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3.67 AVERAGE
3.67 AVERAGE
challenging
dark
funny
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
challenging
dark
funny
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This was a fairly enjoyable book to me but it felt like a lot of disjointed small action with characters all being crazy. The humor and symbolism did not come easy to me. I feel I mostly understood the protagonist but his story was not told in a very direct way.
challenging
dark
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Content Warnings
Graphic: Racial slurs, Racism, Religious bigotry
Maybe it's just because I read this at a time when I've been thinking a lot about grace and transformation, but this book was just incredible to me. There were, admittedly, a lot of things I didn't get, but I love the way she writes flawed characters. Hazel Motes was deeply relatable in a number of ways (although certainly not all), and I think his own willingness to punish himself rather than accept any help or comfort he deemed undeserved is a common experience.
One of those books I enjoyed without understanding. I'm sure I'll be thinking about this book for a long time.
challenging
dark
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
funny
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
O'connor's short stories are intense and entertaining; this novel was lacking O'connor's wit and momentum.
What’s your response when you hear the name of Jesus?
For Hazel Motes it’s agitation, obstinance, and utter revulsion. Boiled down? Fear.
“I don’t have to run from anything because I don’t believe in anything!”
For Hazel, to believe in anything is to believe in something fearful, something that hunts you down. Jesus stalks about him, ready to devour him. Hazel is constantly on the offensive, always yelling answers to everyone that they didn’t ask for (such as the quote above). Ready to ward off this unholy spirit, Hazel becomes the Anti-Christ preacher of The Church of Christ Without Christ and evangelizes the entirely uninterested Tennessee population in the gospel of Relativism and Nihilism.
“I preach there all kinds of truth, your truth and somebody else’s, but behind all of em’ there’s only one truth and that is that there is no truth! No truths behind all truths is what I and this church preach!”
Fate seems to mock Hazel by delivering “a new Christ” into Tennessee, first by the prophecy of a greedy street preacher and then into reality by the robbing of a mummified child (yeah, that book is wild), as if in answer to the irony of a body (church) without the Body (Christ). Hazel’s gospel begins to crumple in on itself as he first cries “the only way to truth is blasphemy!” and then only days later he amends this statement because “to believe in that you had to believe in something to blaspheme.” His is the tale of a mad spiral into tragically ironic destruction.
Though Hazel is a quite unlikable main character, you get the sense that he is a product of his culture. The frayed edges of this antic story is populated by a cast of cruel, self-interested, and condemning background characters (who sure throw around the name of Jesus a lot). Add this spiritually severe culture together with the disillusionment that comes from being drafted into WWII, unable to make sense of the atrocities witnessed, you can begin to understand how this man became bitterly shaped into the man he is.
How does the culture we inherit impact our response to the name of Jesus? If we’re honest, we may find our gut response to the Name not all that different given our own inheritance.
For Hazel Motes it’s agitation, obstinance, and utter revulsion. Boiled down? Fear.
“I don’t have to run from anything because I don’t believe in anything!”
For Hazel, to believe in anything is to believe in something fearful, something that hunts you down. Jesus stalks about him, ready to devour him. Hazel is constantly on the offensive, always yelling answers to everyone that they didn’t ask for (such as the quote above). Ready to ward off this unholy spirit, Hazel becomes the Anti-Christ preacher of The Church of Christ Without Christ and evangelizes the entirely uninterested Tennessee population in the gospel of Relativism and Nihilism.
“I preach there all kinds of truth, your truth and somebody else’s, but behind all of em’ there’s only one truth and that is that there is no truth! No truths behind all truths is what I and this church preach!”
Fate seems to mock Hazel by delivering “a new Christ” into Tennessee, first by the prophecy of a greedy street preacher and then into reality by the robbing of a mummified child (yeah, that book is wild), as if in answer to the irony of a body (church) without the Body (Christ). Hazel’s gospel begins to crumple in on itself as he first cries “the only way to truth is blasphemy!” and then only days later he amends this statement because “to believe in that you had to believe in something to blaspheme.” His is the tale of a mad spiral into tragically ironic destruction.
Though Hazel is a quite unlikable main character, you get the sense that he is a product of his culture. The frayed edges of this antic story is populated by a cast of cruel, self-interested, and condemning background characters (who sure throw around the name of Jesus a lot). Add this spiritually severe culture together with the disillusionment that comes from being drafted into WWII, unable to make sense of the atrocities witnessed, you can begin to understand how this man became bitterly shaped into the man he is.
