C [Deckle Edge] [Hardcover]

I actively sought out Tom McCarthy's "C" based on the reputation of his previous work "Remainder" as well as the initial rapturous reviews from England. I truly expected to love "C!" But while I admired the effort and I found the middle section enthralling, ultimately I was left a little cold. More of a postmodern experiment than a conventional novel, McCarthy's work will certainly fire the synapses of your brain--but as an intellectual and literary exercise, I'm not sure that it will touch your heart. To be fair, I don't think it was McCarthy's intention to go anywhere near the territory of "heart touching," but I just wanted to offer up a alternate viewpoint (and I'm sure I'll be crucified for it--start your negative campaign now) for more casual readers.

"C" is not particularly concerned with conventional narrative or characterizations. In fact, Serge Carrefax--the central character--is a blank slate cypher who observes the world more than he understands it. One of the things I most enjoyed about "C" is that McCarthy oftentimes gives us clues about important aspects of Serge's life that he is completely oblivious of--and thus, these things never get discussed or developed in any tangible way. It's an ingenious device that both amused me but kept the novel aloof. "C" follows Serge from birth, through his relationship with his troubled sister, to a recuperative health spa, to his experiences in the war, to his homecoming as an adult, to his sojourn to Egypt. Each section is relatively stand-alone, developing on its own topics and ideas. Once Serge leaves home to start discovering the world, I started getting into the rhythm and cadence of McCarthy's prose and I was fully hooked until the final sequence in Egypt. Instead of reaffirming what I had admired about the book, its denseness only served to distance me from it irrevocably.

Much discussion has centered around the meaning of the title "C" as it references many plot points or themes within the work. I think that it is fair to say that connectivity and communication are developed throughout "C" as central thesis points, and as such, it's odd that I'd end up feeling curiously detached at the novel's conclusion. Once again, there is much ambition and intelligence at work here and, in no way, would I discourage someone who is intrigued by this work to avoid it. But know what you're getting into! I have no doubt that "C" will continue to be embraced--I just wanted to counter with my opinion that "C" was ultimately easier for me to admire than it was to love.

C is not so much as story as a series of eclectic snapshots of the life of Serge Carrefax. These snapshots seem to include tidbits of information about things the author surely must be interested in. Things like, the making of silk, teaching the deaf to speak (and perform Greek tragedies), the mechanics of WWI, wireless communications (i.e. Marconi, not the iPhone), Egypt, etc. There's a lot of scientific explanation and detail, which for the most part was very interesting. If feels, to me, a bit like Serge was created so the author had a vehicle to express his varied interests. I'm not criticizing that, by the way, just expressing an opinion.

It's certainly well written. There are moments of sheer brilliance and perfection.

There's a part during the war where Serge's leader is telling him that a mission is being undertaken, by "tunnelers" to lay explosives underneath enemy trenches. They are concerned that the Germans are perhaps performing the same task even further down.

McCarthy writes:

"Serge becomes fascinated with these tunnelers, these moles. He pictures their noses twitching as they alternatively dig and strap on stethoscopes that, pressing to the ground, they listen through for sounds of netherer moles undermining their undermining. If they did hear them doing this, he tells himself, then they could dig an even lower tunnel, undermine the under-undermining: on and on forever, or at least for as long as the volume and mass of the globe allowed it--until the earth gave over to a molten core, or, bypassing this, they emerged in Australia to find there was no war there ...."

A strange book, you get hints of character's eccentricity, but I'm not sure you ever fully know any of the characters. Even Serge. Also, a number of characters are unceremoniously dumped, never to be heard from again. That's part of the "snapshot" thing, but it left me wondering, but what about...? There's some great humor in this book, but no emotion. Which I find so odd, because there are parts which would ordinarily be emotional. There were times I was enthralled and times not so much. Oddly (for me), I found the war parts the most engaging, and the Egyptian part the least so.

A really interesting read.

"C" follows the life of Serge Carrefax. Set in the early part of the twentieth century, the reader encounters Serge at various key moments in his life and each of these is quite fascinating and engrossingly related. It's one of those books that is like Dr Who's Tardis - so much happens that when he recalls an earlier part of his life, I found myself thinking `oh yes, that was in this book too, wasn't it?' The book has been described as post-structuralist but don't let that literary labelling put you off. Yes, it's a complex book that can be read at many levels, (and one which I know I'll come back to), but it's completely readable and not at all `difficult'.

You will probably be wondering what does "C" stand for? Well, so am I and I've finished the book! There are a lot of contenders - perhaps it stands simply for Carrefax, but it could also stand for Communication, as this features throughout the book. C also features at one point as a symbol for a place where it's possible to buy Cocaine. Symbols are another recurring theme. McCarthy likes his recurring themes and images. Or perhaps C stands for something else entirely....

Serge (English father and deaf French mother) is born into a house in rural England that serves both as a silk production factory and a school for the deaf. His father is obsessed with experimental wireless communication. If you start there, it's not too surprising that your life is going to be a little strange - and his early life is filled with cryptic signals of various kinds. But it's all very grounded in reality.

Later, following a personal tragedy, Serge finds himself in an East European spa before the next time we meet him serving in the Air Force as a radio operator in World War One. Although we jump from stage to stage in his life, each one is so perfectly told and beautifully described, there's no discordant sense to the reading experience. The descriptions of what it felt like to be an early aviator in the Great War are frighteningly real. If you enjoyed Sebastian Faulks' Birdsong, then you will find equal terror here above ground. It's here that drugs start to appear as cocaine is used to heighten the eyesight of aviators.

Drugs remain on the scene upon his return to 1920s London and weird communication and signals again re-appear with public seances as bereaved parents seek to contact their lost sons. Finally Serge finds himself again in communication, this time in Egypt.

If this all sounds rather deep or dry, fear not. There's plenty of humour too. Discussing losses to friendly fire and experimental flying during his stationing in France in the War, "Serge, chewing on his omelette, wonders if it's really necessary to fight the Germans after all: they could all just lounge around, each on their own side, dying in random accidents until nobody's left and the war's over by default".

And while set in the early part of the twentieth century, the idea of inventions that are supposed to help, ultimately ending up harming is perhaps one that we have yet to learn from. If the book has a weakness it could be said to be in character development - I never got much of a sense of Serge's character, but this isn't a character-led book.

It's one of those terrific books that reads well but which also stands up to a more critical analysis. It's only 300 or so pages, but reading it, I felt like I'd lived Serge's life. I urge you to read it too.

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