Dan Krzyzkowski's Blog, page 2
November 27, 2016
"The Road" - A Review
Depressing books can sometimes make you feel good because they encourage you to be thankful for what you have. In the case of Cormac McCarthy's 2006 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel "The Road," those things are the basic necessities--food, shelter, clothing. This post-apocalyptic tale focuses on a father and son walking across destroyed America. Ash covers the world, the sun never shines, and the air is bitingly cold. Animals and birds are extinct. The few surviving humans are not to be trusted, as many have resorted to cannibalism.
The story holds out little hope for humanity. In many respects, "The Road" is not so much a story at all; it is a piece of Impressionist artwork. Mr. McCarthy uses short strings of words in lieu of gray, slurry brushstrokes to create a canvas ever bleak. In this, he succeeds fantastically. As a story, the novel stumbles plot-lessly forward. Wake up. Walk another ten miles. Man and boy are starving and destitute. They sleep in the woods. Get up the next day and walk some more. Still starving. Their destination is the coast, although they don't know why. The book is broken up into brief sub-chapters, some only several sentences long. Admittedly, I had some trouble establishing "reader momentum," owing to the fact that there were so few sustained scenes. The author, inexplicably, uses no quotation marks to delineate character dialogue, an aspect I found both alienating and annoying. In more than one instance, I was unable to differentiate prose from dialogue. In several cases, I lost track of who was saying what. The author does not use apostrophes in his contractions and seems hellbent on making compound words out of words that are not compound words. Does a seasoned reader have a right to mistake a seemingly endless flow of sentence fragments for literary laziness? To each his own.
Mr. McCarthy can clearly write well, but seems, at times, not to want to. Consider this brilliant description of brook trout on p. 287:
"On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming."
Contrast that with this utterly baffling passage from p. 18:
"He dreamt of walking in a flowering wood where birds flew before them he and the child and the sky was aching blue but he was learning how to wake himself from just such siren worlds."
We never learn the names of the characters. The father is 'the man' and his son is 'the boy.' If "The Road" has any point at all, it is of the boy struggling to hold fast to his belief in goodness. The reader wants to believe in goodness, too, but Mr. McCarthy challenges us on this accord. He begs us to ask if human kindness can really exist when the basic needs for food, shelter, and clothing aren't met. What is goodness when one decides he/she must roast a gutted human infant over a fire in order to survive? In this regard, Mr. McCarthy goes a step further by inquiring of us: what good, really, is goodness if it ends up getting you dead? The father trusts no one, but the boy wants to trust others. The man is reluctant to help others because he knows resources are limited, but the boy wants to share what little food they have. Will the boy's innocence be his undoing? Both may not survive to see the end of the road. But then, the road really never ends.
View all my reviews
The story holds out little hope for humanity. In many respects, "The Road" is not so much a story at all; it is a piece of Impressionist artwork. Mr. McCarthy uses short strings of words in lieu of gray, slurry brushstrokes to create a canvas ever bleak. In this, he succeeds fantastically. As a story, the novel stumbles plot-lessly forward. Wake up. Walk another ten miles. Man and boy are starving and destitute. They sleep in the woods. Get up the next day and walk some more. Still starving. Their destination is the coast, although they don't know why. The book is broken up into brief sub-chapters, some only several sentences long. Admittedly, I had some trouble establishing "reader momentum," owing to the fact that there were so few sustained scenes. The author, inexplicably, uses no quotation marks to delineate character dialogue, an aspect I found both alienating and annoying. In more than one instance, I was unable to differentiate prose from dialogue. In several cases, I lost track of who was saying what. The author does not use apostrophes in his contractions and seems hellbent on making compound words out of words that are not compound words. Does a seasoned reader have a right to mistake a seemingly endless flow of sentence fragments for literary laziness? To each his own.
Mr. McCarthy can clearly write well, but seems, at times, not to want to. Consider this brilliant description of brook trout on p. 287:
"On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming."
Contrast that with this utterly baffling passage from p. 18:
"He dreamt of walking in a flowering wood where birds flew before them he and the child and the sky was aching blue but he was learning how to wake himself from just such siren worlds."
We never learn the names of the characters. The father is 'the man' and his son is 'the boy.' If "The Road" has any point at all, it is of the boy struggling to hold fast to his belief in goodness. The reader wants to believe in goodness, too, but Mr. McCarthy challenges us on this accord. He begs us to ask if human kindness can really exist when the basic needs for food, shelter, and clothing aren't met. What is goodness when one decides he/she must roast a gutted human infant over a fire in order to survive? In this regard, Mr. McCarthy goes a step further by inquiring of us: what good, really, is goodness if it ends up getting you dead? The father trusts no one, but the boy wants to trust others. The man is reluctant to help others because he knows resources are limited, but the boy wants to share what little food they have. Will the boy's innocence be his undoing? Both may not survive to see the end of the road. But then, the road really never ends.