How does the culture we inherit impact our response to the name of Jesus? If we’re honest, we may find our gut response to the Name not all that different given our own inheritance.
I haven't read many Southern Gothic novels. During college, I read "As I Lay Dying," which fits the genre, but seemed to also exist on a separate plane altogether. Late last month, I read "The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter," which I mostly liked, but found a little heavy handed. This year, I'd like to try reading older books that fit into genres in which I haven't spent much time.
With that in mind, earlier this week, I picked up "Wise Blood," by Flannery O'Connor. It's a quick read--a crisp 236 pages--with clearly presented issues and ideas. I don't know that it's uniquely Southern (it's set in a fictional Southern city, but its events and perspective feel placeless), but it's incredibly gothic. The last quarter of the book quickly spirals down, as the protagonist engages in murder, self-blinding, and ascetic depression. None of the characters are particularly likeable, and so the worldview feels generally drab.
O'Connor's writing reminds me a little of Bukowski's. Both seem interested in examining those that are self-interested, lonely, and mean. Bukowski's writing has a comedy to it though that's generally lacking from O'Connor's. There are some scenes in "Wise Blood" that feel darkly absurd, and slightly comedic in their absurdity--e.g., the patrolman pushing Hazel's car off a cliff without prompting, Hoover Shoats subverting Hazel's anti-religion proselytism into (effectively) huckster Christian proselytism. But, O'Connor never ends on an absurd note, instead pushing the darkness further to a place of violence (e.g., Hazel's independence is destroyed without his car; Hazel murders Hoover's prophet). In a longer book, that continual pushing would feel oppressive, but in "Wise Blood" it mostly works.
O'Connor is interested in those that are searching for the idea of "truth." Her characters lean forward, awkward and discomforted in their compulsion to seek it out: "His neck was thrust forward as if he were trying to smell something that was always being drawn away" (33); "Even when he was sitting motionless in a chair, his face had the look of straining toward something" (218). O'Connor seems to believe that religion is a false source of truth--one marketed by hucksters (Hoover) and the self interested (Asa Hawks). At the same time, anti-religion--as Hazel seems to realize--has the same failings: "He said he had only a few days ago believed in blasphemy as the way to salvation, but that you couldn't even believe in that because then you were believing in something to blaspheme" (208). So, what does that leave--is there simply no truth? By its end, "Wise Blood" reads as a nihilist work.
With that in mind, earlier this week, I picked up "Wise Blood," by Flannery O'Connor. It's a quick read--a crisp 236 pages--with clearly presented issues and ideas. I don't know that it's uniquely Southern (it's set in a fictional Southern city, but its events and perspective feel placeless), but it's incredibly gothic. The last quarter of the book quickly spirals down, as the protagonist engages in murder, self-blinding, and ascetic depression. None of the characters are particularly likeable, and so the worldview feels generally drab.
O'Connor's writing reminds me a little of Bukowski's. Both seem interested in examining those that are self-interested, lonely, and mean. Bukowski's writing has a comedy to it though that's generally lacking from O'Connor's. There are some scenes in "Wise Blood" that feel darkly absurd, and slightly comedic in their absurdity--e.g., the patrolman pushing Hazel's car off a cliff without prompting, Hoover Shoats subverting Hazel's anti-religion proselytism into (effectively) huckster Christian proselytism. But, O'Connor never ends on an absurd note, instead pushing the darkness further to a place of violence (e.g., Hazel's independence is destroyed without his car; Hazel murders Hoover's prophet). In a longer book, that continual pushing would feel oppressive, but in "Wise Blood" it mostly works.
O'Connor is interested in those that are searching for the idea of "truth." Her characters lean forward, awkward and discomforted in their compulsion to seek it out: "His neck was thrust forward as if he were trying to smell something that was always being drawn away" (33); "Even when he was sitting motionless in a chair, his face had the look of straining toward something" (218). O'Connor seems to believe that religion is a false source of truth--one marketed by hucksters (Hoover) and the self interested (Asa Hawks). At the same time, anti-religion--as Hazel seems to realize--has the same failings: "He said he had only a few days ago believed in blasphemy as the way to salvation, but that you couldn't even believe in that because then you were believing in something to blaspheme" (208). So, what does that leave--is there simply no truth? By its end, "Wise Blood" reads as a nihilist work.