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Man Gone Down
On the eve of his thirty-fifth birthday, the unnamed black narrator of Man Gone Down finds himself broke, estranged from his white wife and three children, and living in the bedroom of a friend’s six-year-old child. He has four days to come up with the money to keep the kids in school and make a down payment on an apartment for them in which to live. As we slip between his childhood in inner city Boston and present-day New York City, we learn of a life marked by abuse, abandonment, raging alcoholism, and the best and worst intentions of a supposedly integrated America. This is a story of the American Dream gone awry, about what it’s like to feel preprogrammed to fail in life and the urge to escape that sentence.
432 pages, Paperback
First published December 7, 2006
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Michael Thomas
629 books38 followersLibrarian’s note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
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March 29, 2021I feel guilty for not being in love with this.
Because I should be, right? It's about an educated black writer who somehow went from being the newest test case in Boston's busing system to being a scholarship student at Harvard, and from there to being a drop-out (or kicked-out, as it were) that lands himself at a smaller college in New York, becomes a writer, marries a white woman and fathers three mixed-race children, fails at becoming a writer and suffers the financial/familial penalties there-in.
I, similarly, am a black male from an inconsiderable public school background who somehow also wound up in Cambridge (though I did clock in all 4 of my years); I, too, consider myself a writer, though I'm more on the path to becoming an academic (but writers and academics share the same cultural and financial margins, I think); and I've dated white men, though not exclusively -- though I could very well see myself marrying one, and have experienced similar bouts of cultural dissonance as the Ishmael of Michael Thomas' novel with regard to my racial dating preferences. So I can see where the brother is coming from.
That, plus the fact that the novel won the IMPAC (a step or two above the Pulitzer, I'd say), was one of the NYT's picks of the year (and they're actually right, sometimes), and was hailed by many critics coast to coast as one of the best racial allegories since Invisible Man. Then again,these days, that latter point simply means that it was a not-terrible novel a) written by a black person, b) longer than 200 pages (remember, IM is an epic), c) written by a male (because black women writers are in the shadow of Beloved, you see).
...All of this to say that I should at least admire the damn thing.
And I do. Part of me does. None of my complaints against this novel single out qualities that are "bad" in and of themselves. Sure, the transitions into and out of the ruminations on race and class, the flashbacks, the occasional diatribes could have been more graceful; but I don't expect everyone to smooth over the mechanics of their novels as well as (yes, I'll say it) Toni Morrison, Garcia Marquez, others. Sometimes disorientation is necessary. And not every long/long-ish novel needs to make excuses for its length; I wasn't enthralled by every set piece in Anna Karenina, and Don DeLillo's Underworld could have afforded to sweat off a few pounds (as the Pulitzer and National Book Award judges all seemed to agree.) And, absolutely -- not everything in a novel needs to quote-unquote mean something. Not every narrative needs to be buoyed by symbolism à la The Scarlet Letter, whose rose bush, scaffold, and unfortunate guilt-couture have plagued high schoolers since the 19th century.
And yet, and yet, I do expect a novel to feel like it's adding up to something. That's my primary charge, here: that for all of its valuable observations on race, for all of the moments that demonstrate that the novelist "gets it" racially, politically, etc. speaking, there's the lingering sensation that he doesn't have any useful understanding of what novels are, can be, should be, can become. Because, for a novel whose content often seems to resist 'meaning something' (the long set pieces working construction, for example), the text is equally imbued with authorial choices that seem to scream 'Interpret me.' And so you try. Rather, I tried, and much of what I thought I saw turned out to be quite empty.
Frankly, the material doesn't really seem to deserve the written genre that contains it, something akin to storing a lobster in a blender or coffee in a tupperware bowl. Something about this novel never seemed to "fit," for me, but I'm not in the business of asserting what form the novel should have taken. (I do suspect that there's a very good editorial somewhere in here, however.)
Instead, though, I'll say that I did sort of enjoy it, but most of the time, not really. Not enough.
Because I should be, right? It's about an educated black writer who somehow went from being the newest test case in Boston's busing system to being a scholarship student at Harvard, and from there to being a drop-out (or kicked-out, as it were) that lands himself at a smaller college in New York, becomes a writer, marries a white woman and fathers three mixed-race children, fails at becoming a writer and suffers the financial/familial penalties there-in.
I, similarly, am a black male from an inconsiderable public school background who somehow also wound up in Cambridge (though I did clock in all 4 of my years); I, too, consider myself a writer, though I'm more on the path to becoming an academic (but writers and academics share the same cultural and financial margins, I think); and I've dated white men, though not exclusively -- though I could very well see myself marrying one, and have experienced similar bouts of cultural dissonance as the Ishmael of Michael Thomas' novel with regard to my racial dating preferences. So I can see where the brother is coming from.
That, plus the fact that the novel won the IMPAC (a step or two above the Pulitzer, I'd say), was one of the NYT's picks of the year (and they're actually right, sometimes), and was hailed by many critics coast to coast as one of the best racial allegories since Invisible Man. Then again,these days, that latter point simply means that it was a not-terrible novel a) written by a black person, b) longer than 200 pages (remember, IM is an epic), c) written by a male (because black women writers are in the shadow of Beloved, you see).
...All of this to say that I should at least admire the damn thing.
And I do. Part of me does. None of my complaints against this novel single out qualities that are "bad" in and of themselves. Sure, the transitions into and out of the ruminations on race and class, the flashbacks, the occasional diatribes could have been more graceful; but I don't expect everyone to smooth over the mechanics of their novels as well as (yes, I'll say it) Toni Morrison, Garcia Marquez, others. Sometimes disorientation is necessary. And not every long/long-ish novel needs to make excuses for its length; I wasn't enthralled by every set piece in Anna Karenina, and Don DeLillo's Underworld could have afforded to sweat off a few pounds (as the Pulitzer and National Book Award judges all seemed to agree.) And, absolutely -- not everything in a novel needs to quote-unquote mean something. Not every narrative needs to be buoyed by symbolism à la The Scarlet Letter, whose rose bush, scaffold, and unfortunate guilt-couture have plagued high schoolers since the 19th century.
And yet, and yet, I do expect a novel to feel like it's adding up to something. That's my primary charge, here: that for all of its valuable observations on race, for all of the moments that demonstrate that the novelist "gets it" racially, politically, etc. speaking, there's the lingering sensation that he doesn't have any useful understanding of what novels are, can be, should be, can become. Because, for a novel whose content often seems to resist 'meaning something' (the long set pieces working construction, for example), the text is equally imbued with authorial choices that seem to scream 'Interpret me.' And so you try. Rather, I tried, and much of what I thought I saw turned out to be quite empty.
