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The Long Home
In a literary voice that is both original and powerfully unsettling, William Gay tells the story of Nathan Winer, a young and headstrong Tennessee carpenter who lost his father years ago to a human evil that is greater and closer at hand than any the boy can imagine - until he learns of it first-hand. Gay's remarkable debut novel, The Long Home, is also the story of Amber Rose, a beautiful young woman forced to live beneath that evil who recognizes even as a child that Nathan is her first and last chance at escape. And it is the story of William Tell Oliver, a solitary old man who watches the growing evil from the dark woods and adds to his own weathered guilt by failing to do anything about it. Set in rural Tennessee in the 1940s, The Long Home will bring to mind once again the greatest Southern novelists and will haunt the reader with its sense of solitude , longing, and the deliverance that is always just out of reach.
257 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1999
About the author
William Gay
27 books504 followersWilliam Elbert Gay was the author of the novels Provinces of Night, The Long Home, and Twilight and the short story collection I Hate to See That Evening Sun Go Down. He was the winner of the 1999 William Peden Award and the 1999 James A. Michener Memorial Prize and the recipient of a 2002 Guggenheim Fellowship.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 304 reviews
November 14, 2019
”He held in his hands a human skull. It was impacted with moss and mud, a salamander curled in an eyesocket, periwinkles clinging like leeches to the worn bone. Bright shards of moss clung to the cranium like perverse green hair. He turned it in his hands. A chunk of the occipital bone had been blown away seemingly by some internal force, the brain itself exploding and breaking the confines of the skull. He turned it again so that it seemed to mock him, its jaws locked in a mirthless grin, the two gold teeth fey and winsome among the slime and lichens.”
Who did this skull belong to? You’ll have to read the book to find out.
Everybody was so busy trying to feed their families and keep a roof over their heads they could spare little time over worrying what a man like Dallas Hardin might be up to. He took over Thomas Hovington’s farm while he was stoved up with some illness that bent his spine like it was a piece of black licorice. Hardin didn’t need a magical staff or the will of God to part the legs of Hovington’s wife, Pearl. She came readily to the task. Hardin also took over the moonshine business, as well.
People talked, sure, but who was going to do anything about it? Hardin was rough cut, like a knot infested piece of yellow pine. ”Hardin’s vulpine face was leaner and more cunning than ever, the cold yellow eyes more reptilian. Or sharklike, perhaps, lifeless and blank save a perpetual look of avarice. And he went through life the way a shark feeds, taking into its belly anything that attracts its attention, sucking it into the hot maw of darkness and drawing nourishment from that which contained it, expelling what did not.”
He was a predator who took what he wanted just to see what someone else would do to keep it. If he was having an issue with a neighbor, everyone was just happy he didn’t have an issue with them. They took wide turns when they walked around Dallas Hardin. Most people were pretty simple in this rural area of Tennessee in the 1940s. William Tell Oliver, who had observed Hardin’s business and personal practices from the shadows among the trees, described a typical person populating this region of Tennessee. ”She had no interest in anything that happened in a book, on the radio, in France or Washington, D.C. Nothing that was not readily applicable to her life. If you can’t eat it, fuck it, or bust it up for stovewood, she’s got no use for it.
Higher ideals, in other words, were not of interest, and it made these people easy to manipulate and even easier to buffalo. Oliver had reached a point in life where he might have spent time pondering the cosmos, but really he just wanted to be left alone to raise his goats and enjoy the peacefulness of a simple existence. When the lad Nathan Winer, to whom Oliver was partial, went to work for Dallas Hardin building a honky tonk that could be stocked with whores and booze, Oliver had a feeling in the marrow of his bones that, sooner or later, somebody was going to have to do something about Dallas.
Thomas Hovington had a daughter named Amber Rose who was about Nathan’s age. Nathan had never seen anything as saucy and pretty as her, with her nice angles and soft curves. Dallas Hardin had been raising her like a fatted calf, with a mind that someday she would be his. Desire and perversion were twined in a hillbilly tango as Nathan and Dallas squared off. Boy against shark. Nathan had been slinging a hammer all summer, and his forearms were like pieces of molten iron. In a fair fight, Nathan would sling Dallas around like a dry corn stalk and smash him to pieces, but Dallas didn’t fight like that. He’d stack the deck and come at you from your blindside, with darkness slung around his shoulders.
Besides Dallas was focused on what he wanted.
Nathan was understandably distracted.
”The wind sucked through the cracks by the windows and told of a world gone vacant, no one left save these two. He thought of his hands on her throat, of his weight bearing down on her, forcing her legs apart with a knee, sliding himself into her. Dark and nameless specters bore their visions through his mind. He thought of her supine in a shallow grave, her green eyes and the sullen pout of her mouth impacted with earth, the cones of her breasts hard and white as ivory, ice crystals frozen in the red hair under her belly. The rains of winter seeping into her flesh, the seeds of springs sprouting in the cavities of her body.
‘Why you lookin at me like that?’
‘I ain’t.’”
He shore is.
A woman, even if she was a mere girl, would drive a man, especially one still shaking off the last vestiges of boyhood, crazy.
William Tell Oliver could see it all playing out like an old song that always ends the same way. Someone was going to have to do something, and he couldn’t deny that the someone, who was going to have to do something,… was him. ”He knew that the world was wide in its turnings and it was fraught with dark alleyways and pastoral footpaths down which peril lurked with a patience rivaling that of the very old.”
William Gay has some intense dark eyes, like holes in snow cleaved by icicles.
Simply amazing writing, so lyrical it will make your teeth ache, like you just took a drink of melted snow. I had so many notes of so many great passages that I had a difficult time deciding what had to be shared with my faithful, reading audience and what would have to be found by them when they read the book themselves. I’ve heard wonderful things about William Gay over the years and bought his first two books with his signature adorning the title pages. I’m so glad I did because he departed this world in 2012, taking the rest of those wonderful, electric phrases and exploding, earthy thoughts, which he would have shared with us,... to his grave. This book certainly qualifies as Hillbilly Noir with some soaring Mozart moments.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
Who did this skull belong to? You’ll have to read the book to find out.
Everybody was so busy trying to feed their families and keep a roof over their heads they could spare little time over worrying what a man like Dallas Hardin might be up to. He took over Thomas Hovington’s farm while he was stoved up with some illness that bent his spine like it was a piece of black licorice. Hardin didn’t need a magical staff or the will of God to part the legs of Hovington’s wife, Pearl. She came readily to the task. Hardin also took over the moonshine business, as well.
People talked, sure, but who was going to do anything about it? Hardin was rough cut, like a knot infested piece of yellow pine. ”Hardin’s vulpine face was leaner and more cunning than ever, the cold yellow eyes more reptilian. Or sharklike, perhaps, lifeless and blank save a perpetual look of avarice. And he went through life the way a shark feeds, taking into its belly anything that attracts its attention, sucking it into the hot maw of darkness and drawing nourishment from that which contained it, expelling what did not.”
He was a predator who took what he wanted just to see what someone else would do to keep it. If he was having an issue with a neighbor, everyone was just happy he didn’t have an issue with them. They took wide turns when they walked around Dallas Hardin. Most people were pretty simple in this rural area of Tennessee in the 1940s. William Tell Oliver, who had observed Hardin’s business and personal practices from the shadows among the trees, described a typical person populating this region of Tennessee. ”She had no interest in anything that happened in a book, on the radio, in France or Washington, D.C. Nothing that was not readily applicable to her life. If you can’t eat it, fuck it, or bust it up for stovewood, she’s got no use for it.
Higher ideals, in other words, were not of interest, and it made these people easy to manipulate and even easier to buffalo. Oliver had reached a point in life where he might have spent time pondering the cosmos, but really he just wanted to be left alone to raise his goats and enjoy the peacefulness of a simple existence. When the lad Nathan Winer, to whom Oliver was partial, went to work for Dallas Hardin building a honky tonk that could be stocked with whores and booze, Oliver had a feeling in the marrow of his bones that, sooner or later, somebody was going to have to do something about Dallas.
Thomas Hovington had a daughter named Amber Rose who was about Nathan’s age. Nathan had never seen anything as saucy and pretty as her, with her nice angles and soft curves. Dallas Hardin had been raising her like a fatted calf, with a mind that someday she would be his. Desire and perversion were twined in a hillbilly tango as Nathan and Dallas squared off. Boy against shark. Nathan had been slinging a hammer all summer, and his forearms were like pieces of molten iron. In a fair fight, Nathan would sling Dallas around like a dry corn stalk and smash him to pieces, but Dallas didn’t fight like that. He’d stack the deck and come at you from your blindside, with darkness slung around his shoulders.
Besides Dallas was focused on what he wanted.
Nathan was understandably distracted.
”The wind sucked through the cracks by the windows and told of a world gone vacant, no one left save these two. He thought of his hands on her throat, of his weight bearing down on her, forcing her legs apart with a knee, sliding himself into her. Dark and nameless specters bore their visions through his mind. He thought of her supine in a shallow grave, her green eyes and the sullen pout of her mouth impacted with earth, the cones of her breasts hard and white as ivory, ice crystals frozen in the red hair under her belly. The rains of winter seeping into her flesh, the seeds of springs sprouting in the cavities of her body.
‘Why you lookin at me like that?’
‘I ain’t.’”
He shore is.
A woman, even if she was a mere girl, would drive a man, especially one still shaking off the last vestiges of boyhood, crazy.
William Tell Oliver could see it all playing out like an old song that always ends the same way. Someone was going to have to do something, and he couldn’t deny that the someone, who was going to have to do something,… was him. ”He knew that the world was wide in its turnings and it was fraught with dark alleyways and pastoral footpaths down which peril lurked with a patience rivaling that of the very old.”
William Gay has some intense dark eyes, like holes in snow cleaved by icicles.
Simply amazing writing, so lyrical it will make your teeth ache, like you just took a drink of melted snow. I had so many notes of so many great passages that I had a difficult time deciding what had to be shared with my faithful, reading audience and what would have to be found by them when they read the book themselves. I’ve heard wonderful things about William Gay over the years and bought his first two books with his signature adorning the title pages. I’m so glad I did because he departed this world in 2012, taking the rest of those wonderful, electric phrases and exploding, earthy thoughts, which he would have shared with us,... to his grave. This book certainly qualifies as Hillbilly Noir with some soaring Mozart moments.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
February 24, 2019
Dark, brooding, meandering slice of life tale from deep in the hills of Tennessee, 1940's-style. From chicken thievery to blatant skullduggery, bootleggers, scofflaws, and evil bullies ride rampant. Hear the scolding of the jays as you enter the woods. Have your coffee topped off by a bentlegged waitress. And for the sake of all that is holy, stay out of Dallas Hardin's notice and reach.
