Saul Karoo is a memorable creation. He is a successful Hollywood script doctor, a fixer of flawed films. He is fifty, overweight, a heavy drinker and chain smoker. He is at an age when things break down, but he has no health insurance. His separation from his wife, Dinah, has become another form of marriage. His relationship with his son, Billy, a college student, is one of pure avoidance. He cannot free himself from the grip of the powerful producer Jay Cromwell, who wants him to recut the last great film of the legendary director Arthur Houseman and make it more commercial. After seeing the film, Karoo considers refusing the job. But he soon becomes obsessed with Leila Miller, an unknown actress whom he has spotted in a small scene. In fact Karoo becomes convinced that she is the mother of his adopted son, Billy, and he becomes determined to track her down.
Karoo finds Leila in Venice Beach (where she's one of thousands of Hollywood hopefuls), working as a waitress and haunted by the memory of the baby she gave up for adoption. Karoo falls in love with her, and in the grip of his newfound devotion uses every cheap screenwriter's trick to change Houseman's poignant masterpiece into an outrageous comedy that will make Leila a star. And, he plans to unite the long-lost mother and child at the film's premiere. But Billy, not knowing that Leila is his mother, also falls for her and she for him. The triangle ends in an auto accident, with Karoo driving, in which Billy and Leila are killed and the recut film, becomes a huge success. Devastated by the personal disaster he has helped to create, Karoo winds up being hired by Cromwell to transform a journalistic expose of his own tragic machinations into a screenplay.
Steve Tesich has grounded his story in the highly recognizable world of New York in the late-eighties, a milieu of unscrupulous West Coast producers, dry cleaning, divorce and fantasies of escape. Karoo is a haunting, highly human, deliciously realistic novel of decline, fall, and rejuvenation.
Stojan Steve Tesich was a Serbian-American screenwriter, playwright and novelist. He won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay in 1979 for the movie Breaking Away.
His novel Karoo was published posthumously in 1998. Arthur Miller described the novel: "Fascinating—a real satiric invention full of wise outrage.” The novel was a New York Times Notable Book for 1998. Summer Crossing (1982), was also published in a German translation as Ein letzter Sommer and in a French translation as Rencontre d'été.
It's a pity. A pity that Steve Tesich didn't live longer, didn't write more novels. Instead he spent his time writing screenplays or fixing up the screenplays that other people had written poorly. Movies that, whatever their worth, lack the majesty of a novel. A novel like Karoo.
The same thing happened to John Fante. After publishing three little books, three time capsules of forever genius, books that were little because like a grain of sand dropped into a sea they made no splash, he went to Hollywood, a place where they pay you to write or not to write or to rewrite or to renotwrite. A good job for a family man. A bad job for an artist, for a forever maker.
Tsk tsk. That's all I can say. Karoo is nearly perfect. I should have five more Karoos, ten more Karoos to read. But I don't, thanks to Hollywood and it's easy lucre.
Nearly perfect. If I may taunt Tesich's ghost with my opinions and a list of minor grieviences?
The last chapter? The last ten pages of the book? What you see is the apex, the money shot, the big reveal before the fade to black? Cut it. End with the words, And so he began.
And though there are many, many, many brilliant lines and one-liners and turns of phrases, occasionally there are the lazy throways. Lines like couldn't believe her eyes and waited impatiently and she has the audience in the palm of her hand. These just sully the picture, like soot on a window pane. Lose them.
The first chapter? Lose that one, too. Tear it out and tear it up. Make it disappear. It is a tad intimidating and from my vantage point, it is pointless, unlike the rest of the novel, which is as full of points as is one of Seurat's circus scenes.
Somebody search this man's desk, if his desk is still intact. Maybe he left something cooking in there. Maybe it's finally ready to eat. If not, more's the pity.
