No one crafted antiheroes quite like Patricia Highsmith. Consider Tom Ripley, the smooth, charming, and completely unscrupulous protagonist of her 1955 suspense novel The Talented Mr Ripley, who navigates through Europe using lies, deception, and even murder – yet somehow manages to capture our sympathy. Nearly seven decades since his debut, he remains utterly captivating, explaining the anticipation surrounding the upcoming release of Ripley, featuring Andrew Scott.
Highsmith’s narratives are populated with characters who, much like Ripley, blend seamlessly into society but harbor dark desires, sinister secrets, and the constant dread of exposure. Immersing oneself in her stories can evoke a sensation akin to an anxiety-inducing experience, as acknowledged by Graham Greene, who dubbed her “the poet of apprehension.”
Beyond her intriguing characters, Highsmith herself possessed a notably dark side that extended beyond her fascination with the complexities of human nature, her struggles with alcoholism, and her peculiar habits like carrying snails in her purse. Who was this enigmatic individual fixated on exploring the minds of criminals, and how did she shape the framework for contemporary psychological thrillers?
Born in 1921 in Fort Worth, Texas, Highsmith endured a tumultuous upbringing marked by her parents’ divorce shortly before her birth. Her mother, Mary, later confessed to Patricia that she had ingested turpentine during pregnancy in an attempt to induce a miscarriage. This streak of calculated cruelty defined their relationship.
Following Mary’s marriage to Stanley Highsmith in 1924, young Patricia adopted his surname as they relocated to New York City. However, their tumultuous relationship was fraught with intense arguments and frequent separations.
Highsmith recalled her early years as “a little hellish.” At the age of 12, Mary abruptly abandoned her in Texas for an entire year without explanation, leaving the young girl under her grandmother’s care. This abandonment left an indelible mark on Patricia, fostering deep-seated resentment that she later connected to her romantic relationships, citing Freudian parallels. She lamented, “I never got over it. Thus I seek out women who will hurt me in a similar manner.”
During her time at Barnard College in New York, Highsmith delved into writing short stories, recognizing her knack for suspenseful narratives early on. Her diaries, comprising around 8,000 handwritten pages capturing her daily life in a mix of languages, reveal a rollercoaster of self-assessment, from moments of self-aggrandizement to harsh self-criticism and reflections on her romantic entanglements, predominantly with women.
Her relationships were tumultuous, often short-lived, intertwined with bouts of self-loathing possibly fueled by internalized homophobia. Highsmith exhibited a pattern of sabotaging intimate connections, distancing herself when emotional closeness intensified. Her complex persona was further illustrated by her friend Phyllis Nagy’s description of her as “a lesbian who did not very much enjoy being around other women.”
Transitioning from roles in public relations and comic book writing, Highsmith ventured to the Yaddo writers’ retreat in upstate New York on Truman Capote’s recommendation. It was here that she penned Strangers on a Train in 1950, later adapted into a successful Hollywood film by Alfred Hitchcock.
While Strangers on a Train set the stage for Highsmith’s signature style – entwining characters in obsessive, guilt-ridden relationships amid suspenseful plots – her foray into a romance narrative with undertones of autobiography marked a departure from her usual themes.
In the late 1940s, Highsmith sought therapy as her social circle embraced marriage and domesticity. Encouraged by her therapist to join a group session for married women exploring latent homosexuality, Highsmith’s encounter with a captivating woman at Bloomingdale’s sparked the narrative for The Price of Salt (later known as Carol). This novel diverged from her typical oeuvre, offering a rare happy ending for its protagonists, defying the prevailing tragic fate of LGBTQ characters in American literature.
Despite the novel’s optimistic tone, Highsmith’s personal obsessions mirrored darker impulses, notably evident in her fixation on the woman from Bloomingdale’s, reminiscent of Tom Ripley’s sinister fixations. Edmund White succinctly captured Highsmith’s identification with Ripley, labeling her as “Tom Ripley without the charm.”
Highsmith’s intricate portrayal of Ripley, a cunning and ruthless social climber adept at manipulation, resonated profoundly with her, to the extent that she signed letters with the character’s name. Her immersion in Ripley’s psyche was so intense that she expressed feeling like a mere conduit for his narrative. The success of The Talented Mr Ripley spurred a series of sequels, forming what Highsmith termed her “Ripliad.”
Beyond the Ripliad, Highsmith delved into themes of death and sexual fixation, exemplified in works like A Suspension of Murder and The Cry of the Owl. While some critics noted a slight decline in her later works’ sharpness, novels like Edith’s Diary from 1977 continued to showcase her talent for crafting unsettling narratives.
As Highsmith aged and relocated to Europe, her misanthropy and alcohol consumption intensified, leading to eccentric behaviors like her fascination with snails, which she shared with characters like Vic Van Allen in Deep Water. Her idiosyncrasies extended to social interactions, characterized by disdain for societal norms and shocking displays of behavior.
Despite her literary acclaim, Highsmith’s personal biases, including anti-Semitic and racist views, tarnished her legacy. Her unapologetic prejudices, highlighted by derogatory remarks and offensive beliefs, cast a shadow over her literary achievements.
In her reclusive later years, Highsmith’s complex persona continued to intrigue and repel, mirroring the enigmatic allure of her best characters. Her legacy as a master of suspense writing endures, influencing contemporary authors and filmmakers while underscoring the paradox of an artist whose brilliance coexisted with profound flaws.