As an aside, I noticed a definite predilection for last names beginning with the letter "H" - Hardin, Hodges, Hovington, Huggins, Hull, Humphries. Hrumph! Doesn't really matter, I reckon.
This was William Gay's debut novel, penned when he was 57 years old. Another reviewer mentioned that she wishes he had started writing earlier or had lived longer. I couldn't agree more. For those of you who dote on Southern gothic and who don't mind getting grit between your teeth, this one will serve up a goodly dose of it.
As an aside, I noticed a definite predilection for last names beginning with the letter "H" - Hardin, Hodges, Hovington, Huggins, Hull, Humphries. Hrumph! Doesn't really matter, I reckon.
This was William Gay's debut novel, penned when he was 57 years old. Another reviewer mentioned that she wishes he had started writing earlier or had lived longer. I couldn't agree more. For those of you who dote on Southern gothic and who don't mind getting grit between your teeth, this one will serve up a goodly dose of it.
June 28, 2014
I’m filled with that rare sense of pure reading joy at being deepened, improved and highly entertained by a great novel. This is a story, a real one, but I had to force myself to slow it down since every single word, every sentence, and the arrangement are something to savor and turn over and over. But first, how I got here: Haphazardly I started communicating with a virtual stranger online about books we had in common. He suggested William Gay, new to me, and I read Twighlight which I loved. Then I found Goodreads and those with similar tastes as mine wrote glowing reviews, almost without exception, of this little known (I think) author. So I added him to my short list of authors who I plan to read from earliest to last. The Long Home is Gay’s first, and I am beyond words.
What I don’t like about this book: Nothing, nada, nil.
What I like:
1. The author is unknown, mysterious, not widely recognized (my joy in being on the “in”).
2. The author seems ordinary, quiet, unglamorous and committed to great writing for its own sake. I don’t want to know too much about him as a person yet, I want to absorb his body of art.
3. The story is set in remote hills, in a time before I was born (I can learn from the days of my father and my father’s father of humble yet noble character).
4. The writing is about nature, the feeling of the earth, the sky, the seasons and the emotions they bring forth about time passing and the permanence of all life and our temporal place on earth.
5. The characters are old, young, and all between and authentically drawn in their thoughts and their language and thoughts. They are original, surprising, not formulaic or taken from preceding styles.
6. The story is dramatic; it has a beginning and end and conflicts aplenty. I could not imagine how it would turn out and I cared deeply about the people. It was not neat, it had resolution for some and chaos for others. The final outcome is left open for some, yet the main character meets his moments of revelation and gives finality to the human theatre and a dramatic closure.
7. The language is unique for its time and place, and how a modern writer can recreate that is magic and all but incomprehensible to the reader. It goes beyond skill and craft, and achieves alchemy like all great art (think Charlie Parker in zen-state, the notes and fingering and phrasing blurred, the mind turned off and channeling something beyond intellect).
8. It touches the core of all being, nature and man and spirit: A boy grows up, meets world, learns the depravity and kindness of humanity, finds and loses passion, plays his hand, deals with consequences. The age old conflict of love against the inhumanity and hardness of others who have chosen a different path (material, power) is played out. On top of it all, the wisdom of the seer, regretting his judgments, but saved just in time, offers the hope of redemption we all seek, deep down.
9. There are protagonists, villains and bit players, all tuned to perfection.
A sampling:
1. (p 66) the young girl caught between a rock and hard place, judging the young man and her keeper: “When she had been a little girl she had tried to think of Hardin as her father. A father was strong and Hardin looked as remorseless and implacable as an Old Testament God, there was no give to him. The man whose blood she’d spring from was flimsy as a paperdoll father you’d cut from a catalog, a father who when the light was behind him looked curiously transparent. No light shone through Hardin and in a moment of insight she thought she had seen a similar core of stubbornness in Winer. Somehow you knew without shoving him that there was no give to him either”.
2. (p 222), the sinister strongman Jiminiz hired by the villain Hardin: “’What I like about you is you never ask me why’, Hardin said. ‘Why is that, Jiminiz?’. ‘I’m afraid you’d tell me,’ Jiminiz said.”
3. (p 225), Roy the bit player in the pool hall observed by the young man: “Winer drank from his Coke and studied the pool game in progress. Roy Pace had found a sucker. Roy was paralyzed from the waist down and went in a wheelchair. His head was oversized and pumpkinshaped and there was a peculiar mongoloid cast to his face but he had won a small fortune off traveling salesmen who put great stock in appearances”.
4. (p 226), Buttcut (don’t ask ), friend of the our protagonist, out on a Saturday night: “I never seen such a crop of hairyankled men in my life. You’d think with a war bein fought a man might stumble up on a little stray pussy just every now and then. But hell no.”
Finally, all the elements are there for a particular genre: Mayhem, bootleg whiskey, intrigue, macabre deformed figures, beautiful innocents, impossible odds, etc etc.
But that is all beside the point...
What I don’t like about this book: Nothing, nada, nil.
What I like:
1. The author is unknown, mysterious, not widely recognized (my joy in being on the “in”).
2. The author seems ordinary, quiet, unglamorous and committed to great writing for its own sake. I don’t want to know too much about him as a person yet, I want to absorb his body of art.
3. The story is set in remote hills, in a time before I was born (I can learn from the days of my father and my father’s father of humble yet noble character).
4. The writing is about nature, the feeling of the earth, the sky, the seasons and the emotions they bring forth about time passing and the permanence of all life and our temporal place on earth.
5. The characters are old, young, and all between and authentically drawn in their thoughts and their language and thoughts. They are original, surprising, not formulaic or taken from preceding styles.
6. The story is dramatic; it has a beginning and end and conflicts aplenty. I could not imagine how it would turn out and I cared deeply about the people. It was not neat, it had resolution for some and chaos for others. The final outcome is left open for some, yet the main character meets his moments of revelation and gives finality to the human theatre and a dramatic closure.
7. The language is unique for its time and place, and how a modern writer can recreate that is magic and all but incomprehensible to the reader. It goes beyond skill and craft, and achieves alchemy like all great art (think Charlie Parker in zen-state, the notes and fingering and phrasing blurred, the mind turned off and channeling something beyond intellect).
8. It touches the core of all being, nature and man and spirit: A boy grows up, meets world, learns the depravity and kindness of humanity, finds and loses passion, plays his hand, deals with consequences. The age old conflict of love against the inhumanity and hardness of others who have chosen a different path (material, power) is played out. On top of it all, the wisdom of the seer, regretting his judgments, but saved just in time, offers the hope of redemption we all seek, deep down.
9. There are protagonists, villains and bit players, all tuned to perfection.
A sampling:
1. (p 66) the young girl caught between a rock and hard place, judging the young man and her keeper: “When she had been a little girl she had tried to think of Hardin as her father. A father was strong and Hardin looked as remorseless and implacable as an Old Testament God, there was no give to him. The man whose blood she’d spring from was flimsy as a paperdoll father you’d cut from a catalog, a father who when the light was behind him looked curiously transparent. No light shone through Hardin and in a moment of insight she thought she had seen a similar core of stubbornness in Winer. Somehow you knew without shoving him that there was no give to him either”.
2. (p 222), the sinister strongman Jiminiz hired by the villain Hardin: “’What I like about you is you never ask me why’, Hardin said. ‘Why is that, Jiminiz?’. ‘I’m afraid you’d tell me,’ Jiminiz said.”
3. (p 225), Roy the bit player in the pool hall observed by the young man: “Winer drank from his Coke and studied the pool game in progress. Roy Pace had found a sucker. Roy was paralyzed from the waist down and went in a wheelchair. His head was oversized and pumpkinshaped and there was a peculiar mongoloid cast to his face but he had won a small fortune off traveling salesmen who put great stock in appearances”.
4. (p 226), Buttcut (don’t ask ), friend of the our protagonist, out on a Saturday night: “I never seen such a crop of hairyankled men in my life. You’d think with a war bein fought a man might stumble up on a little stray pussy just every now and then. But hell no.”
Finally, all the elements are there for a particular genre: Mayhem, bootleg whiskey, intrigue, macabre deformed figures, beautiful innocents, impossible odds, etc etc.
But that is all beside the point...
December 27, 2023
Flirting with a Dead Chicken
Motormouth's boss left the grocery store where he worked. Thinking he would be gone a long time, Motormouth got out a dead chicken and had it dancing on the counter top. The boss walked in, saw what he was doing, told him he was disrespectful to the chicken, and fired him. Maybe, I thought, his boss is the only respectable person in this town.
William Gay writes beautiful, Lyrical pros, but every character in this book, save a few, is rough, unlikeable. Therefore, I did not like this story or this book, and the riding could not save it for me. Oh, I forgot, the characters were flat. If you liked cold mountain for the story and the prose, you will not like this book. If you liked Cormac McCarthy's earlier work, Outer Dark, you will like this book.
So what is this book about? It is about bootleggers, And other sorry people It is about murder. And it is about fighting over a woman.
Motormouth's boss left the grocery store where he worked. Thinking he would be gone a long time, Motormouth got out a dead chicken and had it dancing on the counter top. The boss walked in, saw what he was doing, told him he was disrespectful to the chicken, and fired him. Maybe, I thought, his boss is the only respectable person in this town.
William Gay writes beautiful, Lyrical pros, but every character in this book, save a few, is rough, unlikeable. Therefore, I did not like this story or this book, and the riding could not save it for me. Oh, I forgot, the characters were flat. If you liked cold mountain for the story and the prose, you will not like this book. If you liked Cormac McCarthy's earlier work, Outer Dark, you will like this book.
So what is this book about? It is about bootleggers, And other sorry people It is about murder. And it is about fighting over a woman.
February 28, 2021
They must have invented the term “Southern Gothic” to define William Gay. This is my third of his novels, and I was pulled in and held by the throat through each of them. He can create evil characters that are frighteningly real. In fact, it is the reality of them that makes you shiver and wonder if the bolts on your door are fastened tightly enough at night.
The dark oppressed him. This dark house of stopped clocks and forfeit lives and seized machinery. Here in the watery telluric dark past and present intersected seamlessly and he saw how there was no true beginning or end and all things once done were done forever and went spreading outward faint and fainter and that the face of a young girl carried at once within it a bitter worn harridan and past that the satin-pillowed death’s head of the grave.
