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disastrouspenguin's review against another edition
3.0
I... don't know what to think about this book.
Henderson is a wealthy, older, white, military veteran who finds himself unhappy and wanting. He doesn't know what he wants, so he hops a plane to Africa in hope that he'll find answers there.
It becomes apparent as he blunders forward that Henderson isn't the most reliable narrator and his greatest sympathies lie with himself.
I'll probably be thinking/wondering about this book and protagonist for a while, which is something.
Henderson is a wealthy, older, white, military veteran who finds himself unhappy and wanting. He doesn't know what he wants, so he hops a plane to Africa in hope that he'll find answers there.
It becomes apparent as he blunders forward that Henderson isn't the most reliable narrator and his greatest sympathies lie with himself.
I'll probably be thinking/wondering about this book and protagonist for a while, which is something.
tamaralgage1's review against another edition
1.0
I am not fond of this book. If you have read and like Gulliver's Travels, then you might have a different opinion. But, this book reads in a similar format. A man has an itch to travel and leaves his family for adventure. Where he finds a world which does not exist with unique culture and experiences. The main character is put through his paces to adapt to the conditions and find his way back home ... just interchange character names, countries, time frame, etc....
This is a strange book. I have met people that ramble from one topic to the next and it is difficult to keep them on point for the topic. But another book that I am reminded of is Eat, Pray, Love. The main character has so many advantages. But the main character is self absorbed individual just seems to flounder in a non stop pity party. When he makes it to Africa, he again gets all wrapped up in himself and wants to travel alone.
As I said, not a book I would recommend or want to read again.
This is a strange book. I have met people that ramble from one topic to the next and it is difficult to keep them on point for the topic. But another book that I am reminded of is Eat, Pray, Love. The main character has so many advantages. But the main character is self absorbed individual just seems to flounder in a non stop pity party. When he makes it to Africa, he again gets all wrapped up in himself and wants to travel alone.
As I said, not a book I would recommend or want to read again.
c2pizza's review against another edition
5.0
I'm not sure how much ridicule I'd get from academics for asserting this, it's probably an uncountable amount, but this book read like an epic mixed with an existential crisis. I was sure about halfway through that if Anton Chekhov and Homer sat down together and wrote a book it would be this one. And if Anton Chekhov and Homer eve wrote a book together you can bet it would be damn good.
nolo42's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
jonbrammer's review against another edition
3.0
This is my first experience with Bellow, and I was searching for the metaphorical, allegorical or symbolic meaning in this novel. The firs few chapters are the strongest - Henderson is introduced as a complex, flawed, hilariously huge and strong drunkard. He is controlled by the life forces that beat and surge within him. He has a mysterious connection with the animal kingdom which becomes clearer as the novel progresses.
When he arrives in Africa as the third wheel on his friend's honeymoon, the narrative connection to reality becomes tenuous. Bellow seems to acknowledge this shift in passages wherein Henderson struggles with his own ideas of reality and unreality. There are scenes both psychologically acute and physically ridiculous. Henderson is aware of his own brutishness, his unstoppable urges, his deep-down affection for his fellow man. Henderson is looking for and finds personal redemption: unfortunately, Bellow seems to say that this redemption is only available to those wealthy folks who have the time to go off the grid.
When he arrives in Africa as the third wheel on his friend's honeymoon, the narrative connection to reality becomes tenuous. Bellow seems to acknowledge this shift in passages wherein Henderson struggles with his own ideas of reality and unreality. There are scenes both psychologically acute and physically ridiculous. Henderson is aware of his own brutishness, his unstoppable urges, his deep-down affection for his fellow man. Henderson is looking for and finds personal redemption: unfortunately, Bellow seems to say that this redemption is only available to those wealthy folks who have the time to go off the grid.
imyerhero's review against another edition
4.0
I can see why Bellow released a statement about not looking for symbolism in every book published right before he published this book. The combination of humor and philosophy would have worked the literary critics of his day if they tried to find symbolism in this book. Or maybe Bellow meant for them to. I guess, according to W, no one can decide if it’s his worst book or his best book. I personally, liked it. I couldn’t get into the other Bellow book I tried to read – “Herzog.” I did enjoy this one. The character of Henderson made me both laugh and cringe, but I could still relate to him. Everyone has to go through that spell in life where they need to find a meaning. I found it in Christ, but I can see how a man who doesn’t have that could be pushed to travel all the way to Africa in the hopes of finding someone who can tell him the meaning of life. I felt sorry for Dahfu, but I do love Africa and lions and most animals from that general region except for hyenas. (Blame that on Buffy). Both Dahfu and Henderson were such different creatures from each other that I loved seeing how they interacted. And I enjoyed how they weren’t a great many different characters. Normally, I feel like a book lacks depth, but this worked. It showed how deeply Henderson connected with Dahfu and it showed how alone he felt in the rest of the world. Maybe after this pleasant (although drawn out read) I can tackle “Herzog” again.
