This ordinary job provides structure and stability after the chaos of Max's world.
While working there, she continues writing articles. The editor of a Southern California magazine proves supportive, allowing her to write about whatever interests her and paying what he can afford. Jacaranda finds satisfaction in Xeroxing all those movie scripts and TV ideas that will likely never see production-there's an honesty to this work that contrasts sharply with the artifice of Max's world.
She befriends the owners of the Bamboo Cafe near her apartment, who let her drink white wine for free since patrons enjoy having a published author around. Despite making ends meet with her part-time job and article money, her apartment remains nearly empty-no furniture in the living room, just a basketball, bed, TV and forks. She types on the rug, far from achieving the composure of Jane Austen's heroines.
The Bamboo Cafe itself becomes an important setting-an artist-designed tropical fantasy with pink walls, chartreuse tablecloths, and flamingo motifs throughout. Despite being in Ocean Park next to Venice, patrons willingly pay "New York prices" for the uneven "L.A.-Mediterranean" cuisine. The place seats seventy and quickly becomes THE place to be, with blond waitresses in black outfits serving alongside "twinkie" busboys.
It's at the Bamboo Cafe that destiny intervenes in the form of two significant encounters. First, Jacaranda reunites with Shelby Coryell, a surfer she's known since they were fourteen. With his thick black hair and bronze eyes, he represents a connection to her authentic self-they can tell each other anything without explanation or boredom. Their deep connection offers the possibility of healing after the toxicity of her relationships with Colman, Gilbert, and Max.
The same night, Janet Wilton, "the hottest agent in New York," approaches Jacaranda. This chic, rust-colored fashion plate with a "cement voice" hands Jacaranda her card, saying she wants to represent her after reading some of her pieces. When Jacaranda calls Janet collect as instructed and sends her an article, Janet sells it to a major magazine for $1,200-a life-changing sum that allows Jacaranda to quit P.I.P. and begin imagining a different future.
Kapitel 10
The Drinking Problem and the Book That Changes Everything
Alongside these positive developments, Jacaranda confronts her growing alcoholism-a problem that "had crept up alongside Max's appearance in her life." Now that she's received $1,080 for writing, she embraces the stereotype that writers in the twentieth century naturally have drinking problems, discovering what most writers claimed-that they could only write three hours a day at most, so drinking filled the rest of the time.
She considers her new status as a published author convenient cover for her alcoholism. A writer could behave like Norman Mailer striking out at cocktail parties and be considered a "classical drunk writer," while the same behavior from a Xerox operator would get their head broken by a stock boy. This self-awareness doesn't translate to recovery, however-it merely provides justification for continued self-destruction.
The narrative brilliantly captures how Jacaranda's relationship with "the book" becomes complicated. From the moment Janet Wilton transforms her from "slatternly working girl" to "composed woman of letters," the problem of "the book" emerges. Every Monday at 7 a.m., Janet calls from New York to discuss potential magazine assignments, always noting she's declined them to protect Jacaranda's time for "the book."
Gradually, Jacaranda realizes this mythical book is why Janet represented her in the first place. Magazine writing is "small potatoes" to Janet, who can sell a book advance for $10,000 plus potential paperback and movie rights. To avoid confronting this reality, Jacaranda manufactures romantic crises with Shelby, knowing Janet's sophistication crumbles at others' romantic catastrophes.
By the forty-seventh Monday morning, Jacaranda finally knows what "the book" will be. She figures out how to crochet her wayward pieces together into a cohesive whole, complete with title. Rather than discussing it with Janet, she simply mails it off on a Saturday. When Janet calls Monday, Jacaranda merely says, "You'll be getting it this week." Janet's voice lightens noticeably, the "stone anchor" lifting as though her boat might finally sail somewhere.
To Jacaranda's surprise, Dobson & Dalloway, "the best" publishing company in America, accepts her book immediately. Unknown to her, editor Wallace Moss has been hounding Janet every Friday, saying "I want to see anything she writes that even remotely resembles a book." After reading her "huge hodgepodge of loosely pasted-together material" over a weekend, Wallace offers five thousand dollars, which Janet negotiates to six.
Kapitel 11
The Reluctant Journey to New York and Final Confrontation
Despite her literary success, Jacaranda resists Janet's persistent question: "When are you coming to New York?" Janet insists she needs to meet her editor, magazine editors, and be seen, but the prospect terrifies Jacaranda. New York means possibly running into Max-he's everywhere in her imagination: Fifth Avenue, restaurant lobbies, taxis, elevators. She fears being without the Pacific Ocean (the Atlantic "wasn't an ocean"), and worse, she fears her drinking will be exposed.
