Falconer
by John Cheever
(4 stars)
I'm a little confused about the description in the synopses here of the "nightmarish" prison. Falconer didn't seem nightmarish to me at all, just the opposite. Farragut is never beat up--except by a sadistic deputy warden, who is the only one who could be considered nightmarish but he isn't around for much--or raped (in the shower or anywhere else) or thrown into a dank hole for weeks at a time. Falconer isn't where I'd choose to take a vacation, but it's far from a dungeon, gulag, or concentration camp.
The story is about a college professor named Farragut--married to a beautiful but unfaithful and uncaring wife--who murdered his elder brother, though he claims it was an accident. The doctors and witnesses said he hit the brother twenty times with a fireplace implement, which hardly seems accidental. Farragut is sentenced to Falconer prison where he meets an assortment of characters like Tiny the guard who sneaks in tomatoes and other goods, big-talking Chicken Number Two, and the dashing Jody, who becomes Farragut's lover for a time. Ultimately Farragut comes to a momentous decision, which I won't spoil for you.
Perhaps because I read both recently, "Falconer" reminded me of "Catch-22" only set in a prison instead of the military. In both the authority figures are painted as uncaring dolts, the protagonist is trying to maintain his sanity in an insane situation, and both make the same decision at the end. Both books have a subtle, absurd humor to provide light to what would otherwise be a dark situation.
I prefer "Catch-22" if only because it seemed more fully developed. My copy of "Falconer" came in at 211 pages and to me the end with Farragut's big revelation and decision seemed a bit rushed. This might be because Cheever is a more prolific short story writer than novelist. I think he could have easily made this twice as long to make Farragut's realization a little less abrupt and to flesh out some of the supporting characters and such.
But that aside, this is still a great book that will make you laugh and think, so spend some solitary time with it.
That is all.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Blood Meridian
Blood Meridian
by Cormac McCarthy
(2 stars)
Ultimately a lot of my problems with this are the same as when I read "Cities of the Plain" recently so I'll just cut and paste from there to save time.
I suppose McCarthy's writing is fine if you enjoy the Hemingway style, which I don't. I'm not sure what's so beautiful about sentences that go "He shaved and showered and toweled off and got dressed." Seems kind of ugly actually. Reminds me of the stories I wrote in junior high. But he has a Pulitzer and a National Book Award and I don't. Take that!
A few of the author's style choices left me more than a little confused. Let's go down the list:
1. McCarthy doesn't use quotation marks so sometimes it's hard to know when someone is talking and when McCarthy is narrating.
2. McCarthy is adverse to using proper names so you end up with confusing pronoun use. In one case he made it sound like wolves had built a fire. This is especially a problem when the author starts out a new section or chapter with "He" and then we have to wait a few sentences to figure out the "He" in question.
3. Most aggravating of all is that a lot of characters speak only Spanish and McCarthy puts their lines IN Spanish. So tough luck if you don't know any Spanish. I wasn't too bad off since I took a few Spanish classes in high school, but some terms still threw me--and I didn't have a Spanish-English dictionary handy. If this were a movie we'd have the benefit of subtitles but in a novel we have to try and interpret the gist of it from the character's actions, sort of like playing charades.
Here's a new one though:
4. The central character (supposedly) is "the kid" but after joining up with "the judge" and Glanton "the kid" steadily disappears until he's just an anonymous part of the gang as they terrorize Mexico and the southwestern United States. A good quarter or more of the book hardly mentions "the kid" at all until he resurfaces at the end for the final confrontation with "the judge."
As the reader I think I really missed out by another of McCarthy's habits of never getting into the character's minds. Since the characters are so opaque and the central character disappears, the final confrontation between "the kid" and "the judge" doesn't make a lot of sense. I never did understand why "the kid" didn't just off "the judge" when he had the chance, a direct result of "the kid" vanishing and never having any idea what he was thinking.
But suffice it to say if you enjoyed "The Road" then this is pretty much the same thing. A group of people going through a bleak wasteland full of blood, gore, and death. Only in this case it's "the kid" and the gang inflicting most of that blood, gore, and death in order to collect Indian scalps--or Mexican scalps will do in a pinch. Pretty much the whole book is them going from place to place killing people or getting chased off by people trying to kill them. If you're looking for anything happy or hopeful or any of that, you better keep on walking.
