Child of God

Few writers share McCarthy’s talent for abusing language to poetic effect. His distorted, crooked, broken syntax allowing for a literary experience which exudes as much cerebral as visceral power. Child of God, McCarthy’s third novel, can perhaps be read as the genesis-point of the author’s recognisable aesthetic: funnelling the pared down prose style of Faulkner, the dark lyricism of Poe and the gritty realism of Steinbeck, into a form which is unshakeably American.

Child of God is the tale of Lester Ballard, perhaps one of the darkest, most disturbed characters in McCarthy’s oeuvre. Ballard is an outsider, a loner, a character who is as much a creature as a man. Lurking in a dark, dank cave, and interacting primarily with the festering corpses with which he adorns underground lair, Lester is a disadjusted individual who, out-casted by his country-men, descends into paedophilia and necrophilia.

Child of God is a novel which perhaps more so than No Country for Old Men, or The Road, or even Blood Meridian, presents itself as a work of aesthetic potency. McCarthy’s use of antique words, which furnish the frame of his narrative, facilitate an unprecedented beauty, a dark, primordial lyricism, which lends Ballard an almost mythical stature. McCarthy creates in Child of God a narrative which stretches the very sinews of language with Shakespearean liberality, and in doing that, offers a haunting insight into the mind of a psychopath.    

Darkness Implacable - Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road'

"No lists on things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes"

After having seen Cormac McCarthy's name bouncing around for the last few years, on numerous lists of 'best 21st century novels', award winning fiction, and perhaps most tellingly lists of 'modern classics', I began to pay attention. Not to mention after hearing about the recent film adaptation of The Road and seeing the adaptation for film of No Country For Old Men in 2008. So, when I came face to face (numerous times) with cheap editions of The Road in charity shops and online, I figured it was meant to be. It was almost as if the book were following me, begging me to read it. (Okay maybe that's bullshit, I just saw it a few times and thought why not?). But all I can say is thank you phantom stalking book. I think I could safely say that The Road has become a new favourite, and is certainly a keeper. One which will remain on my bookshelf for a long time (and which I already have an itching desire to re-read).

As I've come to realise, after reading No Country for Old Men and All The Pretty Horses, The Road marks a departure from McCarthy's usual nouveau-'wild-west' topical field. The Road, then, somewhat uncharacteristically is a dystopian and post-apocalyptic vision of a new America. The novel contains only two main characters, who are referred to as simply 'man' and 'boy'. We follow them on their journey for survival across a barren palimpsestic America, never gaining knowledge of the events whose aftermath cause an annihilation of almost the whole population of America, and for a perpetual snow of ash to rain over the country. As well as simply finding food and clothing remaining from 'old' America, the duo must also face the challenge of avoiding and fighting off other human beings who, in desperation, have resorted to cannibalism. The novel bleakly details the journey of a man and his son along the road. A never-ending road which must be travelled for sustenance and safety.Though do not be mistaken, the bleakness of this journey is not completely overwhelming. Amongst the hopelessness and wretchedness of the post-apocalyptic monochrome America that McCarthy creates, both man and boy show a tenderness towards each other which (astoundingly) defies their awful situation. The massive contrast between outer darkness and inner warmth makes The Road a novel which is capable of creating for itself an air of being in some way 'epic' and a depth of emotional charge which is often surprising considering the minimal character development.

The Road is a novel which could be argued to be much more socially and politically 'contemporary' than McCarthy's other novels, in its capitalisation upon the post 9/11 mindset and the 'era' of terror. Although the fear of mutually assured destruction and the tradition of post-apocalyptic literature reaches back some sixty-five years now, since the first use of the atomic bomb, the arms race that followed, and the Cuban missile crisis in '62. The Road's warning of a barren, empty post-apocalyptic America, as we sit on the brink of a second nuclear era, seems to have become increasingly relevant in the last four years since it was published. As previously stated The Road is somewhat an anomaly in Cormac McCarthy's otherwise testosterone filled tales of life in the deep south. What starts out as a simple tale of two men travelling along a road, gradually blossoms into an emotionally intense and shatteringly beautiful piece of literature.