orestesfasting's review against another edition
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
This book falls a bit between a rock and a hard place - it’s not really incisive satire, but neither is it Wodehousian in its silliness. The protagonist certainly brings a fair share of laughs, but whilst there is an uneasy side to his character throughout it never feels totally explored. Maybe one to reread - doesn’t neatly fall into genre which makes it a tricky one to judge.
kq5's review against another edition
adventurous
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
david_rhee's review against another edition
1.0
Saul Bellow's use of blustery and abrasive protagonists in a coarse and boorish style (a surprising departure from what I loved in The Victim and The Adventures of Augie March) disappointed me greatly in Seize the Day and Henderson the Rain King. In the former title, I could stomach it because it is shorter and it gave the impression of being a brief aberration among his body of work. Unfortunately, the seed planted in Seize the Day must have germinated fully in Henderson and it's an awfully ugly growth.
Have you ever noticed some people who possess detestable character traits which others are usually in agreement in frowning upon but for some inexplicable reason in these people everyone around them instead finds those same traits excusable and even endearing? "Oh, he's hopelessly stupid, but it's good for laughs." "Yes, he's loud and talks too much but you've just got to understand him." Well, that's Henderson. Loud, never shuts up, always whining about not getting anything right yet somehow is supremely confident and rushes into outlandish situations certain of his own imminent success. He stomps forward and through people fully expecting everyone to make way, loves to reflect but his trap keeps flapping. His soul yearns for something but he has simply taken what he wants all his life. I don't get it. I suspect there isn't much to get. Even if there is, I don't really want to try anymore.
Maybe this book will appeal to you. I don't know. A lot of readers seem to have enjoyed following this sweaty fatty while he looks for his spirit-animal. I don't really like to criticize a book so harshly. I never thought I'd give a negative review for a Saul Bellow novel in a million years. Maybe it's my mood (disappointment in life seems a steady constant these days, I regret to say). But even if I try to assess in the most judicious manner, I cannot like this book. I do enjoy novels about self-exploration and self-discovery, but there's so many others preferable over this. The level of annoyance felt is on a consistent rise throughout the book and it is just a mess at the end. I remember Bellow saying in an interview that the character in his bibliography he himself is most like is Henderson. Say it ain't so, Sol. Say it ain't so.
Have you ever noticed some people who possess detestable character traits which others are usually in agreement in frowning upon but for some inexplicable reason in these people everyone around them instead finds those same traits excusable and even endearing? "Oh, he's hopelessly stupid, but it's good for laughs." "Yes, he's loud and talks too much but you've just got to understand him." Well, that's Henderson. Loud, never shuts up, always whining about not getting anything right yet somehow is supremely confident and rushes into outlandish situations certain of his own imminent success. He stomps forward and through people fully expecting everyone to make way, loves to reflect but his trap keeps flapping. His soul yearns for something but he has simply taken what he wants all his life. I don't get it. I suspect there isn't much to get. Even if there is, I don't really want to try anymore.
Maybe this book will appeal to you. I don't know. A lot of readers seem to have enjoyed following this sweaty fatty while he looks for his spirit-animal. I don't really like to criticize a book so harshly. I never thought I'd give a negative review for a Saul Bellow novel in a million years. Maybe it's my mood (disappointment in life seems a steady constant these days, I regret to say). But even if I try to assess in the most judicious manner, I cannot like this book. I do enjoy novels about self-exploration and self-discovery, but there's so many others preferable over this. The level of annoyance felt is on a consistent rise throughout the book and it is just a mess at the end. I remember Bellow saying in an interview that the character in his bibliography he himself is most like is Henderson. Say it ain't so, Sol. Say it ain't so.
jamesvw's review against another edition
2.0
I need to stop reading Saul Bellow.
