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To Rise Again at a Decent Hour
A big, brilliant, profoundly observed novel about the mysteries of modern life by National Book Award Finalist Joshua Ferris, one of the most exciting voices of his generation
Paul O'Rourke is a man made of contradictions: he loves the world, but doesn't know how to live in it. He's a Luddite addicted to his iPhone, a dentist with a nicotine habit, a rabid Red Sox fan devastated by their victories, and an atheist not quite willing to let go of God.
Then someone begins to impersonate Paul online, and he watches in horror as a website, a Facebook page, and a Twitter account are created in his name. What begins as an outrageous violation of his privacy soon becomes something more soul-frightening: the possibility that the online "Paul" might be a better version of the real thing. As Paul's quest to learn why his identity has been stolen deepens, he is forced to confront his troubled past and his uncertain future in a life disturbingly split between the real and the virtual.
At once laugh-out-loud funny about the absurdities of the modern world, and indelibly profound about the eternal questions of the meaning of life, love and truth, To Rise Again at a Decent Hour is a deeply moving and constantly surprising tour de force.
Paul O'Rourke is a man made of contradictions: he loves the world, but doesn't know how to live in it. He's a Luddite addicted to his iPhone, a dentist with a nicotine habit, a rabid Red Sox fan devastated by their victories, and an atheist not quite willing to let go of God.
Then someone begins to impersonate Paul online, and he watches in horror as a website, a Facebook page, and a Twitter account are created in his name. What begins as an outrageous violation of his privacy soon becomes something more soul-frightening: the possibility that the online "Paul" might be a better version of the real thing. As Paul's quest to learn why his identity has been stolen deepens, he is forced to confront his troubled past and his uncertain future in a life disturbingly split between the real and the virtual.
At once laugh-out-loud funny about the absurdities of the modern world, and indelibly profound about the eternal questions of the meaning of life, love and truth, To Rise Again at a Decent Hour is a deeply moving and constantly surprising tour de force.
352 pages, Hardcover
First published December 18, 2014
About the author
Joshua Ferris
48 books980 followersJoshua Ferris is the author of novels Then We Came to the End, The Unnamed and To Rise Again at a Decent Hour as well as a story collection, The Dinner Party. He has been a finalist for the National Book Award, winner of the Barnes and Noble Discover Award and the PEN/Hemingway Award, short-listed for the Man Booker Prize, and winner of the International Dylan Thomas Prize. He was named one of The New Yorker's "20 Under 40" writers in 2010. He lives in Hudson, New York with his wife and son.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,443 reviews
February 18, 2014
To be clear, I won this mofo in a Goodreads giveaway.
I loved Ferris's previous two novels and eagerly hit this one. Said eagerness quickly gave way to a stolid kind of admiration and a decent amount of fatigue. Other reviewers will undoubtedly provide a detailed synopsis of the plot, so I'll just say that Ferris's strengths are fully on display here, but it's also a book that requires a certain level, shall we say, of commitment. It's a seriously dense novel.
His dialogue is just flat-out singing here, pitch-perfect and a joy to read. Dude is a master at dialogue. The plot is wonderfully inventive. Paul O'Rourke is an inherently damaged character, and terrific in the sense that he's so relatable. There are plenty of moments and relationships here that are just a pure joy to read, and Ferris is undoubtedly a gifted and hardworking writer.
Again, my complaint, and why I'm unable to give the book a higher rating, is that density I mentioned. I understand that the book is told via first person and rife with inner monologues, but I struggled at times with the multi-page paragraphs and the general ceaselessness of it. At one point, Paul describes the manner in which his ex-girlfriend ties her hair back with a scrunchie, and said description takes up nearly a page, and while TO RISE AGAIN AT A DECENT HOUR was ambitious as hell, I think it would've been much more effective if Ferris had sacrificed some of the effluvia for a little more narrative velocity.
I loved Ferris's previous two novels and eagerly hit this one. Said eagerness quickly gave way to a stolid kind of admiration and a decent amount of fatigue. Other reviewers will undoubtedly provide a detailed synopsis of the plot, so I'll just say that Ferris's strengths are fully on display here, but it's also a book that requires a certain level, shall we say, of commitment. It's a seriously dense novel.
His dialogue is just flat-out singing here, pitch-perfect and a joy to read. Dude is a master at dialogue. The plot is wonderfully inventive. Paul O'Rourke is an inherently damaged character, and terrific in the sense that he's so relatable. There are plenty of moments and relationships here that are just a pure joy to read, and Ferris is undoubtedly a gifted and hardworking writer.
Again, my complaint, and why I'm unable to give the book a higher rating, is that density I mentioned. I understand that the book is told via first person and rife with inner monologues, but I struggled at times with the multi-page paragraphs and the general ceaselessness of it. At one point, Paul describes the manner in which his ex-girlfriend ties her hair back with a scrunchie, and said description takes up nearly a page, and while TO RISE AGAIN AT A DECENT HOUR was ambitious as hell, I think it would've been much more effective if Ferris had sacrificed some of the effluvia for a little more narrative velocity.
April 16, 2018
Number of times I laughed up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I chortled up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I grinned broadly up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I smiled quietly up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I very slightly smirked up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I thought that Philip Roth, David Foster Wallace, Nicholson Baker and a couple of others whose names escape me could do this sort of angsty white middle class monologuing nitpicking mournful modern-life-is-rubbish thing a whole lot better : 40
Number of times I chortled up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I grinned broadly up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I smiled quietly up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I very slightly smirked up to page 50 : 0
Number of times I thought that Philip Roth, David Foster Wallace, Nicholson Baker and a couple of others whose names escape me could do this sort of angsty white middle class monologuing nitpicking mournful modern-life-is-rubbish thing a whole lot better : 40
August 31, 2016
Joshua Ferris’s new novel is about a dentist, and like a good dentist, Ferris welcomes us in with a few jokes and some distracting chitchat. By the time we realize what we’re in for, we’re flat on our backs, staring wildly at our own reflection in the goggles of a person we’re not sure we should trust.
If you’re afraid of dentists or demanding fiction, back away because “To Rise Again at a Decent Hour” is a brilliant mess of a novel that drills at a raw nerve of existential dread. It’s a deceptively comic treatment of Emily Dickinson’s claim that “Narcotics cannot still the Tooth/ That nibbles at the soul.” Ferris has managed to blend the clever satire of his first book, “Then We Came to the End,” with the grinding despair of his second, “The Unnamed.” The result is a witty story that chews on Internet scams, relationship killers, crackpot theology, baseball mania and the desperate loneliness of modern life.
Plotting in the traditional sense is not Ferris’s prime interest — or his strongest talent. What matters to him is how characters respond to the approaching darkness. No matter the setting, for Ferris, it’s always Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and the Rest of Us. There’s some complication in this third novel — even some remnants of intrigue — but we’re locked in the endlessly spiraling mind of Paul O’Rourke, D.D.S., a functional depressive with a successful practice in New York City. Peering into the moist maw of one patient after another — seeing the incipient rot, noting the early signs of mortality — has only exacerbated his angst. This is a man who can’t get a puppy because someday it might die; he doesn’t want kids because that would take suicide off the table.
And so he has poured his enthusiasm into one hobby and relationship after another, only to grow bored — or to frighten away the objects of his affection. Even God has proved inadequate to his boundless zeal. “I would have liked to believe in God,” he tells us, but church is just “a place to be bored in” and the Bible offers only “firmament, superlong middle part, Jesus.”
These erratic musings of a “misanthropic and chronically unhappy” man are interrupted one day by a mysterious encounter. “My life didn’t really begin,” Paul tells us, “until several months before the fateful Red Sox summer of 2011.” Someone he doesn’t know well insists on having a tooth extracted without any anesthetic; instead, the patient wants to rely on Tibetan meditation techniques. “I’m not actually here physically,” the man claims. As you might expect, that doesn’t work well, but as the patient leaves, he whispers, “I’m going to Israel. I’m an Ulm, and so are you!”
That enigmatic remark trips a cascade of strange events, starting with the creation of a nice-looking Web site for Paul’s practice — a Web site that Paul never sanctioned nor requested. If this is identity theft, it seems like the best kind to suffer. But while Paul tries to shut down that unauthorized site, phony Twitter and Facebook accounts using his name start offering comments about the modern-day descendants of Amalek.
If you know the Hebrew Bible, you may recognize the Amalekites as the ancient and eternal enemy of the Jews, but Paul, of course, has never managed to make it past “the barren wives and the kindred wraths and all the rest of it.” Now, however, he’s infected by curiosity about this faux version of himself online, and soon he’s drawn into a labyrinth of Web sites either condemning the Amalekites or celebrating them as an ancient sect of religious doubters who have been unfairly maligned. It’s just the sort of occult, incendiary debate that metastasizes all over the Internet, inflaming anti-Semites, alarming the Anti-Defamation League and leaving Paul ever more entangled in the strident, quasi-academic claims of shadowy kooks. While ignoring his patients and frightening his staff, he grows convinced of his own seriousness and sincerity.
The great challenge of creating a manic-depressive narrator is conveying the intensity of his mania without forcing readers to endure the tedium of actual mania. Although Ferris reportedly cut hundreds of pages from “To Rise Again at a Decent Hour,” he has managed to preserve the novel’s meandering gait, the artless, associative jumps and swings of a man flailing about.
There are still long patches of blather; three pages about hand lotion, for instance, exemplify the author’s tendency toward self-indulgence. And some stale jokes about social media addiction should remind everyone that Dave Eggers’s “The Circle” has exhausted that line of satire. But at his best, which is most of the time, Ferris spins Paul’s observations and reflections into passages of flashing comedy that sound like a stand-up theologian suffering a nervous breakdown.
In the novel’s weirdest and most daring sections, Paul describes his longstanding attraction to Judaism, despite his confirmed atheism. Why, he wonders, can’t he join with the community of the faithful without swallowing the demands of belief? If he can’t be Jewish, can he be, say, “Jewish-ish”? In the dark folds of despair, he fails to detect the offensive strains of his desperate philo-Semitism.
Howard Jacobson explored some of these issues in his equally plotless comic novel “The Finkler Question,” which won the Booker Prize in 2010. Ferris’s book is less polished, but ultimately it’s better for that raggedness — more poignant, more tragic. For all Paul’s ludicrous ravings about the Red Sox and a Lost Tribe and the girlfriends who got away, he’s frightened of something profound and universal. “The day is hard enough. Don’t leave me alone with the night,” he pleads. For all his fleeting affections and loony obsessions, he knows: “What separated the living from one another could be as impenetrable as whatever barrier separated the living from the dead.”
You can rinse now. But you won’t get the taste of this harrowing story out of your mouth.
From The Washington Post:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/enterta...
If you’re afraid of dentists or demanding fiction, back away because “To Rise Again at a Decent Hour” is a brilliant mess of a novel that drills at a raw nerve of existential dread. It’s a deceptively comic treatment of Emily Dickinson’s claim that “Narcotics cannot still the Tooth/ That nibbles at the soul.” Ferris has managed to blend the clever satire of his first book, “Then We Came to the End,” with the grinding despair of his second, “The Unnamed.” The result is a witty story that chews on Internet scams, relationship killers, crackpot theology, baseball mania and the desperate loneliness of modern life.
Plotting in the traditional sense is not Ferris’s prime interest — or his strongest talent. What matters to him is how characters respond to the approaching darkness. No matter the setting, for Ferris, it’s always Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and the Rest of Us. There’s some complication in this third novel — even some remnants of intrigue — but we’re locked in the endlessly spiraling mind of Paul O’Rourke, D.D.S., a functional depressive with a successful practice in New York City. Peering into the moist maw of one patient after another — seeing the incipient rot, noting the early signs of mortality — has only exacerbated his angst. This is a man who can’t get a puppy because someday it might die; he doesn’t want kids because that would take suicide off the table.
And so he has poured his enthusiasm into one hobby and relationship after another, only to grow bored — or to frighten away the objects of his affection. Even God has proved inadequate to his boundless zeal. “I would have liked to believe in God,” he tells us, but church is just “a place to be bored in” and the Bible offers only “firmament, superlong middle part, Jesus.”