A pagina 22 dell'edizione Adelphi appena data alle stampe si legge :”...dal momento che la Sesta di Beethoven tuonava dagli amplificatori Bose – ognuno dei quali era grande come una Smart -...“. Ma come, una Smart? Siamo a New York, è il 26 dicembre 1989, sulle pagine dei quotidiani si parla della fine del regime di Ceausescu e l'autore mi piazza una Smart in un salotto? Presenza a dir poco sospetta, anche perché non mi era parso, sino a quel momento, che il narratore stesse raccontando da un tempo più vicino al nostro, un tempo in cui le Smart erano già diffuse negli Stati Uniti (ma, mi chiedevo anche, si sono mai diffuse le Smart a New York?). Senza considerare che il romanzo uscì nel 1998 postumo. Così mi sono detto: facciamo una ricerca. Da quel che ho appurato su wikipedia, parrebbe che i primi prototipi Smart vennero prodotti nel 1996, ad agosto dello stesso anno il marchio Smart venne registrato, mentre il lancio ufficiale avvenne nell'ottobre 1998. Ora Steve Tesich è morto il 1° luglio 1996, ergo non avrebbe mai potuto citare alcuna Smart e paragonarla ad una enorme cassa Bose, perché, ricapitolando, è assai verosimile (per non dire altamente probabile per non dire quasi certo) che di Smart non abbia mai sentito parlare in tutta la sua vita (a meno che non abbia avuto accesso ai disegni dei prototipi poco prima di morire e abbia così deciso di inserire l'atipico elemento nelle primissime pagine del suo romanzo rimasto nel cassetto non si sa bene per quanto tempo. Inverosimile, altamente improbabile, quasi certamente no. Perché avrebbe dovuto farlo, poi? Nessun lettore, tranne i progettisti della Smart e pochi altri, avrebbero colto il riferimento). Allora cerco il testo in originale: “...because Beethoven's Sixth was blasting away through Bose speakers, each the size of an imported subcompact car...”. Eccola lì, dunque, la magagna: la “imported subcompact car” è diventata in traduzione una Smart. Ma vi pare? Ma, dico, scherziamo? Ma che, oh? Stiamo parlando di Adelphi qui, eh!
With this book you will hear (or read rather) the phrase "lost classic", or "shamefully under-read". Both are 100% accurate. The book is so funny that you don't realize how deep you get into the life of Saul Karoo, and by the time you do its too late. The pathos and emotion are so true and odd that the book is going to resonate with you long after you read it. Saul Karoo is a mixture (in all the best ways) of John Self from Martin Amis' "Money" and any of the identity seeking narrators of Paul Auster's novels. And even as I type those words they seem sorely inaccurate. The book is wonderful, plain and simple. Read it.
I needed a couple of days to let this book sit with me before writing anything about it. And in those two days images, ideas, pieces of dialogue from the book have been swimming around in my head.
Author, Steve Tesich, wrote two novels – one called Summer Crossing in 1982 and this, Karoo, published in 1998, two years after his death at only 53. Tesich is best known as a Hollywood scriptwriter, winning an Academy Award for Best Screenplay for the wonderful 1979 film, Breaking Away.
Saul Karoo, the protagonist of this novel, is also a screenwriter. An alcoholic who thinks he can no longer get drunk and a loving father who is unable to be alone with his son, Karoo has tangled himself up with so many complex, knotty lies that he is completely self-deceptive and this makes him a truly great unreliable narrator.
Tesich’s writing flows beautifully; I read the book in three days. The story is gripping and once you become immersed in Karoo’s world and with the people who occupy his world, you’re hooked. I woke up each morning excited knowing that I had this story waiting for me, and on finishing it, I actually said aloud “WOW!” - it’s one of those books.
There's two reasons this book is not underrated. The first person narrator and protagonaist is a profoundly unlikeable, irrational, self-sabotaging emotional cripple. Now, I know that doesn't mean it couldn't be a good book, but the trouble is that the writing is just not good enough to get us on board with him. Compare Saul Karoo with Nabakov's Humbert Humbert and clearly Nabakov's character is much more morally repugnant. However, he still manages to charm and woo the reader far more than Saul Karoo ever does. That's because although there are passages of wit, the writing in this novel doesn't have the sizzle and relentless brilliance of Lolita. The descriptions meander, the action is less than crisp and the same point is laboured too often.
The second reason is that at some point the author loses faith in the power of his irony and drops it, so that the second half of the book becomes too earnest and suffers for it. It's a mistake that Julian Barnes or Martin Amis would never make.
This could be a very good three hundred page book, but it's too long and the author doesn't have the technical ability to realise his ideas.
Saul Karoo is, despite his lack of talent, a successful script doctor. He destroys movies he knows to be masterpieces. He destroys personal relationships. He is vain, cowardly, capricious, and monumentally selfish. He’s stubborn when there’s no reason to be and appallingly weak-willed when there’s every reason to hold the line. Given a choice between the rational and the irrational, he usually chooses the latter and then spends several pages justifying his perverse behaviour to himself. He is a man with every advantage that is nonetheless intent on self-destruction.