That is all.
by Cormac McCarthy
(2 stars)
Ultimately a lot of my problems with this are the same as when I read "Cities of the Plain" recently so I'll just cut and paste from there to save time.
I suppose McCarthy's writing is fine if you enjoy the Hemingway style, which I don't. I'm not sure what's so beautiful about sentences that go "He shaved and showered and toweled off and got dressed." Seems kind of ugly actually. Reminds me of the stories I wrote in junior high. But he has a Pulitzer and a National Book Award and I don't. Take that!
A few of the author's style choices left me more than a little confused. Let's go down the list:
1. McCarthy doesn't use quotation marks so sometimes it's hard to know when someone is talking and when McCarthy is narrating.
2. McCarthy is adverse to using proper names so you end up with confusing pronoun use. In one case he made it sound like wolves had built a fire. This is especially a problem when the author starts out a new section or chapter with "He" and then we have to wait a few sentences to figure out the "He" in question.
3. Most aggravating of all is that a lot of characters speak only Spanish and McCarthy puts their lines IN Spanish. So tough luck if you don't know any Spanish. I wasn't too bad off since I took a few Spanish classes in high school, but some terms still threw me--and I didn't have a Spanish-English dictionary handy. If this were a movie we'd have the benefit of subtitles but in a novel we have to try and interpret the gist of it from the character's actions, sort of like playing charades.
Here's a new one though:
4. The central character (supposedly) is "the kid" but after joining up with "the judge" and Glanton "the kid" steadily disappears until he's just an anonymous part of the gang as they terrorize Mexico and the southwestern United States. A good quarter or more of the book hardly mentions "the kid" at all until he resurfaces at the end for the final confrontation with "the judge."
As the reader I think I really missed out by another of McCarthy's habits of never getting into the character's minds. Since the characters are so opaque and the central character disappears, the final confrontation between "the kid" and "the judge" doesn't make a lot of sense. I never did understand why "the kid" didn't just off "the judge" when he had the chance, a direct result of "the kid" vanishing and never having any idea what he was thinking.
But suffice it to say if you enjoyed "The Road" then this is pretty much the same thing. A group of people going through a bleak wasteland full of blood, gore, and death. Only in this case it's "the kid" and the gang inflicting most of that blood, gore, and death in order to collect Indian scalps--or Mexican scalps will do in a pinch. Pretty much the whole book is them going from place to place killing people or getting chased off by people trying to kill them. If you're looking for anything happy or hopeful or any of that, you better keep on walking.
That is all.
Silas Marner
Silas Marner
by George Eliot
(3 stars)
About halfway through when the little bundle of joy shows up in Silas's house I couldn't help thinking Dickens would have done a much better job with this story. As it is, the second part (which is actually the last third of this slim novel) is awkward and sloppy and doesn't make a lot of logical sense. Why does the father confess after he finds out he's going to get away with it scot-free? In "The Telltale Heart" Poe established the kind of guilt that made the eventual confession make sense, but there's nothing like that here to prod the father into doing anything--especially when he's waited so long as it is. By the time he does come forward and want to take responsibility there's really no point in doing so anymore as Silas has done the work for him.
Anyway, I could see why kids would hate reading this. I'd recommend they watch the old "Wishbone" episode from PBS instead. That got to the point and trimmed out a lot of the useless fat and would be far more entertaining for your kids--who doesn't like to see a dog wearing clothes?
That is all.
by George Eliot
(3 stars)
About halfway through when the little bundle of joy shows up in Silas's house I couldn't help thinking Dickens would have done a much better job with this story. As it is, the second part (which is actually the last third of this slim novel) is awkward and sloppy and doesn't make a lot of logical sense. Why does the father confess after he finds out he's going to get away with it scot-free? In "The Telltale Heart" Poe established the kind of guilt that made the eventual confession make sense, but there's nothing like that here to prod the father into doing anything--especially when he's waited so long as it is. By the time he does come forward and want to take responsibility there's really no point in doing so anymore as Silas has done the work for him.
