Tinkers [Paperback]

 

 

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It goes without saying that any review is a subjective opinion. It's a -potentially- qualified observation as filtered through the person's experiences and biases. Precision and accuracy aren't exactly guaranteed aspects of the process.

Yes, there are guidelines of sorts...but even these lack any surety.

Which is why divergent opinions are common.

'Tinkers' is a novel that certainly sets itself up to be divergent. If you read the blurbs on the back cover, the consensus is that it's no wonder at all that Paul Harding won the 2010 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for this début. Unfortunately, I can't be part of that consensus...even though I can appreciate what he produced here: great writing (within its intent) yet not a 'great novel'.

For me, a 'great novel' provides an exemplary reading experience. Encompassing notions such as being 'transportive'. 'Illuminating'. 'Thought-provoking', 'elegiacal', 'moving', 'inspiring'...but most of all, 'entertaining'.

'Tinkers', on the whole, was not 'entertaining'. Nor was it, but for rare instances, hardly any of the other descriptives I've provided. (Let me say that Mr. Harding's talents shone best -for me, I'm just saying for me- when he was less purposefully artsy-fartsy and more direct. Less with the 'ephemeral', more being 'genuine'. Indeed, when the author is efficiently direct...especially in a storytelling vein...and not obtuse, when he doesn't faff about, weaving lofty thoughts in the air, the tale shines so much more brightly. Best example of this? The final thirty-or-so pages.)

It is a fine piece of work. Distinct, original...mindful of Life.

But as much as it possesses these attributes, it's also murky, disjointed and a challenge to grasp. I feel the need to make it clear here that I am not a pedestrian reader. I appreciate a challenge, and love it when a writer has the ability to get us to use our mental muscles, tendons and ligaments. But for me, Mr. Harding does not actually accomplish this. Rather, I felt handicapped, burdened by the way he did what he -so capably- did.

Worse, 'Tinkers' regularly brought a particular word to mind, and it's not a nice one when attached to a creative endeavour: 'precious'.

I didn't see the value of ever-shifting tenses and perspectives. (This story is at its core, the near-death ruminations of a man. So from this storyteller's point-of-view, there really only needs to be one of these. Points-of-view. Period.) At the same time, I didn't have a problem with a non-linear approach; the 'here, then there, then over there' style seemed appropriate to the main character's state, so that wasn't an issue. What was an issue, and is always an issue for me when writers insist on it, is the decidedly annoying practice of not using any punctuation where dialogue is concerned. It is perhaps the worst of writerly affectations, and I confess, I have little tolerance for it; totally and entirely unnecessary.

I don't fault Mr. Harding for having written his novel in the way that he did., with being economical and esoteric in mind. In fact, I'm envious of him having done so...and having garnered so illustrious an award as a result. But I do fault critics, reviewers and other writers for being so insistent that those of us for whom 'Tinkers' was not as fulfilling an experience as it was for them, are somehow lacking in some intellectual capacity. Left wanting for brain matter, I suppose.

Because in the end, just as with food, assessing works of fiction is an exercise in subjectivity. (Perhaps, if you will, 'informed subjectivity'.) So those of us who get their greatest enjoyment out of a traditional 'Sunday roast', two different types of meat, a half-dozen vegetables, Yorkshire Pudding, fresh-baked rolls, a nice accompanying wine, a healthy chunk apple cobbler with ice cream for dessert capped by just-brewed coffee should not be derided for being either unwilling or incapable of raising a cheer for a dainty gastronomic repast, a cordon-bleu's multi-course dazzlement, no matter how wonderfully fashioned, no matter how stunning the execution and presentation.

For me, 'Tinkers' would have better pleased me had it been created more with the feast in mind...though I do appreciate that the author accomplished something quite admirable in the economical finger-food he served us. My appetite deserved something more substantive.

In fact, at the risk of entirely enraging those-who-see-this-novel-as-reverently-as-they-do, I'll say this: I'd have much preferred it had it been written as robustly and in a more thorough way (so as to more fittingly honour its characters) as to resemble in presentation 'The Story of Edgar Sawtelle'.

Personal rating: 7/10.

Harding takes being in the moment to a whole new level of writing. The novel unfolds as a series of tableaus alternating between a father and son in the distant past, and the son dying as an old man in the present. The novel is driven not so much by plot as by character development and the writing, which at times is akin to the best of contemporary poetry. A mandatory addition to the required reading list for first year college courses on contemporary American literature.

Truly one of the best in fiction. Not particularly plot driven but a dream. For me it is what a book does best. Evocative, curious, contemplative. A fine writer.

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2.0 out of 5 stars Tinkers
Although it's only 207 pages long, Tinkers took me almost two weeks to read. As other reviewers have mentioned, the story is non-linear and the author avoids using quotation... Read more

Published 4 months ago by M. Yakiwchuk

2.0 out of 5 stars Haven't been able to finish the book
I'm a voracious reader and can usually get through a book in 2-3 days, 1 week max, but after several weeks, can't be bothered finishing this book. Read more

Published 12 months ago by krung

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