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mxmlln's review against another edition
3.0
Story: 6.0 / 10
Characters: 7.0
Setting: 6.5
Prose: 6.0
Tags: Sports, baseball, talent, secrets, goals, direction, teamwork, superstition
Characters: 7.0
Setting: 6.5
Prose: 6.0
Tags: Sports, baseball, talent, secrets, goals, direction, teamwork, superstition
joelkarpowitz's review against another edition
3.0
I'll admit up front that part of my problem with The Natural is that the movie casts a long shadow. For those who encountered and fell in love with the book first, I can see why the movie would be absolutely infuriating. Major (and I mean MAJOR) differences in both Roy's character and the novel's plot--including a complete 180 on the climax--turn them into wholly different animals with little more than shared DNA: a talented kid, a tragic shooting, an old rookie, a struggling team, a girl named Memo. Reading the novel after my familiarity with the film felt like stepping into an alternate reality.
But credit where credit is due, Malamud's world is as fully fleshed and full of iconography as anything in the film. It just also happens to be a darker, sadder place, full of disappointed heroes and missed opportunities. Roy Hobbes is a harder to character to like here than in the movies. He is both more Godlike in his prowess and more frail in his weaknesses, and thus somehow harder to connect to than a Sandy Koufax pitch. I wanted to like him, but I also wanted him to be better, and that's part of the genius of the story. As the novel progresses, we become like the boy Roy encounters on the final page, pleading "Say it ain't so, Roy," even as we see him stumble and fall to his knees. He may be a natural, Malamud tells us, but he is also fallible, and sometimes we, like Roy, wait too long to make up for past sins.
Is this a Greek myth? A classic tragedy? A biblical allegory? It's all of those things, and it's the story of Shoeless Joe Jackson, and it's a crackling 30s noir, and its about America's fall from grace. It is whip-smart writing, full of the lingo of the baseball diamond and the chalk and dirt of legends. It's good. It really is. It's just . . .
It's just that I love the movie, for all its cheese and schmaltz. Despite the facts that it goes for the syrupy sugar when the novel goes for the jugular. Despite the fact that it's clearly dumbing down the complexity of Malamud's novel. Despite the fact that it doesn't want to question our myth-making so much as codify it. Despite all that, I look back on the movie the same way that Redford and Levinson seem to be looking back on the golden age of baseball itself--with rose colored glasses that somehow seem able to forgive a lot of obvious flaws. It reminds me of being a kid, and of my brother, and of being filled with hope. And it reminds me of the present, and showing it to film students and seeing them jump when Harriet Bird fires that gun, and of getting a little misty-eyed when those lights get blown apart.
So even if the novel came first, it feels a little like it's kicking at a piece of my personality that is good and optimistic and full of life. So I can respect the book, but at least for now, I can's say I love it. Icons and heroes fall--I know they do--and yet I don't have to love it when they do.
Sorry, Judge, but I still believe in the goodness of man. I can respect the tragedy here. But I can't love it.
But credit where credit is due, Malamud's world is as fully fleshed and full of iconography as anything in the film. It just also happens to be a darker, sadder place, full of disappointed heroes and missed opportunities. Roy Hobbes is a harder to character to like here than in the movies. He is both more Godlike in his prowess and more frail in his weaknesses, and thus somehow harder to connect to than a Sandy Koufax pitch. I wanted to like him, but I also wanted him to be better, and that's part of the genius of the story. As the novel progresses, we become like the boy Roy encounters on the final page, pleading "Say it ain't so, Roy," even as we see him stumble and fall to his knees. He may be a natural, Malamud tells us, but he is also fallible, and sometimes we, like Roy, wait too long to make up for past sins.
Is this a Greek myth? A classic tragedy? A biblical allegory? It's all of those things, and it's the story of Shoeless Joe Jackson, and it's a crackling 30s noir, and its about America's fall from grace. It is whip-smart writing, full of the lingo of the baseball diamond and the chalk and dirt of legends. It's good. It really is. It's just . . .
It's just that I love the movie, for all its cheese and schmaltz. Despite the facts that it goes for the syrupy sugar when the novel goes for the jugular. Despite the fact that it's clearly dumbing down the complexity of Malamud's novel. Despite the fact that it doesn't want to question our myth-making so much as codify it. Despite all that, I look back on the movie the same way that Redford and Levinson seem to be looking back on the golden age of baseball itself--with rose colored glasses that somehow seem able to forgive a lot of obvious flaws. It reminds me of being a kid, and of my brother, and of being filled with hope. And it reminds me of the present, and showing it to film students and seeing them jump when Harriet Bird fires that gun, and of getting a little misty-eyed when those lights get blown apart.
So even if the novel came first, it feels a little like it's kicking at a piece of my personality that is good and optimistic and full of life. So I can respect the book, but at least for now, I can's say I love it. Icons and heroes fall--I know they do--and yet I don't have to love it when they do.
Sorry, Judge, but I still believe in the goodness of man. I can respect the tragedy here. But I can't love it.
jamesdanielhorn's review against another edition
3.0
Bernard Malamud’s The Natural truly has the makings of an American classic but, much like Roy Hobbs, strikes out and ends up a loser.
I was truly rooting for this to be great too, but it kind of just sputters out like a fart with a real turd of an ending. Literally!!! After Striking out and losing the pennant for his team, Roy pounds on the Team owner who paid him to fix the game like he’s fucking Donkey Kong which in turn makes him shit his pants!?!?! How juvenile can you get!? THIS is among the greatest fictional works about baseball ever written?! I beg to differ.