Frankly, the material doesn't really seem to deserve the written genre that contains it, something akin to storing a lobster in a blender or coffee in a tupperware bowl. Something about this novel never seemed to "fit," for me, but I'm not in the business of asserting what form the novel should have taken. (I do suspect that there's a very good editorial somewhere in here, however.)
Instead, though, I'll say that I did sort of enjoy it, but most of the time, not really. Not enough.
October 16, 2009
I was really excited to read this book after hearing that he upset all of the other authors and won the Dublin prize for literature. Not just that, but the topic (a Black man in the inner city searches his soul) was incredibly appealing to me. However, the book was a huge disappointment or maybe it shows a lot of promise and it's a wonderful first novel for an up and coming author.
I thought it was very self-indulgent and circular. Nothing happens, which is fine if there is some internal development, but the main character (whom I can only imagine is the author himself) is so full of race and class baggage that he really cannot see his situation honestly. And his baggage isn't even unique. All good literature is about someone's inner angst and it's usually the voice of the majority so it's nice to hear different voices, but this still struck me as a voice from inside academia. A voice that is not so much his own but the typical "black man in the inner city" voice that you are supposed to embody. And it struck me as stale and dishonest.
He beat out Junot Diaz to the prize and I think that was a mistake. Diaz is much more original and is really able to get out of academia to tell a quirky story outside the mainstream.
Thomas could not get out of his angst throughout the entire story so it was a frustrating read.
I thought it was very self-indulgent and circular. Nothing happens, which is fine if there is some internal development, but the main character (whom I can only imagine is the author himself) is so full of race and class baggage that he really cannot see his situation honestly. And his baggage isn't even unique. All good literature is about someone's inner angst and it's usually the voice of the majority so it's nice to hear different voices, but this still struck me as a voice from inside academia. A voice that is not so much his own but the typical "black man in the inner city" voice that you are supposed to embody. And it struck me as stale and dishonest.
He beat out Junot Diaz to the prize and I think that was a mistake. Diaz is much more original and is really able to get out of academia to tell a quirky story outside the mainstream.
Thomas could not get out of his angst throughout the entire story so it was a frustrating read.
January 10, 2008
Okay, after reading some of the other reviews of this book i must throw down. The narrator got whipped and beaten by his drunk mother, and abandoned by his father, and people beat the crap out of him at school. regularly. and as an adult, he still has physical problems from these abuses. And his best friend got beaten up even worse than him. By his fuck-ass father. So all you people who find this novel tediously dirge-like, or overly grim, or too introverted-stream-of-consciousness, or too locked in victimhood: try surviving abuse like that. Try growing up in a home like this and then finding yourself in the least imaginable reality: a loving marriage with happy children. Try surviving abuse like this and then facing discrimination everywhere you go, every day. Try dealing with leftover injuries from hate crimes at high school while dealing with being perceived as a symbol: of race, of a certain economic practice, of the idea of an educated black man. And then tell me, how do you feel? Do you feel "uplift"? Do you feel a triumph of the human spirit? Would you know how to articulate this kind of experience with no sugar coating, but with some measure of comprehensibility and accessibility? Without lying about how yes, we can all survive and be happy if we just believe in ourselves? Bah.
Okay, now for my original review, written before reading others'.
I picked this up on a store rec. from the glorious Tattered Cover in Denver. And yes, it's pretty damn good. Lovely writing, compelling plot. I liked it more toward the end, perhaps because it took a while for the narrator to grow on me. The Homeric plot seemed a tad unnecessary: not a strong enough presence to be a full critique/engagement with the racial politics of the canon, but strong enough to be a curious feature of the plot: many discrete episodes of racial tension (sometimes outright conflict) with various characters in NYC. So the life and death nature of Homer's journey was transmuted into a life-and-death struggle for dignity in B/W USA. I think the more successful moments of the book had to do with its articulation of some of the tragic failures of the Civil Rights Movement. His repeated riff on the them "It's a strange thing to go through life as a social experiment," his mom's drunk lipsyncing Motown and Civil Rights anthems, his experiences bused into a suburban high school from his suburban Boston projects. The book is best when depicting the violence inherent in this transition that our nation is still struggling to make, away from entrenched racist hierarchies of privilege. The character experiences this violence daily, either physically, mentally or what may be called spiritually.
My new favorite (that's sarcastic, & i really mean that it's very interesting and I'm not that pleased about it) feature of contemporary fiction publishing is the book club discussion question section at the end of so many editions. Those discussion questions kind of ruined my own reading experience, but I try to spark discussions about novels for a living.
Okay, now for my original review, written before reading others'.
I picked this up on a store rec. from the glorious Tattered Cover in Denver. And yes, it's pretty damn good. Lovely writing, compelling plot. I liked it more toward the end, perhaps because it took a while for the narrator to grow on me. The Homeric plot seemed a tad unnecessary: not a strong enough presence to be a full critique/engagement with the racial politics of the canon, but strong enough to be a curious feature of the plot: many discrete episodes of racial tension (sometimes outright conflict) with various characters in NYC. So the life and death nature of Homer's journey was transmuted into a life-and-death struggle for dignity in B/W USA. I think the more successful moments of the book had to do with its articulation of some of the tragic failures of the Civil Rights Movement. His repeated riff on the them "It's a strange thing to go through life as a social experiment," his mom's drunk lipsyncing Motown and Civil Rights anthems, his experiences bused into a suburban high school from his suburban Boston projects. The book is best when depicting the violence inherent in this transition that our nation is still struggling to make, away from entrenched racist hierarchies of privilege. The character experiences this violence daily, either physically, mentally or what may be called spiritually.
My new favorite (that's sarcastic, & i really mean that it's very interesting and I'm not that pleased about it) feature of contemporary fiction publishing is the book club discussion question section at the end of so many editions. Those discussion questions kind of ruined my own reading experience, but I try to spark discussions about novels for a living.
July 11, 2015
There are maybe ten novels whose first reading gave me enough of a kick in the gut that I will always remember it, and this is one of them. I felt more affinity for the narrator than for any character I can recall in recent literature -- despite the fact that he is black and of the city and I'm a white kid from the sticks and the novel is very much about race; but it's more fundamentally a novel about being a husband and father and, well, a man, with all the baggage that carries, and feeling contrarily that you have little or no control over what is happening to you. I cared about this guy in a way that I rarely am made to care about fictional characters. Maybe Thomas is brilliant, or maybe I happened to read this novel at just the right time in my life. Some of both, I expect. His style suits me, in any case: elegantly written without being precious; a thoughtful narrator who is not at all removed from his reality; an optimism that is a deliberate (and difficult) choice rather than a natural inclination.