Anyway, I could see why kids would hate reading this. I'd recommend they watch the old "Wishbone" episode from PBS instead. That got to the point and trimmed out a lot of the useless fat and would be far more entertaining for your kids--who doesn't like to see a dog wearing clothes?
That is all.
Naked and the Dead
Naked and the Dead
by Norman Mailer
(4 stars)
Or maybe it is your grandpa's war story; I wouldn't know because my grandpa was in the navy. Anyway, those looking for a rollicking action adventure about WWII in the Pacific had better look elsewhere. It's not a John Wayne movie or even "Saving Private Ryan." This is a psychological study of men grappling with the elements and themselves in a hellish environment. (Substitute the jungle for sand dunes and tropical humidity for 130-degree heat and Japanese soldiers for Arab terrorists and it would fit perfectly into modern times.)
This is a fictional account of the taking of an island in the Pacific by American forces. The story focuses primarily on a recon platoon lead by the abusive tyrant Sergeant Croft. There are about a dozen men in the platoon at the beginning including the Mexican sergeant Martinez, the former hobo Red, the Jew trying to fit in Goldstein, the intellectual Jew/platoon runt Roth, a couple good ol' boys Wilson and Ridges, gangster wanna-be Polack, brownnoser corporal Stanley, and seemingly All-American boy Brown. There's also General Cummings and his surly Ivy League aide Hearn, who have a very conflicted and adversarial relationship.
This relationship ends with Hearn being assigned to the recon platoon for a quixotic mission to explore behind the Japanese lines. This patrol leads to three men dying, two quickly and one very slowly.
But again this isn't a book about the war. There's really only one real battle and a couple of skirmishes. The real war for the soldiers is with the jungle and themselves--physically and mentally. A lot of the book details the platoon's fatigue as they tramp through the jungle or work on constructing a road to resupply the front.
None of these guys come off as your stereotypical characters from a war movie and Mailer's greatest strength is delving beneath the tough guy surfaces to show the fragile individuals underneath. Several sections of the book are referred to as the "time machine" and detail the platoon members before they went to war. None of them are heroes, but just ordinary guys who don't care about causes and flags, only about getting back home to their families and friends.
There's no glory to be had anywhere in this very long, very detailed narrative. If you're looking for action and excitement, look elsewhere--maybe ask your grandpa to tell one of his stories. If you want a realistic portrait of war, then look no further.
That is all.
by Norman Mailer
(4 stars)
Or maybe it is your grandpa's war story; I wouldn't know because my grandpa was in the navy. Anyway, those looking for a rollicking action adventure about WWII in the Pacific had better look elsewhere. It's not a John Wayne movie or even "Saving Private Ryan." This is a psychological study of men grappling with the elements and themselves in a hellish environment. (Substitute the jungle for sand dunes and tropical humidity for 130-degree heat and Japanese soldiers for Arab terrorists and it would fit perfectly into modern times.)
This is a fictional account of the taking of an island in the Pacific by American forces. The story focuses primarily on a recon platoon lead by the abusive tyrant Sergeant Croft. There are about a dozen men in the platoon at the beginning including the Mexican sergeant Martinez, the former hobo Red, the Jew trying to fit in Goldstein, the intellectual Jew/platoon runt Roth, a couple good ol' boys Wilson and Ridges, gangster wanna-be Polack, brownnoser corporal Stanley, and seemingly All-American boy Brown. There's also General Cummings and his surly Ivy League aide Hearn, who have a very conflicted and adversarial relationship.
This relationship ends with Hearn being assigned to the recon platoon for a quixotic mission to explore behind the Japanese lines. This patrol leads to three men dying, two quickly and one very slowly.
But again this isn't a book about the war. There's really only one real battle and a couple of skirmishes. The real war for the soldiers is with the jungle and themselves--physically and mentally. A lot of the book details the platoon's fatigue as they tramp through the jungle or work on constructing a road to resupply the front.