Nathan Winer’s father, also Nathan Winer, is said to have just walked off and left Nathan and his mother alone and struggling, but that is not what happened to him. He was killed in a very cold fashion by his neighbor, Dallas Hardin, a man without scruples and one who puts the fear of Satan in an entire community of people. This is not a spoiler, this happens in the first ten pages of the book.
The story that unfolds is about Nathan, the younger, Amber Rose, the daughter of the man whose property and wife Hardin has co-opted, and William Tell Oliver, another neighbor who knows more than he ever wanted to know about Hardin and his activities. What Gay recounts is a gritty tale of the hard-scrabble life of a poor Southern town, where bootlegging is the best source of income, the law can be bought, and minding your own business is about the only way to keep your body and soul intact.
In many ways, this is also a tale of isolation, of how fragile every bond is, how easily people pass through one another’s lives and how little impact they are able to have. How can there be so many who are always on the outside, peering in, divorced from any kind of love, or luck, or comfort?
And down the line. Past sleeping houses behind whose walls sleepers spun dreams he’d never know, let alone share. A thousand lives woven like threads in a patternless tapestry and if he died here on the highway it would alter the design not one iota. The world was locked doors, keep-out signs, guard dogs. He figured to just ease through unnoticed and be gone.
William Gay had a knack for writing of the worst, grittiest, least inviting places and people with the purest, smoothest, most lyrical use of language. He seemed to see through the mire and say, “there is clear water here, but you will have to dig deep to find it.”
The dark oppressed him. This dark house of stopped clocks and forfeit lives and seized machinery. Here in the watery telluric dark past and present intersected seamlessly and he saw how there was no true beginning or end and all things once done were done forever and went spreading outward faint and fainter and that the face of a young girl carried at once within it a bitter worn harridan and past that the satin-pillowed death’s head of the grave.
Nathan Winer’s father, also Nathan Winer, is said to have just walked off and left Nathan and his mother alone and struggling, but that is not what happened to him. He was killed in a very cold fashion by his neighbor, Dallas Hardin, a man without scruples and one who puts the fear of Satan in an entire community of people. This is not a spoiler, this happens in the first ten pages of the book.
The story that unfolds is about Nathan, the younger, Amber Rose, the daughter of the man whose property and wife Hardin has co-opted, and William Tell Oliver, another neighbor who knows more than he ever wanted to know about Hardin and his activities. What Gay recounts is a gritty tale of the hard-scrabble life of a poor Southern town, where bootlegging is the best source of income, the law can be bought, and minding your own business is about the only way to keep your body and soul intact.
In many ways, this is also a tale of isolation, of how fragile every bond is, how easily people pass through one another’s lives and how little impact they are able to have. How can there be so many who are always on the outside, peering in, divorced from any kind of love, or luck, or comfort?
And down the line. Past sleeping houses behind whose walls sleepers spun dreams he’d never know, let alone share. A thousand lives woven like threads in a patternless tapestry and if he died here on the highway it would alter the design not one iota. The world was locked doors, keep-out signs, guard dogs. He figured to just ease through unnoticed and be gone.
William Gay had a knack for writing of the worst, grittiest, least inviting places and people with the purest, smoothest, most lyrical use of language. He seemed to see through the mire and say, “there is clear water here, but you will have to dig deep to find it.”
August 5, 2021
When it comes to Southern gothic, William Gay holds the title as the king of this gritty and unsettling genre. I do enjoy a good southern gothic read and was not disappointed with his debut novel, The Long Home. I was immediately taken with the exquisite prose that takes you by surprise. I expected dark, violent and roughly drawn, uncouth characters as well as the moonshine and murder but I didn’t expect to be so lured and captivated by such gorgeously yet awesome and awful portrayals of nature. William Gay has brilliantly figured out how to stun his readers by writing lines such as
Lightning flared silent and sourceless, eerily phosphorescent in the unreal green of the woods, and he quickened his steps, his movement stiff and jerky, a comic figure resurrected from an oldtime film.
The storm sometime in the night reversed its course or its brother passed for he woke in a lull of the rain, the air leaden and motionless and the night holding its breath. Then lightning came staccato and strobe, a sudden hush of dry flies and frogs, the walls of the attic imprinted with black images of the trees beyond the window, an instantaneous and profound transition into wall-less night as if the lightning had incinerated the walls or had scorched the delicate tracery of leaf and vine onto the wallpaper.
It was a lake of india ink, the dark water tending away to nothingness where lay no shoreline, no horizon, just the blueblack mist above it where his mind constructed miragelike images that were not there.
William Gay truly has a gift with language no matter what he is describing. He takes you by the shirt-collar and wrings you inside out with the way he gets to the heart of the character or the scene. He knows and understands the people of this rural Tennessee community because it was his own upbringing.
This novel takes place in a 1940’s rural and desolate community with an evil man, Dallis Hardin, who uses the insecurities and fears of others in order to hold sway over them. He’s a fan of liquor, bootlegging, bribery and extortion while passing blame to make himself more powerful. Young Nathan Winer has grown up without his father and no knowledge of what happened to him a decade ago. He inadvertently begins a carpentry job for Hardin and falls for the young Amber Rose who has been caught under the harsh influence of Hardin. The elderly man named William Tell Oliver, cautious and watchful, struggles with what he should do regarding what he knows about the disappearance of Nathan’s father. He must reconcile his mind and his actions.
In this good versus evil story, you will love or hate the realistically flawed characters some of them so selfish and full of pride and resentment. But the one thing you will completely fall in love with is the brilliant writing and epic storytelling of William Gay.
Lightning flared silent and sourceless, eerily phosphorescent in the unreal green of the woods, and he quickened his steps, his movement stiff and jerky, a comic figure resurrected from an oldtime film.
The storm sometime in the night reversed its course or its brother passed for he woke in a lull of the rain, the air leaden and motionless and the night holding its breath. Then lightning came staccato and strobe, a sudden hush of dry flies and frogs, the walls of the attic imprinted with black images of the trees beyond the window, an instantaneous and profound transition into wall-less night as if the lightning had incinerated the walls or had scorched the delicate tracery of leaf and vine onto the wallpaper.
It was a lake of india ink, the dark water tending away to nothingness where lay no shoreline, no horizon, just the blueblack mist above it where his mind constructed miragelike images that were not there.
William Gay truly has a gift with language no matter what he is describing. He takes you by the shirt-collar and wrings you inside out with the way he gets to the heart of the character or the scene. He knows and understands the people of this rural Tennessee community because it was his own upbringing.
This novel takes place in a 1940’s rural and desolate community with an evil man, Dallis Hardin, who uses the insecurities and fears of others in order to hold sway over them. He’s a fan of liquor, bootlegging, bribery and extortion while passing blame to make himself more powerful. Young Nathan Winer has grown up without his father and no knowledge of what happened to him a decade ago. He inadvertently begins a carpentry job for Hardin and falls for the young Amber Rose who has been caught under the harsh influence of Hardin. The elderly man named William Tell Oliver, cautious and watchful, struggles with what he should do regarding what he knows about the disappearance of Nathan’s father. He must reconcile his mind and his actions.
In this good versus evil story, you will love or hate the realistically flawed characters some of them so selfish and full of pride and resentment. But the one thing you will completely fall in love with is the brilliant writing and epic storytelling of William Gay.
October 16, 2012
Let’s dig up hogs sprouting from the ground; worship a yawning pit; make risky deals; form deadly acquaintances; join a bloody bar fight; steal thoroughbreds; build a whorehouse; dig up jars of greasy money.
In other words: so much fun to be had here.
Still, I’ve given nothing away, because aside from plot (more structured than Provinces of Night), the essence of the story is difficult to explain, there is a sense of finality throughout, longing and nostalgia: it’s a heady mix and with William Gay, repeat reading will unearth more of the gold...or hogs at the very least.
In other words: so much fun to be had here.
Still, I’ve given nothing away, because aside from plot (more structured than Provinces of Night), the essence of the story is difficult to explain, there is a sense of finality throughout, longing and nostalgia: it’s a heady mix and with William Gay, repeat reading will unearth more of the gold...or hogs at the very least.
February 25, 2021
***I have been asked to add a spoiler alert for this review. I do not think it gives too much away, but am willing to add a disclaimer, so be aware that someone considers this review to contain spoilers. ***
This Southern Gothic novel set in rural Tennessee opens in 1932 with the murder of Nathan Winer by local bootlegger Dallas Hardin over the placement of a still on Winer’s land. Hardin hides the body, and the community believes Winer has simply left the area, which frequently occurred during the Great Depression. The rest of the book is set in the 1940’s as the murdered man’s son, also named Nathan, ends up working for Hardin as a carpenter. Nathan falls for Hardin’s “stepdaughter,” which is not well-received by the sleazy Hardin, as he has his own nefarious plans for her. William Tell Oliver, a reclusive neighbor, finds evidence of the murder, but does not act on it.
This book is dark in tone, with shadows lurking in every corner. The characters are well-drawn the writing is strong. The author describes the same scene from different characters’ perspectives, and it sometimes takes a while to figure out the perspective has shifted. It depicts life in a small town and there are long stretches where not much happens. People interact, disagree, fight, try to eke out a living, work (or not), and do all the normal things people do, with Hardin pulling many of the strings to get outcomes he desires. Dramatic tension is sustained through hints of vengeance coming, and the reader wonders if it will eventually occur or not.
It is relentlessly bleak, so it was difficult for me to greatly enjoy this book. I think it would have helped if there were a few more episodes that lightened the mood. Be prepared for graphic violence and explicit sex. There is a chilling scene toward the end, which is particularly well-written. Though I didn’t love this one, I didn’t dislike it, and would read another book by this author.
This Southern Gothic novel set in rural Tennessee opens in 1932 with the murder of Nathan Winer by local bootlegger Dallas Hardin over the placement of a still on Winer’s land. Hardin hides the body, and the community believes Winer has simply left the area, which frequently occurred during the Great Depression. The rest of the book is set in the 1940’s as the murdered man’s son, also named Nathan, ends up working for Hardin as a carpenter. Nathan falls for Hardin’s “stepdaughter,” which is not well-received by the sleazy Hardin, as he has his own nefarious plans for her. William Tell Oliver, a reclusive neighbor, finds evidence of the murder, but does not act on it.
