Commentaires client les plus utiles
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3.0étoiles sur 5
So much for the superman, Jui 2 2001
The hero of Falconer, murder convict Ezekiel Farragut, strikes me as an utterly postmodern man. He lack the primitive valuation of taboo, nor are his actions disciplined by the (early) modern understanding of will. Instead, he succumbs to his desires, most especially his craving for heroin, but also for sex in any form, including homosexual frivolity in the prison. He is a sort of deranged Nietzschean ubermensch, actively disregarding convention and humanity while he at the same time thinks himself a moral man. The plight of Farragut failed to make an impression on me, surely he is a man who deserves to be imprisoned. Even his wife's self-absorbed lamentations evoke sympathy once we fully understand the extent of his depravity and his willingness to set the world on fire if necessary to get his fix. 'Farragut, why is you an addict', asks the guard, and while we understand that Farragut must have lived through a surreal childhood, it still remains that his addiction is mostly the result of his wanting to be an addict, without even trying to live in society on society's terms. The most interesting aspect of this book is that Farragut's complete alienation from society and its norms seem to describe in an exaggerated way the same problems most people struggle with in advanced industrial societies. Society has become complex and fragmented, and many of us are unable to find a life situation where we can handle the meaninglessness and loneliness of it all. We resort to drugs, alcohol, recreational sex, fundamentalist religon or trash tv to escape from the burden of trying to figure it all out. This was my first John Cheever novel, and I was very impressed with the fluidity and elegance of his prose. He seems to have a style which is his own, and it makes for an enjoyable read.
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4.0étoiles sur 5
Picked The Wrong One To Start, Janv. 27 2001
It's difficult to argue that Mr. Cheever is not a writer of deserved renown. His work, "Falconer", is extremely well written and generally critically admired. The subject matter and the eyes belonging to Farragut through which we see this story held little appeal to me. I plan to try another of his books to see if this was the odd book out, or I am the odd reader out.This is a not quite so typical prison story, which appears to be historically based predicated on the time periods and the names of prisons he uses. Why he chose to change them in this work of fiction I found puzzling, as they and there histories are well known even infamous. Farragut has been imprisoned for the crime of Fratricide. His version of the crime, and those related later in the work are so entirely different in detail and degree, the reader may reasonably ask what other events may fall into this category. Farragut's sexuality in and out of prison, his wife's and many of those we meet are discussed at length, and they compete on several levels none very pleasant. It may be that the haze or thread of a variety of addictions from sex to heroin blurs the message of this book. It may be the time he speaks of was so defined by what the Author emphasizes, that you either are absorbed in it, or feel that it is tired. Mr. Cheever did not earn the repeated notice of his skills as a writer and the awards that followed without reason. So in the end it may have been my lack of interest in the self absorbed characters, and pieces of plot I found absurd, that doomed the book for me. Jody and his escape plan is pure farce, and Farragut's final act was also stretching credulity for me. Farragut's wife was the person he should have been imprisoned for harming, I cannot readily remember a more nauseating character. Hopefully just the wrong book picked first, you will have to decide for yourself.
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1.0étoiles sur 5
Falconer-Garbage, Sep 9 2000
Par Un client
I had such high expectations. Sadly, after only 57 pages, I felt the only appropriate place for this book was at the bottom of a litter box and in the trash...hopefully no one else will get their hands on my copy. It's disappointing that so many believe this book to be a worthy work. Or maybe they feel they must like it because someone said they should. I'll stick with Garcia Marquez, Carlos Fuentes, James Joyce, Zora Neal Hurston,....so many GOOD things to read, so little time.
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