None of these guys come off as your stereotypical characters from a war movie and Mailer's greatest strength is delving beneath the tough guy surfaces to show the fragile individuals underneath. Several sections of the book are referred to as the "time machine" and detail the platoon members before they went to war. None of them are heroes, but just ordinary guys who don't care about causes and flags, only about getting back home to their families and friends.
There's no glory to be had anywhere in this very long, very detailed narrative. If you're looking for action and excitement, look elsewhere--maybe ask your grandpa to tell one of his stories. If you want a realistic portrait of war, then look no further.
That is all.
Crying of Lot 49
Crying of Lot 49
by Thomas Pynchon
(4 stars)
I'd always stayed away from Pynchon's novels because A) They are longer than the average Harry Potter book and B) They sound bizarre. "The Crying of Lot 49" then was a good way to get my feet wet because at least it was only 150 pages. Somehow I'm sure it's just as bizarre as his other novels. And yet for as strange as it was, it was a compelling novel that kept me reading right through to the end.
The story is about Oedipa Maas, a young suburban housewife with a DJ husband nicknamed "Mucho" at the local rock n' roll station in Kinneret, California. She receives a letter from the estate of a former flame named Pierce, a billionaire with his hands in all sorts of pots. Oedipa has been named an executor and so travels San Narcisco, where she meets the lawyer Metzger, once a child actor named Baby Igor.
This leads to an affair, which would have been where most novels would stop, but the affair is only the tip of the iceberg here. In looking over some of Pierce's properties like the weapons manufacturer Yoyodyne, Oedipa starts to see a muted post horn everywhere--on a restroom wall, on Pierce's stamps, on a Yoyodyne engineer's notepad--and becomes convinced after watching a rather gory play that there's a secret postal system known as Tristero that has been operating in Europe and the US for 400 years. Her search for answers causes her to delve deeper into madness. A trip back home finds her husband and shrink hooked on LSD, the latter taking her hostage when police find out he worked with the Nazis at a concentration camp.
In the end we're left with questions instead of answers, which is a little irritating. But in a novel that seems to be about the breakdown of reality and communication, what do you expect?
This novel was published in 1965 and really was prophetic about the turmoil upcoming as the Vietnam War escalated and rampant drug use--including LSD--caused most of a generation to lose touch with reality.
I couldn't help thinking that if I knew more about science like entropy and thermal dynamics and if I had been born before 1964 I would have understood more of the satire and wit employed here. That's the risk you take in writing a satire, though.
At any rate, this book was fascinating in spite--or because of--all its strangeness. If you're looking to take a good trip without the aid of chemical enhancement, here you go.
by Thomas Pynchon
(4 stars)
I'd always stayed away from Pynchon's novels because A) They are longer than the average Harry Potter book and B) They sound bizarre. "The Crying of Lot 49" then was a good way to get my feet wet because at least it was only 150 pages. Somehow I'm sure it's just as bizarre as his other novels. And yet for as strange as it was, it was a compelling novel that kept me reading right through to the end.
The story is about Oedipa Maas, a young suburban housewife with a DJ husband nicknamed "Mucho" at the local rock n' roll station in Kinneret, California. She receives a letter from the estate of a former flame named Pierce, a billionaire with his hands in all sorts of pots. Oedipa has been named an executor and so travels San Narcisco, where she meets the lawyer Metzger, once a child actor named Baby Igor.
This leads to an affair, which would have been where most novels would stop, but the affair is only the tip of the iceberg here. In looking over some of Pierce's properties like the weapons manufacturer Yoyodyne, Oedipa starts to see a muted post horn everywhere--on a restroom wall, on Pierce's stamps, on a Yoyodyne engineer's notepad--and becomes convinced after watching a rather gory play that there's a secret postal system known as Tristero that has been operating in Europe and the US for 400 years. Her search for answers causes her to delve deeper into madness. A trip back home finds her husband and shrink hooked on LSD, the latter taking her hostage when police find out he worked with the Nazis at a concentration camp.
In the end we're left with questions instead of answers, which is a little irritating. But in a novel that seems to be about the breakdown of reality and communication, what do you expect?
