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sarah_dietrich's review
4.0
Gass is a brilliant writer and Middle C is a fascinating concept that has been executed beautifully. This isn't just about searching for identity in a post-WWII world, it is a complete dissection of and challenge to the concept of identity. I found it a little slow in the middle & this stopped me from truly loving this book, otherwise an excellent read.
dllh's review
3.0
Once again, Gass proves too erudite for me. I did find this book more palatable than either of the other of his novels I've read (Omsetter's Luck and The Tunnel). He is a master of the rant. I liked a lot of the prose and found much of the story worth following. On the whole, I just don't know quite what to make of it, though, or what, besides being carried along on the trip and enjoying a lot of the humor and some of the humanity of it, I ought to take from the book. I suspect the defect lies in me more than in the book. I'm glad I read it, in any case, but I wish I knew enough more about the sort of world Gass knows about to make more of the book.
malachi9's review
challenging
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
socopebbles's review
3.0
The frequent brilliance of Gass' writing isn't enough to save this novel. There were parts I fell completely under the spell of the words, but there were other parts that felt self-indulgent beyond repair.
jjmcdade's review
1.0
It's really rare that I can't finish a book. The prose is difficult. Not sure if I'd ever get the point. I'm afraid I'm missing out on a literary gem; but, just can't take it any more.
alexlanz's review against another edition
This is what happens when he tries to do conventional, domestic, middle-brow, New Yorker-friendly realism. It ruled.
darwin8u's review
4.0
“Honey, you are a baby in this world and don't know how to howl yet.”
― William H. Gass, Middle C
All the world was a stage. But not for all the world.
Another great author I backed into. Don't misinterpret me. I haven't just run backward over/into Gass. I haven't just "discovered" or "uncovered" the author. I've quoted him often. I've admired him and scanned used bookshelves for him. In my collegiate years I presumed to know more about Gass than I had a right to presume. I've carefully kept [b:The Tunnel|156182|The Tunnel|William H. Gass|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1463948585s/156182.jpg|2339956] displayed, peacocking, on my shelf for decades. I've collected Gass essay collections, Gass criticisms, other Gass fictions. But all my Gass has, until today, remained unread, his books unopened, those pages uncut, words undisturbed.
'Middle C' is a funky book. A musical prose that dances around the center. A mediocre family in flight, in disguise from Austria to London to the Middle of Middle America. A narrator that hides and disguises, that plots and twists. He jumps from school to store to library to university. He climbs the American ladder, remaking each rung as he climbs. He creates a fictional life and dreams that mankind must perish but also fears we might just survive. He creates an inhumanity museum for himself; an exhibit of disasters and man-made horrors, clipped from papers and hung on flypaper. He lives with his mother, dreams of his father, and gains a certain satisfaction "at being to the world an artifice".
This isn't a plot driven novel. It is an ode to identity, a concerto between the two-selves of a man whose two identities (Joey and Joseph) are the contrapuntal themes we ALL listen to, if we listen closely, to those fuguing, fuging voices in our own head.
― William H. Gass, Middle C
All the world was a stage. But not for all the world.
Another great author I backed into. Don't misinterpret me. I haven't just run backward over/into Gass. I haven't just "discovered" or "uncovered" the author. I've quoted him often. I've admired him and scanned used bookshelves for him. In my collegiate years I presumed to know more about Gass than I had a right to presume. I've carefully kept [b:The Tunnel|156182|The Tunnel|William H. Gass|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1463948585s/156182.jpg|2339956] displayed, peacocking, on my shelf for decades. I've collected Gass essay collections, Gass criticisms, other Gass fictions. But all my Gass has, until today, remained unread, his books unopened, those pages uncut, words undisturbed.
'Middle C' is a funky book. A musical prose that dances around the center. A mediocre family in flight, in disguise from Austria to London to the Middle of Middle America. A narrator that hides and disguises, that plots and twists. He jumps from school to store to library to university. He climbs the American ladder, remaking each rung as he climbs. He creates a fictional life and dreams that mankind must perish but also fears we might just survive. He creates an inhumanity museum for himself; an exhibit of disasters and man-made horrors, clipped from papers and hung on flypaper. He lives with his mother, dreams of his father, and gains a certain satisfaction "at being to the world an artifice".
This isn't a plot driven novel. It is an ode to identity, a concerto between the two-selves of a man whose two identities (Joey and Joseph) are the contrapuntal themes we ALL listen to, if we listen closely, to those fuguing, fuging voices in our own head.