These erratic musings of a “misanthropic and chronically unhappy” man are interrupted one day by a mysterious encounter. “My life didn’t really begin,” Paul tells us, “until several months before the fateful Red Sox summer of 2011.” Someone he doesn’t know well insists on having a tooth extracted without any anesthetic; instead, the patient wants to rely on Tibetan meditation techniques. “I’m not actually here physically,” the man claims. As you might expect, that doesn’t work well, but as the patient leaves, he whispers, “I’m going to Israel. I’m an Ulm, and so are you!”
That enigmatic remark trips a cascade of strange events, starting with the creation of a nice-looking Web site for Paul’s practice — a Web site that Paul never sanctioned nor requested. If this is identity theft, it seems like the best kind to suffer. But while Paul tries to shut down that unauthorized site, phony Twitter and Facebook accounts using his name start offering comments about the modern-day descendants of Amalek.
If you know the Hebrew Bible, you may recognize the Amalekites as the ancient and eternal enemy of the Jews, but Paul, of course, has never managed to make it past “the barren wives and the kindred wraths and all the rest of it.” Now, however, he’s infected by curiosity about this faux version of himself online, and soon he’s drawn into a labyrinth of Web sites either condemning the Amalekites or celebrating them as an ancient sect of religious doubters who have been unfairly maligned. It’s just the sort of occult, incendiary debate that metastasizes all over the Internet, inflaming anti-Semites, alarming the Anti-Defamation League and leaving Paul ever more entangled in the strident, quasi-academic claims of shadowy kooks. While ignoring his patients and frightening his staff, he grows convinced of his own seriousness and sincerity.
The great challenge of creating a manic-depressive narrator is conveying the intensity of his mania without forcing readers to endure the tedium of actual mania. Although Ferris reportedly cut hundreds of pages from “To Rise Again at a Decent Hour,” he has managed to preserve the novel’s meandering gait, the artless, associative jumps and swings of a man flailing about.
There are still long patches of blather; three pages about hand lotion, for instance, exemplify the author’s tendency toward self-indulgence. And some stale jokes about social media addiction should remind everyone that Dave Eggers’s “The Circle” has exhausted that line of satire. But at his best, which is most of the time, Ferris spins Paul’s observations and reflections into passages of flashing comedy that sound like a stand-up theologian suffering a nervous breakdown.
In the novel’s weirdest and most daring sections, Paul describes his longstanding attraction to Judaism, despite his confirmed atheism. Why, he wonders, can’t he join with the community of the faithful without swallowing the demands of belief? If he can’t be Jewish, can he be, say, “Jewish-ish”? In the dark folds of despair, he fails to detect the offensive strains of his desperate philo-Semitism.
Howard Jacobson explored some of these issues in his equally plotless comic novel “The Finkler Question,” which won the Booker Prize in 2010. Ferris’s book is less polished, but ultimately it’s better for that raggedness — more poignant, more tragic. For all Paul’s ludicrous ravings about the Red Sox and a Lost Tribe and the girlfriends who got away, he’s frightened of something profound and universal. “The day is hard enough. Don’t leave me alone with the night,” he pleads. For all his fleeting affections and loony obsessions, he knows: “What separated the living from one another could be as impenetrable as whatever barrier separated the living from the dead.”
You can rinse now. But you won’t get the taste of this harrowing story out of your mouth.
From The Washington Post:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/enterta...
October 3, 2014
I have literally no idea why this is even longlisted. The first 50ish pages were alright. That was it. The main character seemed like an interesting guy at the start before all the arduous religious stuff. In many ways this felt like a Coen brother's film but that is a massive insult to the Coens. I'm not angry with this book, I'm just disappointed. It could have been brilliant but it really wasn't. It was boring. And that's the worst possible thing a book could be.
December 11, 2016
Warning: This review is not grammatically correct. It is also rambling and incoherent...much like this book was.
Though expertly performed by Campbell Scott, listening to this audio became almost painful. What began as an entertaining character study of an enigmatic, lonely, brilliant, successful, depressed, nerdy, misunderstood, death-obsessed, atheist, Red Sox fanatic and dentist, who was also addicted to yet repulsed by technology, quickly devolved into what was akin to listening to the inner monologue of a lunatic. Oh, and he also needed to clarify every single thought he ever had in every conversation, ruminate on past and present perceived failings (his own and everyone else's), question the meaning of most things with a "why bother if we're just going to die?" thought process about everything, and repeat a lot of things...like "me-machine" and how much he loved his old girlfriend's family (actually both girlfriend's families). Add in his office staff, a billionaire, a researcher/cult leader, said person's assertion that the dentist was a member of this ancient people (and needed to admit this and join them in...I'm not sure what), lots of religious quotes and a very, very long, dense history lesson on Amalek, the Amalekites, the Ulms, with much about Catholicism and Judaism. Are you still with me? Do you even want to be?
I was so glad when this was over. It was too intense and the epilogue was baffling. Really?! That's the end? That said, it was sometimes entertaining and funny. I recognize it merits, though I would not recommend it to anyone. 2 stars.
Are you still with me?
Though expertly performed by Campbell Scott, listening to this audio became almost painful. What began as an entertaining character study of an enigmatic, lonely, brilliant, successful, depressed, nerdy, misunderstood, death-obsessed, atheist, Red Sox fanatic and dentist, who was also addicted to yet repulsed by technology, quickly devolved into what was akin to listening to the inner monologue of a lunatic. Oh, and he also needed to clarify every single thought he ever had in every conversation, ruminate on past and present perceived failings (his own and everyone else's), question the meaning of most things with a "why bother if we're just going to die?" thought process about everything, and repeat a lot of things...like "me-machine" and how much he loved his old girlfriend's family (actually both girlfriend's families). Add in his office staff, a billionaire, a researcher/cult leader, said person's assertion that the dentist was a member of this ancient people (and needed to admit this and join them in...I'm not sure what), lots of religious quotes and a very, very long, dense history lesson on Amalek, the Amalekites, the Ulms, with much about Catholicism and Judaism. Are you still with me? Do you even want to be?
I was so glad when this was over. It was too intense and the epilogue was baffling. Really?! That's the end? That said, it was sometimes entertaining and funny. I recognize it merits, though I would not recommend it to anyone. 2 stars.
Are you still with me?
July 30, 2016
Disclaimer: I won this book in a Goodreads First Reads giveaway.
To Rise Again at a Decent Hour is not a bad book; it just appears to have been written for an audience so specific that I'm not sure it really even exists. As the cover art suggests, it combines a mishmash of topics: baseball, Judaism, and dentistry, primarily. But while there's some logic to how all of these things fit together, they never quite add up to a cohesive whole. The synopsis purports that it is the story of a man who is horrified to find that someone is impersonating him on social media, but while this is technically true, it fails to hint at the philosophical and religious complexities that arise as a result.
In short, this is not the comic novel I expected. For one, I didn't actually find it all that funny. Amusing, yes. Thought-provoking, sure. But I don't think the book is marketed in a way that captures what it is really about. Its message will speak to some readers, but not necessarily those who are looking for a humorous meditation on social media. It is barely about that, which makes it at once more ambitious and more unwieldy than I expected. Ultimately, it was not the novel I wanted it to be, which is not necessarily a criticism of the novel it is. Ferris is undoubtedly a talented writer—I just didn't find the particular world of this novel to be all that compelling.
To Rise Again at a Decent Hour is not a bad book; it just appears to have been written for an audience so specific that I'm not sure it really even exists. As the cover art suggests, it combines a mishmash of topics: baseball, Judaism, and dentistry, primarily. But while there's some logic to how all of these things fit together, they never quite add up to a cohesive whole. The synopsis purports that it is the story of a man who is horrified to find that someone is impersonating him on social media, but while this is technically true, it fails to hint at the philosophical and religious complexities that arise as a result.
In short, this is not the comic novel I expected. For one, I didn't actually find it all that funny. Amusing, yes. Thought-provoking, sure. But I don't think the book is marketed in a way that captures what it is really about. Its message will speak to some readers, but not necessarily those who are looking for a humorous meditation on social media. It is barely about that, which makes it at once more ambitious and more unwieldy than I expected. Ultimately, it was not the novel I wanted it to be, which is not necessarily a criticism of the novel it is. Ferris is undoubtedly a talented writer—I just didn't find the particular world of this novel to be all that compelling.
April 8, 2014
I really tried to finish reading this book- struggled through 180 pages and could go no further. The real "killer" for me was the seemingly endless ridiculous dissertations, seemingly from the Bible, to the main character from an unknown being who had stolen his identity on the internet.description on the back cover and the first pages seemed interesting but it went quickly downhill from there.
January 2, 2016
Paul finds all significance draining from his life, leaving a gaping hollow that nothing can fill, not even his obsessive and highly ritualised love of the Red Sox. When he looks around, he sees that other people tend to be grounded in communities: family, religion, whatever. Paul would very much like to belong too. Perfection would be to be an atheist Jew: that sense of belonging, but without the effort of imagining a supernatural being in the sky. Paul reaches contentment when he stops wanting to be something he isn't. That's it really.
This was quite amusing, until it wasn't. Then it was heavy going, and only got read because I was stuck in a doctor's waiting room. Actually, that was embarrassing: I can't stand the phone, hardly ever use it, so when my ancient mobile recently fried, I set about informing the three people who have me on their contact list that the number was now defunct as I wouldn't bother getting a new one. One suggested that I could have her old dumb phone. Yeah, I s'ppose, why not, put the sim card in, so we did, and it worked and with a bit of assistance I even managed to write an sms, and then promptly forgot the thing. So there I was, sitting in this overflowing waiting room (is that the sign of a good doctor or a bad one?) when there was the irritating trill of a mobile phone ring tone. Everyone, including me, looked around to see whose it was, and why didn't that person bloody well answer? I think you can guess the rest.
That anecdote is not entirely irrelevant to the book, as it is one where every character spends an inordinate amount of time staring into their 'me-machines', as Ferris calls them. Yup.
This was quite amusing, until it wasn't. Then it was heavy going, and only got read because I was stuck in a doctor's waiting room. Actually, that was embarrassing: I can't stand the phone, hardly ever use it, so when my ancient mobile recently fried, I set about informing the three people who have me on their contact list that the number was now defunct as I wouldn't bother getting a new one. One suggested that I could have her old dumb phone. Yeah, I s'ppose, why not, put the sim card in, so we did, and it worked and with a bit of assistance I even managed to write an sms, and then promptly forgot the thing. So there I was, sitting in this overflowing waiting room (is that the sign of a good doctor or a bad one?) when there was the irritating trill of a mobile phone ring tone. Everyone, including me, looked around to see whose it was, and why didn't that person bloody well answer? I think you can guess the rest.
That anecdote is not entirely irrelevant to the book, as it is one where every character spends an inordinate amount of time staring into their 'me-machines', as Ferris calls them. Yup.
March 6, 2015
Received this book as a First Reads giveaway and it absolutely blew me away! What rock have I been under that this is the first time I've heard of Joshua Ferris? His books are now on my to-read list.
The main character in this novel is Dr. Paul O'Rourke, DDS. Paul is a walking bundle of anxiety looking for answers to some very primal questions. He has no family to speak of, so continually tries to attach himself to people with what appear to be happy home lives, even if he has nothing in common with them. His love life is on hold; he's had 4 girlfriends in his life, including one from grade school. He has no hobbies or interests other than following the Red Socks (his dead father's team), but he only enjoyed doing so when they were underdogs; now that they've become winners he watches all their games hoping they'll go back to losing. He's a confirmed atheist but wants to be involved in a religion, if only for the feeling of belonging.
In spite of all the above, he's a funny and witty character who engages in outlandish dialogues with his hygienist, Betsy, a devout Catholic who tries to instill some of her faith in him. The author uses a device that I've never seen before. He will describe an encounter between Paul and Betsy as if it were a phone conversation, with Betsy's comments written out but Paul's responses and questions only noted as "then I said," or "I answered." We're left to fill in his contributions to their conversations which, we imagine, are both hysterically funny and wildly inappropriate.
This is the story of a man who's lonely in the middle of Manhattan, looking for someone or something to make life meaningful. His journey is humorous and touching. I got completely caught up his struggle to make a real rather than virtual connection with the world, a situation that many people in this era can certainly relate to.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants more than just quick read as it's left me thinking even after turning the last page and putting it down.