In the face of these many flaws, we’re supposed to be carried away by Saul’s wit. But I wasn’t. Sure, Tesich strings words together well, and we find anecdotes and quirky observations in good proportion. But if I’m to laugh at a character as he makes mountains out of molehills, I need to identify with the annoyance he feels towards those molehills. I didn’t. By page 150, I still hadn’t found in Saul a single redeeming feature. If he really was “furiously funny”, I might well forgive him his many flaws, but despite all the gush on my edition’s back cover, his jokes just aren’t that great.
This book was recommended by the novelist Harold jacobson in his weekly column for the Independent on a Saturday some years back . He said 'Drop what ever you are currently reading right away and read Karoo by Steve Tesich'. So I did. And I would recommend you all do the same. An awesome read
Eins der besten Bücher die ich je gelesen habe. Steve Tesich schafft mit Saul Karoo, dem Scriptflicker, eine großartige, den meisten Menschen wohl extrem unsympathische Persönlichkeit, die sich selbst und ihre Umwelt seziert und unverblümt die Welt der Menschlichen Verhaltensweise und deren Absurdität aufschlüsselt. Mich hat die nüchterne Art dabei sehr angesprochen. Sich selbst im Rad der Verlogenheiten und Blendungen völlig klar zu sehen und zu wissen, ich komm hier nicht raus, war meisterlich gezeichnet. Dabei ist das erste Drittel an vielen Stellen unglaublich witzig und grotesk. Die geführten Dialoge und inneren Monologe sind scharfsinnig und bösartig. Das Thema Bedeutungslosigkeit, Glück, Vergebung, Wiedergutmachung und das Motiv spielen eine zentrale Rolle. Dabei steuert die gesamte Geschichte darauf hinaus, dass Saul versucht sein Leben und das seiner Liebsten, wie in einem schlechten Drehbuch zu flicken und das Happy End zu erzwingen. Die letzten Seiten finden sich in einem grandiosen Bild wieder, das für mich zu den bestgelungensten Enden gehört, die mir ein Buch bieten konnte.
A fascinating, disturbing book about a script re-writer who appears to be bent on self-destruction. Tesich paints a picture of a deeply flawed man who drives away those who are close to him...his friends, his wife, and his adopted son. He is rarely a likeable man, although there are times when he evokes sympathy. He had me rooting for him, but knowing the outcome would, in all probability, be less than positive.
Lo primero que sorprende de “Karoo” es su historia. No la historia dentro del libro (el argumento), que también, sino su propia historia como libro. Esta novela fue publicada de forma póstuma después de que Steve Tesich muriera en 1996 de un ataque al corazón a la edad de 53 años, después de dos décadas en las que sus escritos cosecharon notables éxitos tanto en el campo del teatro como en el del cine. “Karoo” estaba destinada a ser la gran novela de Tesich, quien sólo había publicado anteriormente otro libro, “Summer Crossing“, en el lejano año 1982; y, de hecho, “Karoo” fue elegida por el New York Times como uno de los libros más notables de 1998, lo que tristemente no consiguió impedir que la novela desfayeciera adormilada injustamente en el olvido colectivo… Hasta que en el año 2004, una edición de bolsillo con nueva introducción de E.L. Doctorow sacó a “Karoo” del olvido, a lo que ayudó que se publicara por primera vez en Alemania y en Francia, donde se convirtió en un best seller inmediato. De ahí sólo va un paso a empezar a hablar de una obra de culto que atrapa a la perfección la conjura de los necios que otros grandes autores se dedicaron a retratar en el siglo XX. Y otro paso hasta que Seix Barral toma la feliz decisión de publicar el libro de Steve Tesich en nuestro país.
Lo segundo que sorprende de “Karoo” es su historia. Y esta vez, claro está, ya estoy hablando de la historia dentro del libro. Como ya he dejado caer más arriba, es imposible no pensar en otros grandes sátiros de la literatura del último siglo como Ignatius J. Reilly (“La Conjura de los Necios“, de John Kennedy Toole) o Wilt (“Wilt” de Tom Sharpe) en cuanto te topas con el personaje de Saul Karoo: la novela se abre con una fiesta donde alternan la élite económica y la élite cultural y donde todo el mundo se está familiarizando con la pronunciación correcta de los diversos cargos del gobierno de Ceaucescu. Corre el año 1991. Es esta una fiesta en la que corre el alcohol y en la que Saul está bebiendo como si no hubiera un mañana, como suele hacer en este tipo de eventos sociales. El problema es que, de un tiempo a esta parte, a Karoo no le afecta el alcohol: puede beber todo lo que quiera y ni un simple mareo se le sube a la cabeza. Ya ha perdido la esperanza de que la gente le crea: cuanto más dice que no está borracho, más se lo toman sus conocidos como “ya está Karoo borracho otro vez diciendo que no está borracho“.