I get what meaning the reader is supposed to infer from this, but it’s just not as effective as the author thinks it is. Hobbs doesn’t need to hit the game winning home run to be a good ending either, there are so many other options besides the route the Malamud took, that would have made the same points and wrapped the book in a more satisfying way.
I was incredibly disappointed to say the least, because the book starts off with a lot of promise, and manages to endear this reader to its flawed characters including misogynist anti hero Hobbs. There is something very “every man” about him that is relatable, and as I understood it, comments on aging, masculinity, and the American dream. This carried me deep enough into the book actually finish, but just sadly the last chapter is just really mishandled as described previously. The book had an easy chance to redeem the misogyny the main character espouses throughout the book, but whiffs that too.
All in all, I see this book’s appeal and what it’s lauded for, but It ultimately just failed for me. Art imitates life or something.
I was truly rooting for this to be great too, but it kind of just sputters out like a fart with a real turd of an ending. Literally!!! After Striking out and losing the pennant for his team, Roy pounds on the Team owner who paid him to fix the game like he’s fucking Donkey Kong which in turn makes him shit his pants!?!?! How juvenile can you get!? THIS is among the greatest fictional works about baseball ever written?! I beg to differ.
I get what meaning the reader is supposed to infer from this, but it’s just not as effective as the author thinks it is. Hobbs doesn’t need to hit the game winning home run to be a good ending either, there are so many other options besides the route the Malamud took, that would have made the same points and wrapped the book in a more satisfying way.
I was incredibly disappointed to say the least, because the book starts off with a lot of promise, and manages to endear this reader to its flawed characters including misogynist anti hero Hobbs. There is something very “every man” about him that is relatable, and as I understood it, comments on aging, masculinity, and the American dream. This carried me deep enough into the book actually finish, but just sadly the last chapter is just really mishandled as described previously. The book had an easy chance to redeem the misogyny the main character espouses throughout the book, but whiffs that too.
All in all, I see this book’s appeal and what it’s lauded for, but It ultimately just failed for me. Art imitates life or something.
pickleballlibrarian's review against another edition
5.0
One of the greatest baseball books ever! Much better than the movie!!!
linzer712's review against another edition
4.0
I love the writing more than the story, but the story is quite good, too.
jamesbuscher's review against another edition
5.0
This novel may be one of the closest things to The Great American Novel. It is so thoroughly American, in its successes and in its failures. This is not a perfect book, it's rife with the sexism and sprinkled with other insensitivities of the time, but even those failings are revealing of the American psyche. The Natural is the story of a purely American hero, one that could not exist anywhere else. He's not always likable, he's not always good, but as a representative of the larger culture, maybe he's not supposed to be. The baseball writing in here is also just fantastic stuff, ripped from the history of the game and repackaged in the man of Roy Hobbs.
joeduncan's review against another edition
2.0
Extremely disappointing. An interesting plot and stellar opening give way to blatant misogyny and trite thematic choices. Most of the characters are half-baked, relying on stereotypes to fill out details the author should have provided. The female characters are even worse than the male ones, with apparently no thought given to their personalities whatsoever. We have two femme-fatales and a woman-in-the-fridge and that's all you really need to know. I can't believe Malamud is compared to Roth and Bellow, based on this novel I would say they are in completely different leagues (no pun intended).
amymo73's review against another edition
3.0
First off, there will be spoilers here. So brace yourself. I know what you're thinking: "But I've already seen the movie, Amy. Of course I know what happens." No. No you don't. I knew the book was very different from the movie, and the movie was an important part of my pre-teen years. My brother informed me once the key difference is that in the book "Roy Hobbs is an asshole."
Yes. Yes he is.
There are parts of the book, particularly the beginning, which ring true to the movie. But when Hobbs returns to the game, the stories diverge. And to be honest, I have a hard time liking Roy Hobbs. Is he the hero of the story? Or is our protagonist a villain? I have conflicting feelings about Hobbs, in particular because I love the movie so much. But by the end, I have a strong dislike for him. He not only took the money, he tried to take the money and STILL win -- of course after he found out he knocked up Iris, whom he didn't seem to really like because he was awestruck by Memo and, in fact, took the money so that he could create a future with Memo. Really Roy?
There is an interesting full-circle in the book. Roy always wants to be known as the "best there ever was" and recognized in the street. Instead at the end, he stared into the faces of people and nobody recognized him. Then his shady life story hits the papers complete with the baseball commissioner saying he will be banned from baseball. A kid says, "Say it ain't so, Roy." Wow. Bernard Malamud went total cliche with that one.
It's difficult for me to rate this book because of my attachment to the movie. I'm not sure if I liked it. But I didn't hate it. In the end, I'm glad I read it.
Yes. Yes he is.
There are parts of the book, particularly the beginning, which ring true to the movie. But when Hobbs returns to the game, the stories diverge. And to be honest, I have a hard time liking Roy Hobbs. Is he the hero of the story? Or is our protagonist a villain? I have conflicting feelings about Hobbs, in particular because I love the movie so much. But by the end, I have a strong dislike for him. He not only took the money, he tried to take the money and STILL win -- of course after he found out he knocked up Iris, whom he didn't seem to really like because he was awestruck by Memo and, in fact, took the money so that he could create a future with Memo. Really Roy?
There is an interesting full-circle in the book. Roy always wants to be known as the "best there ever was" and recognized in the street. Instead at the end, he stared into the faces of people and nobody recognized him. Then his shady life story hits the papers complete with the baseball commissioner saying he will be banned from baseball. A kid says, "Say it ain't so, Roy." Wow. Bernard Malamud went total cliche with that one.
It's difficult for me to rate this book because of my attachment to the movie. I'm not sure if I liked it. But I didn't hate it. In the end, I'm glad I read it.