This book is dark in tone, with shadows lurking in every corner. The characters are well-drawn the writing is strong. The author describes the same scene from different characters’ perspectives, and it sometimes takes a while to figure out the perspective has shifted. It depicts life in a small town and there are long stretches where not much happens. People interact, disagree, fight, try to eke out a living, work (or not), and do all the normal things people do, with Hardin pulling many of the strings to get outcomes he desires. Dramatic tension is sustained through hints of vengeance coming, and the reader wonders if it will eventually occur or not.
It is relentlessly bleak, so it was difficult for me to greatly enjoy this book. I think it would have helped if there were a few more episodes that lightened the mood. Be prepared for graphic violence and explicit sex. There is a chilling scene toward the end, which is particularly well-written. Though I didn’t love this one, I didn’t dislike it, and would read another book by this author.
March 23, 2024
bana güney gotiği diyin, canımı alın… öyle seviyorum. şükürler olsun ki holden sayesinde daha önce hiç okumadığımız bir yazarı, william gay’i tanıdık. ilk romanı “ebedi ev” öyle usta işi bir roman ki ilk olduğuna şaşıyor insan.
epey cormac mccarty etkisi var ve zaten bu romanı ilk kez okuttuğu bir avuç insan arasında o da var. cormac mccarty etkisi var ama bence ondan daha yumuşak bir tarafı da var. daha ilk romanda kendi sesini bulabilmiş yazarlardan.
tennessee’nin köylük bir yerinde hiçlikten çıkıp gelmiş dallas hardin adlı bir adam, kasabaya geldiği andan itibaren yaptığı kötülükler, bir doğa olayıyla aklı gitmiş zayıf bir adam olan hovington’un evine, arazisine, karısına ve ilerde göreceğimiz gibi kızına el koyması, sahte viski üretmesi, onu bunu tehdit edip evini yakması… neler neler..
burada ilginç olan lâl olmuş kasaba halkı. çünkü yaşadıkları topraklar kızılderililere, zencilere, hatta en son mormonlara mezar olmuş. herkesin büyükbabası bir katliama karışmış zaten halihazırda. böyle gelmiş böyle gider denen, kötü polislerin mis gibi para yediği, halkın ucuz içki ve kadın uğruna her şeyi görmezden gelebileceği leş gibi lanetli bir yer. (nereye benzettim bilin bakalım :)
kötümüz hardin. iyimiz ise daha romanın ilk sayfalarında çat diye öldürülen nathan winer’un aynı adlı oğlu. hayat onu babasının katiliyle birlikte çalıştıracak. ve roman hamletvari bir biçimde gelişecek ama biraz çünkü güney gotiği aşırı dramatik hamlelere de izin vermez.
yapayalnız büyümüş bir oğlan çocuğunun ruhunu ardında bırakmış sanılan annesiyle olmayan ilişkisi, erkenden olgunlaşması, evin sorumluluğunu alması ve düpedüz iyi kalpli olması (yan karakterlerin hepsi ayrı arıza).
dallas’ın pahalıya satmak için göz koyduğu hovington’un kızı güzeller güzeli amber rose’la nathan arasında gelişen aşk elbette hayra çıkmayacak.
william tell ise bu iyi kötü dengesini bulacak olan geçmişte kötü, şimdi bilge adam. onun sayesinde eski sırlar gün yüzüne çıkacak ve kötüler cezasını görecek. biz de bir rahat nefes alacağız. ama dramatik olaylar gibi iyi sonlar da olmaz güney gotiğinde. hayat gibi. belirtisiz.
seda çıngay mellor’un her zamanki gibi müthiş çevirdiği (çünkü doğa da ana karakterlerden biri ve tonla bitki adı var) bu roman aynı zamanda uzun zamandır okuduğum en etkileyici, romantik ve gerçekçi ilk sevişme sahnesine ev sahipliği yapıyor 🫠 william gay bu aşk hikayesiyle romanı ustalıkla bambaşka bir yola da sokmuş. çok sevdim. umarım diğer kitaplarını da okuruz.
epey cormac mccarty etkisi var ve zaten bu romanı ilk kez okuttuğu bir avuç insan arasında o da var. cormac mccarty etkisi var ama bence ondan daha yumuşak bir tarafı da var. daha ilk romanda kendi sesini bulabilmiş yazarlardan.
tennessee’nin köylük bir yerinde hiçlikten çıkıp gelmiş dallas hardin adlı bir adam, kasabaya geldiği andan itibaren yaptığı kötülükler, bir doğa olayıyla aklı gitmiş zayıf bir adam olan hovington’un evine, arazisine, karısına ve ilerde göreceğimiz gibi kızına el koyması, sahte viski üretmesi, onu bunu tehdit edip evini yakması… neler neler..
burada ilginç olan lâl olmuş kasaba halkı. çünkü yaşadıkları topraklar kızılderililere, zencilere, hatta en son mormonlara mezar olmuş. herkesin büyükbabası bir katliama karışmış zaten halihazırda. böyle gelmiş böyle gider denen, kötü polislerin mis gibi para yediği, halkın ucuz içki ve kadın uğruna her şeyi görmezden gelebileceği leş gibi lanetli bir yer. (nereye benzettim bilin bakalım :)
kötümüz hardin. iyimiz ise daha romanın ilk sayfalarında çat diye öldürülen nathan winer’un aynı adlı oğlu. hayat onu babasının katiliyle birlikte çalıştıracak. ve roman hamletvari bir biçimde gelişecek ama biraz çünkü güney gotiği aşırı dramatik hamlelere de izin vermez.
yapayalnız büyümüş bir oğlan çocuğunun ruhunu ardında bırakmış sanılan annesiyle olmayan ilişkisi, erkenden olgunlaşması, evin sorumluluğunu alması ve düpedüz iyi kalpli olması (yan karakterlerin hepsi ayrı arıza).
dallas’ın pahalıya satmak için göz koyduğu hovington’un kızı güzeller güzeli amber rose’la nathan arasında gelişen aşk elbette hayra çıkmayacak.
william tell ise bu iyi kötü dengesini bulacak olan geçmişte kötü, şimdi bilge adam. onun sayesinde eski sırlar gün yüzüne çıkacak ve kötüler cezasını görecek. biz de bir rahat nefes alacağız. ama dramatik olaylar gibi iyi sonlar da olmaz güney gotiğinde. hayat gibi. belirtisiz.
seda çıngay mellor’un her zamanki gibi müthiş çevirdiği (çünkü doğa da ana karakterlerden biri ve tonla bitki adı var) bu roman aynı zamanda uzun zamandır okuduğum en etkileyici, romantik ve gerçekçi ilk sevişme sahnesine ev sahipliği yapıyor 🫠 william gay bu aşk hikayesiyle romanı ustalıkla bambaşka bir yola da sokmuş. çok sevdim. umarım diğer kitaplarını da okuruz.
March 28, 2017
I fucking love American Southern (Country) (Noir)
And yes, I even changed my accent a few years back (you know, I spoke Cockney 20 years ago, as I first started to learn English)
And yes, I even changed my accent a few years back (you know, I spoke Cockney 20 years ago, as I first started to learn English)
October 22, 2022
What a pleasure to have found William Gay.
In The Long Home such writing is not a rarity it’s the norm. Gay has a tremendous writing muscle. His descriptions, dialogue, themes, landscape that embodies the trials of his captivating characters, are all spectacularly rendered. He writes on that thinnest line separating indulgent prose from the mediocre. At times he does scribble over the top, but that’s a flaw I respect: flirting with the edge of breathtaking sentence composition for the length of a whole novel will necessarily result in some slip-ups. On the whole, the novel is stunning.
At times I questioned if a couple characters were straying from consistency, but I need to read it again more closely to cast that stone. The dialogue near the climax was borderline Bond-movie-villain disclosure of intentions, but it didn’t undercut the novel’s performance.
A silent scene saying a lot; what a humble image that still largely conveys.
There is a sex scene where a disempowered woman turns the tables by turning inwards. I think that powerful scene is an achievement for any writer.
He is a beautiful writer and I admire his craft. When reading this novel, its style of Southern gothic, some obvious influences come to mind. But I agree and adore this NYT review: “He looks upon beauty and violence with equal measure and makes an accurate accounting of how much of each the human heart contains. In those passages, he sounds only like William Gay.”
Thanks Darrel for recommending this to me. You're right, an underrated classic.
***
All my reviews are 4 or 5 stars. I read very slowly and it’s not a problem so I’m not trying to fix it. Life is too short and my reading list too long to finish books of average quality, and it's perhaps unfair to rate a book I have not finished.
Friends, on the first Tuesday of the month I send out a short newsletter with updates on my current novel-in-progress, a glimpse of one writer's life in small-town coastal Tofino, Canada, and a link to the month's free eBooks. A free collection of my short stories is also available. Staying connected with those who appreciate my work greatly motivates me. If interested, please sign up here: www.luckydollarmedia.com
“Morning. A hot August sun was smoking up over a wavering treeline. Such drunks as were still about struggled up beneath the malign heat slowly and painfully as if they moved in altered time or through an atmosphere thickening to amber. The glade was absolutely breezeless and the threat of the sun imminent and horrific.”
In The Long Home such writing is not a rarity it’s the norm. Gay has a tremendous writing muscle. His descriptions, dialogue, themes, landscape that embodies the trials of his captivating characters, are all spectacularly rendered. He writes on that thinnest line separating indulgent prose from the mediocre. At times he does scribble over the top, but that’s a flaw I respect: flirting with the edge of breathtaking sentence composition for the length of a whole novel will necessarily result in some slip-ups. On the whole, the novel is stunning.
At times I questioned if a couple characters were straying from consistency, but I need to read it again more closely to cast that stone. The dialogue near the climax was borderline Bond-movie-villain disclosure of intentions, but it didn’t undercut the novel’s performance.
“As dusk drew on, the square of yellow light the bedroom window threw deepened and the dog approached and stood in it as if it fostered warmth.”
A silent scene saying a lot; what a humble image that still largely conveys.
There is a sex scene where a disempowered woman turns the tables by turning inwards. I think that powerful scene is an achievement for any writer.
He is a beautiful writer and I admire his craft. When reading this novel, its style of Southern gothic, some obvious influences come to mind. But I agree and adore this NYT review: “He looks upon beauty and violence with equal measure and makes an accurate accounting of how much of each the human heart contains. In those passages, he sounds only like William Gay.”