As Jacaranda resists, her fights with Shelby grow more cataclysmic. Though long-suffering, Shelby begins absenting himself, escaping to Laguna to surf. Meanwhile, Janet's Monday calls continue relentlessly: "Now, when are you coming to New York?"
By July, Jacaranda has devastated her present so thoroughly that any future seems remote. Her social circle has narrowed to only those who drink as much as she does-friends who make tentative morning-after calls to check if they're still speaking after the previous night's behavior. When Shelby gently suggests she go to New York for "a week or ten days," explaining he can't join her because of his Pasadena exhibit, she accuses him of never loving her.
The narrative reaches its crisis point at Jack Ripler's July 3rd party, where Jacaranda's revenge scheme against Shelby goes horribly wrong. She invites Zack Birnbaum and his girlfriend Sunrise Honey to the party, knowing that Sunrise had once broken Jack's heart so severely that he'd made Shelby promise never to mention her name again. When Zack strikes Sunrise at the party, leaving her bleeding in her white dress, Jacaranda's plan collapses into genuine tragedy.
In the aftermath, Jacaranda impulsively takes Sunrise to La Jolla, where they confront their respective situations with the help of cocaine and brutal honesty. Sunrise finally identifies Jacaranda's problem: despite having money from publishers waiting for her in New York, Jacaranda refuses to go because Max Winterbourne is there. This moment of clarity leads Jacaranda to make plane reservations to New York for the following week. Two days before her trip, she stops drinking entirely.
Kapitel 12
Transformation in New York and Return to Authentic Self
Jacaranda flies to New York drinking only diet grapefruit soda, having been sober for three days. Despite the challenges of withdrawal, she finds the city's morning skyline breathtaking. Her friend Winifred Shaughnessy meets her at the Essex Hotel, providing a safe base from which to venture into the intimidating city.
Her first meeting at Dobson & Dalloway publishers initially terrifies her-the prestigious publishing house represents a validation she'd never expected, like "Bach asking her to study composition with him." When editor Wallace Moss finally appears-a medium-sized, light-haired young man with serious glasses-Jacaranda feels only her "skeleton team" of body and brains present, her heart and soul left in the lobby. Her breakthrough comes when she admits being "terrified" of meeting him, which softens Wallace who exclaims, "But I loved your book!" His genuine enthusiasm marks the beginning of her heart's return.
As Jacaranda meets the Dobson & Dalloway staff, beginning with Lloyd Cavendish, the head of publicity, she experiences a transformation. Unlike the reserved Wallace, Lloyd effusively welcomes her with a stream of praise: "You've actually come to New York! After reading your book, I could hardly stand this place myself... My dear, you really can write!" His enthusiasm-reminiscent of Max-immediately captivates Jacaranda, bringing her heart "up on the same level as the rest of her."
Throughout her week in New York, Jacaranda looks remarkably younger in the Essex mirror, and by week's end she appears her actual age of eighteen according to her mother. She spends mornings at Dobson & Dalloway with Wallace Moss, initially intimidated by him until discovering his soft spot for his golden retriever puppy Casey. Seeing Wallace's blurry framed photo of the dog transforms him from a spooky "brick wall" into "Wally," a boy with his dog.
The inevitable confrontation with Max occurs on her last night in New York. At 2 a.m., he calls and invites her for drinks at the Plaza before his supposed departure to Paris. At the Plaza suite, Jacaranda is struck by how understated the room is compared to Max's former Sacramento rooms-as though everything has "given up its claim to vivid purpose" so Max could stand out. His beauty overwhelms her-"his body bent like a weeping-willow branch dressed in raw white silk," his voice "slow and Southern as a mint julep," his eyes "blue as postcard skies."
Yet something has changed. Jacaranda feels familiar "aching waves" of desire yet knows she can't afford Max-"that much truth cost too much." She fears if she ever caught him, he'd cease being Max, crumbling "into dust like dry leaves." This realization-that Max represents an unattainable and ultimately destructive ideal-allows her to finally break free from his spell.
As Jacaranda takes a taxi to the airport the next day, she resists the urge to drink on the plane as she'd promised herself. She reflects that her next drink would always be waiting for her, with memories of Sunrise "bleeding in her white dress" lurking behind it. As Manhattan's rectangular profile recedes, she thinks of returning to California where Shelby will meet her, "a coyote with bronze eyes," and Emilio will be "contemplating butterflies among wildflowers."
Tomorrow she'll be surfing at dawn, riding waves that require perfect balance. Though most of her surf scars have faded, she has survived the "Old World seductions" that were supposed to be fatal to innocent virgins. Against all odds, she has "lived to tell the tale"-a triumph not just of survival but of finding her authentic voice and purpose amid the seductive dangers of sex, rage, and artistic ambition.