The text itself is wonderfully crafted in a way which is reminiscent of both Beckett and Coetzee in style and tone (and maybe even content with Beckett). What is striking about McCarthy as an author is the economy with which he utilises his words. It is a text, which in true Coetzee-an style, can at times seem deceptively plain and simple, but is constructed in a way that it expresses a lot more than it can ever be said to let on. Whilst using these frugally concise-yet-complex sentences, McCarthy uses two of Beckett's (arguably) most characteristic literary traits, these being the one word sentence, and his re-arranged syntax, which manipulates the manner and the order in which meaning is released, and constructed. We are confronted with this particular trait in the second sentence of The Road where McCarthy remarks upon the "nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before". The style works well, for McCarthy’s purpose, and serves to highlight the disorder of the 'new life' deserving of a new modified language, and also increases a feeling of uneasiness and vulnerability in the reader, firstly from reading disjointed thoughts, and secondly for the perilous position of ‘man’ and ‘boy’. McCarthy’s one word sentences complement this occasional awkwardness of syntax by creating this punchy 'that’s all there is' feeling. It would be unfair, though, to deride McCarthy's own creation by apportioning his literary achievement to those who have come before him, and not giving him credit for his own endeavouring individuality of style. (A style which rather strangely results in the omitting of apostrophes and speech marks, which can be confusing). Whilst the novel could be labelled as Beckettian in tone, and Coetzee-an in style, it retains a sense of distinct 'American-ness' in a way which seems to function far beneath the text, but is somehow unplaceable.

Nevertheless what is striking about The Road is the sparseness of anything, be it within the actual events of the novel, or within the speech of the characters, (the majority of speech between the boy and man comes in one word entries), or even in the punctuation of the novel, commas reserved for special occasions. McCarthy favours the dead full stop, creating a sense of emptiness and desolation which can be physically portrayed in the text itself, in contrast to the lengthy comma-less sentences which seem in some way to be physically representative of the never-ending road which the duo must travel. It has been a long time since a novel has been capable of making me feel so many things with seemingly so little effort. There were times when I was scared, tense, and even just plain upset. What McCarthy has created on retrospect in The Road is incredibly impressive, considering the plain, dark and empty style. For something so flat on the surface to create something so emotionally contoured on the inside has surprised me. And it is because of this, and its deliciously dark bouts of description that it is a novel which I am sure to re-read soon. And indeed, one deserving of a hearty 5 stars in my books.

Black Hole - Charles Burns

--Review of Charles Burns'' graphic novel Black Hole - with lots of shiny pictures as promised--

I have to admit that I am somewhat a comic book rookie. In high school I remember the craze of bringing in ultimate spiderman for the 10 minutes of compulsory reading school used to enforce on a wednesday morning. I remember reading a few of these, but never really getting into them. I always disregarded comics as a kind of illegitimate art form. One which could never say anything profound, but was a pass-time of those who found regular novels 'too boring' or inaccessible. Oh, how I was wrong. The first graphic novel I ever read was The Complete MAUS, last christmas. Since then my opinions have changed. But this entry isn't about MAUS, (as much as I would love to sing its praises almost endlessly - it really is great), it is about Charles Burns' graphic novel Black Hole. I picked up Black Hole solely because (like Eeeee Eee Eeee) it is on my postmodern fiction module next term (I am being a good student this time, and getting prepared). I knew nothing about the book before I picked up a very well read copy from the library.

The novel tells the story of a group of teenagers who are affected by a sexually transmitted disease which causes them to physically mutate. These mutations aren't particularly obvious in some cases. One woman grows a tail, another man grows a second mouth towards the base of his neck. They may not be obvious, but they're pretty gruesome nonethteless. The disease can be contracted through either sexual contact, or a mixing of bodily fluids. The one really creepy thing about the bug is that it causes affected characters to shed their skin. The novel follows the actions of two main characters, one male - Keith, and one female - Chris, and switches between the two, offering a sexually balanced tale, a form which works surprisingly well. We experience through the course of the comic how these two characters contract the bug, and the aftermath, which results in them becoming social and physical outcasts who are forced to go to various lengths to either hide themselves or get away from other people.