The main character in this novel is Dr. Paul O'Rourke, DDS. Paul is a walking bundle of anxiety looking for answers to some very primal questions. He has no family to speak of, so continually tries to attach himself to people with what appear to be happy home lives, even if he has nothing in common with them. His love life is on hold; he's had 4 girlfriends in his life, including one from grade school. He has no hobbies or interests other than following the Red Socks (his dead father's team), but he only enjoyed doing so when they were underdogs; now that they've become winners he watches all their games hoping they'll go back to losing. He's a confirmed atheist but wants to be involved in a religion, if only for the feeling of belonging.
In spite of all the above, he's a funny and witty character who engages in outlandish dialogues with his hygienist, Betsy, a devout Catholic who tries to instill some of her faith in him. The author uses a device that I've never seen before. He will describe an encounter between Paul and Betsy as if it were a phone conversation, with Betsy's comments written out but Paul's responses and questions only noted as "then I said," or "I answered." We're left to fill in his contributions to their conversations which, we imagine, are both hysterically funny and wildly inappropriate.
This is the story of a man who's lonely in the middle of Manhattan, looking for someone or something to make life meaningful. His journey is humorous and touching. I got completely caught up his struggle to make a real rather than virtual connection with the world, a situation that many people in this era can certainly relate to.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants more than just quick read as it's left me thinking even after turning the last page and putting it down.
October 1, 2024
To Rise Again at a Decent Hour was a nice change from the books I have listened to and/or read recently. It is about dentist Paul O'Rourke who is extremely skilled at his profession and has a thriving practice of loyal patients. Even so, Paul has spent much of his life trying to become someone for other people - specifically through studying religions and becoming quite knowledgeable to impress the family members of the women he is dating (some may say he is obsessed with).
Often quite comical and always interesting, following along with Paul as he worries through the mundane and trivial events of his daily life was a good reminder how easy it is to lose sight of what is important, to always strive to live in the moment and that in order to be fully there for others I must first know and be true myself.
Narrator Campbell Scott does a fantastic job voicing all (both male and female) characters and made it easy to envision the storyline throughout.
Often quite comical and always interesting, following along with Paul as he worries through the mundane and trivial events of his daily life was a good reminder how easy it is to lose sight of what is important, to always strive to live in the moment and that in order to be fully there for others I must first know and be true myself.
Narrator Campbell Scott does a fantastic job voicing all (both male and female) characters and made it easy to envision the storyline throughout.
July 29, 2014
I can't really articulate how I feel about this book. I didn't like it from the get-go, but it grew on me. I skimmed over chunks of it that were too dense and convoluted to keep my interest (all of the Amalekite/Ulm stuff - good grief). I still am not entirely sure what this book was ultimately all about. I think it's basically an unstable man's search for meaning in life with a lot of satire and dark comedy, twists and turns, and rabbit holes to fall into.
Alternately funny, weird, confusing, frustrating and insightful - I'm glad I read it but I'm also glad that I'm done with it!
Alternately funny, weird, confusing, frustrating and insightful - I'm glad I read it but I'm also glad that I'm done with it!
May 10, 2014
A confirmed atheist who seeks a religious family to latch onto, a Red Sox fan who embraced them most when they were failures, a middle-aged man who feels self conscious saying “Good morning”--Paul O’Rourke is a depressed, lonely, but exceptionally fine dentist who suffers from a lifelong existential crisis, searching, but disconnected. Perhaps seeking the apt aphorism.
“Everything was always something, but something—and here was the rub—could never be anything.”
Paul’s Jewish ex-girlfriend, Connie, works in the office. When they were together, he became consumed with Judaism (but not God) so that he could belong to her family. Years before, he tried to belong to a Catholic girlfriend’s Catholic family (but not God). Betsy, his upright dental hygienist, is a religious Roman Catholic, and Paul often enjoys debunking God in her presence. But he appreciated her rituals.
“Her internalization of Catholicism and its institutional disappointments suited a dental office perfectly, where guilt was often our last resort for motivating the masses.”
Paul’s emptiness was bottomless, and he was desperate to find a dedication to something bigger than himself. Replacing a rotten tooth with a pontic so that a patient could smile again, or watching David Ortiz bat a homer, and even drinking a mochaccino—these were no small things. But they didn’t promise eternal fulfillment or facilitate his restive soul to the submission of God.
“I would have liked to believe in God. Now there was something that could have been everything better than anything else…It could all be mine: the awesome pitch of organ pipes, the musings of Anglican bishops.”
However, he can’t make it past the Bible’s talk of “firmament.” He starts bleeding tears of terminal boredom.
He also keeps a low profile online—no Facebook, no Twitter. But the world’s preoccupation with Smart Phones, which he calls “me-machines," intrigues him. Occasionally, he Googles himself. Then, one day, he notices that someone has hijacked his identity, created a Facebook account of him and his dental practice, and alleges to be Paul O’Rourke! Moreover, the other Paul starts writing controversial religious excerpts from a bible that belongs to an ancient tribe or sect.
He (this thief of O’Rourke) claims to be an Ulm, from the Old Testament people known as the Amalekites—people who were even more persecuted than the Jews; in fact, they assert that they were destroyed by the Israelites. These online declarations in Paul’s name create contention with the Tweeting public; it hints of a political incorrectness bordering on anti-Semitism. Unless, of course, it is just the facts, and it is true. Is it true? Is Paul doing this to himself, has he lost his mind? The narrative advances a viable history of the Ulms, one that is provocative and convincing. Its doctrine is the belief in doubting God. As the plot progresses, Paul’s inner contradictions become an external force, one he has to reckon with, which demands him to take action, adjust his creature-of-habit lifestyle, and face the unfamiliar.
The story moves along like a locomotive, propelling me forward; I read it in two breathless sittings. Ferris has reached his pinnacle, and of all three novels, this is his best and most accomplished. It’s witty and edgy, but robust and penetrating-- even his flip remarks are moving and unsettling. Sometimes I laughed out loud, often I laughed inside. But I invariably felt Paul’s anguish. Ferris’s droll prose flows with the alacrity of a gazelle. And it never gets dull.
I can’t close my review without this choice example of his keen and aphoristic prose, which arrives on page two, as he describes the profession of dentistry as half-doctor, half-mortician:
“The ailing bits he tries to turn healthy again. The dead bits he just tries to make presentable. He bores a hole, clears the rot, fills the pit, and seals the hatch. He yanks the teeth, pours the mold, fits the fakes, and paints to match. Open cavities are the eye stones of skulls, and molars stand erect as tombstones.”
Read it and leap!
“Everything was always something, but something—and here was the rub—could never be anything.”
Paul’s Jewish ex-girlfriend, Connie, works in the office. When they were together, he became consumed with Judaism (but not God) so that he could belong to her family. Years before, he tried to belong to a Catholic girlfriend’s Catholic family (but not God). Betsy, his upright dental hygienist, is a religious Roman Catholic, and Paul often enjoys debunking God in her presence. But he appreciated her rituals.
“Her internalization of Catholicism and its institutional disappointments suited a dental office perfectly, where guilt was often our last resort for motivating the masses.”
Paul’s emptiness was bottomless, and he was desperate to find a dedication to something bigger than himself. Replacing a rotten tooth with a pontic so that a patient could smile again, or watching David Ortiz bat a homer, and even drinking a mochaccino—these were no small things. But they didn’t promise eternal fulfillment or facilitate his restive soul to the submission of God.
“I would have liked to believe in God. Now there was something that could have been everything better than anything else…It could all be mine: the awesome pitch of organ pipes, the musings of Anglican bishops.”
However, he can’t make it past the Bible’s talk of “firmament.” He starts bleeding tears of terminal boredom.
He also keeps a low profile online—no Facebook, no Twitter. But the world’s preoccupation with Smart Phones, which he calls “me-machines," intrigues him. Occasionally, he Googles himself. Then, one day, he notices that someone has hijacked his identity, created a Facebook account of him and his dental practice, and alleges to be Paul O’Rourke! Moreover, the other Paul starts writing controversial religious excerpts from a bible that belongs to an ancient tribe or sect.
He (this thief of O’Rourke) claims to be an Ulm, from the Old Testament people known as the Amalekites—people who were even more persecuted than the Jews; in fact, they assert that they were destroyed by the Israelites. These online declarations in Paul’s name create contention with the Tweeting public; it hints of a political incorrectness bordering on anti-Semitism. Unless, of course, it is just the facts, and it is true. Is it true? Is Paul doing this to himself, has he lost his mind? The narrative advances a viable history of the Ulms, one that is provocative and convincing. Its doctrine is the belief in doubting God. As the plot progresses, Paul’s inner contradictions become an external force, one he has to reckon with, which demands him to take action, adjust his creature-of-habit lifestyle, and face the unfamiliar.
The story moves along like a locomotive, propelling me forward; I read it in two breathless sittings. Ferris has reached his pinnacle, and of all three novels, this is his best and most accomplished. It’s witty and edgy, but robust and penetrating-- even his flip remarks are moving and unsettling. Sometimes I laughed out loud, often I laughed inside. But I invariably felt Paul’s anguish. Ferris’s droll prose flows with the alacrity of a gazelle. And it never gets dull.
I can’t close my review without this choice example of his keen and aphoristic prose, which arrives on page two, as he describes the profession of dentistry as half-doctor, half-mortician:
“The ailing bits he tries to turn healthy again. The dead bits he just tries to make presentable. He bores a hole, clears the rot, fills the pit, and seals the hatch. He yanks the teeth, pours the mold, fits the fakes, and paints to match. Open cavities are the eye stones of skulls, and molars stand erect as tombstones.”
Read it and leap!
October 15, 2014
“Things Could Be Worse And Things Could Be So Much Better.” Dr. Paul O’Rourke’s motto could be the shorthand for a whole subgenre of contemporary American fiction centering on middle-aged male malaise. O’Rourke, the dentist antihero of Ferris’s third novel, has many good reasons to feel depressed: his father committed suicide and his mother languishes with dementia in a care home; he has chronic insomnia; he resents his utter reliance on technology; and his ex-girlfriend and office manager, Connie Plotz, is a daily reminder of romantic failures. All that, plus he still cannot convince his patients to floss.
Into this atmosphere of existential angst comes every technophobe’s nightmare: someone steals O’Rourke’s online identity and uses it to broadcast messages about an obscure religious sect called the Ulms. The ensuing plot rather devolves into digressive daftness, ranging between Brooklyn and Israel and introducing private detectives, genealogical researchers and a gold-trading billionaire. Repetitive, quasi-biblical passages about Amalekite history also grow fairly tedious. For all its levity, though, the novel does offer a serious critique of religion that people of faith would do well to heed.
As in Shalom Auslander’s Hope: A Tragedy, the approach here is humorous, iconoclastic in places, yet nonetheless heartfelt: “There had to be hope, no matter how hopeless. There had to be effort that might not be doomed.”
(Full review in Summer 2014 issue of Third Way magazine.)
I was delighted to win a copy in a Goodreads First Reads giveaway.
Update, Sept. 2014: very surprised to see this on the Booker Prize shortlist!
Into this atmosphere of existential angst comes every technophobe’s nightmare: someone steals O’Rourke’s online identity and uses it to broadcast messages about an obscure religious sect called the Ulms. The ensuing plot rather devolves into digressive daftness, ranging between Brooklyn and Israel and introducing private detectives, genealogical researchers and a gold-trading billionaire. Repetitive, quasi-biblical passages about Amalekite history also grow fairly tedious. For all its levity, though, the novel does offer a serious critique of religion that people of faith would do well to heed.
As in Shalom Auslander’s Hope: A Tragedy, the approach here is humorous, iconoclastic in places, yet nonetheless heartfelt: “There had to be hope, no matter how hopeless. There had to be effort that might not be doomed.”
(Full review in Summer 2014 issue of Third Way magazine.)
I was delighted to win a copy in a Goodreads First Reads giveaway.
Update, Sept. 2014: very surprised to see this on the Booker Prize shortlist!
March 26, 2016
2 stars - Meh. Just ok.