Thanks Darrel for recommending this to me. You're right, an underrated classic.
***
All my reviews are 4 or 5 stars. I read very slowly and it’s not a problem so I’m not trying to fix it. Life is too short and my reading list too long to finish books of average quality, and it's perhaps unfair to rate a book I have not finished.
Friends, on the first Tuesday of the month I send out a short newsletter with updates on my current novel-in-progress, a glimpse of one writer's life in small-town coastal Tofino, Canada, and a link to the month's free eBooks. A free collection of my short stories is also available. Staying connected with those who appreciate my work greatly motivates me. If interested, please sign up here: www.luckydollarmedia.com
November 18, 2018
Second time reading this novel.
Second review of same.
I received three William Gay books plus this one as birthday gifts from my wife.
I'd previously read an e-book version of this one but I always prefer physical copies.
Seem to retain more of the novel if it's something I can hold in my hands and actually own.
This is a superb novel.
It's a gravel-road noir, a classic murder mystery and a character study out of Faulkner.
It opens with the murder of Nathan Winer Senior by the bootlegger and bully-of-the-county Dallas Hardin who then drags the victim's body to a bottomless pit on the property he has all but stolen and drops the corpse down into a cleft at the base of a limestone cliff saying,
The book then follows the coming of age of the murdered man's son, Nathan Winer Junior, the strange friendship between Winer Jr. and the aged backwoods philosopher and one-time two-fisted brawler William Tell Oliver, and the growing prosperity and endless evil doings of the murderous bootlegger Dallas Hardin.
Young Winer has been brought up by his embittered mother to believe that Winer Senior simply walked out on his young family 10 years earlier. He has no idea that his father actually met his death after confronting Dallas Hardin over running a whiskey still on the Winer property. Only old William Tell Oliver learns the truth and feels called upon to protect Winer Junior from evil.
Beautiful writing that will haunt you long after you've turned the final page.
One of the greatest novels I will ever read.
Highest possible recommendation!
============================================================================
In the past few months I've read 3 of William Gay's novels.
Two I purchased outright.
This particular novel was loaned to me in eBook format (via Kindle) by Goodreads friend and contributor MSJ.
William Gay was a unique and gifted literary artist.
Many reviewers compare him to Faulkner, Wolfe, and McCarthy.
Of those three authors, (haven't read Wolfe since I was in high school) I guess he most closely approaches the greatness of Faulkner.
To mention William Gay in the same breath as Cormac McCarthy is an injustice.
Both authors are brilliant but William Gay's writing is so much more approachable and rewarding.
The writing is stunningly beautiful.
The characters are so vividly drawn that they haunt the reader long after the final page has been turned.
Second review of same.
I received three William Gay books plus this one as birthday gifts from my wife.
I'd previously read an e-book version of this one but I always prefer physical copies.
Seem to retain more of the novel if it's something I can hold in my hands and actually own.
This is a superb novel.
It's a gravel-road noir, a classic murder mystery and a character study out of Faulkner.
It opens with the murder of Nathan Winer Senior by the bootlegger and bully-of-the-county Dallas Hardin who then drags the victim's body to a bottomless pit on the property he has all but stolen and drops the corpse down into a cleft at the base of a limestone cliff saying,
"Get your last look at this world... It shore looks dark in the next one.:
The book then follows the coming of age of the murdered man's son, Nathan Winer Junior, the strange friendship between Winer Jr. and the aged backwoods philosopher and one-time two-fisted brawler William Tell Oliver, and the growing prosperity and endless evil doings of the murderous bootlegger Dallas Hardin.
Young Winer has been brought up by his embittered mother to believe that Winer Senior simply walked out on his young family 10 years earlier. He has no idea that his father actually met his death after confronting Dallas Hardin over running a whiskey still on the Winer property. Only old William Tell Oliver learns the truth and feels called upon to protect Winer Junior from evil.
Beautiful writing that will haunt you long after you've turned the final page.
Slipping out would be easier than openly defying Dallas Hardin. Experience had taught her that. Defying Dallas Hardin was something best done from as great a distance as possible.
He knew that the world was wide in its turnings and it was fraught with dark alleyways and pastoral footpaths down which peril lurked with a patience rivaling that of the very old.
The dark oppressed him. This dark house of stopped clocks and forfeit lives and seized machinery. Here in the the weary telluric dark past and present intersected seamlessly and he saw how there was no true beginning or end and all things once done were done forever and went spreading outward faint and fainter and that the face of a young girl carried at once within it a bitter worn harridan and past that the satinpillowed death's head of the grave.
One of the greatest novels I will ever read.
Highest possible recommendation!
============================================================================
In the past few months I've read 3 of William Gay's novels.
Two I purchased outright.
This particular novel was loaned to me in eBook format (via Kindle) by Goodreads friend and contributor MSJ.
William Gay was a unique and gifted literary artist.
Many reviewers compare him to Faulkner, Wolfe, and McCarthy.
Of those three authors, (haven't read Wolfe since I was in high school) I guess he most closely approaches the greatness of Faulkner.
To mention William Gay in the same breath as Cormac McCarthy is an injustice.
Both authors are brilliant but William Gay's writing is so much more approachable and rewarding.
The writing is stunningly beautiful.
The characters are so vividly drawn that they haunt the reader long after the final page has been turned.
March 12, 2021
Pure brilliance à la Cormac McCarthy. I love Southern Gothic. William Gay has nailed it. More later...maybe.
I'm not worthy.
I'm not worthy.
August 11, 2021
"La gente de por aquí siempre ha tenido ideas bastante curiosas acerca de las mujeres. Que hay que protegerlas y todo eso. Resguardarlas. Yo nunca he conocido a una que no sepa cuidar de sí misma, ni que plante sus zapatos bajo una cama en la que no se haya metido por voluntad propia."
Contaba William Gay en algunas entrevistas que de pequeño leía obsesivamente lo que tenía a mano, novelitas de Zane Grey y lecturas parecidas, pero en un momento dado un maestro de séptimoo grado que notó que le gustaba leer pero que estaba encasillado en estas novelitas ligeras, le prestó una copia de de El Angel Que Nos Mira de Thomas Wolfe y le dijo que si era capaz de leérselo entero, le regalaría la copia. Esta novela de Wolfe le cambió la vida y a raíz de ahí quiso ser escritor, desde niño; sin embargo debido a los avatares de la vida, Gay no conseguiría publicar hasta que tuvo 55 años, en el 2000, la novela que nos ocupa, El Hogar Eterno.
La novela transcurre en los años 40 en una comunidad cerrada de Tennessee, oscura y claustrofóbica casi totalmente controlada por Dallas Harding, que prácticamente se hace rico robándole la casa, la mujer, la hija y el negocio a otro hombre. Dallas a partir de ahí hace y deshace a su antojo en la comunidad, engañando, traicionado, robando y asesinado sin que nadie le ponga coto por el miedo que despierta en sus conciuidadanos. Nathan Winer es un chico de diecisiete años, silencioso que no malgasta las palabras; es criado prácticamente por una madre distante y amargada tras la desaparición de su padre, diez años antes. Crece oyendo las quejas de su madre ante el abandono de su padre, pero realmente a Nathan le cuesta creer, conociendo a su padre, que éste les abandonara. William Tell Oliver, es un anciano con un pasado que demuestra que siempre fue una especie de outsider en la comunidad y que durante su asentamiento en el pueblo ha conseguido mantenerse fuera del control de Dallas Harding. Vive apartado de la comunidad y se convierte en una especie de figura paterna para Nathan porque ambos tienen en común un marcado sentido de la honestidad. Tanto Dallas como Nathan y William Tell son los tres protagonistas, auténticos hilos conductores de una historia enmarcada dentro de lo que se denomina el gótico sureño, hay mucha atmósfera opresora y se respira una claustrofobia rural de la cual de alguna forma se quieren liberar algunos de los personajes más jóvenes ; también hay momentos que se nota la influencia de Flannery O’Connor y de Cormac McCarthy en la escritura de William Gay, a los que tengo entendido que adora este autor.
"-La mayoría de la gente de por aquí es distinta -seguía diciendo Weiss-. Lo tuyo debe ser un atavismo o algo por el estilo. Un mutante. Estos paletos o rednecks, o como quieras llamarlos..., mira, llevo viviendo aqui veinticinco años y sigo siendo un forastero. Supongo que estarán esperando a ver si me quedo o no."
Creo sinceramente que esta novela puede funcionar perfectamente como un western porque durante su lectura no podía desconectar del hecho de que los códigos que aquí usa William Gay están marcadamente influidos por esa dicotomia entre bien y el mal, entre heroe y el villano, héroes y villanos que se camuflan porque son ante todo personajes muy humanos bajo la pluma de este autor.
El Hogar Eterno es la primera novela de William Gay pero no lo parece, hay momentos tal cómo en las películas del oeste, que parece muy épica y en otros momentos, Gay imbuye algunas escenas de una íntimidad emocional que no tiene nada que ver con la violencia de otros fragmentos.
“Daba igual donde estuviese aquel rincón perdido, lo que estaba claro es que se hallaba a kilómetros de cualquier lugar que él conociese, y no había visto una sola luz encendida en todo el trayecto, ni un solo poste de teléfono. Supuso que no importa, que cualquier cosa sería mejor que quedarse en cada durmiendo; en los últimos días había llegado a sentir que la vida desfilaba ante sus ojos como un relámpago, dejándole desamparado. Dormir solo agravaba aquel sentimiento de impotencia. Mientras dormía, el mundo seguía girando, se producían cambios, las situaciones se mofificaban y se volvían más complejas, lo que acababa de dejarle aún más incapacitado para enfrentarse a ellas.”
El estilo de William Gay está fuertemente conectado con su entorno, con el paisaje de Tennessee, inclemente en los inviernos, hostil o protector dependiendo de la situación de sus personajes; y por otra parte es una novela que puede funcionar como un homenaje a toda esa literatura de género de la que bebió William Gay durante su infancia y que demuestra que todo es literatura, por muy ligera que parezca o que marquen los cánones, porque a la larga el lector va a seguir evolucionado y buscando otras vías que lo enriquezcan. Gay se sabe deudor de ese oeste de leyenda y ayuda a deconstruir esos límites marcados por los géneros, con lo cual construye una novela magn��fica con momentos que desbordan poesía y dónde los héroes pululan a sus anchas en los bosques. Magnífica... estoy deseando echarle la zarpa al resto de su breve obra.