This novel was published in 1965 and really was prophetic about the turmoil upcoming as the Vietnam War escalated and rampant drug use--including LSD--caused most of a generation to lose touch with reality.
I couldn't help thinking that if I knew more about science like entropy and thermal dynamics and if I had been born before 1964 I would have understood more of the satire and wit employed here. That's the risk you take in writing a satire, though.
At any rate, this book was fascinating in spite--or because of--all its strangeness. If you're looking to take a good trip without the aid of chemical enhancement, here you go.
Catch-22
Catch-22
by Joseph Heller
(5 stars)
I'm almost at a loss to describe just how great this book is, but I'll give it a go anyway. Suffice it to say Mr. Heller's tale of war, courage, and madness is as relevant today as it was on its first printing. It's a book that will make you laugh, make you think, and make your heart ache all at the same time.
This is the story of Yossarian, an American bombardier stationed on Pianosa under the command of the vain Colonel Cathcart. No matter how many missions Yossarian and his comrades fly, the colonel demands more of them, gradually raising the number from twenty-five all the way up to eighty. Yossarian becomes increasingly desperate to escape the certain death he knows is waiting for him, especially as his friends are seemingly knocked off one-by-one not just by German gunners but sometimes by friendly fire or outright bizarre circumstances--like being smothered by a cat. Surrounded by pompous, preening, madmen like Cathcart, Yossarian turns out to be the only sane person on the base because he still has at least a shred of conscience.
The satiric wit employed to paint the Army Air Force as bumbling stooges might have seemed ridiculous until a few years ago. Now with Gulf War II and soldiers being sent on four, five, or more tours of duty it doesn't seem quite so far-fetched that a Colonel Cathcart or General Peckem could really exist.
As good as this book is it can be a challenge keeping all the characters straight and all the events in proper order. And like a "Saturday Night Live" skit this goes on a little longer than it should until the bit starts to lose some of its impact. The end is tremendous as Yossarian does the only thing he can do in the face of overwhelming stupidity and madness.
If you're a fan of M*A*S*H the movie or TV show then this book is right up your alley with its wisecracking antiheroes and bumbling commanders. Really to me "Catch-22" seems like the precursor to that movie/series only on a grander scale.
And hey this is one of the only books to add a new word to the dictionary, so that's neat too. Go ahead and give this a read; you won't be disappointed.
That is all.
by Joseph Heller
(5 stars)
I'm almost at a loss to describe just how great this book is, but I'll give it a go anyway. Suffice it to say Mr. Heller's tale of war, courage, and madness is as relevant today as it was on its first printing. It's a book that will make you laugh, make you think, and make your heart ache all at the same time.
This is the story of Yossarian, an American bombardier stationed on Pianosa under the command of the vain Colonel Cathcart. No matter how many missions Yossarian and his comrades fly, the colonel demands more of them, gradually raising the number from twenty-five all the way up to eighty. Yossarian becomes increasingly desperate to escape the certain death he knows is waiting for him, especially as his friends are seemingly knocked off one-by-one not just by German gunners but sometimes by friendly fire or outright bizarre circumstances--like being smothered by a cat. Surrounded by pompous, preening, madmen like Cathcart, Yossarian turns out to be the only sane person on the base because he still has at least a shred of conscience.
The satiric wit employed to paint the Army Air Force as bumbling stooges might have seemed ridiculous until a few years ago. Now with Gulf War II and soldiers being sent on four, five, or more tours of duty it doesn't seem quite so far-fetched that a Colonel Cathcart or General Peckem could really exist.
As good as this book is it can be a challenge keeping all the characters straight and all the events in proper order. And like a "Saturday Night Live" skit this goes on a little longer than it should until the bit starts to lose some of its impact. The end is tremendous as Yossarian does the only thing he can do in the face of overwhelming stupidity and madness.
If you're a fan of M*A*S*H the movie or TV show then this book is right up your alley with its wisecracking antiheroes and bumbling commanders. Really to me "Catch-22" seems like the precursor to that movie/series only on a grander scale.
And hey this is one of the only books to add a new word to the dictionary, so that's neat too. Go ahead and give this a read; you won't be disappointed.
That is all.
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