Started out funny with heavy sarcastic overtones, but quickly became boring. I was expecting this one to be a controversial read that explored modern technology and social networking issues similar to what Eggers did in The Circle, but that never quite came to fruition. Instead this one was very theological, sports centric, dry and quite slow. It was weird and original but unfortunately, that did not equate to enjoyable.
------------------------------
Favorite Quote: I was a dentist, not a website. I was a muddle, not a brand. I was a man, not a profile. They wanted to contain my life with a summary of its purchases and preferences, prescription medications, and predictable behaviors. That was not a man. That was an animal in a cage.
First Sentence: The mouth is a weird place.
Started out funny with heavy sarcastic overtones, but quickly became boring. I was expecting this one to be a controversial read that explored modern technology and social networking issues similar to what Eggers did in The Circle, but that never quite came to fruition. Instead this one was very theological, sports centric, dry and quite slow. It was weird and original but unfortunately, that did not equate to enjoyable.
------------------------------
Favorite Quote: I was a dentist, not a website. I was a muddle, not a brand. I was a man, not a profile. They wanted to contain my life with a summary of its purchases and preferences, prescription medications, and predictable behaviors. That was not a man. That was an animal in a cage.
First Sentence: The mouth is a weird place.
September 5, 2015
Ferris, as you might be able to tell from the title, is all about religion in this novel. His main character, Paul C. O’Rourke, is a dentist—a dentist with a taste for the absurd. He is funny, especially when he is trying not to be. His practice in New York City keeps him crazy busy, so he allows himself only a few indulgences. He is a Red Sox fan in New York, which means he must watch every game (except the 6th inning), taping them to watch later if he has something else on his schedule. The ritual is one which gives structure, and a kind of meaning to his life. He wants something. He still has desire of a sort.
O’Rourke tries to be normal, just so that he can get along with other folks, but he is like a space bot acting human: it’s all wrong. O’Rourke is having a crisis. He doesn’t get the point “of it all,” and he especially doesn’t see God acting in the world. So when a patient tells him he is part of a long-lost race of non-believers in God (any god), O’Rourke wonders if perhaps it isn’t just possible: To be genetically indisposed to believe in God.
O’Rourke wants something to be everything: absorbing, challenging, meaningful. His girlfriends had close family ties, and O’Rourke found that to be meaningful for awhile: he wanted to be a part of their families as much as he was interested in the women themselves. But their religious affiliations always proved a barrier. O’Rourke didn’t believe in God.
One night O’Rourke wakes in the middle of the night and the city outside his window is completely quiet. Not a person could be seen, though earlier the streets were filled with people.
In the final pages of the novel, O’Rourke finds himself understanding a little of how others manage to get through their days. If it doesn’t hurt, there is no reason to worry about it. "What’s the point of dwelling on all the shit and the misery?" He’d like to do what other people do, but one senses his melancholy. He is lonely and there is no God.
Finally, O’Rourke concludes that there is no certainty, no freedom from doubt, “there is only will.” We may retain the doubt, but we must still act, and in the acting, we may have enough to sustain us spiritually. It makes sense to me what Ferris says about religions: that they are less concerned about God than they are about the religion itself. And all religions have this problem. They can sometimes even lose sight of morality itself, a failing no involved God should permit.
O’Rourke was free to change his affiliation from the Red Sox to the Chicago Cubs, and take a swing with a cricket bat at a ball that came in fast and low one day in Kathmandu because while he still had doubt, he also had hope. The pitcher was his patient, a patient with perfect teeth.
I had to work on this book for many days before I caught glimmers Ferris' meaning. I don’t think it is because I listened to it rather than read it. The listening helped because the reader, Campbell Scott, was drier and funnier than the voice I had in my head as I read, but it is true I couldn’t mark the sections that wove the religious quest together. They got buried under the avalanche of extraneous associations the story of the dentist practice provoked.
There is nothing wrong with a little existential angst, especially if it makes one doubt and not be an arrogant prick. But Ferris is right. It doesn’t get one anywhere and itself has no meaning. One can only do what needs to be done and go on with it. Unless, of course, you don’t. Go on with it, I mean. That's the other option.
O’Rourke tries to be normal, just so that he can get along with other folks, but he is like a space bot acting human: it’s all wrong. O’Rourke is having a crisis. He doesn’t get the point “of it all,” and he especially doesn’t see God acting in the world. So when a patient tells him he is part of a long-lost race of non-believers in God (any god), O’Rourke wonders if perhaps it isn’t just possible: To be genetically indisposed to believe in God.
O’Rourke wants something to be everything: absorbing, challenging, meaningful. His girlfriends had close family ties, and O’Rourke found that to be meaningful for awhile: he wanted to be a part of their families as much as he was interested in the women themselves. But their religious affiliations always proved a barrier. O’Rourke didn’t believe in God.
One night O’Rourke wakes in the middle of the night and the city outside his window is completely quiet. Not a person could be seen, though earlier the streets were filled with people.
"I felt so forgotten, so passed over, so left behind, so lost out. I was sure not only that everything worth doing had already been done while I was asleep but also that, now that I was awake, there was no longer anything worth doing. My first instinct was to reach for my me-machine. It put me in instant touch, it gave me instant purpose…No one had called or emailed or texted. I would do practically anything, I thought, to have them back—I mean the strollers and lovers of a few hours earlier, so that I might have another chance to stroll alongside them…and, after awhile, to leave the Promenade, off to bed for a good night’s sleep—or to that one vital thing among the city’s offerings that night, that one unmissable thing that makes staying up all night a treasure and not a terror—and then to rise again at a decent hour—to walk the Promenade in the light of a new morning…oh, come back you people lost to darkness! Come back, you ghosts, the day is hard enough. Don’t leave me alone with the night…There was the hum of the river, and the last desultory traffic of the night washing by on the expressway below. I can only suggest the effect it had one me, that is the feeling that my life, and the city’s, and the world’s every carefree, winsome hour, were perfectly without meaning."
In the final pages of the novel, O’Rourke finds himself understanding a little of how others manage to get through their days. If it doesn’t hurt, there is no reason to worry about it. "What’s the point of dwelling on all the shit and the misery?" He’d like to do what other people do, but one senses his melancholy. He is lonely and there is no God.
Finally, O’Rourke concludes that there is no certainty, no freedom from doubt, “there is only will.” We may retain the doubt, but we must still act, and in the acting, we may have enough to sustain us spiritually. It makes sense to me what Ferris says about religions: that they are less concerned about God than they are about the religion itself. And all religions have this problem. They can sometimes even lose sight of morality itself, a failing no involved God should permit.
O’Rourke was free to change his affiliation from the Red Sox to the Chicago Cubs, and take a swing with a cricket bat at a ball that came in fast and low one day in Kathmandu because while he still had doubt, he also had hope. The pitcher was his patient, a patient with perfect teeth.
I had to work on this book for many days before I caught glimmers Ferris' meaning. I don’t think it is because I listened to it rather than read it. The listening helped because the reader, Campbell Scott, was drier and funnier than the voice I had in my head as I read, but it is true I couldn’t mark the sections that wove the religious quest together. They got buried under the avalanche of extraneous associations the story of the dentist practice provoked.
There is nothing wrong with a little existential angst, especially if it makes one doubt and not be an arrogant prick. But Ferris is right. It doesn’t get one anywhere and itself has no meaning. One can only do what needs to be done and go on with it. Unless, of course, you don’t. Go on with it, I mean. That's the other option.
May 28, 2014
If you enjoy novels about beleaguered middle-aged men, you may be the target audience for To Rise Again. Personally, as a 20-something woman, I have little in common with them: no private law (or chiropractic or psychology) practice, no receding hairline, no misunderstanding mother-in-law. Their problems are not mine and I can not muster sympathy for them.
My predisposition to disliking protagonists of Paul’s type no doubt left me negatively biased about the book. Nevertheless, I do feel there were many shortcomings in the storytelling and character development beyond the bland, self-involved narrator. The premise is interesting enough, but instead of delivering a balanced blend of humor about and reflection on modern life (and a plot to support both), To Rise Again meanders through Paul’s views on Judaism, atheism, women, and community through religion. It seems to lean on plot only as a framework to present these ramblings.
All secondary characters fall flat and/or feel borrowed from other texts: the ex-girlfriend/receptionist who lotions her hands and is Jewish and therefore fits in with society, goddamn her; the billionaire who eats fast food and is tired of making money and disappears, God knows why; the devout Christian dental hygienist whose religious musings are not welcome until they are. Every character fills a role to give Paul fodder for his “growth” and realizations he should have made at fifteen, not fifty. They fit somewhere and he does not and it has nothing to do with his attitude, his personality, his rudeness or bitterness or obsession.
The narrator is an insufferable character in the most boring ways. The meditation on the nature of Judaism came out of left field. The genetically-bestowed “religion” whose legacy is doubting God’s existence fits all too perfectly with what Paul is seeking: the birthright of Judaism without having to be a Jew, without having to believe in God, and without having to make an effort to connect with other human beings.
I gave this novel 2 stars only because there are moments where the grand themes are thought provoking (“[…] for God, if God, only God can know.”). However, on the whole, I would recommend this novel only to those who can tolerate the lengthy ramblings of a disconnected, disaffected Red Sox fan desperate for belonging without ever making an effort to belong. That is, affluent middle-aged men wallowing in self pity and regret over a life of ill-expressed emotion and squandered relationships.
My predisposition to disliking protagonists of Paul’s type no doubt left me negatively biased about the book. Nevertheless, I do feel there were many shortcomings in the storytelling and character development beyond the bland, self-involved narrator. The premise is interesting enough, but instead of delivering a balanced blend of humor about and reflection on modern life (and a plot to support both), To Rise Again meanders through Paul’s views on Judaism, atheism, women, and community through religion. It seems to lean on plot only as a framework to present these ramblings.
All secondary characters fall flat and/or feel borrowed from other texts: the ex-girlfriend/receptionist who lotions her hands and is Jewish and therefore fits in with society, goddamn her; the billionaire who eats fast food and is tired of making money and disappears, God knows why; the devout Christian dental hygienist whose religious musings are not welcome until they are. Every character fills a role to give Paul fodder for his “growth” and realizations he should have made at fifteen, not fifty. They fit somewhere and he does not and it has nothing to do with his attitude, his personality, his rudeness or bitterness or obsession.
The narrator is an insufferable character in the most boring ways. The meditation on the nature of Judaism came out of left field. The genetically-bestowed “religion” whose legacy is doubting God’s existence fits all too perfectly with what Paul is seeking: the birthright of Judaism without having to be a Jew, without having to believe in God, and without having to make an effort to connect with other human beings.
I gave this novel 2 stars only because there are moments where the grand themes are thought provoking (“[…] for God, if God, only God can know.”). However, on the whole, I would recommend this novel only to those who can tolerate the lengthy ramblings of a disconnected, disaffected Red Sox fan desperate for belonging without ever making an effort to belong. That is, affluent middle-aged men wallowing in self pity and regret over a life of ill-expressed emotion and squandered relationships.
February 20, 2014
I won this book on Goodreads. I really enjoyed this book -- primarily for the writing. The main character Ferris created was pitch perfect in his cringe making self delusions and sincerity. His inner musings were at times brilliant. It is quite a feat to make a dentist into such an interesting, poignant and irritating character. These aspects of Ferris' book more than made up for the fact that at times I found the religious struggle in the book unnecessary and uninteresting. I plan to go out and find Ferris' earlier novels.
December 8, 2017
Kitaba ilk başladığımda yarısına kadar hiç elimden bırakamadan okudum. Öyle yerleri vardı ki altını çizdiğim, durup durup oralara geri döndüm, okudum, düşündüm. Paul karakteriyle iyi arkadaş olduk. Sevgilim olsa köşe bucak kaçacağım biri olmasına rağmen, onu çok sevdim. Anladım. Kırgınlıklarını, duvarlarını gördüm, tanıdım. Bu Ferris'in marifetiydi şüphesiz. Bu kadar sakin, olağan bir anlatımla derinime kadar nüfuz etti Paul. O kafasına takmasın diye diş ipi kullanabilirdim ben, ya da yalnız hissetmesin diye Red Sox maçlarını evde, tavuk yiyerek birlikte izleyebilirdik futboldan nefret etmeme rağmen.