View all my reviews
May 29, 2016
Duma Key - A Review
Duma Key is not a place you want to visit. It's a mostly undeveloped splinter off of Florida's gulf coast, where strange things have been happening for close to a hundred years. It's a place where birds can sometimes be spotted flying upside-down; where giant, human-size frogs baring fangs can occasionally be glimpsed hopping through the island's rampant undergrowth; where flotillas of tennis balls mysteriously wash ashore on the gulf's uncertain tide. And not far from shore, a death ship waits, its ruined sails hanging in tatters. A robed figure named Perse stands on the ship's prow, her grotesque features obscured by the hood covering her head. Perse has been waiting a long time.
Edgar Freemantle is a contractor from Minnesota whose life is suddenly and irrevocably altered by a gruesome job site accident. We'll say the accident involves a crane and lots of snapping bones, and leave it at that. Edgar loses his right arm in the mishap, along with parts of his memory and some cognitive functioning. Excessive brain trauma renders him prone to bouts of explosive anger, which eventually costs Edgar his marriage.
When his psychologist suggests that a change in scenery might do Edgar some good, Edgar rents a house on Duma Key and relocates there. Alone in his beach house (which he affectionately names Big Pink), and with a magnificent view of the gulf, Edgar finds peace and healing in the art of painting. But Edgar's paintings hold a dark power, a magic that Edgar himself doesn't understand. As his skills improve and his talent sharpens, the dark force channeling through him grows...and Edgar soon realizes that he can alter real world outcomes by painting them--with his missing arm. His phantom arm.
This is not the first time Mr. King has used paintings or drawings, or the act of painting or drawing, as a supernatural event horizon. In his 1995 novel "Rose Madder," the story's female protagonist had little choice but to jump into a painting (yes, into a painting) in order to escape from her deranged husband. In the epic and vastly overwritten tome that concluded King's "Dark Tower" series, a character defeated the evil Crimson King by drawing and then erasing him. And King's 2002 short story collection, "Everything's Eventual," featured a tale in which a character was able to kill off those who'd wronged him by using chalk to sketch odd symbols on the sidewalks in front of their homes.
When not painting, Edgar bides his time taking long walks down the beach, attempting to build up his strength. He quickly learns he is not alone on Duma. Another house sits on the beach several miles south of his. It is the house of Elizabeth Eastlake, an old, failing woman who has spent most of her life on the island, and whose fading memory holds many of its secrets. Her caretaker is a man named Jerome Wireman. Edgar and Wireman become best of friends. Together, they begin to plumb the dark history of Duma Key, much of which revolves around Elizabeth's childhood in the 1920s. Elizabeth fuels the mystery by uttering cryptic lines the likes of, "The table is leaking," and "You will want to, but you mustn't."
Edgar's burgeoning talent as an up-and-coming artist does not go unnoticed, meanwhile. His work is picked up by a local art gallery known as the Scoto. In one of the story's more memorable parts, the Scoto hosts a showing of Edgar's collected works. Hundreds attend the event. A contingent from Edgar's old life--his Minnesota life--make the trip. This includes friends, past business partners, and, of course, Edgar's family--his ex-wife and two daughters. Mr. King conveys the emotional vagaries of marriage (and, in this case, post-marriage) extremely well, and in this regard he probably doesn't get the credit he is due as a writer. Following the show at the Scoto, Edgar accompanies his ex-wife back to her hotel room. I won't tell you what happens, but Mr. King ends the scene, and the chapter, with the following line:
"The loss of memory isn't always the problem; sometimes--maybe even often--it's the solution."
I'll admit I was rooting for the story to tack off in a different direction here. Might this be a tale of more than just healing? Was it possible that Edgar and his ex-wife (Pam) might resolve their differences? That their family might be made whole again? King doesn't always give us what we want, of course. And he's not afraid to give us what we fear.
The secrets of Duma Key lie at the island's southernmost tip. That is where Edgar and Wireman (and a third character, Jack) must go. They must do what needs to be done before darkness falls. Because when darkness falls, Perse's death ship comes ashore. There are times in the story when the reader may sense King reaching in order to connect plot points; or veering suddenly away from previously-used conventions, such as zombies and vampires. But he never strays from the story he is trying to tell, and he never loses sight of the task at hand. I won't tell you what lies at the southernmost tip of Duma Key, but I can say with ease that Mr. King can still spin a yarn with the best of them.