All of the illustrations are monochrome, like the successful MAUS comics. Burns' style, however is much more clean cut and precise than Speigelman's making many of the panels incredibly impressive and almost vibrant in their contrast. This novel could essentially be classified as horror, or teen horror, or by some as B-horror. The high contrast of images suits this genre so well, because it adds a sense of startling postmodern realism to many of the more graphic scenes (i.e. the skin shedding, but most of which I shouldn't speak about for fear of ruining the book) which you might not get with a more sketchy style. The very realistic drawing style however, combines with a very creative and unconventional ordering of panels. Burns at his most impressive makes use of the seperate panels to depict one area of a whole picture. It is hard to explain in words, but basically you get whole but fragmented images (such as the one directly below). There are also two or three occasions where a very 'rules of attraction-esque' technique is used whereby two halves of two different faces lain side by side make a whole. This creativity also manifests itself in the chapter headings, which are far from conventional, usually consisting of an image of something, mysteriously framed in an expansive black page. (None of the chapters are numbered, and none of the pages are either).

Burns seems very keen (like Tao Lin does in Eeeee Eee Eeee) on not keeping to a completely linear plot development. But whilst Tao Lin completely confuses the order of events in the novel, Burns at least retains a strong sense of direction - his confusion of time comes through the retrospective thoughts of characters, and the gaps of time between the events in each chapter (which we, as readers, in some cases, are encouraged to estimate for ourselves). You find at some points that because of the two interlinking plots, that of Keith's and that of Chris', one will sometimes seem to move faster or have more gaps than the other. Which means that events will take place, and then after the events have taken place, the character will back track on what happens directly before that event, but only after it has been told (I hope that makes sense). The effect is that you are encouraged to re-interpret the information you've been given, and consciously re-order things. Burns doesn't really use this technique to much effect though, it's not as if any assumptions you may make about these characters are overturned by their then retrospective indulgences, in order to perhaps overturn stereotypes the reader may have had, or expectations (though I realise this is very difficult and requires a lot of psychological insight into the reader and their expected thought process whilst reading).

Black Hole is clever in its use of the concept of the sexually transmitted mutation, an idea which could easily have been very cheesy - but Charles Burns does his idea justice (even if it does come across as a bit of an 'in your face' allegory for AIDS). The concept of the bug is manipulated so that it allows the author to enlighten us as to the reasons why one may become a high-school outcast. Many of those who contract the bug become deviant not only because of their disease, but due to their personal natures. It's hard to elaborate further without ruining the plot, but Burns highlights in particular those with bisexual sneaking into homosexual tendencies, and to an extent (and I am wary to say this), those with a tendency towards bestiality. But the novel isn't as skin deep as just correlating physical mutation and the outsider status. It gives us a psychological insight into this status, coming most prominently from the character Dan, a boy who was 'unpopular' in school and forced to leave because of his mutations. There is a lot in there that I haven't yet seen, I'm sure of it. I'll be reading it again in a few weeks when I have had time to think about it in more depth.

From a personal perspective, its one of the most enjoyable things I've read in months (honestly). I had to discipline myself not to read the whole thing in one sitting. Unlike MAUS (excuse my constant references to it) the artwork seems more purposeful. MAUS is almost a comic which relies more on its speech than its imagery (probably a big claim to make). But Black Hole is incredibly different, the artwork and the way it is presented plays an active part in the storytelling process. It is more than a straightforward comic (like MAUS), it actually is a great work of art, and would be a beautiful book to own, even to just look at the pictures (many of them amusingly vaginal - and a selection of which can be seen in my previous blog post on the novel). The story is engaging and the concept is well thought out and executed. As I said, there's a lot in there, from sexual deviance, to critiques on high school shootings, and even the holocaust if you want to push it that far. Mind you, it's not for everyone. If you're not into horror you my want to steer clear. But what strikes me most, and what I'm still most impressed with is the layout of panels and the effects of different types of panels including whole page images, strange zoom effects, and the bizarre portrayal of dreams in comic format. It really is more than your bog-standard comic. I rate it highly.