"Yo me he acostumbrado a vivir solo. De todas formas, si te paras a pensarlo, uno siempre está solo. A la hora de la verdad, no puedes contar más que contigo mismo."
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2021...
Contaba William Gay en algunas entrevistas que de pequeño leía obsesivamente lo que tenía a mano, novelitas de Zane Grey y lecturas parecidas, pero en un momento dado un maestro de séptimoo grado que notó que le gustaba leer pero que estaba encasillado en estas novelitas ligeras, le prestó una copia de de El Angel Que Nos Mira de Thomas Wolfe y le dijo que si era capaz de leérselo entero, le regalaría la copia. Esta novela de Wolfe le cambió la vida y a raíz de ahí quiso ser escritor, desde niño; sin embargo debido a los avatares de la vida, Gay no conseguiría publicar hasta que tuvo 55 años, en el 2000, la novela que nos ocupa, El Hogar Eterno.
La novela transcurre en los años 40 en una comunidad cerrada de Tennessee, oscura y claustrofóbica casi totalmente controlada por Dallas Harding, que prácticamente se hace rico robándole la casa, la mujer, la hija y el negocio a otro hombre. Dallas a partir de ahí hace y deshace a su antojo en la comunidad, engañando, traicionado, robando y asesinado sin que nadie le ponga coto por el miedo que despierta en sus conciuidadanos. Nathan Winer es un chico de diecisiete años, silencioso que no malgasta las palabras; es criado prácticamente por una madre distante y amargada tras la desaparición de su padre, diez años antes. Crece oyendo las quejas de su madre ante el abandono de su padre, pero realmente a Nathan le cuesta creer, conociendo a su padre, que éste les abandonara. William Tell Oliver, es un anciano con un pasado que demuestra que siempre fue una especie de outsider en la comunidad y que durante su asentamiento en el pueblo ha conseguido mantenerse fuera del control de Dallas Harding. Vive apartado de la comunidad y se convierte en una especie de figura paterna para Nathan porque ambos tienen en común un marcado sentido de la honestidad. Tanto Dallas como Nathan y William Tell son los tres protagonistas, auténticos hilos conductores de una historia enmarcada dentro de lo que se denomina el gótico sureño, hay mucha atmósfera opresora y se respira una claustrofobia rural de la cual de alguna forma se quieren liberar algunos de los personajes más jóvenes ; también hay momentos que se nota la influencia de Flannery O’Connor y de Cormac McCarthy en la escritura de William Gay, a los que tengo entendido que adora este autor.
"-La mayoría de la gente de por aquí es distinta -seguía diciendo Weiss-. Lo tuyo debe ser un atavismo o algo por el estilo. Un mutante. Estos paletos o rednecks, o como quieras llamarlos..., mira, llevo viviendo aqui veinticinco años y sigo siendo un forastero. Supongo que estarán esperando a ver si me quedo o no."
Creo sinceramente que esta novela puede funcionar perfectamente como un western porque durante su lectura no podía desconectar del hecho de que los códigos que aquí usa William Gay están marcadamente influidos por esa dicotomia entre bien y el mal, entre heroe y el villano, héroes y villanos que se camuflan porque son ante todo personajes muy humanos bajo la pluma de este autor.
El Hogar Eterno es la primera novela de William Gay pero no lo parece, hay momentos tal cómo en las películas del oeste, que parece muy épica y en otros momentos, Gay imbuye algunas escenas de una íntimidad emocional que no tiene nada que ver con la violencia de otros fragmentos.
“Daba igual donde estuviese aquel rincón perdido, lo que estaba claro es que se hallaba a kilómetros de cualquier lugar que él conociese, y no había visto una sola luz encendida en todo el trayecto, ni un solo poste de teléfono. Supuso que no importa, que cualquier cosa sería mejor que quedarse en cada durmiendo; en los últimos días había llegado a sentir que la vida desfilaba ante sus ojos como un relámpago, dejándole desamparado. Dormir solo agravaba aquel sentimiento de impotencia. Mientras dormía, el mundo seguía girando, se producían cambios, las situaciones se mofificaban y se volvían más complejas, lo que acababa de dejarle aún más incapacitado para enfrentarse a ellas.”
El estilo de William Gay está fuertemente conectado con su entorno, con el paisaje de Tennessee, inclemente en los inviernos, hostil o protector dependiendo de la situación de sus personajes; y por otra parte es una novela que puede funcionar como un homenaje a toda esa literatura de género de la que bebió William Gay durante su infancia y que demuestra que todo es literatura, por muy ligera que parezca o que marquen los cánones, porque a la larga el lector va a seguir evolucionado y buscando otras vías que lo enriquezcan. Gay se sabe deudor de ese oeste de leyenda y ayuda a deconstruir esos límites marcados por los géneros, con lo cual construye una novela magn��fica con momentos que desbordan poesía y dónde los héroes pululan a sus anchas en los bosques. Magnífica... estoy deseando echarle la zarpa al resto de su breve obra.
"Yo me he acostumbrado a vivir solo. De todas formas, si te paras a pensarlo, uno siempre está solo. A la hora de la verdad, no puedes contar más que contigo mismo."
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2021...
December 22, 2016
William Gay writes with a kind of hallucinatory detachment that made me feel like I was observing the events of this story through LSD-infused bulletproof glass. I know I sound like I'm talking bollocks but that's as close as I can come to describing this author's remarkable style.
He weaves a few plot threads around each other in a way that's slightly dizzying at times and sometimes things are left open to interpretation.
One minor irritation: characters mention Coca Cola so often I did wonder whether the author was being paid to advertise it.
I enjoyed this book, although I felt like I was wrestling with it at times. Gay has created a whole bunch of interesting characters, most notably his antagonist. Hardin was such a loathsome, detestable character that I desperately wanted to get to the end just to see him get his comeuppance.
I'll definitely be reading more by William Gay in the future.
He weaves a few plot threads around each other in a way that's slightly dizzying at times and sometimes things are left open to interpretation.
One minor irritation: characters mention Coca Cola so often I did wonder whether the author was being paid to advertise it.
I enjoyed this book, although I felt like I was wrestling with it at times. Gay has created a whole bunch of interesting characters, most notably his antagonist. Hardin was such a loathsome, detestable character that I desperately wanted to get to the end just to see him get his comeuppance.
I'll definitely be reading more by William Gay in the future.
December 6, 2013
Well-written .......very moving passages and descriptions of people, locations and nature.
Well-crafted ........plot and characterizations carry the story along perfectly.
I am torn between 4 stars for the writing, and 3 stars because this book made me squirm, and not in a good, conscience stricken way as with a book that teaches me something, but because of the bleakness of the setting and his characters lives. I read some of Gay's short stories a few months ago, but had to give up after the fourth one because they were so dark. I hope the author was not as morose as his books. I wanted to read this for my group, On the Southern Literary Trail, as it was our December read, and I'm glad I did, but it will most likely be my last William Gay book. I know this will rankle with Gay's fans, as he seems to get mostly 4 or 5 stars in reviews, but he's just not my cup of tea.
Well-crafted ........plot and characterizations carry the story along perfectly.
I am torn between 4 stars for the writing, and 3 stars because this book made me squirm, and not in a good, conscience stricken way as with a book that teaches me something, but because of the bleakness of the setting and his characters lives. I read some of Gay's short stories a few months ago, but had to give up after the fourth one because they were so dark. I hope the author was not as morose as his books. I wanted to read this for my group, On the Southern Literary Trail, as it was our December read, and I'm glad I did, but it will most likely be my last William Gay book. I know this will rankle with Gay's fans, as he seems to get mostly 4 or 5 stars in reviews, but he's just not my cup of tea.
November 1, 2022
Bueno, pues ahora que Dirty Works ha publicado la primera novela de William Gay, a ver si sigue con las demás. Tenía ganas desde hace tiempo de leer a este autor, un capricho nacido de su duradera condición de outsider con respecto al mundo literario (Gay publicó El hogar eterno a los 58 años, a pesar de llevar escribiendo desde que era un adolescente). Lo que pasa es que cuando tienes tantas ganas de leer algo a veces las expectativas se dan de hostias con la realidad. Así, comencé leyendo El hogar eterno con la determinación cabezota y prematura de que me gustase. Luego me di cuenta de que había cosas que no me hacían, no podían hacerme demasiada gracia. Por ejemplo, la sobreabundancia de metáforas o el tratamiento de los escasos personajes femeninos, que apenas son «coñitos» o mujeres amargadas, o una combinación de ambas cosas. Por fin me relajé y me permití a mí misma sencillamente disfrutar de aquello que hubiera por disfrutar. Que no es poco, después de todo: una historia con un aire innegable de western y con unos personajes que te crees perfectamente y a los que parece que casi podrías tocar de lo vívido que es su retrato (el personaje de William Tell Oliver, en especial, es de esos que se te quedan grabados). Y un mundo tan intensamente evocado en sus detalles y su atmósfera, que hace que vuelvas la última página con esa melancolía que solo te dejan al acabarse los libros, las series o las películas que merecen la pena.
Oye, Dirty Works, ¿qué tal si ahora publicáis Twilight?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Well, now that Dirty Works has published in Spanish William Gay's first novel let's hope they will do the same with the rest of his books. I've been really wanting to read him, he being a literary outsider for so long —he published The Long Home at 58, despite having been writing since he was a teenager. But, as it sometimes happens when you're so looking forward to read something, expectations came to blows with reality. Thus, I started reading The Long Home with this stubborn, premature desire of liking it. Then I realized there were things I did not like or couldn’t like, such as: the overabundance of metaphors, or the way in which female characters are reflected as little more than «pussies», old hags or both at the same time. At last, I gave up all this literary toss and turn and let myself enjoy what was there to be enjoyable of this novel. And truth is, there are quite a few things in it you can take pleasure in. For example, a western like story with characters you totally believe, which seem almost touchable, so fine are their portraits —William Tell Oliver in particular is unforgettable. Or a world so intensely evoked in its details and atmosphere, that turning the last page will leave you with the melancholic feeling only good novels, series or even movies provoke.
Say, Dirty Works, how about publishing Twilight next?