One of these days I need to go back and read it again and remind myself of exactly why I loved it so much.
Incidentally, I read a review of this book in the New York Times and discovered that the first 30 pages or so were available online, as a teaser. Thomas had me after page one. I bought it immediately. If a portion hadn't been online, I may or may not have gotten around to reading it -- there are a lot of books out there. I don't understand why this isn't standard practice in the publishing indusstry -- what's to lose? -- but then there are a lot of things I don't understand about the publishing industry.
One of these days I need to go back and read it again and remind myself of exactly why I loved it so much.
Incidentally, I read a review of this book in the New York Times and discovered that the first 30 pages or so were available online, as a teaser. Thomas had me after page one. I bought it immediately. If a portion hadn't been online, I may or may not have gotten around to reading it -- there are a lot of books out there. I don't understand why this isn't standard practice in the publishing indusstry -- what's to lose? -- but then there are a lot of things I don't understand about the publishing industry.
April 24, 2010
I have never read anything like this novel. It has the meandering stream-of-consciousness and meticulous attention to detail of Virginia Woolf. It has the male obsessiveness with with masculinity and how it functions in time and place of James Joyce. It explores race with the rigour and nuance of a 21st century Ralph Ellison. And it describes the conundrums of class and society's basic unfairness with the storytelling skills of Dickens. And to add the cherry, Thomas is as in love with T.S. Eliot as I am and weaves the power of his poetry throughout the novel. As with the work of all of these eminent writers I have mentioned, there were times that I thought, "what is up with this guy?" but I stuck those parts out and was glad I did.
June 15, 2013
I’m disappointed. I really thought I was going to get into this book. I was hoping for young James Baldwin, or Ellison during his brief moment when he had something to say about the minefields and bottomless tar pits that litter the landscape of Black males even for those who “do the right thing”.
O.K. let me temper my words with the fact that he was brutally raped as a kid, which I wish he would have talked about at the beginning of the book. But honestly this dude comes off as a typical Black noble savage as opposed to a strong Black man using every thing he’s got to survive in a hostile white male dominated world.
Although growing up lower middle class, he went to the best schools including Harvard which he got kicked out of for white frat boy antics. Then, the noble savage marries a white blonde woman from a wealthy family and attempts to milk his mother in law’s nipple by spitting out three kids although he is broke. Looks like to me, he wants to be taken care of. Yet he gets pissy because his mother in law thinks his kids will be o.k. in the right public school. So they scrape to keep their kids in an elite private school, which of course becomes a big theme in the book. Oh how he suffers.
Our modern literary "Bigger Thomas" has a wealthy lawyer friend who takes him in, (he’s working construction) while his wife is living with her mother, because they can’t afford and apartment, but instead of being appreciative, Bigger sulks around his friends mansion like brooding solemn golem. This includes streaking down to the basement only to be discovered by his lawyer friend’s wife, but this isn’t his fault because he didn’t know she was home, with her kids no less. But the lawyer friend takes him out for a good meal to celebrate his birthday more sulking in front of the lawyers other guest. He gets to drive the lawyer’s expensive sports car which he loves. He also mentions the head lights of wife’s mothers Benz that picks him up later. Clearly he is status conscience as all noble savages are. And when the rich lawyer takes him to his private golf club( where the noble savage happened to have his own golf clubs) Bigger Thomas wins the game. How on earth did he learn how to be so good at golf? Later though he
pawns the golf clubs including lose change swipped from the Lawyers house.
This dude reminds me of a Black kid who thought that because he is more talented than most white men; he would be recognized and treated like a talented white man. And when this doesn’t happen this over six foot tall golem wonders through the pages of his book sulking about and using his size to intimidate. Oh and he also teachers literature during this time which he rarley mentions, because is cooler to be a -self absorbed- angry Black man as oppossed to an angry lit teacher. Yea I call fraud. But hey the Noble Savage and modern Literary Bigger Thomas just got paid.
O.K. let me temper my words with the fact that he was brutally raped as a kid, which I wish he would have talked about at the beginning of the book. But honestly this dude comes off as a typical Black noble savage as opposed to a strong Black man using every thing he’s got to survive in a hostile white male dominated world.
Although growing up lower middle class, he went to the best schools including Harvard which he got kicked out of for white frat boy antics. Then, the noble savage marries a white blonde woman from a wealthy family and attempts to milk his mother in law’s nipple by spitting out three kids although he is broke. Looks like to me, he wants to be taken care of. Yet he gets pissy because his mother in law thinks his kids will be o.k. in the right public school. So they scrape to keep their kids in an elite private school, which of course becomes a big theme in the book. Oh how he suffers.
Our modern literary "Bigger Thomas" has a wealthy lawyer friend who takes him in, (he’s working construction) while his wife is living with her mother, because they can’t afford and apartment, but instead of being appreciative, Bigger sulks around his friends mansion like brooding solemn golem. This includes streaking down to the basement only to be discovered by his lawyer friend’s wife, but this isn’t his fault because he didn’t know she was home, with her kids no less. But the lawyer friend takes him out for a good meal to celebrate his birthday more sulking in front of the lawyers other guest. He gets to drive the lawyer’s expensive sports car which he loves. He also mentions the head lights of wife’s mothers Benz that picks him up later. Clearly he is status conscience as all noble savages are. And when the rich lawyer takes him to his private golf club( where the noble savage happened to have his own golf clubs) Bigger Thomas wins the game. How on earth did he learn how to be so good at golf? Later though he
pawns the golf clubs including lose change swipped from the Lawyers house.
This dude reminds me of a Black kid who thought that because he is more talented than most white men; he would be recognized and treated like a talented white man. And when this doesn’t happen this over six foot tall golem wonders through the pages of his book sulking about and using his size to intimidate. Oh and he also teachers literature during this time which he rarley mentions, because is cooler to be a -self absorbed- angry Black man as oppossed to an angry lit teacher. Yea I call fraud. But hey the Noble Savage and modern Literary Bigger Thomas just got paid.
February 14, 2012
Man Gone Down has received a lot of favorable reviews, and won the IMPAC Award in 2009, and I can see some hints of the reasons why. The final chapter is achingly beautiful, as is a passage reminiscing on September '11. Despite some very good writing, the overall package was not to my liking.