Eeeee Eee Eeee

"It's depressing that people are different. Everyone should be one person, who should then kill itself in hand-to-hand combat"

Just finished reading Tao Lin's debut novel Eeeee Eee Eeee. What can I say? It is unlike anything I've ever read before. It is on my reading list for a module I'm taking next term in twenty-first century post-modern fiction. I was surprised to find that Tao Lin is relatively unknown, with a close cult-ish following. I could use many adjectives to attempt to describe this novel - but I'm not sure that any one could do it justice, or that using many would help clarify Eeeee Eee Eeee at all. The novel could be pigeon-holed as being kind of surreally hyper-existentialist. It is almost Beckettian in its minimalism and snapishness. The novel seems to focus (of course you could make a massive claim -probably the most valid one- that there is no focus) on American collective identity through repeated turns of phrase and slang, as well as shared names and a sense of a depressive loss of individuality. By far the most confusing instances in the book (and the most notorious) are the set of unexpected conversations with talking bears, hamsters and dolphins . . . one of which result in a bear named Andrew, and a man named Andrew realising that they share the same name (and therefore identity?) It's a witty novel, without a doubt, with laugh out loud humour which will make you wince with its sarcasm. It is often a confusing read, but nevertheless one which does not leave you feeling out of your depth, or as if you've failed to understand something along the way. You learn very quickly that you just have to accept that that's the way it is. Eeeee Eee Eeee is a difficult novel to review, solely because it has no driven start to finish plot, it has talking animals, and is constructed in such a novel way. To present a plot synopsis would be ridiculous - in fact it would almost defy the way in which the novel is written. Tao Lin's prose is is aware of its fragmentation, and in being aware manages to smooth out the fragments and somehow fit them together into a coherent, flowing and whole piece of work (excuse my mosaic-esque analogy). Time itself is fragmented in the novel. It is only in the closing chapter of the novel, that we find out what happenned in the protagonist (dare I call him one) Andrew's life before the novel began - information which would surely be expected within the first few pages, to introduce us to him. The timeline of the book is indeterminably linear, but it is the indeterminability of its linearity which causes those questions to creep in, and for the rational part of the mind to be tempted to organise and make sense of what comes where, to try to establish a time/space linearity which we expect from most novels.

Needless to say (post-blurb), it is a peculiar novel. But amongst the mayhem, the teleporting bears, the murder of Elijah Wood by a dolphin, and the secret passages which lead to a secret animal world, are concerted criticisms on political apathy, identity loss, herd mentalities, terrorism and depression. Many of the reviews I've read have disregarded it for its alleged art-school pretentiousness. Pretentious or not, it is a novel which is engagingly short, easy to read, and seems to simplify, but still accessorise the genre of bizarro fiction while kind of fitting in with the glossy Generation X writers. I don't know if I'd go as far as labelling it 'literature' or saying that it was particularly enjoyable, or 'good', but it certainly is a breath of fresh air and unlike anything I've read before. (N.B. Just because it's refreshing doesn't mean it isn't strange and sometimes seems disconcertingly self-conscious...in fact Gawker magazine said that he is "perhaps the single most irritating person we've had to deal with" YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED).

I'm sure I'll be reading some of his other stuff as soon as I can get my hands on it anyway. He is certainly an interesting writer, even if I'm not sure what I make of him yet. Eeeee Eee Eeee has really confused me a great deal.

His new novel Richard Yates is released on September 7th (with speed and cunning).
Maybe if I enter enough of the competitions on his FRUSTRATINGLY TITLED BLOG (perhaps testimony to his being irritating), I'll be able to win myself a copy!