Ulrich Krieghund's Reviews > Ironweed

Ironweed by William  Kennedy
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I think a great deal of late about the stars I give to books. It is my voice expressing my simple reflections on a book. Not that my voice matters in the howling wilderness of other voices. It's just that it is the most important voice in the world to me, as it my own.

That said, I wanted to like this novel more than three stars, except I do not care a whit for the protagonist. As a drunken ex-ballplayer, he seems to have very little going for him. The only thing that carries him through life is guilt. Without the guilt of the men he murdered and the accident which took his infant son's life, he would be an empty vessel. Perhaps he would had a decent life after his ballplaying days. Hell, the man did play third base for the Washington Senators, have Walter "Big Train" Johnson for a friend and once tagged out Ty Cobb. Compared to that, I never did shit.

Hounded and haunted by ghosts, Francis drifts from one encounter to the next. He has no plans. He has no future. He only has the past. And the past is mostly the demons he carries with him.

He seems to have two redeeming qualities. One is that he carries himself as a sort of hobo avenger. He takes no shit from anybody and will crack skulls if need be. The second is that despite being absent for many long years he comes to realize that he still has family. And a warm cot.
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Reading Progress

Started Reading
March 19, 2014 – Shelved
March 19, 2014 – Finished Reading

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