The book's narrator is a black man, and he provides us with an in-depth view into his life during a week in which he is having problems with his wife, and in coming up with the money to pay for his kids' school fees. It's a novel with few action moments and lots of internal dialogue - this isn't necessarily an issue in itself (I loved Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses, which is somewhat similar), but it certainly was in this case.
The main problem was with the character himself. I didn't like him at all, and didn't feel much sympathy for his plight. The man used to be a University lecturer, but walked away from it some time ago for a reason that wasn't clear to me. He now tries to make ends meet with odd jobs that he doesn't seem to find fulfilling, but doesn't make any kind of effort to resurrect his former career, even when opportunities to do so fall into his lap, and even when doing so puts his kids' education at risk. In short, this is not a black guy with no education or prospects: this is a man who has made a choice to be in his current bleak situation. It's probably a realistic scenario, but why would I as a reader want to root for this man?
That's not his only failing. This is a man who fails to display common courtesy time and time again. If he's asked a question, he'll often just look at the person and not respond, or maybe respond with a one word answer - even when he knows that he's making them feel uncomfortable. It's not that he's incapable of holding conversation (after all, he has a very long and personal conversation with his readers) but that he chooses to be rude. I didn't like him at all, so why would I want to spend the month with him?
My final criticism is not so much with the author, but with his editor. How can a published book, particularly when it isn't a first edition, contain so many errors? When I describe a person's walk I refer to their 'gait', not their 'gate'. To try a new approach is to 'change tack' (a yachting term), not to 'change tact'. These are just two examples of very obvious errors that simply shouldn't have seen print.
The book's narrator is a black man, and he provides us with an in-depth view into his life during a week in which he is having problems with his wife, and in coming up with the money to pay for his kids' school fees. It's a novel with few action moments and lots of internal dialogue - this isn't necessarily an issue in itself (I loved Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses, which is somewhat similar), but it certainly was in this case.
The main problem was with the character himself. I didn't like him at all, and didn't feel much sympathy for his plight. The man used to be a University lecturer, but walked away from it some time ago for a reason that wasn't clear to me. He now tries to make ends meet with odd jobs that he doesn't seem to find fulfilling, but doesn't make any kind of effort to resurrect his former career, even when opportunities to do so fall into his lap, and even when doing so puts his kids' education at risk. In short, this is not a black guy with no education or prospects: this is a man who has made a choice to be in his current bleak situation. It's probably a realistic scenario, but why would I as a reader want to root for this man?
That's not his only failing. This is a man who fails to display common courtesy time and time again. If he's asked a question, he'll often just look at the person and not respond, or maybe respond with a one word answer - even when he knows that he's making them feel uncomfortable. It's not that he's incapable of holding conversation (after all, he has a very long and personal conversation with his readers) but that he chooses to be rude. I didn't like him at all, so why would I want to spend the month with him?
My final criticism is not so much with the author, but with his editor. How can a published book, particularly when it isn't a first edition, contain so many errors? When I describe a person's walk I refer to their 'gait', not their 'gate'. To try a new approach is to 'change tack' (a yachting term), not to 'change tact'. These are just two examples of very obvious errors that simply shouldn't have seen print.
February 22, 2009
I really wanted to enjoy this book about an adjunct instructor-turned- construction worker whose interracial marriage is falling apart, but the mopey narrator kept making such stupid decisions that I quickly lost sympathy for him.
November 23, 2018
Complex, challenging, compelling, and imperfect.
Our un-named narrator is given a clear mission -- raise a substantial amount of cash in 4 days in order to get his family life back on track. We follow him almost in real time around NYC, through those four days and nights in which he doesn't sleep or really stop moving at all, like a clinically depressed shark. And the book is at its best when he is on the move, working and pursuing his goal. Other times, his attention wanders and he seems to nearly forget what he's doing, getting sidetracked into long and pointless interactions with strangers.
Those times, when the book is at its weakest, it becomes part of an exceedingly dull genre, in which a man walks around New York City and ruminates on Life and History and The Big Ideas and the Small Moments in Life That Mean So Much and How The City Looks In The Twilight and so on. Jesus Christ, New York, we get it. There are so many of these books - it's like a literary stop-and-frisk routine.
This one deserves credit, however. Instead of pretending at profundity, it asks some seriously pointed questions, levels indictments, and provokes actual discomfort. For the liberal white reader (me), it forces an internal struggle with privilege and politics. Our narrator is suspicious, critical, and sometimes outright hostile toward white people, but also strangely drawn to them. In fact, he's married to one. By his own admission, he has only one black friend.
His struggle with what all this means is a struggle the reader shares. We're cornered into examining (perhaps against our will) the prejudices, assumptions, and fears both inside ourselves and integral to our society. Sometimes the book pissed me off, and then I had to think about why. Sometimes it perplexed me. Other times it made perfect sense. In each case, I had to excavate and then inspect whatever it was the book had unearthed in me. No lessons are learned, no harmonious racial accords reached. But something has been accomplished nonetheless.
Our narrator's voice, consciousness, and worldview drive this novel, and he's not an easy guy to be around. He is funny, prickly, sullen, wounded, brilliant, frustrated, and frustrating, usually all at the same time. His creator, Michael Thomas, can really write, with craft, guile, and emotion. He reminds me of a football cliche -- that of the quarterback who can "make all the throws." It's usually kind of a backhanded compliment, describing a guy with great ability who hasn't quite figured out how to harness it yet. And I think it applies here. Thomas can write all the sentences. And he does. This book feels as if it contains every possible sentence Michael Thomas knows how to write, and is driven by a deep imperative to say all of these things. The majority of these sentences are really, really good, and there are a number of rivetingly composed scenes.
I think a more honed faculty of selection, picking and choosing the absolute best stuff, would have made it a better book. But there are large sections of the book that feel written by the author for himself, because he NEEDED them, and who am I to tell him no? It made the thing harder to get through, but I still did it, and it was worth it.
Our un-named narrator is given a clear mission -- raise a substantial amount of cash in 4 days in order to get his family life back on track. We follow him almost in real time around NYC, through those four days and nights in which he doesn't sleep or really stop moving at all, like a clinically depressed shark. And the book is at its best when he is on the move, working and pursuing his goal. Other times, his attention wanders and he seems to nearly forget what he's doing, getting sidetracked into long and pointless interactions with strangers.
Those times, when the book is at its weakest, it becomes part of an exceedingly dull genre, in which a man walks around New York City and ruminates on Life and History and The Big Ideas and the Small Moments in Life That Mean So Much and How The City Looks In The Twilight and so on. Jesus Christ, New York, we get it. There are so many of these books - it's like a literary stop-and-frisk routine.
