Don Draper and James Grady's Dante Reflect Our Own Infernos

Soon my 30-day Netflix trial will end, and I will have caught up on Seasons 1 and 2 of "Mad Men." While time consuming and a bit jarring, simultaneously watching old and new episodes of the show illuminates the breadcrumbs the writers dropped to lead us to Don Draper's current juicy pickle.

As I read James Grady's "What's Going On: A Political Fiction in Nine Episodes," no Netflix arrangement required, I couldn't help comparing Draper's fierce efforts to obliterate his past with Dante's public leveraging of his mistakes to seek redemption.

Dante, a 60-year-old ex-con, Vietnam vet, and devoted husband, works for a community coalition that tries to maintain peace on the streets of D.C.'s Liss Gardens. Dante's in no danger of winding up like the villain of Grady's story, the Uzi- and colostomy-bag-toting Luther. (Can I take a second to commend Grady's inspired use of the colostomy bag as a character trait? It symbolizes gutlessness and the inability to filter toxic waste.) Dante risks his marriage, his carefully brokered relationships, and his life to arrange a truce between two gangs in the aftermath of a series of shootings.

In contrast, if Draper would serve himself up as a role model for abandoned youths, he'd have a happier life with Betty (maybe he'd be the one seeing the shrink) and immunity from his slithering, blackmailing colleagues. But then he wouldn't be Don Draper, and we wouldn't tune in for his next indiscretion or career-saving political maneuver. We're invested in his story because the stakes run high. If he owns his past, he will detonate his carefully crafted world of lies; if he doesn't, unlike Dante, he could end up with the villainous Roger Sterling's corroded ticker.

While Draper and Dante live on different planets -- Madison Avenue is all mink and fancy drink, while Liss Gardens is a place where "when pollution lets the moon shine, the grounds of the Gardens sparkle with diamonds of broken glass" -- they share a gift for politics. Grady makes us privy to Dante's constant inner-patter of quick political assessments that guide his every move. Draper glides in and out of the boardrooms with a similar calculated grace. According to Dante, and I'm guessing Draper, "Politics is who you choose to be. The rest is just the doing."

Why is it so irresistible to ponder the fates of Dante, Draper, and myriad politicians with bony closets? We've debated ad nauseum whether Jenny Sanford, Elizabeth Edwards, or Hillary Clinton should forgive their husbands' indiscretions, or whether Ted Kennedy should be remembered as a humanitarian or a heel. Perhaps these tales, fiction or fact, remind us that the tension that exists in our own narratives derives from the breadcrumbs we've dropped and how we use them to find a path forward.