El pez que se muerde la cola, sí, pero también una sublime introducción por parte de Tesich en el maravilloso y laberíntico mundo de la mentira, que viene a ser uno de los dos grandes rasgos característicos del protagonista de “Karoo“: el mismo Saul reconoce en todo momento que la mentira es su caldo de cultivo, que es su código de lenguaje como en otro momento histórico lo fueron para muchos otros los mitos o las leyendas. En otro momento del libro, Karoo se encuentra ante uno de esos momentos que todos hemos vivido: saber que alguien te está mintiendo deliberadamente (en este caso, es un taxista que le dice que no fume en su vehículo porque tiene asma, cuando salta a la vista que la enfermedad crónica es una excusa para no tener que aguantar el humo ajeno). Saul, en vez de reaccionar con enfado, simple y llanamente reconoce a un compañero mentiroso, lo disfruta, lo goza, y entra en el juego por completo, preguntándole por su enfermedad, inventándose datos de su propia biografía para mostrarse cordial y cercano al conductor. Al fin y al cabo, el oficio del protagonista consiste en “maquillar” los guiones cinematográficos que le pasan desde diferentes productoras para ser “arreglados” (es decir, para ser “convertidos en algo más comercial y más al gusto de todos los espectadores“). ¿Existe mayor mentira que el maquillaje? ¿Existe una forma más sólida de tapar la verdad? Porque, al fin y al cabo, la mentira es mentira en relación a su contraste con la verdad, su concepto antitético que, tal y como confirma Saul, no suscita ningún tipo de confianza: ”Me vuelve a a dar la impresión de que la verdad ha perdido su poder, o el poder que tuvo alguna vez, para describir la condición humana. Lo único capaz de revelar lo que somos son las mentiras que contamos“.
El segundo rasgo de personalidad que define a Saul Karoo (y, con él, a sus congéneres urbanitas, modernos, cultos) es una necesidad obscena de vivir en público. El protagonista es incapaz de interactuar con su ex-mujer y su hijo a no ser que lo haga con todo un conjunto de personas a su alrededor, con un público para el que actuar, ante el que ejecutar sus dramas y miserias y sin los que tales dramas y miserias no existirían. Y no es que Tesich esté hablándonos aquí de la necesidad de la existencia de “el otro” para definirnos a nosotros, sino que más bien pone en juego un pánico a la intimidad, a las cargas de realidad que puede conllevar la verdadera intimidad y que añaden demasiada complejidad a una existencia moderna ya demasiado compleja en su exacerbación de la individualidad. Pero aquí está también lo sublime de “Karoo“: tras superar el corazón del libro, apuntalado sobre unos trágicos sucesos que cambian por completo la orografía del relato, esta necesidad de vivir en público que hasta el momento había sido motivo de chascarrillo se convierte en algo real, hiriente y demasiado patético como para no resultar trágico. Tras la muerte de ciertos seres queridos, un perturbado Saul se lanza a las cabinas de teléfono públicas para hacer ver que está hablando con esos difuntos: como si el público que antes le servía de coartada para huir de la intimidad ahora, en un marco emocional totalmente contrario, le sirva más bien para mantener una ilusión de intimidad inexistente. El pez ha dejado de morderse la cola.
Esa es la belleza magistral y deslumbrante de “Karoo“: que no se queda en la ironía, sino que opta por convulsionarse, mutar, romperse a sí mismo los huesos para poder circular por aros de circo hacia espectáculos mucho mayores que la literatura como sátira de la modernidad. Justo después del mencionado corazón de la novela, hay otro cambio igual de impactante: si, hasta ese momento, la historia de Karoo la leíamos en primera persona, a partir de la amnesia transitoria causada por el accidente accederemos al argumento en tercera persona. Este tramo coincide con una disertación subyugante en la que Tesich habla de cómo, al nacer, el amor a nuestro alrededor nos hace creer que somos héroes que merecemos narrar nuestra propia vida en primera persona hasta que la realidad se impone, la rutina pone trabas a las ruedas de nuestro avanzar y acabamos sucumbiendo a la evidencia de que nuestra vida es como la de los que nos rodean, tan gris como una tercera persona nada heroica. La identidad de Karoo ha empezado a resquebrajarse, y ya no será capaz de volver a recomponer las piezas de su propia personalidad. Tampoco es que el personaje lo pretenda: una vez la realidad se filtra en su existencia por la vía de la tragedia, Karoo vislumbra el patetismo de su propia vida narrada en tercera persona.