Oye, Dirty Works, ¿qué tal si ahora publicáis Twilight?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Well, now that Dirty Works has published in Spanish William Gay's first novel let's hope they will do the same with the rest of his books. I've been really wanting to read him, he being a literary outsider for so long —he published The Long Home at 58, despite having been writing since he was a teenager. But, as it sometimes happens when you're so looking forward to read something, expectations came to blows with reality. Thus, I started reading The Long Home with this stubborn, premature desire of liking it. Then I realized there were things I did not like or couldn’t like, such as: the overabundance of metaphors, or the way in which female characters are reflected as little more than «pussies», old hags or both at the same time. At last, I gave up all this literary toss and turn and let myself enjoy what was there to be enjoyable of this novel. And truth is, there are quite a few things in it you can take pleasure in. For example, a western like story with characters you totally believe, which seem almost touchable, so fine are their portraits —William Tell Oliver in particular is unforgettable. Or a world so intensely evoked in its details and atmosphere, that turning the last page will leave you with the melancholic feeling only good novels, series or even movies provoke.
Say, Dirty Works, how about publishing Twilight next?
November 22, 2018
A stunning debut novel written by a 57-year old author.
August 10, 2021
For some reason I was late to this Gay party. A superb debut novel, really quite remarkable that he wrote something so well executed for his first published work. I have a few more of his books left to read but Gay never disappoints. And you can always expect grittiness and shock factor.
December 7, 2016
"I never needed nobody anyway, he told himself. Nary one of them, then or now, and at last he was touched with a cold and solitary peace. For he had the white road baking hot in the noonday sun, the wavering blue treeline, the fierce, sudden violence of summer storms. At night the moon tracked its accustomed course and the timeless whippoorwills tolled from the dark and they might have been the selfsame whippoorwills that called to him in his youth. That’s all that matters, he told himself with a spare and bitter comfort. Those were the things that time did not take away from you. They were the only things that lasted."
June 21, 2014
Rough-edged – Unflinching – Lyrical prose. Compelling! More to follow (maybe).
March 29, 2024
Ebedi Ev, Güney Gotiğinin başarılı örneklerinden. Temelde anlattığı basit bir intikam hikayesi olsa (bir oğulun babasının katilinin peşine düşmesi) da yazar atmosfer kurma becerisiyle ve anlatım oyunlarıyla tekrara düşmeden eldeki malzemeyi büyütmeyi çok iyi başarıyor. İlk sayfalarda dünyasına dahil olmakta biraz zorlansam da sonrasında alıştım ve zevkle okudum. Türe ait her şey öyle ya da böyle kendine yer bulmasının da bunda payı büyük kuşkusuz. Özellikle William Gay’in betimlemeleri çok canlı. Yani Oliver’ın alnından süzülen teri, araziye dökülen viski damlalarını ya da kasabada hangi hinliği yapsam diye dolaşan, romanın kötüsü Hardin’in (ki çok iyi yazılmış bir karakter) adımlarını bile hissediyorsunuz. Bir ilk roman olan (bu açıdan da ayrıca hayranlık uyandırıcı) Ebedi Ev’in öyle aman aman “büyük” bir hikaye beklemeden, biraz atmosfer, biraz da türe ait olan merakla okununca daha çok beğenileceğini düşünüyorum. Güney Gotiğinin belki en iyi örneği değil ama kesinlikle iyi bir örneği olduğunu da ekleyeyim.
January 14, 2019
4.5 stars. This is William Gay’s debut novel, published when he was 57 years old, and I have to say it didn’t wow me quite like his second book, ‘Provinces Of Night.’ But let’s not quibble. Mr. Gay was a genius at writing Southern Gothic characters, backwoods Tennessee dialect, and unbelievably poetic landscapes. I so wish this man had started writing a lot sooner in his life, or maybe lived a lot longer.
Evil is afoot in the Tennessee hills in the 1930’s and 40’s through the persona of Dallas Hardin: “Hardin’s vulpine face was leaner and more cunning than ever, the cold yellow eyes more reptilian . . . There was a gemlike core of malevolence beneath the sly grin, beneath the fabric of myth the years had clothed him in.” Nobody messes with Dallas without regretting it. He’s a killer, a con man, a bootlegger, and a bully.
But you need the timeless juxtaposition of evil versus good for a great Gothic story. So, enter the good guy: William Tell Oliver, “a man of a thousand small cautions.” Mr. Oliver, ancient as these Tennessee hills, stole my heart. Giving, forgiving, and wise. He’s old and rode hard and just wants to be left alone to tend his goats and gather his “sang” (ginseng). But fate, and his need to protect the one person who means something to him in his late solitary years, force Oliver to take one last stand: “It was concrete, irrevocable. Tangible vestige of old violence from chasms and channels so far beneath his feet light was not even rumored. To his hands. Mute sacrifice from the well of the world. He felt besieged by knowledge he had not sought and did not want.” Masterful writing.
I can’t leave this review without giving a nod to the Best Supporting Actors here: Nathan Winer Jr., 17, the boy who falls in love with the right girl at the wrong time, whose father vanished without a trace when he was seven years old; Motormouth Hodges, the sad but loveable local yokel living mostly out of his rustcolored Chrysler, who brings a bit of levity to this dark tale; Amber “Briar” Rose Hovington, the girl with the violet eyes, caught between a rock and a hard place when Hardin moves in with her mama; Buttcut Chessor, “tough as the butt cut off a whiteoak log,” never one to back down from a good fight; and finally, the pit - with its “cool fetid breath . . . timeless, enigmatic, profoundly alien.”
Very few Gothic authors satisfy my gritty side the way William Gay has done so far. He wrote with such lyricism and soul - prose, people, plot, and place - all working together in perfect harmony.
“All you can do is just try to pull yourself up as high as you can. Your own self, that’s all you can be helt accountable for. Sometimes you’ll think folks is gettin a higher foot on the ladder, and then here comes a son of a bitch like Hardin and it all goes out the winder with the dishwater. But you can’t worry about that. Leave that to the preachers, they get paid for it.”
~ William Tell Oliver
Evil is afoot in the Tennessee hills in the 1930’s and 40’s through the persona of Dallas Hardin: “Hardin’s vulpine face was leaner and more cunning than ever, the cold yellow eyes more reptilian . . . There was a gemlike core of malevolence beneath the sly grin, beneath the fabric of myth the years had clothed him in.” Nobody messes with Dallas without regretting it. He’s a killer, a con man, a bootlegger, and a bully.
But you need the timeless juxtaposition of evil versus good for a great Gothic story. So, enter the good guy: William Tell Oliver, “a man of a thousand small cautions.” Mr. Oliver, ancient as these Tennessee hills, stole my heart. Giving, forgiving, and wise. He’s old and rode hard and just wants to be left alone to tend his goats and gather his “sang” (ginseng). But fate, and his need to protect the one person who means something to him in his late solitary years, force Oliver to take one last stand: “It was concrete, irrevocable. Tangible vestige of old violence from chasms and channels so far beneath his feet light was not even rumored. To his hands. Mute sacrifice from the well of the world. He felt besieged by knowledge he had not sought and did not want.” Masterful writing.
I can’t leave this review without giving a nod to the Best Supporting Actors here: Nathan Winer Jr., 17, the boy who falls in love with the right girl at the wrong time, whose father vanished without a trace when he was seven years old; Motormouth Hodges, the sad but loveable local yokel living mostly out of his rustcolored Chrysler, who brings a bit of levity to this dark tale; Amber “Briar” Rose Hovington, the girl with the violet eyes, caught between a rock and a hard place when Hardin moves in with her mama; Buttcut Chessor, “tough as the butt cut off a whiteoak log,” never one to back down from a good fight; and finally, the pit - with its “cool fetid breath . . . timeless, enigmatic, profoundly alien.”
Very few Gothic authors satisfy my gritty side the way William Gay has done so far. He wrote with such lyricism and soul - prose, people, plot, and place - all working together in perfect harmony.
“All you can do is just try to pull yourself up as high as you can. Your own self, that’s all you can be helt accountable for. Sometimes you’ll think folks is gettin a higher foot on the ladder, and then here comes a son of a bitch like Hardin and it all goes out the winder with the dishwater. But you can’t worry about that. Leave that to the preachers, they get paid for it.”
~ William Tell Oliver
November 26, 2014
This is or rather was William Gay's debut novel. Unfortunately, Gay passed away in 2012 at the age of 70
Though released in 1999, this book has a meager 473 ratings and 61 reviews, which is sad. Such a masterpiece deserves a much larger audience.
It does take Gay a little while to hit his stride with this work, but once he does the delivery is nothing short of genius.
Best described as Southern Gothic, this is a book the explores the complexity of human nature as well as our interconnectedness.
Gay is almost as interesting as his well-drawn, though sometimes unlikable characters. A writer without a literary background--just the opposite: Gay worked as a manual laborer--he once said that he felt like an imposter and an outsider whether hanging out with fellow blue collar workers or hobnobbing with the literary elite.
Here is a little taste of what you'll get:
Would recommend to fans of Southern Gothic fiction and/or those who enjoy rich, poetic prose and multi-dimensional characters.
Though released in 1999, this book has a meager 473 ratings and 61 reviews, which is sad. Such a masterpiece deserves a much larger audience.
It does take Gay a little while to hit his stride with this work, but once he does the delivery is nothing short of genius.
Best described as Southern Gothic, this is a book the explores the complexity of human nature as well as our interconnectedness.
Gay is almost as interesting as his well-drawn, though sometimes unlikable characters. A writer without a literary background--just the opposite: Gay worked as a manual laborer--he once said that he felt like an imposter and an outsider whether hanging out with fellow blue collar workers or hobnobbing with the literary elite.
Here is a little taste of what you'll get:
In the molten fire where he lay he could watch the sow machinations of eternity, the cosmic miracle of each second being born, eggshaped, silverplated, phallic, time thrusting itself gleaming through the worn and worthless husk of the microsecond previous, halting, beginning to show the slow and infinitesimal accretions of decay in the clocking away of life in a mechanism encoded at the moment of conception, withering shunted aside by time's next orgasmic thrust, and all to the beating of some galactic heart, to voices, a madman's mutterings from a snare in the world.
Hardin lived in a world he manipulated day to day, you never knew when a piece of information might have a use. Life was a jigsaw puzzle someone had kicked apart on the day Hardin was born and he was still putting it back together a piece at a time, turning each section this way and that to see where it fit.
A thousand lives woven like threads in a patternless tapestry and if he died here on the highway it would alter the design not one iota. The world was locked doors, keep-out sign, guard dogs. He figured to just ease through unnoticed and be gone.
He guessed wherever he was was better than sleeping, these days he had come to feel that life was spinning past him, leaving him helpless. Sleep only accelerated this feeling of impotence. While he slept the world spun on, changed, situations altered and grew more complex, left him more inadequate to deal with them.