Edgar Freemantle is a contractor from Minnesota whose life is suddenly and irrevocably altered by a gruesome job site accident. We'll say the accident involves a crane and lots of snapping bones, and leave it at that. Edgar loses his right arm in the mishap, along with parts of his memory and some cognitive functioning. Excessive brain trauma renders him prone to bouts of explosive anger, which eventually costs Edgar his marriage.
When his psychologist suggests that a change in scenery might do Edgar some good, Edgar rents a house on Duma Key and relocates there. Alone in his beach house (which he affectionately names Big Pink), and with a magnificent view of the gulf, Edgar finds peace and healing in the art of painting. But Edgar's paintings hold a dark power, a magic that Edgar himself doesn't understand. As his skills improve and his talent sharpens, the dark force channeling through him grows...and Edgar soon realizes that he can alter real world outcomes by painting them--with his missing arm. His phantom arm.
This is not the first time Mr. King has used paintings or drawings, or the act of painting or drawing, as a supernatural event horizon. In his 1995 novel "Rose Madder," the story's female protagonist had little choice but to jump into a painting (yes, into a painting) in order to escape from her deranged husband. In the epic and vastly overwritten tome that concluded King's "Dark Tower" series, a character defeated the evil Crimson King by drawing and then erasing him. And King's 2002 short story collection, "Everything's Eventual," featured a tale in which a character was able to kill off those who'd wronged him by using chalk to sketch odd symbols on the sidewalks in front of their homes.
When not painting, Edgar bides his time taking long walks down the beach, attempting to build up his strength. He quickly learns he is not alone on Duma. Another house sits on the beach several miles south of his. It is the house of Elizabeth Eastlake, an old, failing woman who has spent most of her life on the island, and whose fading memory holds many of its secrets. Her caretaker is a man named Jerome Wireman. Edgar and Wireman become best of friends. Together, they begin to plumb the dark history of Duma Key, much of which revolves around Elizabeth's childhood in the 1920s. Elizabeth fuels the mystery by uttering cryptic lines the likes of, "The table is leaking," and "You will want to, but you mustn't."
Edgar's burgeoning talent as an up-and-coming artist does not go unnoticed, meanwhile. His work is picked up by a local art gallery known as the Scoto. In one of the story's more memorable parts, the Scoto hosts a showing of Edgar's collected works. Hundreds attend the event. A contingent from Edgar's old life--his Minnesota life--make the trip. This includes friends, past business partners, and, of course, Edgar's family--his ex-wife and two daughters. Mr. King conveys the emotional vagaries of marriage (and, in this case, post-marriage) extremely well, and in this regard he probably doesn't get the credit he is due as a writer. Following the show at the Scoto, Edgar accompanies his ex-wife back to her hotel room. I won't tell you what happens, but Mr. King ends the scene, and the chapter, with the following line:
"The loss of memory isn't always the problem; sometimes--maybe even often--it's the solution."
I'll admit I was rooting for the story to tack off in a different direction here. Might this be a tale of more than just healing? Was it possible that Edgar and his ex-wife (Pam) might resolve their differences? That their family might be made whole again? King doesn't always give us what we want, of course. And he's not afraid to give us what we fear.
The secrets of Duma Key lie at the island's southernmost tip. That is where Edgar and Wireman (and a third character, Jack) must go. They must do what needs to be done before darkness falls. Because when darkness falls, Perse's death ship comes ashore. There are times in the story when the reader may sense King reaching in order to connect plot points; or veering suddenly away from previously-used conventions, such as zombies and vampires. But he never strays from the story he is trying to tell, and he never loses sight of the task at hand. I won't tell you what lies at the southernmost tip of Duma Key, but I can say with ease that Mr. King can still spin a yarn with the best of them.
January 16, 2016
Duma Key
It just occurred to me that I can't remember the last King novel to have taken place in a setting other than Maine... Full review coming soon.
May 17, 2015
The Caller
His phone line is his lifeline.
My new thriller, "The Caller", is now available on Kindle, Nook, and other electronic readers.
My new thriller, "The Caller", is now available on Kindle, Nook, and other electronic readers.
May 13, 2015
New book is out!
My new thriller, "The Caller," is now available through all booksellers. It's 165 pages of white-hot fire.
January 11, 2015
New Book
Look for my new novel, "The Caller," coming soon. It is a white-knuckle, one-sitting thriller. I guarantee you've never read anything like it.
September 1, 2014
Koontz
Almost finished with "One Door Away from Heaven." I'll have a lot to say about this book shortly.
September 12, 2013
Tomorrow City
I've begun reading "Tomorrow City", the debut novel from Kirk Kjeldsen. It is very good so far. I'm excited about this new author's potential. More later.
February 4, 2013
"The Gatehouse"
I'm enjoying this sequel to "The Gold Coast" so far. John hasn't spoken to Susan, his ex-wife, yet. Isn't that what we're waiting for?