Y, cuando el lector crea que Tesich ha alcanzado el grado máximo de magnanimidad literaria con este cambio de paradigma, las últimas páginas subliman la lectura hasta un nivel pocas veces vislumbrado en las letras de las últimas décadas. En las últimas escenas, un productor despiadado le propone a Saul escribir su propia historia: la mencionada tragedia, el mentado accidente, son pura carne de telenovela, y si alguien debe escribir ese guión es el propio Karoo. La idea abochorna silenciosamente a este nuevo hombre que, sin embargo, opta por un punto y final triste pero verdaderamente heroico: justo antes del grand finale, justo cuando Saul podría escribir su propia historia, decide hacer lo que no ha hecho en el resto del libro. Decide crear. Decide dejar de mentir sobre la verdad ajena y se predispone a crear su propia verdad, aunque sea tan efímera como la memoria de alguien a punto de morir. Una verdad efímera y bellísima como una historia de ficción que, partiendo del mito de Ulises y de la búsqueda de Dios, acaba haciendo lo que todos los buenos practicantes de ficción literaria han hecho en la historia de este medio: trenzar su propia biografía con una historia de pura fantasía hasta el nivel de que ambas queden completamente irreconocibles. De esta forma, Saul Karoo escribe su propia obra maestra. De esta forma, Steve Tesich escribe su propia obra maestra.
Probably one of the best examples of a book that I should have given up on rather than sticking with, as in reading it I've talked myself into the fact that I'm in a reading slump. Fawned over by three guests on a radio show and by an in person book club member that I was talking to, I thought that I would get through this novel in days- three weeks later I finally finished and the greatest emotion I feel is relief. Hopefully lesson learned for the future...
Contrary to popular belief, works featuring asshole protagonists can be enjoyable if made right. To me, it's always a treat finding a narrative with a charming bad fella. And Karoo is just the perfect example of such an idea being done well.
It's a simultaneously fun and tragic adventure of a deranged man, straying further and further from the right path. The way he perceives his vices presenting them as "diseases," lying both to himself and the reader; applying his work as a script hack to his own life, is amazing. Many times throughout the read, I couldn't help laughing out loud, for even though Karoo was an asshole, he surely was a charismatic one. There is a moral, too, about the destructive nature of such life and how important it is to stay human.
I had a great time with the book. Sure, the main storyline was predictable at times, but it was redeemed by the narrative twist it led to in the last Part. A strong recommendation.
An incredible book with an excellently-realised voice. Saul is reminiscent of Ford's Sportswriter or Heller's Bob Slocum, in that he is an old/middle-aged man in a crisis of his family and his career.
The narrative voice is witty, confident and in many ways emotionally and psychologically astute - ie his readings of the power-exchange during conversations with his wife Dianah, friend Guido and producer Cromwell are so well-observed and provide real insight and gravitas to the narrative eye. But at the same time Saul is totally emotionally unavailable (he rationalises that lying is the most honest thing, etc) and psychologically blind (causing the great tragedy of the novel). Like the later third-person narrator says, he's a victim of his own hyper-advanced brain. This is a good reading for men in male fiction: witty, eloquent and psychologically observant, but essentially immature and foiled by their own mental internalising.
The success of the novel is that it touches on so many 'themes', with something to say about all. The theme of writing (and specifically narrative and storytelling in modern media, film, etc) is dealt with expertly through Saul's rewriting job; in the end when his story becomes a 'more true' book itself it becomes literally a matter of life and death. The issue of love (mainly familial) is spoken about most profoundly and it's Saul's inability to give or receive love that undoes him.
The tone actually varies a lot, between the low comedy of the movie-industry scenes, to the dark tragi-comedy of family drama, to some really high-register philosophical passages on the nature of life and love. The most affecting passages for me were Part 5 Chapter 2, where the narrative voice runs through a human life (Saul's, but also anyone's) as a failed epic narrative, which begins epically in childhood and then is compromised on and "come to terms with" in adulthood. Then the final passage as Saul dies and revises in his mind the screenplay he never wrote, Ulysses in Space, is quite mind-blowing - it's these pieces that add the layers of meaning and interpretation to the whole story (eg the confluence of three rivers).