Kitabın yarısından sonra bir şeyler oldu ve nedense okumam zorlaştı. Sanırım dini temalı bölümlerin çoğalması beni biraz uzaklaştırdı. O kısımların gereksiz uzun tutulduğu kanaatindeyim. Araya başka kitaplar girdi. Hem de oldukça beğendiğim romanlar. Sonra Makul Bir Saatte Yeniden Uyansam'a döndüm. İyi ki de ilişkimize ara vermişiz :) Sonunda, bir sürü yeri içime işlemiş, hayatla ilgili bir çok şeyi sorgulatan, boşlukları dolduracağına daha da fazlalaştıran romanıyla, içimde özel ve güzel bir yere taht kurdu Ferris.
Bana kalırsa Ferris, Keret ve Zambragillerden. Yani Keret ve Zambra'nın basit anlatımdaki çekiciliği seviyorsanız bence Ferris'i de seveceksiniz.
"Tabii ki soyutluyorum kendimi toplumdan. Topluma ne kadar yabancı olduğumu sürekli hissetmemek için bulabildiğim tek yol bu benim. Ama başka insalara garezim olduğu anlamına gelmez. Onlara imrenmiyor muyum? Elbette. Şaşırmıyor muyum ? Sürekli. Onları gizlice incelemiyor muyum? Her gün. Ama anlamaya yaklaşamıyorum bile. Anlamadığın, nedensiz yere yabancılaştığın, birleşmeye özlem duyduğun bir şeyi sevmek - bunu kim ister? Sana soruyorum Betsy, kim ister bunu?"
"Çocuklarımı eksik yönlerini, yetersizliklerini, ortalama karakterlerini, kusurlarını ve suça eğilimlerini göremeyecek kadar sevmek istemiyordum. Ama bunu yapabilirim, diye düşünüyordum, bir çocuk gerçekten her şey demek olabilirdi ve bu beni ürkütüyordu. Çünkü bir çocuk her şeyiniz oldu mu bütün görüş gücünüzü yitirip yalnızca müsabakaya katıldığı için aldığı madalyaları gururla sergilemeye koyulabilir, gözünüzün önünden her ayrılışında hayatı için endişe etmeye başlayabilirdiniz. Sürekli korku içinde yaşamak istemiyordum. İnsanlar çocuklarının ölümünü asla atlatamaz. Ben atlamazdım, biliyorum. Bir çocuk sahibi olmak kendi boktan çocukluğumu düzeltme şansımdı, babamın intiharının yükünden kurtulmanın, hayatı kutsamanın yoluydu ama o çocuk bana onu sevmeyi öğretirse ve onu da babam gibi kaybedersem işim biterdi. Havlu atardım. Çocuk sahibi olmak istemememin bir sebebi daha vardı. Kendimi öldürmeyi ciddi anlamda asla düşünmemiştim ama bir kere çocuk sahibi oldunuz mu bu olasılık ortadan kalkıyordu. Oysa dediğim gibi olasılıklara sahip olmak önemlidir."
Kitabın yarısından sonra bir şeyler oldu ve nedense okumam zorlaştı. Sanırım dini temalı bölümlerin çoğalması beni biraz uzaklaştırdı. O kısımların gereksiz uzun tutulduğu kanaatindeyim. Araya başka kitaplar girdi. Hem de oldukça beğendiğim romanlar. Sonra Makul Bir Saatte Yeniden Uyansam'a döndüm. İyi ki de ilişkimize ara vermişiz :) Sonunda, bir sürü yeri içime işlemiş, hayatla ilgili bir çok şeyi sorgulatan, boşlukları dolduracağına daha da fazlalaştıran romanıyla, içimde özel ve güzel bir yere taht kurdu Ferris.
Bana kalırsa Ferris, Keret ve Zambragillerden. Yani Keret ve Zambra'nın basit anlatımdaki çekiciliği seviyorsanız bence Ferris'i de seveceksiniz.
"Tabii ki soyutluyorum kendimi toplumdan. Topluma ne kadar yabancı olduğumu sürekli hissetmemek için bulabildiğim tek yol bu benim. Ama başka insalara garezim olduğu anlamına gelmez. Onlara imrenmiyor muyum? Elbette. Şaşırmıyor muyum ? Sürekli. Onları gizlice incelemiyor muyum? Her gün. Ama anlamaya yaklaşamıyorum bile. Anlamadığın, nedensiz yere yabancılaştığın, birleşmeye özlem duyduğun bir şeyi sevmek - bunu kim ister? Sana soruyorum Betsy, kim ister bunu?"
"Çocuklarımı eksik yönlerini, yetersizliklerini, ortalama karakterlerini, kusurlarını ve suça eğilimlerini göremeyecek kadar sevmek istemiyordum. Ama bunu yapabilirim, diye düşünüyordum, bir çocuk gerçekten her şey demek olabilirdi ve bu beni ürkütüyordu. Çünkü bir çocuk her şeyiniz oldu mu bütün görüş gücünüzü yitirip yalnızca müsabakaya katıldığı için aldığı madalyaları gururla sergilemeye koyulabilir, gözünüzün önünden her ayrılışında hayatı için endişe etmeye başlayabilirdiniz. Sürekli korku içinde yaşamak istemiyordum. İnsanlar çocuklarının ölümünü asla atlatamaz. Ben atlamazdım, biliyorum. Bir çocuk sahibi olmak kendi boktan çocukluğumu düzeltme şansımdı, babamın intiharının yükünden kurtulmanın, hayatı kutsamanın yoluydu ama o çocuk bana onu sevmeyi öğretirse ve onu da babam gibi kaybedersem işim biterdi. Havlu atardım. Çocuk sahibi olmak istemememin bir sebebi daha vardı. Kendimi öldürmeyi ciddi anlamda asla düşünmemiştim ama bir kere çocuk sahibi oldunuz mu bu olasılık ortadan kalkıyordu. Oysa dediğim gibi olasılıklara sahip olmak önemlidir."
April 18, 2014
Meet Paul C. O’Rourke, DDS. During the day, his instrument of choice is the drill. (“It was one big mouth to me – one big open, straining, gleeking, unhappy, discomfited, slowly decaying mouth.”) Yet during more ruminative times, he continues to drill within himself, seeking the answers to how to move forward in a meaningless world filled with decay.
And then one day, his existential search for meaning shifts into a whole other dimension when a mysterious stranger hijacks his identity on the Internet. Suddenly, Paul is forced into the online world with a website, Facebook page, tweets, and provocative blog comments regarding an obscure religious sect called the Ulms (who claim to be the natural heirs of Amalek from the Old Testament). Their chief belief is NO belief; they believe in nothing but their obligation to doubt God. As Paul soon learns, “Others believe we face a real enemy, an existential threat, in every generation. Every generation must recognize who Amalek is or that generation, and every generation must prepare to fight it any way it can.”
What’s a poor atheist to do? Even Paul’s office manager and former love interest begins to wonder if the postings are really from Paul. And Paul – who worships only the Red Sox – becomes more and more unsettled, remembering misguided affairs and luring temptations with a Catholic woman and a Jewish woman and the rituals and fervor of their faith and their family.
This seriocomic novel takes on a number of timely and relevant topics: the growing disconnect of generations that are now tethered to their me-machine (i.e., cell phone) instead of to each other. The particular dislocation caused by online identity theft. The difference between an authentic life and an online pretend life. The attraction of the trappings of religion versus the reality of the tribalism and exclusion inherent in all of them.
As Paul struggles with the knowledge that his invented online version may be a better version than his real self, he reveals the human condition and the search for meaning: how there has to be hope no matter how hopeless. It’s a dazzling feat.
Joshua Ferris has obviously done ample research into the ancient religions and Paul’s exploration of what it means sometimes threatens to hijack the narrative. Still, this absurd yet profound novel kept me turning page and reveals the author’s virtuoso talents. For me, the book’s inventiveness turns it into a 5-star read.
And then one day, his existential search for meaning shifts into a whole other dimension when a mysterious stranger hijacks his identity on the Internet. Suddenly, Paul is forced into the online world with a website, Facebook page, tweets, and provocative blog comments regarding an obscure religious sect called the Ulms (who claim to be the natural heirs of Amalek from the Old Testament). Their chief belief is NO belief; they believe in nothing but their obligation to doubt God. As Paul soon learns, “Others believe we face a real enemy, an existential threat, in every generation. Every generation must recognize who Amalek is or that generation, and every generation must prepare to fight it any way it can.”
What’s a poor atheist to do? Even Paul’s office manager and former love interest begins to wonder if the postings are really from Paul. And Paul – who worships only the Red Sox – becomes more and more unsettled, remembering misguided affairs and luring temptations with a Catholic woman and a Jewish woman and the rituals and fervor of their faith and their family.
This seriocomic novel takes on a number of timely and relevant topics: the growing disconnect of generations that are now tethered to their me-machine (i.e., cell phone) instead of to each other. The particular dislocation caused by online identity theft. The difference between an authentic life and an online pretend life. The attraction of the trappings of religion versus the reality of the tribalism and exclusion inherent in all of them.
As Paul struggles with the knowledge that his invented online version may be a better version than his real self, he reveals the human condition and the search for meaning: how there has to be hope no matter how hopeless. It’s a dazzling feat.
Joshua Ferris has obviously done ample research into the ancient religions and Paul’s exploration of what it means sometimes threatens to hijack the narrative. Still, this absurd yet profound novel kept me turning page and reveals the author’s virtuoso talents. For me, the book’s inventiveness turns it into a 5-star read.
June 9, 2014
I held great anticipation for this novel and I found myself not quite disappointed more along the lines of subtly let down.
Meet Paul O’Rouke, a NY dentist, unsure of God, a full blown Boston Red Sox fanatic and an internet skeptic. He discovers his online identity stolen which snowballs into Paul questioning his beliefs leading to a existential crisis in a queer manner. Much about himself is discovered on his soul searching sojourn. Bizarre, funny, sensitive and brilliant.
Woody Allen continually came to mind as I read O’Rouke’s story. At times I laughed but often found the humor dry bland and somewhat boring. In fact the intellectual brilliance of this gem is overshadowed by the rambling, acutely descriptive narrative. The description of hair tied into a scrunchie is a train wreck, a complete derailment of the cerebral content played by Ferris from this never ending exceedingly vivid pictorial. On the other hand, Paul’s anti-internet stance is laugh out loud funny, he’s downright agnostic with the online world.
I enjoyed Paul with his narcissistic personality and his failure at basic social skills. Warts and all, Ferris brought a spark to Paul resuscitating a character tethering on suffocating, creating endearment. Ferris undoubtedly possesses great command of dialog which is evident in Paul’s voice.
Ferris was on to something really wonderful, however, his grip was lost with excessive word nonsense leaving the reader with a strong sense of disproportionate feelings toward the full reading experience. Not Ferris’ best effort, mediocre at arms length.
Meet Paul O’Rouke, a NY dentist, unsure of God, a full blown Boston Red Sox fanatic and an internet skeptic. He discovers his online identity stolen which snowballs into Paul questioning his beliefs leading to a existential crisis in a queer manner. Much about himself is discovered on his soul searching sojourn. Bizarre, funny, sensitive and brilliant.
Woody Allen continually came to mind as I read O’Rouke’s story. At times I laughed but often found the humor dry bland and somewhat boring. In fact the intellectual brilliance of this gem is overshadowed by the rambling, acutely descriptive narrative. The description of hair tied into a scrunchie is a train wreck, a complete derailment of the cerebral content played by Ferris from this never ending exceedingly vivid pictorial. On the other hand, Paul’s anti-internet stance is laugh out loud funny, he’s downright agnostic with the online world.
“I was already at one remove before the Internet came along. I need another remove? Now I have to spend the time that I’m not doing the thing they’re doing reading about them doing it? Streaming the clips of them doing it, commenting on how lucky they are to be doing all those things, liking and digging and bookmarking and posting and tweeting all those things, and feeling more disconnected than ever? Where does this idea of greater connection come from? I’ve never in my life felt more disconnected. It’s like how the rich get richer. The connected get more connected while the disconnected get more disconnected. No thanks man, I can’t do it. The world was a sufficient trial, Betsy, before Facebook.”