This one deserves credit, however. Instead of pretending at profundity, it asks some seriously pointed questions, levels indictments, and provokes actual discomfort. For the liberal white reader (me), it forces an internal struggle with privilege and politics. Our narrator is suspicious, critical, and sometimes outright hostile toward white people, but also strangely drawn to them. In fact, he's married to one. By his own admission, he has only one black friend.
His struggle with what all this means is a struggle the reader shares. We're cornered into examining (perhaps against our will) the prejudices, assumptions, and fears both inside ourselves and integral to our society. Sometimes the book pissed me off, and then I had to think about why. Sometimes it perplexed me. Other times it made perfect sense. In each case, I had to excavate and then inspect whatever it was the book had unearthed in me. No lessons are learned, no harmonious racial accords reached. But something has been accomplished nonetheless.
Our narrator's voice, consciousness, and worldview drive this novel, and he's not an easy guy to be around. He is funny, prickly, sullen, wounded, brilliant, frustrated, and frustrating, usually all at the same time. His creator, Michael Thomas, can really write, with craft, guile, and emotion. He reminds me of a football cliche -- that of the quarterback who can "make all the throws." It's usually kind of a backhanded compliment, describing a guy with great ability who hasn't quite figured out how to harness it yet. And I think it applies here. Thomas can write all the sentences. And he does. This book feels as if it contains every possible sentence Michael Thomas knows how to write, and is driven by a deep imperative to say all of these things. The majority of these sentences are really, really good, and there are a number of rivetingly composed scenes.
I think a more honed faculty of selection, picking and choosing the absolute best stuff, would have made it a better book. But there are large sections of the book that feel written by the author for himself, because he NEEDED them, and who am I to tell him no? It made the thing harder to get through, but I still did it, and it was worth it.
July 21, 2020
I had mixed feelings about this book. In some parts I was hating it in others loving. At the end I guess I did like it just not as much as I would have hoped.
I usually like this kind of books with the main character looking back at his life and we see how it made him what he is. In this book it was my least favorite part. I didn't like how it was jumping back and forward and regardless of how incredibly painful and traumatic his life was I was bored and I didn't feel it. Most of the first half of the book was pretty dull for me. I almost feel guilty saying it but its the truth.
But the book had so many strong points as well. The author is great with descriptions. They might have also been boring sometimes but I felt like he could portray the atmosphere really well. While I was not into the parts where we see the character's development I really liked how complex he was. His strengths and weaknesses.
And speaking of complexity I really loved the portrayal of his attitude to race. His best friend is white, his wife is white, one of his children is also white. And yet this doesn't make his view on race less complex. He loves them and yet he feels some sort of suspicion towards white people he meets. He always thinks how him being black may affect how they see him and if it is something they consider when they see him. He thinks of his wife's whiteness and how his son who is more like him may be negatively affected by it in life. This is a great portrayal of what I assume is being said that a person of color is always affected by race and has it on his mind. This complexity of race relations and views is in my opinion the strongest part of the book.
I started liking the book much more in the second half. I guess because there were less flashbacks and more with the character dealing with his life and surroundings in present.
I usually like this kind of books with the main character looking back at his life and we see how it made him what he is. In this book it was my least favorite part. I didn't like how it was jumping back and forward and regardless of how incredibly painful and traumatic his life was I was bored and I didn't feel it. Most of the first half of the book was pretty dull for me. I almost feel guilty saying it but its the truth.
But the book had so many strong points as well. The author is great with descriptions. They might have also been boring sometimes but I felt like he could portray the atmosphere really well. While I was not into the parts where we see the character's development I really liked how complex he was. His strengths and weaknesses.
And speaking of complexity I really loved the portrayal of his attitude to race. His best friend is white, his wife is white, one of his children is also white. And yet this doesn't make his view on race less complex. He loves them and yet he feels some sort of suspicion towards white people he meets. He always thinks how him being black may affect how they see him and if it is something they consider when they see him. He thinks of his wife's whiteness and how his son who is more like him may be negatively affected by it in life. This is a great portrayal of what I assume is being said that a person of color is always affected by race and has it on his mind. This complexity of race relations and views is in my opinion the strongest part of the book.
I started liking the book much more in the second half. I guess because there were less flashbacks and more with the character dealing with his life and surroundings in present.
July 9, 2011
An extraordinary book, intelligent and thought provoking. The prose is dense and powerful but seldom self-conscious. It's also an important book--there's already criticism about it out there. Caveat: It is not profitable to read this book in snatches. It demands,but also rewards, more time, closer attention.
"It's a strange thing to go through life as a social experiment," Michael Thomas's unnamed narrator muses more than once. Part Irish, part Indian, part black,he has been encouraged from childhood to become "a leader of his people." He's intelligent and gifted, musical and poetic. He sets out on the road to academic distinction, marries Claire, a white woman, fathers three children. But the realities of race and class in America make nothing simple, and when the novel opens he's 34 and broke, earning money as a day laborer, trying to piece together such essentials as first and last month's rent so that his wife and kids, now at her mother's, can rejoin him in New York. At the same time he is trying to piece together the story of how he has come to this, and where he is going next.
The novel takes place over four days. During that time there are dozens of social interactions, many flashbacks, deeply detailed descriptions of the topography of New York, much in the way of thought-provoking reflection, an abundance of literary allusion. There is, however, very little forward movement, and it could be argued that the narrator is the only fully realized character. However, he's a deeply compelling character, and it's well worth traveling with him on his journey.
One last note: I was initially disappointed not to be able to buy an ebook of this novel, but the paperback from Black Cat is gorgeously produced, and a thing of beauty in its own right.
"It's a strange thing to go through life as a social experiment," Michael Thomas's unnamed narrator muses more than once. Part Irish, part Indian, part black,he has been encouraged from childhood to become "a leader of his people." He's intelligent and gifted, musical and poetic. He sets out on the road to academic distinction, marries Claire, a white woman, fathers three children. But the realities of race and class in America make nothing simple, and when the novel opens he's 34 and broke, earning money as a day laborer, trying to piece together such essentials as first and last month's rent so that his wife and kids, now at her mother's, can rejoin him in New York. At the same time he is trying to piece together the story of how he has come to this, and where he is going next.
The novel takes place over four days. During that time there are dozens of social interactions, many flashbacks, deeply detailed descriptions of the topography of New York, much in the way of thought-provoking reflection, an abundance of literary allusion. There is, however, very little forward movement, and it could be argued that the narrator is the only fully realized character. However, he's a deeply compelling character, and it's well worth traveling with him on his journey.
