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3.74 AVERAGE
3.74 AVERAGE
Hard to rate short story collections, but the first titular story was a lot stronger than the others.
4.5/5
McCullers is one I come to for a reckoning, much as I do with Faulkner and O'Connor. One may bundle them up and slot them neatly under the label of Southern Gothic, but that is not a guaranteed invocation of cathedrals crazed by fecundity of both soil and symptom, an American way of the crooked cross where faith is a matter of lust and amputation. While Faulkner plunges in chiaroscuro and O'Connor sears in holy fire, McCullers sings in the twilight of a human soul, casting back on its years in search and always, always, coming up short. She is calmer than her two compatriots, but peace does not entail redemption.
These stories are short, and I am not surprised that my favorite, Wunderkind, was composed at the age of seventeen. It's a common thing, the vicarious living of the parent through the child, the sapling broken before it even began along lines of another's making, for intelligence and art and college and any number of reasons but the one encompassing what it is the child actually wants, or dreams, or needs. When the body ripens and the mind begins to wander beyond the closed circuit court of parental promises of wealth and fame and glory, it's no wonder that the machine begins to break. But the child does not know that. What a child does know is their failure is made purely out internal system of self, and one way or another, breaking out or breaking down, they will escape. This is a tale that the median of youth and maturity knows, especially when one is Carson McCullers at seventeen.
While that was my favorite, the rest are well worth it. All are a matter of living with those insanities we humans willingly inflict, for living is a must what with self-killing labeled as one of the more wicked sins. In the midst of souls and the relationships they wield as pitchforks, the damnation they deal is matched only by the bounty they reap, much as the sick sloth of Southern swamp and all its dead can only be graced by golden sunsets, etched into art by sprawling trees and more precious to the earth than all of humanity. The world bears us much as we bear our woes, a day by day of nearing and furthering reconciliation with too long a past to hope that sudden extinction would lead to instantaneous peace. Some moments are of utmost beauty, some are fit to kill, and one adapts accordingly.
The world may grant us sanctuary, but it does not understand us, and will not miss us when we are gone. McCullers has no concrete structure for us to dwell in forevermore; what she does for us is feel.
McCullers is one I come to for a reckoning, much as I do with Faulkner and O'Connor. One may bundle them up and slot them neatly under the label of Southern Gothic, but that is not a guaranteed invocation of cathedrals crazed by fecundity of both soil and symptom, an American way of the crooked cross where faith is a matter of lust and amputation. While Faulkner plunges in chiaroscuro and O'Connor sears in holy fire, McCullers sings in the twilight of a human soul, casting back on its years in search and always, always, coming up short. She is calmer than her two compatriots, but peace does not entail redemption.
These stories are short, and I am not surprised that my favorite, Wunderkind, was composed at the age of seventeen. It's a common thing, the vicarious living of the parent through the child, the sapling broken before it even began along lines of another's making, for intelligence and art and college and any number of reasons but the one encompassing what it is the child actually wants, or dreams, or needs. When the body ripens and the mind begins to wander beyond the closed circuit court of parental promises of wealth and fame and glory, it's no wonder that the machine begins to break. But the child does not know that. What a child does know is their failure is made purely out internal system of self, and one way or another, breaking out or breaking down, they will escape. This is a tale that the median of youth and maturity knows, especially when one is Carson McCullers at seventeen.
While that was my favorite, the rest are well worth it. All are a matter of living with those insanities we humans willingly inflict, for living is a must what with self-killing labeled as one of the more wicked sins. In the midst of souls and the relationships they wield as pitchforks, the damnation they deal is matched only by the bounty they reap, much as the sick sloth of Southern swamp and all its dead can only be graced by golden sunsets, etched into art by sprawling trees and more precious to the earth than all of humanity. The world bears us much as we bear our woes, a day by day of nearing and furthering reconciliation with too long a past to hope that sudden extinction would lead to instantaneous peace. Some moments are of utmost beauty, some are fit to kill, and one adapts accordingly.
The world may grant us sanctuary, but it does not understand us, and will not miss us when we are gone. McCullers has no concrete structure for us to dwell in forevermore; what she does for us is feel.
mysterious
reflective
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Turns out men are always the problem, the book is very well written and even tho there are not many „backdrops“ they are painted nicely with enough information to imagine something but not soo much that there is no room for own interpretation.
The characters are interesting and deep and there is always a bit of mystery left so that for example we never find out if the hunchback really is related to miss Amelia or not and where he came form how old he is and so forth and why he was so drawn to Marvin macy? What was that about I don’t like that and what happened to them afterwards after they left?
The characters are interesting and deep and there is always a bit of mystery left so that for example we never find out if the hunchback really is related to miss Amelia or not and where he came form how old he is and so forth and why he was so drawn to Marvin macy? What was that about I don’t like that and what happened to them afterwards after they left?
Well-constructed, minimalist tales by one of the greats of southern gothic lit. To me, O'Connor dominates the genre so thoroughly that it's hard to take many of her contemporaries seriously. But this is good.
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
No sé cómo he pasado todos estos años sin leer a Carson.
emotional
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I loved "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" and now "The Ballad" has cemented McCullers as a favorite author in my world. She communicates with economy a poignant and lovely, sad and beautiful, picture of the human heart's condition.
I bought this book to read the short story in the title for a book group. I didn't really enjoy the story to be honest, but it was very well written and had an interesting premise