Would recommend to fans of Southern Gothic fiction and/or those who enjoy rich, poetic prose and multi-dimensional characters.
March 25, 2016
One of my favorite books so far this year. Gay's prose is astounding--truthfully no writer should be able to spend so much time talking about the weather but he does it so well that I'd be willing to read several hundred pages of him just describing a rainstorm. But there's an intricate story here, too, and that's what makes The Long Home so good. As slow and methodical as the pacing sometimes feels, by the time you reach the end of the book you realize how crucial every moment was. On top of that, Gay's characters are vivid and compelling and firmly anchored in the understated but evocative world of 1940s bootlegger country. Must-read for anyone who likes a slow smoldering story or just plain good writing.
June 13, 2018
They drove through a land in ruin, a sprawling, unkept wood of thousands of acres, land bought by distant companies or folks who'd never seen it. Yet they passed unlit houses and old tilting grocery stores with their rusting gaspumps attendant and it was like driving through a country where civilization had fallen and vanished, where the gods had turned vengeful or perverse so that the denizens had picked up their lives and fled. Old canted oblique shanties built without regard for roads or the uses of them, folks for whom footpaths would serve as well. Dark bulks rising out of the mouths of hollows, trees growing through their outraged roofs. Old stone flues standing blackened and solitary like sentries frozen at their posts waiting for a relief that did not come and did not come. Longdeserted ghostroads, haunts of homeless drunks and haphazard lovers.
Sadly this completes my reading of William Gay's all too few publications, other than his collection of short stories.
The Long Home was Gay's debut, but it's like his genius for lyrical prose came into the world fully formed and perfect. The above extract could have been lifted from just about any page. I chose this one because even the description of his bleak, abandoned neighbourhood of miner's homes is beautiful. What a shame William Gay's output was so small. Fortunate for many loyal and admiring fans however. Better his small output than none. William Gay published this book in 1999, when he was in his late fifties, wrote three more books and a collection of short stories and died thirteen years later in 2012.
Really i can't recommend this novel (and all Gay's books) more highly.
Just fantastic!!
Sadly this completes my reading of William Gay's all too few publications, other than his collection of short stories.
The Long Home was Gay's debut, but it's like his genius for lyrical prose came into the world fully formed and perfect. The above extract could have been lifted from just about any page. I chose this one because even the description of his bleak, abandoned neighbourhood of miner's homes is beautiful. What a shame William Gay's output was so small. Fortunate for many loyal and admiring fans however. Better his small output than none. William Gay published this book in 1999, when he was in his late fifties, wrote three more books and a collection of short stories and died thirteen years later in 2012.
Really i can't recommend this novel (and all Gay's books) more highly.
Just fantastic!!
October 16, 2022
Who couldn’t love these fighting, longing creatures? Everyone wants something here, which is exactly how it should be. Not any other way. I’ve got room in my heart for them all.
“You want to see everything at once, Nathan. You want it every bit in front of you where you can look at it, make choices. I never had a choice to make. I just do what there is to do and then I don’t worry over it. It’s done.”
“You want to see everything at once, Nathan. You want it every bit in front of you where you can look at it, make choices. I never had a choice to make. I just do what there is to do and then I don’t worry over it. It’s done.”
December 14, 2013
William Gay, rest his soul, had a way of crafting a story that while reminiscent of other great contemporary authors also hits spots that are so very uniquely his. You know how some books just flow? The ones where you can follow the author's process behind a desk as they seemingly let their thoughts create a rough draft initially only to come back with slight edits where needed because the spontaneous creative process was what the author was trying to convey........well that's not Gay. Particularly in this one, you can tell that his writing in the settings, phrasings, descriptions, and plot developments were married in a wrenching and painstaking way. I for one appreciate the heck out of his labor. His way with words, while in no way similar to how anyone (particularly Gay) would carry out a conversation, is superb.
Some would find this too dark in subject matter, and it certainly is a dirty little look into some pretty unsavory crap, but it is also beautiful and for me the good out weighs the bad. It's not one where all the loose ends straighten, or where good entirely trumps evil and we get the outcomes and closure we want. This is more believable than that, and in being so it isn't a finish it and move on book. These folks seat in your brain as real and will stay a part of your life for time to come.
Personally, while it still makes my favorite shelf, I still "like" Provinces of Night even more, but that's no real surprise, I kinda knew that before I started. I would also say it is a slower journey, ramping up more gradually, working toward the crescendo which is back end loaded. For a first time reader, oddly I would recommend Twilight (not the vampire saga......although there is some "blood sucking" in play) even though his other works are my favorites. Go grab something by this man for Pete's sake, he's great.
Some would find this too dark in subject matter, and it certainly is a dirty little look into some pretty unsavory crap, but it is also beautiful and for me the good out weighs the bad. It's not one where all the loose ends straighten, or where good entirely trumps evil and we get the outcomes and closure we want. This is more believable than that, and in being so it isn't a finish it and move on book. These folks seat in your brain as real and will stay a part of your life for time to come.
Personally, while it still makes my favorite shelf, I still "like" Provinces of Night even more, but that's no real surprise, I kinda knew that before I started. I would also say it is a slower journey, ramping up more gradually, working toward the crescendo which is back end loaded. For a first time reader, oddly I would recommend Twilight (not the vampire saga......although there is some "blood sucking" in play) even though his other works are my favorites. Go grab something by this man for Pete's sake, he's great.
November 14, 2019
Somewhat illogically, this was my fourth of Gay's novels, as chronolgically, it is the first, and it reads like that, if I hadn't known it already I could have guessed. There are just snippets of his writing, the odd passage here and there, that indicate the potential that he went on to fill in Twilight and Provinces Of Night, but as a whole, I didn't find this quite as wonderful as those two.
It has his trademark, that rural and desolate landscape, and the initial sublime soon turns into something much darker. The characters are more clearly defined than in his later work; Dallas Hardin, the villain - deceiving an entire rural community with his evil designs, gaining power from their weaknesses for liquor and prostitutes; Nathan Winer, the hero - pursuing an unlikely love and striving to preserve his dignity while working for the devilish Hardin; and William Tell Oliver, the elder and mentor of young Nathan.
I suspect that if I'd read this first, I would have got more out of it - but after those two later works, parts of it fell a little flat. There just wasn't enough of those memorable passages, the wonderful ear that Gay has for dialogue and his portrayals of nature seem to have been just developing.
Those two books, Twilight and Provinces Of Night, are amongst my favourites in the genre, and it’s tough competition. Gay seems to do what his fellow authors do, take Cormac McCarthy as an example, who inspired and mentored Gay, but without the violence. I don't mind the violence at all, it plays a crucial role, but it is to his credit that Gay's writing doesn't need it; you can almost feel Hardin's foul and hot breath down your neck in some passages here, and sense those winter days so wonderfully described, the moist breeze from a cold rain in your face.
I now just have those novels that have been published since his death (in 2012) to read, The Lost Country , and the soon to be published Stoneburner, both of which I am very much looking forward to.
It has his trademark, that rural and desolate landscape, and the initial sublime soon turns into something much darker. The characters are more clearly defined than in his later work; Dallas Hardin, the villain - deceiving an entire rural community with his evil designs, gaining power from their weaknesses for liquor and prostitutes; Nathan Winer, the hero - pursuing an unlikely love and striving to preserve his dignity while working for the devilish Hardin; and William Tell Oliver, the elder and mentor of young Nathan.
I suspect that if I'd read this first, I would have got more out of it - but after those two later works, parts of it fell a little flat. There just wasn't enough of those memorable passages, the wonderful ear that Gay has for dialogue and his portrayals of nature seem to have been just developing.
Those two books, Twilight and Provinces Of Night, are amongst my favourites in the genre, and it’s tough competition. Gay seems to do what his fellow authors do, take Cormac McCarthy as an example, who inspired and mentored Gay, but without the violence. I don't mind the violence at all, it plays a crucial role, but it is to his credit that Gay's writing doesn't need it; you can almost feel Hardin's foul and hot breath down your neck in some passages here, and sense those winter days so wonderfully described, the moist breeze from a cold rain in your face.
I now just have those novels that have been published since his death (in 2012) to read, The Lost Country , and the soon to be published Stoneburner, both of which I am very much looking forward to.
October 1, 2012
I've waited a while before writing this review, as I've been trying to decide what it is I like so much about William Gays writing. He seems to encapture all that is good in a writer, at least for me. The way he establishes such a strong sense of time and place, the believability (not sure that's a real word) of the characters he creates, and the way they behave rationally within the confines of their own logic, whether it be in a good or a bad way. Dallas Hardin is an evil/vile (choose either anagram) character, but you can follow his thought patterns and his logic, he's no unhinged psychopath, and this gives him an even more menacing air.
Gay's writing is impressively economic at times. He can cram, what for other writers would be a whole chapters worth of storytelling, images and feelings into one sentence. There's one line ( if I can find it I'll add it to this review), that Motormouth Hodges says when he comes back from Chicago with his big city hopes destroyed, that made me conjure up almost a separate side-novel in my mind about his experiences up there( small fish in big pond; nobody looks you in the eye; don't wanna shoot the breeze with no strangers; cold cold place; big lights just threw darker shadows to get lost in; not what you'd call friendly folk; sleeping rough; whadya mean move along, I aint botherin' nobody; everyone going through life at a million miles an hour like they was on the clock; folks looking down their noses; what makes them better than me; oh to hell with this place, you cold-hearted bastards can keep it.) You see what I mean, all that and more from one perfectly formed William Gay sentence. That's why I love William Gay.
Gay's writing is impressively economic at times. He can cram, what for other writers would be a whole chapters worth of storytelling, images and feelings into one sentence. There's one line ( if I can find it I'll add it to this review), that Motormouth Hodges says when he comes back from Chicago with his big city hopes destroyed, that made me conjure up almost a separate side-novel in my mind about his experiences up there( small fish in big pond; nobody looks you in the eye; don't wanna shoot the breeze with no strangers; cold cold place; big lights just threw darker shadows to get lost in; not what you'd call friendly folk; sleeping rough; whadya mean move along, I aint botherin' nobody; everyone going through life at a million miles an hour like they was on the clock; folks looking down their noses; what makes them better than me; oh to hell with this place, you cold-hearted bastards can keep it.) You see what I mean, all that and more from one perfectly formed William Gay sentence. That's why I love William Gay.
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