One last note: I was initially disappointed not to be able to buy an ebook of this novel, but the paperback from Black Cat is gorgeously produced, and a thing of beauty in its own right.
October 11, 2008
This book was an epic experience for me. It was well-paced, the imagery rich, the descriptions of Brooklyn living and breathing. The ending was a bit abrupt, but it fit the uneven nature of the main character.
However, the real reason I give this book five stars is because it was an intensely personal experience. The themes of race and displacement are explored more honestly than anything I've ever read.
In particular, I think this book is a harbinger of the genre to come: books that explore the consequences of attempts to integrate the US since the '60s. A generation is coming of age that can write these themes from the dark vaults of sordid experience. Shortly behind them will be the authors who will faithfully recount the impact of biracial children coming of age in a society that has no categories for them. I can't wait.
However, the real reason I give this book five stars is because it was an intensely personal experience. The themes of race and displacement are explored more honestly than anything I've ever read.
In particular, I think this book is a harbinger of the genre to come: books that explore the consequences of attempts to integrate the US since the '60s. A generation is coming of age that can write these themes from the dark vaults of sordid experience. Shortly behind them will be the authors who will faithfully recount the impact of biracial children coming of age in a society that has no categories for them. I can't wait.
December 15, 2007
A 400+ page story that is mostly interior monologue -- very difficult to read. The repeating mantra about the difficulties this young man faced growing up and the unmet high expectations becomes tiresome.
Yet and still, there is something attractive about this book. The writing style is accessible and I really felt the brooklyn neighborhood and NY life Thomas was describing. Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man is the book MGD is most often compared to and I can see that. Invisible Man was also a very difficult read--but Ellison's book has some truly magical scenes and a creative, surreal look at Harlem and NYC.
I can see why this book made the NYT list of 10 best books of 2007 - I'll pick it up again and give it another try.
Yet and still, there is something attractive about this book. The writing style is accessible and I really felt the brooklyn neighborhood and NY life Thomas was describing. Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man is the book MGD is most often compared to and I can see that. Invisible Man was also a very difficult read--but Ellison's book has some truly magical scenes and a creative, surreal look at Harlem and NYC.
I can see why this book made the NYT list of 10 best books of 2007 - I'll pick it up again and give it another try.
April 28, 2009
I read this book for my book group, and it was a book that I picked and was very interested in reading.
Alas, that was before I got started. I really had to force myself to slog through this morose, boring book about a morose, boring guy. It's not that I don't get where the guy came from, because he clearly comes by his challenges honestly. Still, there isn't nearly enough here to sustain my interest.
I'll be interested in hearing what my fellow book group members thought, but I'm thinking that I really need to apologize for putting them through this. Good thing I made a kick-ass cheesecake for dessert.
UPDATE: They didn't like the book. They loved the cheesecake.
Alas, that was before I got started. I really had to force myself to slog through this morose, boring book about a morose, boring guy. It's not that I don't get where the guy came from, because he clearly comes by his challenges honestly. Still, there isn't nearly enough here to sustain my interest.
I'll be interested in hearing what my fellow book group members thought, but I'm thinking that I really need to apologize for putting them through this. Good thing I made a kick-ass cheesecake for dessert.
UPDATE: They didn't like the book. They loved the cheesecake.
December 11, 2009
"Man Gone Down" is an soulfully written novel about an anonymous black man who can't afford to take care of his interracial family. As eloquent as this story is, and as much as I wanted to like it, I found myself bored. Perhaps the most touching aspect of the book is how he describes his two sons, one tan with blonde hair and blue eyes, the other toffee colored and more noticably black. However, for most of the book the narrator rambles on in a self effacing fashion that screams "LOSER" from every page. Yet and still, the book is beautiful however flawed.
February 3, 2009
I'm surprised I finished this book because I spent the first half of it wondering why I was bothering reading it. I think mostly I don't really like to read books that are mainly just inner dialogue. Especially when the narrator is super annoying. Also, it is hard to differentiate between the present and past with the constant time jumping... maybe it would help if I would remember character names.
July 15, 2020
Having now read this twice, I still can't fully explain why this is so good.
With that in mind, I can see why its rambling, stream-of-consciousness style may not be liked by some. It's a challenging read, but I suppose that's exactly how the writer wanted it to be- less of a story than it is a look into one nameless black man's life as he tries to save his family while battling his inner demons.
With that in mind, I can see why its rambling, stream-of-consciousness style may not be liked by some. It's a challenging read, but I suppose that's exactly how the writer wanted it to be- less of a story than it is a look into one nameless black man's life as he tries to save his family while battling his inner demons.
July 1, 2023
Imagine taking a 12 hour economy flight. You are seated beside a guy who moans about what a rough hand he’s been dealt in life.
As the flight progresses he progressively becomes more and more drunk. The order of his story becomes jumbled and you cannot make sense of what on earth he is talking about. The nagging undercurrent of bitterness is really getting under your skin and you can’t wait to get off the plane.
Well, that is what reading this book was like for me.
As the flight progresses he progressively becomes more and more drunk. The order of his story becomes jumbled and you cannot make sense of what on earth he is talking about. The nagging undercurrent of bitterness is really getting under your skin and you can’t wait to get off the plane.
Well, that is what reading this book was like for me.
June 30, 2017
If a book doesn't capture my attention in the first 1/4 of so, I usually abandon it. For some reason, I stuck with this one. The last 100-150 pages were a lot better than the first 250-300. I enjoyed the back-and-forth flashbacks that this young, black protagonist has - everything is so difficult for him, try as he might to get ahead. However, the prose is written in such a way that it's confusing as to note what's important and what's not. Finally, he settles down and just sticks to his story, it seems, to try and get on track with his life (with the important things). I was debating whether or not to give the book two or three stars, but it did deserve a hard-fought third star for the imaginative experiences the author got me to buy into for over 400 pages. Seems silly to me, but there is a section at the back for discussion questions. Come on.
October 8, 2019
Well done Michael Thomas you created one of the dullest, most self interested, judgemental characters in literary history. The main character judges everyone and constantly thinks he is right. If gets old very quickly.
The writing isn't great with some awful editing and errors. At one stage a character is described as sucking his teeth 4 times in a page and a half
God awful. Avoid
The writing isn't great with some awful editing and errors. At one stage a character is described as sucking his teeth 4 times in a page and a half
God awful. Avoid
December 9, 2020
I was late getting around to this one, but I didn’t miss much. This felt like a never ending circle of a lost and confused brother. Maybe some other books by this author will resonate better.