There's so much to say about this novel, and it will definitely benefit from more readings.
Quand nous faisons la connaissance de Karoo, il exerce une profession parasitaire dans le milieu du cinéma, il est un père évitant et irresponsable, et semble s'ingénier à coller à l'image de type décevant et pas fiable que sa femme, de laquelle il est séparée, lui renvoie. Il nous bassine avec son problème du moment, une incapacité à ressentir l'ivresse, quelle que soit la quantité d'alcool ingérée, et on espère fortement qu'il va être touché par une sorte de grâce, parce que la perspective de passer 600pages avec le personnage est aussi peu motivante que celle d'effectuer un long trajet en train dans le compartiment d'un malotru. ça finit par arriver ou à peu près : il rencontre la mère biologique de son fils adoptif, et du coup, renoue avec ce dernier. Mais les deux, qui ignorent la réalité de la situation, se mettent à fricoter ensemble (l'auteur nous le donne assez lourdement à comprendre) et cette situation digne d'une tragédie grecque trouve sa résolution dans... mais c'est bien sûr !! un accident de voiture, forme moderne du fatum. Karoo ne survit que pour apprendre, scoop !! que la société actuelle fait de tout, même des grands malheurs, des produits commerciaux. Ce roman, qui a eu un réel succès et m'avait été recommandé par une personne dont j'estime le goût, ne m'a pas plu. Il ne décroche péniblement sa deuxième étoile qu'au bénéfice du scénario d'un moderne "Ulysse" que notre héros élabore alors qu'il est en train de mourir d'une hémorragie dans les toilettes... Ses seuls apports positifs : m'avoir donné la petite satisfaction de deviner que sous le pseudonyme du "ponte" du cinéma Arthur Houseman, se cache Robert Altman, d'autant qu'il est surnommé "le vieil homme" ; m'avoir fait percevoir, au travers des griefs adressés par son ex à Karoo, que les femmes passent la première partie de leur vie affective à idéaliser les hommes, et la seconde à leur reprocher de ne pas avoir été à la hauteur par rapport à cette idéalisation ; la troisième, c'est de savoir que ce livre poursuit sa carrière à la réception de l'hôtel où j'ai passé ces magnifiques vacances en Grèce. Bon, et maintenant je lis les Trois Mousquetaires...
It’s powerful, it’s brilliant and beautifully written. The character of Saul Karoo is so interesting: we despise him and his behaviour towards other, he represent everything that is wrong with human nature. But I think that’s what made him the most human of all the characters, because he embrace it so much. His self awareness is ridiculously funny and we are so busy being entertained by him and his stupid actions that we never see the tragedy coming.
I love how the author uses the cinema industry (which he is originally part of) that he consider fake and shallow to really go deep into meaningful issues like what it means to love others, society in general, and mostly the human nature.
The fact that he suddenly died a few days after finishing his work and never got to see how successful it got, after years of only writing scenarios for Hollywood, resonate so much with his book that it makes it a double tragedy.
If I had one bad thing to say about this book would be the ending. I wish he kept it more simple for a more tragic effect.
This is truly an amazing book and one of my favorites !
This a book readers seem to love or hate. Perhaps it's because the protagonist is one easy to either love or hate. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I warmed to Karoo. Yes he can be mercenary and self-serving at times, but has a kind of blase charm in the way he juggles the difficult circumstances of his life (whether he creates them or has them thrust upon him.) Though the ending - like Karoo's life - is bittersweet (if not a bit grim), I ended up loving the reading of this story overall. It is a pity this was the author's last work.
Very well written. Tesich introduces you to the central character who is an interesting mix of successful mainstream and bohemian. Without spoiling the plot your attitude changes towards this character as a drama-at-a-distance unfolds. And yes, as it happens you're right at the heart of it. Well investing in early scene setting to get to know the central character
Je sais, parce que je connais Guido, qu'il n'y a eu aucun coup de téléphone de ce genre, mais le fait de le savoir ne m'empêche pas d'être ému par son mensonge. Je trouve que ce besoin d'inventer un tel coup de fil est même plus émouvant que s'il avait réellement eu lieu comme il le raconte. La vérité, me semble-t-il une fois encore, a perdu le pouvoir, du moins le pouvoir qu'elle avait, de décrire la condition humaine.
Maintenant ce sont les mensonges que nous racontons qui, seuls, peuvent révéler qui nous sommes."