I enjoyed Paul with his narcissistic personality and his failure at basic social skills. Warts and all, Ferris brought a spark to Paul resuscitating a character tethering on suffocating, creating endearment. Ferris undoubtedly possesses great command of dialog which is evident in Paul’s voice.
Ferris was on to something really wonderful, however, his grip was lost with excessive word nonsense leaving the reader with a strong sense of disproportionate feelings toward the full reading experience. Not Ferris’ best effort, mediocre at arms length.
October 20, 2014
While parts of this book were wry and funny, and the penultimate chapter from which the book draws its name is a perfect set piece, a paean to loneliness in New York that is heartbreakingly lovely, I found the whole religious subplot boring and irksome.
While ostensibly about the Amelikites and the Ulms, the book is really a long meditation on Jewishness - it's all about people who want to be Jews and can't be, what it means to be an outsider looking in on what looks warm, familial and comfortingly traditional. In this obsessive worrying at this particular sore point - what is Jewishness, and in his utterly flat female characters, Ferris reminded me of some of the "great" modern American Jewish male writers whose works overall (with a few exceptions) leave me quite cold, such as Roth and Bellow (see also Howard Jacobson, not American, but obsessed and to me, boring). But at least it was fresh when they were doing it - Ferris's dentist seems recycled, almost retro, in his obsession with faith and belonging. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something very mid-20th century about Paul O'Rourke and his concerns.
I wasn't exactly sure where we'd read this tale before of a hero falling in love with a girl because he is in love with her family and doesn't really have one of his own, but it felt very familiar and like it had been done better before (the Patimkins in Goodbye Columbus (the one Roth book I wholeheartedly love) and the Finzi Continis, are two examples of proto-Plotzes,I guess).
And the plotting (as opposed to the atmosphere) is just sort of a mess.
That said, Ferris has some beautiful passages in here, and also some laugh out loud wit. I think he's growing into himself, and I'll continue to read him.
While ostensibly about the Amelikites and the Ulms, the book is really a long meditation on Jewishness - it's all about people who want to be Jews and can't be, what it means to be an outsider looking in on what looks warm, familial and comfortingly traditional. In this obsessive worrying at this particular sore point - what is Jewishness, and in his utterly flat female characters, Ferris reminded me of some of the "great" modern American Jewish male writers whose works overall (with a few exceptions) leave me quite cold, such as Roth and Bellow (see also Howard Jacobson, not American, but obsessed and to me, boring). But at least it was fresh when they were doing it - Ferris's dentist seems recycled, almost retro, in his obsession with faith and belonging. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something very mid-20th century about Paul O'Rourke and his concerns.
I wasn't exactly sure where we'd read this tale before of a hero falling in love with a girl because he is in love with her family and doesn't really have one of his own, but it felt very familiar and like it had been done better before (the Patimkins in Goodbye Columbus (the one Roth book I wholeheartedly love) and the Finzi Continis, are two examples of proto-Plotzes,I guess).
And the plotting (as opposed to the atmosphere) is just sort of a mess.
That said, Ferris has some beautiful passages in here, and also some laugh out loud wit. I think he's growing into himself, and I'll continue to read him.
November 17, 2014
"... bookmarking and posting and tweeting all those things, and feeling more disconnected than ever? Where does this idea of greater connection come from? I've never in my life felt more disconnected. It's like how the rich get richer. The connected get more connected while the disconnected get more disconnected. No thanks, man, I can't do it. The world was a sufficient trial, Betsy, before Facebook."
June 23, 2014
I really wanted to LOVE this book. I am a fan of Joshua Ferris. He let me down on this book. It starts out really good. If you’ve read his work, you know he’s one hilarious dude. But this character-driven novel got too “ranty” for me. It got a bit boring….all these rants.
The protagonist, Paul O’Rourke, is a successful Dentist who practices on 5th Ave. in NYC. He has a little practice that runs expediently. He is a crazy Red Sox fan who is lonely and ruminating about his life. He’s having a bit of a mid-mid-live crisis. He can’t sleep, and is often awake at night, regretting his life.
And then, an anonymous person sets up a website for his Dentist business. This is when the book goes from great to middling. Still reeling from the shock of the mysterious website, someone starts a Facebook page and a Twitter Account impersonating Paul. Bad news: it’s anti-Semitic, anti-religious, and plan not politically correct. In trying to find who is responsible, Ferris goes deeply into writing outlandish fiction. There’s a lot of religious banter. I did love the Dentist info. I didn’t realize the issues and problems that Dentists face.
Ferris writes well. He is clever and unique. This book just didn’t do it for me.
The protagonist, Paul O’Rourke, is a successful Dentist who practices on 5th Ave. in NYC. He has a little practice that runs expediently. He is a crazy Red Sox fan who is lonely and ruminating about his life. He’s having a bit of a mid-mid-live crisis. He can’t sleep, and is often awake at night, regretting his life.
And then, an anonymous person sets up a website for his Dentist business. This is when the book goes from great to middling. Still reeling from the shock of the mysterious website, someone starts a Facebook page and a Twitter Account impersonating Paul. Bad news: it’s anti-Semitic, anti-religious, and plan not politically correct. In trying to find who is responsible, Ferris goes deeply into writing outlandish fiction. There’s a lot of religious banter. I did love the Dentist info. I didn’t realize the issues and problems that Dentists face.
Ferris writes well. He is clever and unique. This book just didn’t do it for me.
August 2, 2014
This is Joshua Ferris's 3rd novel. Absolutely his most accomplished and most complex.
Chapter One 'is' page-turning addicting. I recognized the similar feeling of humor from 'Ferris's writing as I did in his other two books.
We meet:
Our Cynic anti-social dentist --Red Sox Fan, (devotee), and the office crew. The development of the story -and the characters are brilliant in this chapter. Lots of hand lotion users. (very funny)
As the story continues --it takes more work to understand where is Joshua Ferris taking us and why?
Paul O' Rourke, (the dentist), has his identity hijacked (a website was created with his name plus much 'added' information about religious theology --
It becomes:
'Theological philosophy meets social media identity'
The book continues to get complex --(less funny) --more religious 'details' of the Old Testament --[hidden in the postings on the fake website]...
Paul O'Rourke takes an interest in his FAKE-HIM! As a depressed and lonely man --he is seeking more fulfillment. Is it possible, this identity hijacking (new FAKE website and their postings), just might bring O'Rourke more enlightenment?
There is a line in this book he ponders (and we ponder) ...
"Everything was always something, but something --and here was the rub --could never be anything".
For die-hard Joshua Ferris Fans: This book is longer than his others --not 'all' laugh-out-loud. Its possible to 'not' fully understand the details from the Old Testament. (I pulled out my dictionary). I'm Jewish, yet knew little about The Amalakites, (people who have been persecuted --even MORE than the Jews)
Many topics are being mixed together in this novel --(which makes it challenging to understand the depths its book's purpose). A discussion would enhance this novel in my opinion.
It took me time to read this book. I thought I was going to get a break with some light-weight-reading and some laughs. I didn't expect to have to 'think' as much as I did. (and look up religious details), -but this is the novel I will most remember from Joshua Ferris. My admiration for Joshua Ferris just went up several notches.
Chapter One 'is' page-turning addicting. I recognized the similar feeling of humor from 'Ferris's writing as I did in his other two books.
We meet:
Our Cynic anti-social dentist --Red Sox Fan, (devotee), and the office crew. The development of the story -and the characters are brilliant in this chapter. Lots of hand lotion users. (very funny)
As the story continues --it takes more work to understand where is Joshua Ferris taking us and why?
Paul O' Rourke, (the dentist), has his identity hijacked (a website was created with his name plus much 'added' information about religious theology --
It becomes:
'Theological philosophy meets social media identity'
The book continues to get complex --(less funny) --more religious 'details' of the Old Testament --[hidden in the postings on the fake website]...
Paul O'Rourke takes an interest in his FAKE-HIM! As a depressed and lonely man --he is seeking more fulfillment. Is it possible, this identity hijacking (new FAKE website and their postings), just might bring O'Rourke more enlightenment?
There is a line in this book he ponders (and we ponder) ...
"Everything was always something, but something --and here was the rub --could never be anything".
For die-hard Joshua Ferris Fans: This book is longer than his others --not 'all' laugh-out-loud. Its possible to 'not' fully understand the details from the Old Testament. (I pulled out my dictionary). I'm Jewish, yet knew little about The Amalakites, (people who have been persecuted --even MORE than the Jews)
Many topics are being mixed together in this novel --(which makes it challenging to understand the depths its book's purpose). A discussion would enhance this novel in my opinion.
It took me time to read this book. I thought I was going to get a break with some light-weight-reading and some laughs. I didn't expect to have to 'think' as much as I did. (and look up religious details), -but this is the novel I will most remember from Joshua Ferris. My admiration for Joshua Ferris just went up several notches.
October 12, 2014
I just finished this book 20 minutes ago, and I'll probably be thinking about it for the next week. In other words, I'm still collecting my thoughts on it.
Wit and beautiful prose aside (Joshua Ferris can write a sentence. In fact, he can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about the act of putting on lotion, and he makes it interesting), there is a lot to chew on here. Religion and faith and happiness and torture and depression and obsession.
Paul O'Rourke is an atheist dentist who cannot fathom a glass half full. His attempts to assimilate, to adopt his girlfriends' families (one Catholic, the other Jewish) always flounder because eventually he gives away his disbelief in all things. (Exception, of course, is the Boston Red Sox, his own lifelong cross to bear.) He is a living contradiction: One foot in the analog world, refusing to give up his VCR, the other foot constantly using his "me-machine" and emailing a man who has stolen his online identity and created a Twitter account to spread a message to the world about the Ulms.
And, with that, his entire world is flipped upside down.
What does it mean to truly "belong"? Is religion something people do just to belong? Can you really ever believe in God without some doubts?
Oh, and this book has the best ending I've read in a long time. Bravo!
*I received an advance copy through Goodreads First Reads.
Wit and beautiful prose aside (Joshua Ferris can write a sentence. In fact, he can write paragraphs upon paragraphs about the act of putting on lotion, and he makes it interesting), there is a lot to chew on here. Religion and faith and happiness and torture and depression and obsession.
Paul O'Rourke is an atheist dentist who cannot fathom a glass half full. His attempts to assimilate, to adopt his girlfriends' families (one Catholic, the other Jewish) always flounder because eventually he gives away his disbelief in all things. (Exception, of course, is the Boston Red Sox, his own lifelong cross to bear.) He is a living contradiction: One foot in the analog world, refusing to give up his VCR, the other foot constantly using his "me-machine" and emailing a man who has stolen his online identity and created a Twitter account to spread a message to the world about the Ulms.
And, with that, his entire world is flipped upside down.
What does it mean to truly "belong"? Is religion something people do just to belong? Can you really ever believe in God without some doubts?
Oh, and this book has the best ending I've read in a long time. Bravo!
*I received an advance copy through Goodreads First Reads.
October 2, 2015
Book 4/6 from the Booker shortlist (in order of reading - I strongly suspect 6th in order of merit).
My non Goodreads posting but equally profilically reading identical twin brother sent me a one word review "Why?".
There are lots of why's here - why did I waste my time reading it? why did trees have to die for the paper on which it is printed? - but most importantly, why is it on the Booker shortlist?
On the last point I am beginning to realise that to these judges, a good book needs only to have two distinct halves, with a significant change of tone or theme: ideally a more focused story in the first half folding out into more universal themes in the second. A bit like heavy metal songs which are at their best when there is a soft intro followed by a heavy part ("verse chorus verse" as Kurt Cobain labelled it).
The first half of this book is based on a potentially interesting premise of cyber-impersonation - setting up a email address, Twitter account, Facebook page etc in someone else's name and actively impersonating them.
The problem is that Ferris has decided to tell this via first person narration by a a wise-cracking New York dentist Paul O'Rourke. And this narrative voice is exceedingly annoying - the reader waries of O'Rourke's company within a few pages. This effect may be deliberate by Ferris (at least I hope it is, and that Ferris himself is less annoying) but doesn't make for an enjoyable read.
For example O'Rourke narrates conversations with others where only their responses are reported interspersed with "so I told her and then she said". Perhaps relatively amusing the first time (and that is being generous) but a habit that rapidly wears with repetition - and he does it once every page. Ditto the use of "me machine" for smartphone.