April 7, 2021
Self-absorbed navel-gazing. Seems to always find the worst in people.
May 6, 2018
A lot of people describe this as a modern version of Invisible Man, and whilst I see why the make the comparisons I don't think this novel is quite up to paralleling such an amazing and transformative book. Man Gone Down, like Invisible Man, is follows a black protagonist who fails to root himself. He moves through different spaces, abandoning his family, abandoning friends and jobs, and exploring how he is treated as a black man with-in the circles he inhabits.
I did like this book overall but it wasn't really one that stood out. I think there is a good portrayal of city life in the 21st century and I thought the writing was wonderful and easily drew you in. The book essentially leaves you with what happens when life doesn't work out, when you don't achieve your dream in the City of Dreams. As a modern version of an overused narrative we have become numbed to reading about, Thomas is a clever author who I've enjoyed discovering.
I did like this book overall but it wasn't really one that stood out. I think there is a good portrayal of city life in the 21st century and I thought the writing was wonderful and easily drew you in. The book essentially leaves you with what happens when life doesn't work out, when you don't achieve your dream in the City of Dreams. As a modern version of an overused narrative we have become numbed to reading about, Thomas is a clever author who I've enjoyed discovering.
December 23, 2009
This is the story of a man who is constantly walking the line between barely holding himself together and disconnnecting / falling completely apart.
The protagonist here has been utterly defeated, the weight of his memories overwhelms and suffocates him, he is paranoid and ineffectual and unable to affect any kind of positive change or build any new positive relationships. He feels this tremendous weight from the institutions that created him, his racial ancestry, the opportunities he was given and his pressure to live up to expectations. Kind of a hard guy to follow, and root for. At times, I thought: this might be more entertaining, if only he would cross that line, take that drink, destroy his family. (Not sure what it says about me, that I wished for these things). His capacity for growth is so invisible that it can be frustrating, as a reader. So much squandered opportunity! The people around him continue to offer him redemption, and yet, he wants none of it. However, the unnamed protagonist's weird psychological stasis is what ultimately makes the book interesting. He projects all this negative energy into the world, and seems to want so badly to tear it all down, and yet he pushes his way through a difficult time and finds a way, however improbable, to solve his family crisis.
Reading other folks' reviews, it sounds like a common criticism is the self-indulgence of the narrator, and how it makes him entirely unlikeable. While there are perfectly good reasons to explain his behavior, it doesn't make his character any more appealing. Not because I expect him to be somehow "better" than he is, but because I just want his inner complexity to at least occasionally shine through to his outer, public persona.
Don't come here looking for a tale of redemption, though there is a strange hint of it in the final chapter. Michael Thomas is certainly a talented writer, and there are a number of scenes that burn brightly in my memory, but I can't say I was in love with the overall experience.
The protagonist here has been utterly defeated, the weight of his memories overwhelms and suffocates him, he is paranoid and ineffectual and unable to affect any kind of positive change or build any new positive relationships. He feels this tremendous weight from the institutions that created him, his racial ancestry, the opportunities he was given and his pressure to live up to expectations. Kind of a hard guy to follow, and root for. At times, I thought: this might be more entertaining, if only he would cross that line, take that drink, destroy his family. (Not sure what it says about me, that I wished for these things). His capacity for growth is so invisible that it can be frustrating, as a reader. So much squandered opportunity! The people around him continue to offer him redemption, and yet, he wants none of it. However, the unnamed protagonist's weird psychological stasis is what ultimately makes the book interesting. He projects all this negative energy into the world, and seems to want so badly to tear it all down, and yet he pushes his way through a difficult time and finds a way, however improbable, to solve his family crisis.
Reading other folks' reviews, it sounds like a common criticism is the self-indulgence of the narrator, and how it makes him entirely unlikeable. While there are perfectly good reasons to explain his behavior, it doesn't make his character any more appealing. Not because I expect him to be somehow "better" than he is, but because I just want his inner complexity to at least occasionally shine through to his outer, public persona.
Don't come here looking for a tale of redemption, though there is a strange hint of it in the final chapter. Michael Thomas is certainly a talented writer, and there are a number of scenes that burn brightly in my memory, but I can't say I was in love with the overall experience.
November 22, 2018
At times, I really enjoyed the long-winded meandering prose and could let myself be taken along for the scenic, emotional ride. Most of the time I had to push myself through it. Like a lot of reviewers, I'm bothered by the narrator. It doesn't bother me in and of itself that he is flawed and kind of unlikeable; it bothers me that the author seems to be trying to present a very irrational (for example, being completely broke with three kids to support and buying two pairs of designer jeans and then just forgetting about them), somewhat priveleged (being well-educated and married to a woman from a wealthy family with resources (which he refuses to accept)), and often openly rude character as someone suffering because of his race and class. Certainly, he had a very difficult adolescense, often because of his race, but he seems to have a lot going for him now; he just decides to make things harder than they need to be. He seems to be a little fucked up in the head from trauma incurred during his youth, and it's sending him on a self-destructive streak, and that could explain a lot of the irrational behavior, but I just feel like Thomas is trying to present him, not as a regular old flawed human being with race playing a large role in his struggle, but as a sort of larger-than-life black hero despite his grim (partially self-inflicted) situation. He shows this by having the guy be uber talented at nearly everything, well-regarded as a writer in academia, highly athletic, winning an open mic on the fly, and winning a high stakes golf match with a bunch of regular golf players while having little golf experience. Yet, this guy is too damaged to go get a job to support his three small children? What? I just don't see a man who is truly spiraling. Thomas' apparent dissonance when it comes to his protagonist, and the many wholly superfluous descriptive passages left me wanting despite the occasional moments of inspired, focused writing.
March 7, 2020
Phenomenal. Devastating. Broken and so true. I cried through a portion of the end, not so much for the characters but for all the men they reminded me of. Wanted to call my father and tell him I’d run into Loomis, his old drinking buddy. Wanted to call my brother, ask him when the last time he threw a punch was. Whisper to my grandpa, the Yanks are a mess this year, and have him say back those BoSox bums ain’t got a chance, perpetual losers. Want to take my ex to a fancy restaurant and have half the room turn to look at him, size him up, question me and dismiss him, while the other half of the room sucks its teeth and pretends not to see us. I want to call up more than one old friend and ask in a half-Irish, half-Southie accent just checking in, ‘You still alive? Keep foolin em.’
The depictions of friendship and work and class and race and addiction in this book are so fucking real, I’m ruined. I don’t know how I’ll read anything else. It’s as if someone cracked my skull open and dumped it on the page, or if not my own head, that of a dear friend—the kind who you can have long conversations seemingly about nothing with but at the end you feel you’ve resolved the world’s problems and can now decipher organic chemistry formulas and fly to the moon.
