By BARI WOOD, JACK GEASLAND (G.P. Putnam’s Sons; 1977)
You probably know this novel as the inspiration for David Cronenberg’s DEAD RINGERS (1988), which was a rare instance of a film adaptation surpassing its source novel. DEAD RINGERS, which replicated the novel’s overall structure but changed most of the details (including the protagonists’ names), was a dark, provocative and even profound depiction of obsession and madness, whereas TWINS is at best an above-average potboiler.
Based on an actual incident, TWINS begins with the discovery of the dead bodies of the twin gynecologists David and Michael in a garbage-strewn luxury apartment. It’s determined that one of the twins murdered the other, but nobody can figure out how that could have possibly happened, as to seemingly everyone who knew them both men seemed quite benign. From there the novel flashes back, laying out the particulars of the relationship between David and Michael, who harbored serious sexual hang-ups. Those hang ups began in the boys’ childhood, during which they developed an unnatural bond that continues into adulthood, as the twins excel in their field while gaining a reputation for their sexual exploits (they particularly like women who don’t mind threesomes).
Michael, the more sensitive of the twins, attempts to break free from his brother, first by marrying one of their shared conquests and then by involving himself with an ailing patient. The suave and cunning David, meanwhile, indulges his penchant for bisexual promiscuity, knowing it will only be a matter of time before Michael returns to his side for good and they can finally consummate their affection. This in turn leads to drug abuse that (like most everything else in their lives) David and Michael come to share, and their tragic demise.
TWINS is well written, if a bit perfunctory in its descriptions. It nearly makes up for that shortcoming in its psychological insight, which is considerable. The unhealthy obsession its twin protagonists have for each other is quite convincing, even if the novel ultimately adds up to very little, with its main selling point being the fact that its title characters have sex (I can see it being referred to as “that book where the twins fuck”). Within those perimeters it’s satisfying enough, but it took David Cronenberg to bring out the material’s underlying brilliance.