Now one of my favourite authors, the late Jose Saramago, also uses an unusual narrative device in reported conversations - in his case leaving out speech marks and the identity of a speaker (*). But the crucial difference is one of literary intention - Saramago does it successfully as he is attempting to replicate spoken narrative in written literature ((Krasznahorkai is the absolute master of this of effect). Ferris/O'Rourke does it because he wrongly thinks it is funny.
There is also the non-uncommon issue for non-American readers of unexplained cultural references on the assumption that American culture is universal ("that night in 2004 when David Ortiz homered against the Yankees to jump-start the greatest comeback in sports history"...an event of interest to less than 5% of the world's population) - again one could be generous and attribute this to O'Rourke but I suspect it is an assumption shared by Ferris,
There is a distinct change of tone in the 2nd half, as if even Ferris has waried of his annoying narrative voice. Unfortunately, the quasi-religious element that was a relative side-story in the first half (Paul is cyber-impersonated by someone claiming to help him find his identity as a member of a lost biblical tribe) comes to the fore. Again there is a potentially very interesting idea in here - a lost religion with apocryphal Old Testament scriptures, founded on the concept of doubt - which in the hands of say a Harry Mulisch* (see Discovery of Heaven) or Karl-Ove Knausgaard (see A Time for Everything) would have led to a good book. But unfortunately we instead get Ferris, who is on much less sure ground here than when writing about wise-cracking dentists, and the book simply loses focus and what little interest it had.
The change in O'Rourke's character - that he actually starts to take interest in the new religion - is also completely unconvincing, because O'Rourke doesn't come across as a real character, more a collection of one liners.
Overall ... why?
(* hat tip to my brother for these points)
My non Goodreads posting but equally profilically reading identical twin brother sent me a one word review "Why?".
There are lots of why's here - why did I waste my time reading it? why did trees have to die for the paper on which it is printed? - but most importantly, why is it on the Booker shortlist?
On the last point I am beginning to realise that to these judges, a good book needs only to have two distinct halves, with a significant change of tone or theme: ideally a more focused story in the first half folding out into more universal themes in the second. A bit like heavy metal songs which are at their best when there is a soft intro followed by a heavy part ("verse chorus verse" as Kurt Cobain labelled it).
The first half of this book is based on a potentially interesting premise of cyber-impersonation - setting up a email address, Twitter account, Facebook page etc in someone else's name and actively impersonating them.
The problem is that Ferris has decided to tell this via first person narration by a a wise-cracking New York dentist Paul O'Rourke. And this narrative voice is exceedingly annoying - the reader waries of O'Rourke's company within a few pages. This effect may be deliberate by Ferris (at least I hope it is, and that Ferris himself is less annoying) but doesn't make for an enjoyable read.
For example O'Rourke narrates conversations with others where only their responses are reported interspersed with "so I told her and then she said". Perhaps relatively amusing the first time (and that is being generous) but a habit that rapidly wears with repetition - and he does it once every page. Ditto the use of "me machine" for smartphone.
Now one of my favourite authors, the late Jose Saramago, also uses an unusual narrative device in reported conversations - in his case leaving out speech marks and the identity of a speaker (*). But the crucial difference is one of literary intention - Saramago does it successfully as he is attempting to replicate spoken narrative in written literature ((Krasznahorkai is the absolute master of this of effect). Ferris/O'Rourke does it because he wrongly thinks it is funny.
There is also the non-uncommon issue for non-American readers of unexplained cultural references on the assumption that American culture is universal ("that night in 2004 when David Ortiz homered against the Yankees to jump-start the greatest comeback in sports history"...an event of interest to less than 5% of the world's population) - again one could be generous and attribute this to O'Rourke but I suspect it is an assumption shared by Ferris,
There is a distinct change of tone in the 2nd half, as if even Ferris has waried of his annoying narrative voice. Unfortunately, the quasi-religious element that was a relative side-story in the first half (Paul is cyber-impersonated by someone claiming to help him find his identity as a member of a lost biblical tribe) comes to the fore. Again there is a potentially very interesting idea in here - a lost religion with apocryphal Old Testament scriptures, founded on the concept of doubt - which in the hands of say a Harry Mulisch* (see Discovery of Heaven) or Karl-Ove Knausgaard (see A Time for Everything) would have led to a good book. But unfortunately we instead get Ferris, who is on much less sure ground here than when writing about wise-cracking dentists, and the book simply loses focus and what little interest it had.
The change in O'Rourke's character - that he actually starts to take interest in the new religion - is also completely unconvincing, because O'Rourke doesn't come across as a real character, more a collection of one liners.
Overall ... why?
(* hat tip to my brother for these points)
February 27, 2014
Hilarious!
Middle-aged dentist Paul O'Rouke is a mess: plagued with insomnia, overworked, depresssed, and always feeling like he's on the outside in. When he realizes someone is impersonating him on the internet, his initial outrage leads to him emailing with the other person pretending to be Paul O'Rouke.
I thought this book was so funny, especially the first half of it. Paul has a dark outlook on life, and much of his musings are at the expense of other people. He's also quite interesting, and some of his odd behaviours also provide laughs.
There's also a strong theme of faith (or lack of) and religion in the second half of the book. Some readers may find this aspect of the book boring, and other readers may find it offensive, depending on their religious beliefs.
(I received this book from Goodread's First Look in exchange for an honest review.)
Middle-aged dentist Paul O'Rouke is a mess: plagued with insomnia, overworked, depresssed, and always feeling like he's on the outside in. When he realizes someone is impersonating him on the internet, his initial outrage leads to him emailing with the other person pretending to be Paul O'Rouke.
I thought this book was so funny, especially the first half of it. Paul has a dark outlook on life, and much of his musings are at the expense of other people. He's also quite interesting, and some of his odd behaviours also provide laughs.
There's also a strong theme of faith (or lack of) and religion in the second half of the book. Some readers may find this aspect of the book boring, and other readers may find it offensive, depending on their religious beliefs.
(I received this book from Goodread's First Look in exchange for an honest review.)
March 3, 2014
Disclaimer: I won this book in Goodreads First Reads giveaway. I entered the giveaway because I read both of Joshua Ferris' prior novels, Then We Came to the End: A Novel, which I really enjoyed, and The Unnamed, which I very much did not. Hoping this was more the former than the latter, I gave Ferris another chance. Not again.
I believed that this novel would be more like Then We Came to the End: A Novel because that book took place in an office and was your typical workplace comedy. It was smart, right on point, clever without being overbearing. To Rise Again at a Decent Hour is nominally about an ordinary dentist, a baseball fan and otherwise nondescript middle-aged man. He is the victim of identity theft, which gets him to question his own place in the world. Had this been what the novel was [em]really[/em] about, I think it might have been humorous and a little touching. But it isn't that at all.
Instead, Ferris' latest novel is about religion, specifically the question of what it means to be a Jew. I never would have expected that. And even though the topic isn't foreign to me, I found it painful to work my way through a novel with this as its central theme. Maybe it's me. Or maybe I just don't enjoy being duped by a book jacket. But the characters that Ferris draws aren't interesting and are completely two-dimensional - I literally did not care about any of them. And so since I didn't care much about this central theme, the book was a waste of my time.
I suppose a second theme was man's isolation in the world and a desperate longing to connect with a larger group, to share a history and culture. That's a well-worn theme and one I normally don't mind. I just feel that other authors have done so much more with this. That said, it was the one reason I felt somewhat emotionally for the protagonist. So there's that.
I believed that this novel would be more like Then We Came to the End: A Novel because that book took place in an office and was your typical workplace comedy. It was smart, right on point, clever without being overbearing. To Rise Again at a Decent Hour is nominally about an ordinary dentist, a baseball fan and otherwise nondescript middle-aged man. He is the victim of identity theft, which gets him to question his own place in the world. Had this been what the novel was [em]really[/em] about, I think it might have been humorous and a little touching. But it isn't that at all.
Instead, Ferris' latest novel is about religion, specifically the question of what it means to be a Jew. I never would have expected that. And even though the topic isn't foreign to me, I found it painful to work my way through a novel with this as its central theme. Maybe it's me. Or maybe I just don't enjoy being duped by a book jacket. But the characters that Ferris draws aren't interesting and are completely two-dimensional - I literally did not care about any of them. And so since I didn't care much about this central theme, the book was a waste of my time.
I suppose a second theme was man's isolation in the world and a desperate longing to connect with a larger group, to share a history and culture. That's a well-worn theme and one I normally don't mind. I just feel that other authors have done so much more with this. That said, it was the one reason I felt somewhat emotionally for the protagonist. So there's that.
March 21, 2017
The mouth is a weird place. Not quite inside and not quite out. Not skin and not organ. It is dark, wet, admitting. It is the access to an interior. It is the place where cancer starts, where the heart is broken. But what is the problem is taking care of this mouth. In the end, the heart stops, the cells die, the neurons go dark, bacteria will consumes the pancreas, flies lay their egg, the skin turn into cottage cheese, the bone dissolves, and finally teeth will float away with tide.
So that was all in the first page this book contain, and that would able to pluck your nerve.
For me it was 100/100 book.
And I don't think any book before it filled me with such positiveness before.
A simple story of superstitious Red Sox fan, Paul, a dentist and with his own set rules of life in life. One day someone makes a fake Facebook and Twitter account (along with some other linked accounts as well) with his name. And from there it starts a bleak peregrination where eventually it leads to awareness of spiritual emptiness and lastly questioning doubts on existence.
This book is all about how he came out of his old rules, that were not even justified to his own self.
At the time when it was nominated I did not get any chance to read this book and which I further abandoned by looking some very negative reviews from some of my friends.
But I was not expecting this. I really loved it and in some or other way I could say it was life changing for me because whatever was happening in the book was going in sync with what I am going through currently in my life.
And yes I got some answers.
So either you will love it or hate it. But I am sure the pointer will not stick in between for most people.
So that was all in the first page this book contain, and that would able to pluck your nerve.
For me it was 100/100 book.
And I don't think any book before it filled me with such positiveness before.
A simple story of superstitious Red Sox fan, Paul, a dentist and with his own set rules of life in life. One day someone makes a fake Facebook and Twitter account (along with some other linked accounts as well) with his name. And from there it starts a bleak peregrination where eventually it leads to awareness of spiritual emptiness and lastly questioning doubts on existence.
This book is all about how he came out of his old rules, that were not even justified to his own self.
At the time when it was nominated I did not get any chance to read this book and which I further abandoned by looking some very negative reviews from some of my friends.
But I was not expecting this. I really loved it and in some or other way I could say it was life changing for me because whatever was happening in the book was going in sync with what I am going through currently in my life.
And yes I got some answers.
So either you will love it or hate it. But I am sure the pointer will not stick in between for most people.
September 16, 2014
I feel a strange kinship with Paul O’Rourke, the protagonist of Joshua Ferris’s novel “To Rise Again At A Decent Hour”, despite the fact that he is a dentist.
(Quick aside: Normally I adhere to a pretty strict anti-hate philosophy. There’s enough hate in the world, and I generally try to follow the Christian tenet of “love thy neighbor”. That said, I have an irrational hatred of dentists. It’s the same irrational hatred I have for Tea Party Republicans and middle management. It’s a hatred based on fear and lack of understanding, as I have no idea why anyone in their right mind would want to stick their fingers in other people’s mouths for a living. That, and my history of dentists is: uncomfortable chairs, awkward one-sided conversations (seriously, they know you can’t answer their questions when your mouth is stuffed with gauze, so why do they even bother?), and pain. Actually, this is pretty much the same history I have with Tea-Party Republicans and middle management. I realize that I shouldn’t be a hater, especially when I try to live by the teachings of Christ, who, in my defense, probably never went to a dentist. I am trying, of course. My current dentist, while still inducing cringing when I need to see her every six months, is actually a very nice person. She’s also young and attractive, which doesn’t hurt. I still don’t understand her lifestyle, and I doubt I will ever be fully accepting of it, but my feelings of loathing toward her field have tempered somewhat. I have even been attempting to make friends with Tea-Party Republicans, who generally aren’t awful people once you get to actually know them. Middle managers, though, I still hate.)
