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A review by withanhauser
Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor
4.0
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.