But I’m angry, too. Angry at myself for leaving this book sitting on my shelf for so many years. Where did I buy it? The generic tag on the back is no help. A book sale? Heavily discounted with my employee break from my time at Borders? That time I stopped in Harvard Books? When St. Marks closed? Did it move apartments with me more than once? How long did it lie horizontal on a shelf and curse my name while I fiddled with magazines and CandyCrush? I’ve forgotten. So I’ll just tuck this bookmark from the new, fancy place on Smith Street back in and remember the few weeks I spent cherishing its words while the insane or idle paced by me on the F train.
Thank you for writing this. I needed it.
The depictions of friendship and work and class and race and addiction in this book are so fucking real, I’m ruined. I don’t know how I’ll read anything else. It’s as if someone cracked my skull open and dumped it on the page, or if not my own head, that of a dear friend—the kind who you can have long conversations seemingly about nothing with but at the end you feel you’ve resolved the world’s problems and can now decipher organic chemistry formulas and fly to the moon.
But I’m angry, too. Angry at myself for leaving this book sitting on my shelf for so many years. Where did I buy it? The generic tag on the back is no help. A book sale? Heavily discounted with my employee break from my time at Borders? That time I stopped in Harvard Books? When St. Marks closed? Did it move apartments with me more than once? How long did it lie horizontal on a shelf and curse my name while I fiddled with magazines and CandyCrush? I’ve forgotten. So I’ll just tuck this bookmark from the new, fancy place on Smith Street back in and remember the few weeks I spent cherishing its words while the insane or idle paced by me on the F train.
Thank you for writing this. I needed it.
March 9, 2009
I admittedly took several breaks before finishing this book. Thomas' prose is wordy and self-indulgent and often meaningless stream-of-consciousness blather. I was completely prepared to dismiss the novel completely, but then I dug in and was rewarded in a way I hadn't anticipated. The narrator is often contemptible and I found it difficult to empathize with a lot of the existential dilemmas he found himself struggling with, but at his heart is not a bad person. It is when Thomas allows the narrator to express himself without pretense or a sense of others judging him that we get the real depiction of who he is and why he suffers. It is in these brief spotlights that I got an insight into who he is and why he is; I was even able to feel some of his grief, whereas in some of his more verbose meandering, the connection was lost. Two or three passages stick out in particular and I truly wish more of the book had operated along those lines--the potential for more existed, it just got lost on the oceanic tide of ill-expressed verbal vomiting. Thomas is no Faulkner. And yet, I still found myself drawn to the narrator and the secondary characters in a way I hadn't anticipated after finishing the second half of the book. I definitely enjoyed the final third of the book more than any other. I'm not sure what this means. I'll await more before I pass any real judgment on the talents of Mr. Thomas.
September 2, 2016
I feel like I'm giving up more books than actually finishing them. And I really wanted to like this book because it's something that I've been looking for - a contemporary African American novel. And there are familiar themes like interracial relationships, colorism, becoming disillusion with the American Dream and all that jazz. But this book is a mess. Even after 100 pages, I couldn't make sense of characterisation, plot, timeline, anything. I'm just flipping the pages to finish up, rather than following the story because there is no story. Thomas could write and when it works, his prose is beautiful. But I feel like his beautiful prose only serves a few scenes without any thing to tie up between those scenes to make the story flow. There are moments when I couldn't tell who's speaking in a dialogue! The characters are also one dimensional, used as a mouthpiece for different issues. I think his editor share some of the blame here. Reading this book only makes me wish this was written in a non-fiction essay form instead. It's obvious that the author is fixated with "isms" so why bother with creating a fictional set up? Maybe in 2006, black identity issues in the 21st century is still a novel theme. In 2016 though, there's a ton of thinkpieces written by much better writers. Ta-nehisi Coates is a far better alternative here.
January 9, 2012
Michael Thomas has created a narrator so real, that it's hard at times to differentiate fact from fiction. Thomas, like the narrator, is a black writer living in New York City, and both are faced with the challenges of integrating within a white world--as fathers, husbands, and sons. Through Thomas' narrator, I see clearly the struggles faces internally and externally:
"I wonder if I'm too damaged. Baldwin somewhere once wrote about someone who had "a wound that he would never recover from," but I don't remember where...In the margins of the yellow pad I write down titles for the story--unholy trinities: Drunk, Black and Stupid. Black, Broke, and Stupid. Drunk, Black, and Blue."
The infuriating part of the whole story, though, is that the narrator is not stupid. He is incredibly smart, well-read, and able, yet he seems unwilling or incapable of getting his life back on track. At times, I want to shake him, and tell him to stop dwelling on the past and move forward. I understand that he had a lousy childhood; many people did, but rising above this, facing demons and striding past reflects a strength of character that I admire and would have liked to see in this somewhat depressing read.
Still, Thomas is brilliant with words and images, and in creating a character that resonates.
"I wonder if I'm too damaged. Baldwin somewhere once wrote about someone who had "a wound that he would never recover from," but I don't remember where...In the margins of the yellow pad I write down titles for the story--unholy trinities: Drunk, Black and Stupid. Black, Broke, and Stupid. Drunk, Black, and Blue."
The infuriating part of the whole story, though, is that the narrator is not stupid. He is incredibly smart, well-read, and able, yet he seems unwilling or incapable of getting his life back on track. At times, I want to shake him, and tell him to stop dwelling on the past and move forward. I understand that he had a lousy childhood; many people did, but rising above this, facing demons and striding past reflects a strength of character that I admire and would have liked to see in this somewhat depressing read.
Still, Thomas is brilliant with words and images, and in creating a character that resonates.
February 23, 2011
Sometimes I hate this star system of rating books. This book is so intelligent, erudite, philosophical and at times dramatic that I could see myself giving it 5 stars. So why only 3? I just about dsiliked everything about the protagonist. The "man gone down" of the title. A tall and physically imposing Black man, in a very tenous marraige with a White woman and their 3 children, he seems to think of himself as some latter day Walter Mitty. Everything about him is interior dialouge and hopeless dreams. Why so much self examination? Why does the world push events onto him rather than he take some course of action? Its a very long, well written book. You'll search Bartletts for the source of quotations and Wikipedia for the familiar references. The dislike of the main character is purely personal. (I think he finally does beat up one of his many tormentors). There is much to recommend in the book. Especially if your a fan of brainy character driven African-American fiction.
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