Avant tout, un grand merci à Babelio, aux éditions Monsieur Toussaint Louverture et Audiolib pour mon tout premier livre audio. Une première expérience qui m'a non seulement offert un livre excellent, mais aussi une autre expérience et une réflexion sur le processus de lecture. Difficile de rentrer dans un récit venant d'une autre voix que celle, intérieure, qui m'accompagne au fil des livres. Difficile d'apprécier, au départ, une voix plutôt monotone et presque désagréable par sa résignation. Mais au fil de la découverte, Thibault de Montalembert séduit sans mal un ou deux heures d'écoute. Seul véritable inconvénient du livre audio, la demande plus importante de temps (2 semaines, alors que la lecture aurait été de 2 à 3 jours tout au plus) de concentration... qui me laisse une impression d'avoir manqué certaines choses. À lire, Karoo! À lire! Et en anglais!
"Karoo" ce sont trois intrigues qui se croisent en un point unique, Saul Karoo, le "Doc", Script Doctor maniant coup à coup à machette et le scalpel. Chaque fil présente la dualité de Karoo, face à son milieu professionnel, face à sa famille, et toujours, face à lui-même. Dans chaque situation, il y a un Saul Karoo personnage public, personnage à part entière qu'il a depuis longtemps construit à coup d'éclats, d'ivresse, de pression sociale, et un "vrai" Saul Karoo, qu'il ressent occasionnellement qui en est réduit à une voix fluette indignée face aux actions du Karoo public.
Écouter/lire Karoo, c'est comme assister à un accident de voiture inévitable, que l'on voit se dérouler dans un ralenti presque douloureux, dans un élan à la fois tragique et comique. Jusqu'à l'instant du crash, il m' été impossible de décider de ma relation à Karoo. Attendrissant? Écoeurant? Mesquin? Naïf? J'ai adoré m'agacer de son incapacité à accepter, admettre son incapacité à prendre ses responsabilités ou, la plupart du temps, à admettre sa responsabilité dans dans la tragi-comédie qu'est sa vie.
Tout étant du point de vue de Karoo, il nous sert son monde et ses relations à sa sauce, lui qui ne fait pas de mal volontairement, mais poussé par l'attente de cet entourage qui lui renvoie une image qui n'est pas, ne cesse-t-il de nous rappeler, le "vrai" Karoo. Les personnages secondaires, sa future ex-femme, son fils adoptif, la mère de celui-ci, sa Némésis Jay Cromwell, producteur hollywoodien commandant la plupart des chirurgies de Saul et qui le fascine, sont tous exposés de manière monochrome. Pas de gris: Karoo semble incapable de leur donner du relief. Chacun a ajouté sa cacahuète à la coupelle de cet ivrogne de Saul public. Mais Saul a lui-même volé la nuance de chacun par son incapacité à nourrir une relation, quelle qu'elle soit, de son apport personnel... il voit soudain le monde qu'il a construit, au départ, pour son entourage, son public, et qui est devenu le sien, peut-être à son insu, s'écrouler de plus en plus vite autour de lui, malgré ses tentatives surréalistes de rétablir un équilibre.
La connaissances du milieu du cinéma que l'auteur apporte au livre par sa propre expérience a de quoi faire réfléchir à ce qui nous arrive dans les yeux, nous humbles membres du public (et nous lecteurs?!). J'ai grincé des dents et ri de cette peinture aux couleurs tantôt acide, tantôt boueuses, du développement d'un film... tous les clichés y sont. Et cet échange de faits d'actualité internationale, à l'aube des années 90, cette surenchère jubilatoire de détails sordides et d'indignation creuse face à la chute soviétique... étrange, déroutant, mais tellement divertissant.
Karoo finit dans une explosion délirante où les fantasmes d'un Karoo déclinant mêlent son désir de création à l'échec du monde du Karoo public et aux échecs du "vrai Karoo". Il se fait enfin face, à son grand mensonge. À travers une dernière vie fantasmée.
This novel desperately needed to have an editor hack away at least half of it. It needs an editor like the great script doctor Karoo to save it from itself.
Is it shallow of me to expect a novel to be entertaining? With just about every page I read, I looked ahead to the many, many pages I still had to read to finish this thing.
Part 1 Imagine that instead of an agoraphobic little creep, Marcel Proust had been a chain-smoking, pant-shitting, lecherous drunk, and you will start to get Karoo and its author, Steve Tesich. The first one hundred pages of exposition and introduction were way too much for my tastes, and I think the story would benefit immensely with at least 150 fewer pages. If you cut out just the parts about Karoo smoking, I’d have my 150 page edit. I get it, he smokes a lot.
