Critics

They need always be taken with a  grain of salt.

"[A]n ill-compounded mixture of romance and matter-of-fact. The idea of a connected and collected story has obviously visited and abandoned its writer again and again in the course of composition. The style of his tale is in places disfigured by mad (rather than bad) English; and its catastrophe is hastily, weakly, and obscurely managed".

Got caught up in watching the old movie tonight - brought back memories of College Lit. 101. Today it's considered one of the greatest novels in the English language placing the author among the top rank of American writers.

Any guesses before you click?

Comments

[Phoenix]

Huckleberry Finn?

Okay - I'm going to look...

[Phoenix]

hah... Dang. I didn't even think about that one. Oh well, after I wrote "Huckleberry Finn", it made me wonder whether or not you'd actually sit down and watch that on a Saturday night. :)

It kills me that kids know nothing of the great classics. I read all of Charles Dickens in the 11th grade, and I think it changed my life. I think I learned more from those masterpieces than I have from any course or life-experience. In all empirical events/learning in my life, I have used what I learned about people from Dickens' works, and seldomly have I failed in understanding the 'why' of human nature. (Shakespeare also ranks up there with the human-nature genius.)

*Exception: Dickens did not prepare me for grokking liberal thinking. Or lack of, I should say.

[Fred Beloit]

I cheated and looked. Figured if I wrote Moby Dick you would think I cheated.

[Phoenix]

Fred.

You fart. You know you cheated. Your first thought was "My Friend Flicka". Great movie.

[bloodrage bob]

the fact that the books of trevanian's middle period aren't numbers 1,2,and 3 on the "all-time best" lists just show you how useless critics are. only the 3 best stories from the greatest writer/technician *ever*, is all.

or maybe i just can't stand most 19th century writing. cooper; and trollope; and melville - and dickens, for that matter - could be modern liberal politicians for the way they take, like, frickin' *forever* to get around to saying something.

thusly: "...nell awoke that dew-kissed spring morn and wondered, as she considered whether mrs. witmiss' cries of "passion" arising from mr. witkiss' amorous ministrations being carried to her through the paper-thin walls of mrs. coppersleeves' lodging establishment - for, it must be said, that while mr. witkiss WAS indeed apparently trying to smash mrs. witkiss's head through those same paper-thin walls with his exceptionally vigorous thrusts, ("how shocking!" nell thought to herself as his grunting morphed into mooselike bellows of lust, and the occasional snatch [get your mind out of the gutter, please, this is *victorian* writing at its finest] of old school songs), it must be said that mrs. witkiss' moaning claims that she was being "split in 'arf!!" seemed most unlikely given mr. witkiss' diminutive frame, and remarkably tiny boot size - (nell had many times thought to herself that his feet looked "just like those of a baby! a foulmouthed baby festooned with horrible teeth and muttonchop whiskers!") nell considered whether mrs. witkiss' cries had more to do with her husband's efforts, or the fact that she was undoubtedly hoping to keep him distracted enough to not notice the the fact she'd fritterred away the rent money - a dear 4s.5d., for mrs. coppersleeves establishment was no mere east end flopper - on the brawny lads at the chippendales show. nell then returned to the more pressing matters at hand, and pondered for several moments as to which end of her needed morning ablutions worst? should she reach first for the bottle of gin? or the bedpan?"

thankyaverramush. i'm here all week.

[Phoenix]

oooooooooooooh. BB. Trevanian.

Pardon me whilst I bow low in honor of the best. M e s m e r i z i n g.

[Phoenix]

"Incident at Twenty-Mile"

I think I might have read it in one sitting.

[bloodrage bob]

if you haven't read trevanian's earlier (and better) stuff, phoenix, you're in for a treat: IMHO, his "middle period" books make '20-mile' look like a serial western.

real life; lost love; grand themes disguised as something entirely else....and the best one-paragraph hooks/denouements in the history of literature. ("home....after so many years of wandering.") in order of excellence, they are:
1) the main
2) summer of katya
3) shibumi

now, if you HAVE already read 'em, and don't share my high opinion of these masterworks, well....i've been called an overly opinionated butthole before. one more time won't matter, & reasonable people can disagree, can we not?

if you HAVEN'T, well....you're in for a treat. the absolute best of the absolute best. gotta go: still weak and trembling from foolishly trying to write a semi-authentic victorian paragraph. those guys were TOUGH!

[Phoenix]

BB... Read 'em all. They all knocked me off my feet - writing, story, plot, surprise, edge-of-your-seat surprises.... But his capturing the character: Whoa.

