all_the_pretty_horsesAll the Pretty Horses — the first book in The Border Trilogy — won the U.S. National Book Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award.

The book is crafted with care, with awe-inspiring descriptive prose, authentic characters, and dialog that draws the reader into the story’s landscape. I first came across Cormac McCarthy’s writing in the novel The Road, which has a completely different mood, but a similar style.

All the Pretty Horses is written without conventional punctuation; there were many passages that reminded me of Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, with ideas strung together with conjunctions (particularly and), which evokes a gentle cadence (the meditative rhythm of riding a horse through the prairies?) and possibly compensates for the lack of commas:

"When the truck finally pulled out and they saw him still standing they 
offered their bundles for him to sit on and he did so and he nodded and 
dozed to the hum of the tires on the blacktop and the rain stopped and 
the night cleared and the moon that was already risen raced among the 
high wires by the highway side like a single silver music note burning 
in the constant and lavish dark and the passing fields were rich from 
the rain with the smell of earth and grain and peppers and the sometime 
smell of horses." 
[Ch. IV, p. 219-220, The Border Trilogy, Everyman's Library edition]

I was curious, so I searched around and discovered a term for writing that uses several conjunctions in close succession:  polysyndetic syntax.  Further, The King James Version of the Bible uses similar syntax, and All the Pretty Horses is permeated with a biblical mood.

There are no quotation marks used, and I found that the dialog occasionally blended into the story, which had the effect of drawing me further into the novel. The dialog is sparse, but has a genuineness that enhances the mood and reveals layers naturally, where descriptive prose would sometimes falter.

The protagonist, John Grady Cole, is a fully realized character, and he is perhaps the coolest sixteen year-old I’ve come across in fiction. It is 1949, and John Grady’s world has been irrevocably altered: his grandfather died, his parents are divorced, his father is fading, his girlfriend has dumped him, and his mother is selling the family ranch (excellent material for a country song; some band should experiment with his words as lyrics). Rather than move into the city, John Grady decides to run away to Mexico with his best friend, Lacey Rawlins. John Grady has a special relationship with horses and the expanse of an open landscape. He expects Mexico to be more like the ‘old world’, before the advent of cars, high-rises, and the claustrophobic concept of subdivided land. John Grady and Rawlins have a few adventures before they find work on a ranch, and John Grady inevitably faces disillusionment, but endeavors to unearth the inherent beauty and quality in the world.

In Mexico, John Grady’s expertise with horses is appreciated by the ranch owner — the hacendado, Don Héctor— and he is promoted to a high level of responsibility. John Grady begins a dangerous liaison with Don Hector’s daughter, Alejandra, but I found the romance less convincing than the bromance between John Grady and Rawlins. Alejandra’s character, and the result of the affair, felt like a plot device, though a device that was worked into the story quite smoothly. John Grady’s conversations with Alejandra’s grand-aunt, señorita Alfonsa, were more poignant. But I’m quibbling…

All the Pretty Horses is not a long novel, but Cormac McCarthy is a marvelous writer, and he has infused the story with surprising depth. I’m looking forward to the other two books in The Border Trilogy (The Crossing and Cities of the Plain), but I have many books to read before I continue the journey (including Blood Meridian, by McCarthy) .

Highly recommended.

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Ned_Beauman_The_Teleportation_AccidentIn retrospect, I thoroughly enjoyed this novel, a mixture of : Douglas Adams; Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint; David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas; Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five; and something undeniably new (I now feel the need to read Ned Beauman‘s first novel, Boxer, Beetle).

After I’d finished the first hundred pages (maybe a bit more) I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it; nevertheless, I kept reading because every once in a while there was a nugget, and I didn’t want to miss one: below are a few that I marked as I read (there are lots more):

“A short-wave radio hummed jazz as if it had forgotten the tune.” (p.133)

“There was enough ice in her voice for a serviceable daiquiri.” (p.149)

“…the sort of moustache that could beat you in an arm-wrestling contest.” (p.163)

“…a tall, gaunt man with small narrow eyes set deep in his skull like two old sisters trying to spy out of the windows of their house without being noticed.”(p.197)

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It takes quite some time for this novel’s plot to warm up, but there is more going on than I suspected at first (and a whirlwind of threads converge near the end of the book, which has four endings).

The novel begins in Berlin, 1931.

There are quite a few threads introduced at various points, for example:

  • Set designer Adriano Lavicini’s Extraordinary Mechanism for the Almost Instantaneous Transport of Persons from Place to Place, which caused an infamous disaster, with echoes far into the future.
  • Evolved dinosaurs: the Troondonians.
  • Adele Hitler (no relation), who evokes a strong infatuation from the main character, Egon Loeser.
  • A one-sided romance (see previous point).
  • A murder mystery with noir elements.
  • A scientist attempting to harness the energy of ghosts to provide electricity for the USA.
  • A man who cannot tell pictures from the real thing (he suffers from ontological agnosia).

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The main character, Egon Loeser, is difficult to like; however, I find my reaction to be similar to another character in the novel — Rupert Rackenham — who decided that “…in spite of everything, he liked Loeser.” (p.352)

Highly recommended; but be patient, and be aware that this is an odd book…

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God_of_Small_Things_coverThe God of Small Things has all the ingredients that I love in a novel; poetic writing, intriguing metaphors, language calisthenics, a character driven narrative, a dream-like sensibility, and metaphysical elements. And I did enjoy many sections; unfortunately, I wasn’t particularly fond of the novel as a whole. But that’s just my opinion; others thought very highly of it indeed: it won the Booker Prize, and garnered many glowing reviews. I just wasn’t drawn into the characters as I should have been.

The idiosyncrasies of the author’s prose style that likely helped win her the Booker Prize didn’t quite work for me. Ms. Roy used an inordinate amount of ink to foray into trivialities; not necessarily detrimental, but in this novel they felt forced at times and intruded on the story. I also began to weary of the interminable metaphors and the circling, echoing cadence as the novel turned about the event that shapes the lives of the characters.

The author, Arundhati Roy, has previously written two screenplays for films, and I do think the book would make an excellent movie: the story is quite moving.

Much of the writing is rich, luxurious, and brutally rhythmic: the novel reminded me of the many jazz songs that I couldn’t quite connect with: a song in which I could detect the brilliance in a phrase here, a bar there; but, overall, it just didn’t work for me. Occasionally, I can revisit one of these jazz tunes at a later date and the brilliance coalesces in my mind.

I probably won’t re-read this small, attractive book that I truly wish I could have appreciated more, as it no doubt deserves.

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House of Leaves (The Remastered Full-Color Edition), by Mark Z. Danielewski

 If you collect books — especially unusual editions — this is a must-have because of its unusual typography (ergodic literature), which often echoes the narrative.

House of Leaves is an odd amalgamation of a puzzle, love-story, horror-story, and psychological manuscript; and there are portions of the novel that mirror real-life events.

The word House is blue throughout the text.

It is an entertaining novel, but it may be cleverer than its own plot.

Recommended.