In fact, 2/3rds through this book, I was announcing that I was swearing off all mid 20th century male writers. But I'll walk that back some and just come to the point where I announce that I have now tried Bellows three times and there is something that absolutely turns me off. I had thought that since I had read two minor works (cue Squid and the Whale joke), The Bellarosa Connection and Mr. Sammler's Planet, I should try one selected as part of the cannon. Yet Henderson the Rain King just further cemented my distaste for his plot lines. I can admire the man's prose at certain points, but it is his characters and flow that just turns me off.
There is a certain narcissism that oozes from his protagonists. I find this a problem with Roth and Updike too (see why I was in a rage yesterday?) In reading Henderson, I just find myself overwhelmed by the use of “I” as a way of telling a story. Apart from the main character who is fleshed out and where the reader is stuffed into his mind, there is very little of three-dimension in this book. The landscape feels flat, the other characters seem paper thin, the African culture, stereotypical or not is bland and even the eventual spiritual growth (from a pig to a lion! Or other such force fed ideas) seems like it will wash away shortly after the book ends. Increasingly, I look to fiction as an exploration of interaction, whereas Bellows seems much more caught up in inner turmoil and self-centered reflection. It also is often disturbingly misogynistic – or at the very least devoid of any sort of compelling female perspective. Women – and in this book, different cultures as well – are props, jokes or unimportant.
My other issue with this book is with its humor, which hardly makes up for the irritating drip of the I pronoun. The book reminds of Vonnegut’s God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater in its description of a wealthy scion’s escape from expectations and descent into madness. Vonnegut used it for a societal critique, while Bellows used the tale as almost a celebration of what it is to be a man, searching for manliness, with a gloss of goofiness to blunt the edges of his masculinity theme. It doesn't help that Conrad in all his inelegance did it so much better - though Bellows does try to replace "the horror" with Henderson's "I want".
The quote that really ties up the nauseating quality of Henderson and his paper world is from page 197 - "I did treat everything in the world as though it was a medicine." It is a moment of clarity in an otherwise uncritical, opaque book. I feel used by the end, the reader as an antibiotic, sharing in all the minute miseries of a white privileged man. Frankly, I'd rather share in the life of someone else.
In fact, 2/3rds through this book, I was announcing that I was swearing off all mid 20th century male writers. But I'll walk that back some and just come to the point where I announce that I have now tried Bellows three times and there is something that absolutely turns me off. I had thought that since I had read two minor works (cue Squid and the Whale joke), The Bellarosa Connection and Mr. Sammler's Planet, I should try one selected as part of the cannon. Yet Henderson the Rain King just further cemented my distaste for his plot lines. I can admire the man's prose at certain points, but it is his characters and flow that just turns me off.
There is a certain narcissism that oozes from his protagonists. I find this a problem with Roth and Updike too (see why I was in a rage yesterday?) In reading Henderson, I just find myself overwhelmed by the use of “I” as a way of telling a story. Apart from the main character who is fleshed out and where the reader is stuffed into his mind, there is very little of three-dimension in this book. The landscape feels flat, the other characters seem paper thin, the African culture, stereotypical or not is bland and even the eventual spiritual growth (from a pig to a lion! Or other such force fed ideas) seems like it will wash away shortly after the book ends. Increasingly, I look to fiction as an exploration of interaction, whereas Bellows seems much more caught up in inner turmoil and self-centered reflection. It also is often disturbingly misogynistic – or at the very least devoid of any sort of compelling female perspective. Women – and in this book, different cultures as well – are props, jokes or unimportant.
My other issue with this book is with its humor, which hardly makes up for the irritating drip of the I pronoun. The book reminds of Vonnegut’s God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater in its description of a wealthy scion’s escape from expectations and descent into madness. Vonnegut used it for a societal critique, while Bellows used the tale as almost a celebration of what it is to be a man, searching for manliness, with a gloss of goofiness to blunt the edges of his masculinity theme. It doesn't help that Conrad in all his inelegance did it so much better - though Bellows does try to replace "the horror" with Henderson's "I want".
The quote that really ties up the nauseating quality of Henderson and his paper world is from page 197 - "I did treat everything in the world as though it was a medicine." It is a moment of clarity in an otherwise uncritical, opaque book. I feel used by the end, the reader as an antibiotic, sharing in all the minute miseries of a white privileged man. Frankly, I'd rather share in the life of someone else.