From "Incident at Twenty-Mile" .... Should be required reading for any shrink from sentence one to the ending for psychopathology. If you don't shiver in the beginning about this character, you have no business being in the mental health field.

~~~

"As he slowly dressed, numb-fingered, he considered his situation in Twenty-Mile. So far, things had gone pretty well. He had wormed his way in; now he had to make himself indispensable. During a childhood spent moving from town to town and school to school, he had developed his own technique for gaining admittance into new “gangs,” one based upon his particular gift for role-playing and his particular thirst for respect. It was a two-step system. Step One: break your way through the gang’s tough protective membrane in any way you can : lie, cheat, flatter, fight, amuse...whatever it takes. Step Two: once inside, you show yourself to be friendly, helpful, willing to play by their rules, and the gang will come to accept you, maybe even respect you. He never actually reaped the fruit of these tactics, because every time he started to settle in, his family moved on again. Mr. Delanny had assumed that Matthew’s social ploys were devices for conning the marks; in fact, they were strategies for survival.

After dragging his ma’s genuine animal-bone comb through his wet hair, he went forth to show the Twenty-Mile gang just how accommodating and friendly a man could be.

He found Jeff Calder in the hotel kitchen, cursing the Dayton Imperial stove and batting at the thickening smoke with a rag. Matthew’s sunny “Mornin, sir!” was ignored as the veteran raged against goddamned-useless-sonofabitchin’ stoves in general, and this goddamned-useless-sonofabitch of a goddamned stove in particular! And these new-fangled Diamond “book” matches! Either they don’t strike at all, or the whole book burns up at once...and your goddamned fingers with it!

“Say, now!” Matthew said. “That’s an idea!” He set the flour, baking powder, and corn syrup he had bought at the Mercantile onto the drain board.

“What’s an idea?” Calder growled.

“You were going to try opening that thingamabob - that grating at the bottom. And I think you’re right, Mr. Calder. That just might do ‘er.”

Jeff Calder located the air vent and tapped it open with the lid-lifter, and instantly the fire caught with a soft pop, and started burning so vigorously that it sucked back into itself some of the nearby smoke.

“You got it!” Matthew said with unconcealed admiration.

“Yeah, well...one thing the army teaches a man is how to get things done.

“Thanks for giving me a head start with the stove, sir,” Matthew said in a busy, bustling tone as he took off his jacket. “I’ll take her from here. You said you wanted your breakfast set up at a separate table from Mr. Delanny’s, is that right?”

“Ah-h...well...Yeah, that’s right.”

“You’re the boss. Breakfast will be ready in two shakes. Oh, by the way. Do you like biscuits?”

“Sure.”

“Well, biscuits it’ll be, sir. Just like my ma used to bake.”

[bloodrage bob]

always good to see someone who appreciates magnificent writing, phoenix. it seems we agree trevanian is the *bomb*. but - unlike most other bestseller writers - the guy was FUNNY, too.

le cagot speaks ill of the french:

"...it is astonishing that the germans managed to hold france with so few divisions, considering that everyone who wasn't draining german resources by the clever maneuver of surrendering en masse and making the nazi's feed them was vigorously and bravely engaged in the resistance. is there a village without its place de resistance? but one has to be fair; one has to understand the gallic notion of resistance. any hotelier who overcharged a german was in the resistance. each whore who gave a german soldier the clap was a freedom fighter. all those who obeyed while viciously withholding their cheerful morning 'bonjours' were heroes of liberty!"

hel laughed. "you're being a little hard on the french."

"it is history that is hard on them. i mean real history, not the (frenchy crap history) they teach in their schools. (...) take the particular manifestation of french ridiculousness that makes them attempt to combine their myopic devotion to money with the pursuit of phantom 'glorie'. the same people who dilute their burgundy for modest profit willingly spend millions of francs on the atomic contamination of the pacific ocean in the hope they will be thought to be the technological equals of the americans. they see themselves as the feisty david against the grasping goliath. sadly for their image abroad, the rest of the world views their actions as the ludicrous egotism of the amorous ant climbing a cow's leg and assuring her he will be gentle."

le cagot looked down at the tabletop thoughtfully. "i cannot think of anything further to say about the french just now."

now THAT'S good fancy writin'!!

[Phoenix]

Yay! :) Good stuff. If you want brilliance and funny, read Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin series of the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars. 20 books! Thoroughly genius writing with humor that takes you by surprise. He's magnificent and though he died a couple of years ago, O'Brian has a cult-like following all over the world. I have the 20th book, signed by him, but I won't read it. It will mean the 'end', and I can't stand it. But, I will because he's the kind of writer of stories that you have to read twice.

One of my favorite 'spy' books: "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" by LeCarre. shew!

"...the world views their actions as the ludicrous egotism of the amorous ant climbing a cow's leg and assuring her he will be gentle." tee hee... :)