Part 2 “I agonized over the unthinkable act I was prepared to commit in order to have a happy ending for Leila and Billy.”
Billy and Leila would have figured out long ago that something was up. All she had to do was ask his age and his birthday to throw up a red flag.
“And so I can’t help but wonder (as we continue our discussion) that if Cromwell is evil, as I know that he is, if he is the most evil man I know, as I know him to be, what, then, does that make me?”
Part 3 I speed-read the last 100 pages or so. I couldn’t wait to be done with it. The end part about Ulysses is just terrible and stupid.
This book was extremely painful for me to read. First nothing really interesting happen in the plot, I totally failed to be interested in this story of adopted child and untalented actress becoming a Hollywood star to be. And second, I understand that - if the plot does not really matter - at least the style should. Indeed it should... but it doesn't. Karoo it a good example of a book that should have been funny but is just not funny at all. So the whole book is a waste of time and paper. Every sentence, every phrase that was really meant to be funny - you can feel what these lines are - just made me more angry about the book that pretend to be much wittier that it really is (in fact it is not at all).
The last 10 pages are pointless, the pages about his mother are boring - they were supposed to be touching I think -, the story of the man that cannot get drunk are irritating, the stories with the concubines is pointless - and poorly written -, every small bit of scenario (there are plenty but they do not add up as 'a scenario') is just lame and miss the plot.
I had no idea on how this book ended on my shelves... and I still don't know.
Un livre extraordinaire ! L'auteur t'emmène exactement où il veut dans tes pensées et puis il change de direction sans pour autant quitter sa propre ligne directrice. On est le spectateur de l'anéantissement de son personnage, Saul, lui-même spectateur de son propre anéantissement,... Il y a des milliers de choses à dire sur ce roman et bien même qu'on les dirait, toute tentative de l'expliquer resterait inexorablement à la surface. Quand j'ai tourné la dernière page, j'ai pensé aux poupées gigognes, les matriochka et je me suis posé la question s'il y avait deux versions de ces poupées russes, l'une s'ouvrant en dernier lieu sur un noyau indivisible et l'autre s'ouvrant en dernier lieu sur le vide. Karoo relève de cette dernière version, mais méfiez-vous de votre interprétation du vide,ou plutôt, non ne vous méfiez pas et lisez ce livre jusqu'aux derniers points de suspension.
Una novela tremenda. Una revelación que surge a modo de paralelismo y que tiene en su final la enseñanza y todo un planteamiento filosófico. A parte de esto, está fantásticamente escrita, con experimentos literarios, como el uso de estilos directos con un narrador omnisciente que, además tienen que ver con las características psicológicas del personaje. En la novela el autor es capaz de describir con normalidad sentimientos y actitudes difíciles, no sólo de describir, sino también de reconocerlas en uno mismo. Por eso el personaje es especial. Aunque es tremenda y demoledora en la trama, merece la pena leerla por lo mucho que puede significar. Además, y aunque pueda parecer una paradoja, es divertida y cuenta con una buena dosis de humor Recomendable. 8/10. Germán
Heartbreaking and hilarious, Karoo offers a glimpse of the "real American tragedy". The lead character, Saul Karoo, the anti-hero in every sense of the word, is both loveable and detestable. Tesich's prose is focused and his observation's of everyday occurences and interactions (with ourselves and with eachother) are frighteningly real. This is as much a novel about self-discovery as it is about self-destruction. Not the fastest read but worth each minute.
Saul Karoo è un genio. E' pigro e ne va fiero, è affettuoso ma solo in pubblico, soffre ma non si lamenta, beve ma non riesce a ubriacarsi. E' uno dei personaggi più profondi, divertenti e incasinati che mi sia mai capitato di scoprire. La sua storia è un'Odissea contemporanea, lui un Ulisse in decadenza ma irresistibile. La trama, il linguaggio, i dialoghi, tutto è assolutamente piacevole e ben calibrato. Libro imperdibile.
En general me ha gustado. Es cierto que el primer tercio del libro se me ha hecho algo pesado y sin demasiada acción, quizás creo que la presentación del propio Karoo es muy extensa, aunque viendo ahora el libro en conjunto, necesaria.
Karoo c'est une gifle littéraire, un romas immense, drôle et bouleversant sur un homme imparfait, donc passionnant. Une histoire percutante, un anti-héros génial comme l'Amérique nous en offre parfois. Si vous aimez la littérature d'outre-Atlantique vous vous devez de le lire !