The road to manhood is long and arduous, and masculinity is a subject everyone should be invested in. The Hearts of Men by Nickolas Butler, a novel published in the months between Trump's inauguration and the explosion of the #MeToo movement, is, on the surface, precisely the book to address animated cultural debates surrounding manhood in these fraught social and political times. Butler’s goal with this book is laudable. What he set out to do, I think, is explore toxic masculinity inherited from one generation to the next. Nelson, as the novel’s main character, should be the locus of this exploration. The first third of the story is centered almost exclusively on him and the intense sorrow, abuse, and alienation he endures. Nelson wants to be liked and included so badly, and I defy anyone with a heart and mind not to overflow with sympathy for him.
Beginning in 1962, the cultural zenith of toxic manhood in America, Nelson, his father, Wilbur, and every other man in this portion of The Hearts of Men is made to suffer physical, emotional, and spiritual hardships owing to an ethos that severely restricts them. At its core, this book puts father-son relationships under a powerful microscope, where readers are forced to examine the reason profligate fathers punish and despise their dutiful sons. Yet even the fathers themselves are unable to explain why they abhor goodness, obedience, and sensitivity in their sons. It’s all quite aggravating but Butler, at least for a while, adroitly scrutinizes this dynamic. Unfortunately, he fails to deliver on the novel’s promise.
After presenting readers a controlled, evocative Part One, the rest of The Hearts of Men careens out of control, with plot points that don’t connect, situations that strain credulity, flat characters no one can connect with, and stagey dialogue so hollow it echoes. After Part One the novel devolves, gradually becoming less enjoyable, less credible, and less defensible with each page. Although Butler achieves striking verisimilitude in Part One, the other two thirds of the book feel shamelessly fraudulent. Questions abound: Why did Butler switch the focus from Nelson to Jonathan, and why is Jonathan given a lineage and not Nelson? How did Nelson and Jonathan maintain a close friendship over so many years? Why did Butler kill off Trevor? Why did Butler completely kneecap the entire thesis of the book and hand the final section over to Rachel, a woman, rather than letting Trevor live and giving it to him? The author just didn’t follow the map he set for himself.
Butler's struggles with this novel are abundant. He displays a sheer lack of respect for his characters, employing them to make grandiose statements about toxic masculinity and heaping relentless misery and scorn upon them before he recklessly discards them. He’s contemptuous of his characters, and that’s unpardonable for a writer, especially one with Butler’s pedigree. In the latter sections of the book the plot meanders, the characters become vapid and grotesque, and in the end I just don’t believe any of it. I don’t believe Nelson would have been a Vietnam vet. I don’t believe Jonathan would sabotage his son’s budding romance, nor do I understand why he would do it. I don’t believe Nelson and Jonathan kept in touch. And as for the final section of the book, which includes the rape of a single mother, the less said the better, only to say that I side with another reviewer who rails at Butler and other male writers who use rape as a throwaway plot point.
It's so frustrating to read a novel that has so much potential and see so clearly where the author erred and how they could have made it better. I’m not chiding Butler for not writing the book I would have written, but he obviously got caught in a maze here. After page 139 I kept asking myself why he wasn’t taking the story where it obviously needed to go, where there would have been more interest, higher stakes, and a much more realistic plot? Moreover, the novel’s near exclusion of any discussion of the ways feminism, race, queer rights, and changes within the U.S. labor force have altered masculinity through the years is yet another way Butler struggles with this book. I liked where The Hearts of Men was initially going but in the final analysis this book is like a train that jumped the track. The book’s journey is evident, but it never reaches its destination.