My kinship with Paul is based primarily on his main conflict in life: he’s an atheist who, deep down, really and truly wants to believe in God. He believes that if he could simply believe, everything in his relatively messy life would miraculously fall into place. Unfortunately, like many non-believers, he has been burned too many times by people of numerous religions trying to either convert him or displaying hypocritical models. He lacks the faith gene, and while you can’t miss something you never had, Paul feels that, as an atheist, his life is missing something that so many other believers seem to have.
He tries many God-substitutes. He has tried to learn to play musical instruments, volunteering at missions, walking tours---anything to help fill the empty feeling he has in his soul. His relationships with women are often attempts to elevate them to God-like status, which is why they generally end badly. He invests too much, emotionally and spiritually, into relationships, and the women in his life have no way of living up to his ideal. The closest thing he has come to a perfect God-substitute is his love for the Red Sox. He is, not to put too fine a point on it, kind of pathetic.
He is also someone with whom I can relate.
My relationship with Christianity, and religion in general, is a rocky one, at best. At one point in my life, I was a shiny happy Christian fundamentalist. I went to church every Sunday. I sang worship songs loudly with my hands raised toward the sky. I prayed devoutly. I read the Bible. I had “devotion times” daily. I nonchalantly told people I just met, “God be with you.” or “I will pray for you.” I believed in the divinity of Christ, and heaven and hell, and God Almighty. And, well, I believed.
It was, actually, a wonderful time in my life. My Christian “conversion” (I was basically what they call a “born-again Christian”) was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was happy. I felt like I had my life together, and, for the most part, I did. Life kind of made sense.
Then, something---I’m not even sure what---began to change within me. I’m sure my Christian fundamentalist friends would be able to explain it: I was becoming too worldly, too cynical; I was letting Satan creep in; I was denying Christ. I don’t agree with these explanations, of course, but they are perhaps just as good as any that I could come up with.
I think, basically, I was just becoming disillusioned. I didn’t like how questions or feelings of doubt were discouraged. I didn’t like how Scriptural verses were always taken literally. I didn’t like how scientific facts were ignored or dismissed because they didn’t conform to biblical “facts”. I didn’t like how Christ’s teachings of “love thy neighbor” was okay as long as that neighbor wasn’t gay or liberal or Muslim or atheist. I didn’t like how the faith that I grew to love was being hijacked by politicians to justify policies that, in my mind, were being called “Christian” when in fact they were as anti-Christian as one can get. Until, one day, gradually over time (I know, that seems contradictory, but it’s the best way I can explain it), I just stopped believing.
Like Paul, though, I really want to believe. On good days, I still believe in God. I’m not sure why, really, but it’s a belief that is very hard to shake completely. I still whole-heartedly believe in Christ’s teachings, and I still whole-heartedly love Jesus Christ, the man, even if it turns out that was all he ever really was---just a man and not the Son of God or the Messiah or God in human form or whatever.
Nowadays, I consider myself an agnostic. (Calling myself an atheist, besides being inaccurate, would also require just as much commitment as calling myself a true believer in any other religion. And despite what Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins might say, the New Atheism looks a hell of a lot like a religion to me.) I guess I am more accurately a Christian agnostic, which may seem contradictory, but so be it. Basically, I try to live my life according to Christ's teachings. All other questions---Was Jesus divine? Does God exist? Is there a heaven?---I can only ever adequately respond with "I don't know."
But, anyway, getting back to the book:
Paul’s life takes an interesting turn one day when someone steals his identity on-line. It starts with the creation of a website for his dental practice---something that he has never had any interest in doing as he detests the Internet (never mind his addiction to his iPad)---which suddenly appears one day, out of the blue. It’s a very nice website. Someone clearly put a lot of time, effort, and research in putting it on-line. Unfortunately, Paul did not give his permission to do it, and he sees it as an issue of identity theft.
Shortly thereafter, Paul obtains a Facebook page, one that everyone seems to love. It, too, is lovingly and beautifully arranged. Then Tweets in his name start popping up, saying things that he would never ever say aloud.
Except they are things he might say, had he been a slightly different person.
Indeed, his on-line persona, much to his chagrin, is actually a much more interesting and fleshed-out person than his real-life self.
Part of the reason is that his on-line persona is, apparently, an adherent of an ancient religion. It is so ancient that most scholars he talks to have never heard of it or, if they have, acknowledge that it is a dead religion that no one else on Earth still practices.
As Paul begins to play detective, he learns that the religion is based on a God that appeared to the Amalekites (a race of people who were, according to the Old Testament, completely wiped out by Israel in a little-known and little-discussed genocide perpetrated by the Jews) whose sole message was to forever Doubt. Apparently, a very small number of Amalekites survived the genocide and have carried on the religion of the God of Doubt. The very existence of these people have, unfortunately, been erased by history.
Ferris’s brilliance in this novel is how seamlessly and carefully he reverses the tone from that of comedic to dramatic. One starts the novel thinking one is going to read a funny story about a pathetic dentist who has his identity stolen and then quickly realizes that the novel is a powerfully moving examination of religion, atheism, and spiritual yearning. I didn’t see that coming.
There is a lot to digest in this novel. It is thought-provoking and entertaining, hilarious and depressing, woefully upsetting and strangely hopeful. How can one book be all that at once? I’m not sure. Then again, how can an atheist long for God? How can a person have so much and yet feel spiritually empty? How can life be so utterly sad and yet so many of us cherish it? How can I profess to “loving they neighbor” and yet hate dentists?
I don’t know. And I’m okay with that answer.
(Quick aside: Normally I adhere to a pretty strict anti-hate philosophy. There’s enough hate in the world, and I generally try to follow the Christian tenet of “love thy neighbor”. That said, I have an irrational hatred of dentists. It’s the same irrational hatred I have for Tea Party Republicans and middle management. It’s a hatred based on fear and lack of understanding, as I have no idea why anyone in their right mind would want to stick their fingers in other people’s mouths for a living. That, and my history of dentists is: uncomfortable chairs, awkward one-sided conversations (seriously, they know you can’t answer their questions when your mouth is stuffed with gauze, so why do they even bother?), and pain. Actually, this is pretty much the same history I have with Tea-Party Republicans and middle management. I realize that I shouldn’t be a hater, especially when I try to live by the teachings of Christ, who, in my defense, probably never went to a dentist. I am trying, of course. My current dentist, while still inducing cringing when I need to see her every six months, is actually a very nice person. She’s also young and attractive, which doesn’t hurt. I still don’t understand her lifestyle, and I doubt I will ever be fully accepting of it, but my feelings of loathing toward her field have tempered somewhat. I have even been attempting to make friends with Tea-Party Republicans, who generally aren’t awful people once you get to actually know them. Middle managers, though, I still hate.)
My kinship with Paul is based primarily on his main conflict in life: he’s an atheist who, deep down, really and truly wants to believe in God. He believes that if he could simply believe, everything in his relatively messy life would miraculously fall into place. Unfortunately, like many non-believers, he has been burned too many times by people of numerous religions trying to either convert him or displaying hypocritical models. He lacks the faith gene, and while you can’t miss something you never had, Paul feels that, as an atheist, his life is missing something that so many other believers seem to have.
He tries many God-substitutes. He has tried to learn to play musical instruments, volunteering at missions, walking tours---anything to help fill the empty feeling he has in his soul. His relationships with women are often attempts to elevate them to God-like status, which is why they generally end badly. He invests too much, emotionally and spiritually, into relationships, and the women in his life have no way of living up to his ideal. The closest thing he has come to a perfect God-substitute is his love for the Red Sox. He is, not to put too fine a point on it, kind of pathetic.
He is also someone with whom I can relate.
My relationship with Christianity, and religion in general, is a rocky one, at best. At one point in my life, I was a shiny happy Christian fundamentalist. I went to church every Sunday. I sang worship songs loudly with my hands raised toward the sky. I prayed devoutly. I read the Bible. I had “devotion times” daily. I nonchalantly told people I just met, “God be with you.” or “I will pray for you.” I believed in the divinity of Christ, and heaven and hell, and God Almighty. And, well, I believed.
It was, actually, a wonderful time in my life. My Christian “conversion” (I was basically what they call a “born-again Christian”) was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was happy. I felt like I had my life together, and, for the most part, I did. Life kind of made sense.
Then, something---I’m not even sure what---began to change within me. I’m sure my Christian fundamentalist friends would be able to explain it: I was becoming too worldly, too cynical; I was letting Satan creep in; I was denying Christ. I don’t agree with these explanations, of course, but they are perhaps just as good as any that I could come up with.
I think, basically, I was just becoming disillusioned. I didn’t like how questions or feelings of doubt were discouraged. I didn’t like how Scriptural verses were always taken literally. I didn’t like how scientific facts were ignored or dismissed because they didn’t conform to biblical “facts”. I didn’t like how Christ’s teachings of “love thy neighbor” was okay as long as that neighbor wasn’t gay or liberal or Muslim or atheist. I didn’t like how the faith that I grew to love was being hijacked by politicians to justify policies that, in my mind, were being called “Christian” when in fact they were as anti-Christian as one can get. Until, one day, gradually over time (I know, that seems contradictory, but it’s the best way I can explain it), I just stopped believing.
Like Paul, though, I really want to believe. On good days, I still believe in God. I’m not sure why, really, but it’s a belief that is very hard to shake completely. I still whole-heartedly believe in Christ’s teachings, and I still whole-heartedly love Jesus Christ, the man, even if it turns out that was all he ever really was---just a man and not the Son of God or the Messiah or God in human form or whatever.
Nowadays, I consider myself an agnostic. (Calling myself an atheist, besides being inaccurate, would also require just as much commitment as calling myself a true believer in any other religion. And despite what Sam Harris or Richard Dawkins might say, the New Atheism looks a hell of a lot like a religion to me.) I guess I am more accurately a Christian agnostic, which may seem contradictory, but so be it. Basically, I try to live my life according to Christ's teachings. All other questions---Was Jesus divine? Does God exist? Is there a heaven?---I can only ever adequately respond with "I don't know."
But, anyway, getting back to the book:
Paul’s life takes an interesting turn one day when someone steals his identity on-line. It starts with the creation of a website for his dental practice---something that he has never had any interest in doing as he detests the Internet (never mind his addiction to his iPad)---which suddenly appears one day, out of the blue. It’s a very nice website. Someone clearly put a lot of time, effort, and research in putting it on-line. Unfortunately, Paul did not give his permission to do it, and he sees it as an issue of identity theft.
Shortly thereafter, Paul obtains a Facebook page, one that everyone seems to love. It, too, is lovingly and beautifully arranged. Then Tweets in his name start popping up, saying things that he would never ever say aloud.
Except they are things he might say, had he been a slightly different person.
Indeed, his on-line persona, much to his chagrin, is actually a much more interesting and fleshed-out person than his real-life self.
Part of the reason is that his on-line persona is, apparently, an adherent of an ancient religion. It is so ancient that most scholars he talks to have never heard of it or, if they have, acknowledge that it is a dead religion that no one else on Earth still practices.
As Paul begins to play detective, he learns that the religion is based on a God that appeared to the Amalekites (a race of people who were, according to the Old Testament, completely wiped out by Israel in a little-known and little-discussed genocide perpetrated by the Jews) whose sole message was to forever Doubt. Apparently, a very small number of Amalekites survived the genocide and have carried on the religion of the God of Doubt. The very existence of these people have, unfortunately, been erased by history.
Ferris’s brilliance in this novel is how seamlessly and carefully he reverses the tone from that of comedic to dramatic. One starts the novel thinking one is going to read a funny story about a pathetic dentist who has his identity stolen and then quickly realizes that the novel is a powerfully moving examination of religion, atheism, and spiritual yearning. I didn’t see that coming.
There is a lot to digest in this novel. It is thought-provoking and entertaining, hilarious and depressing, woefully upsetting and strangely hopeful. How can one book be all that at once? I’m not sure. Then again, how can an atheist long for God? How can a person have so much and yet feel spiritually empty? How can life be so utterly sad and yet so many of us cherish it? How can I profess to “loving they neighbor” and yet hate dentists?
I don’t know. And I’m okay with that answer.
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