In an era where cultural panic over declining reading habits has reached fever pitch, Mark Z. Danielewski boldly delivers a behemoth of a novel that defies conventions and pushes the boundaries of literary expression. Tom's Crossing, his latest opus weighing in at over 1,200 pages of densely packed text, contains a staggering half-million words – roughly twice the length of his iconic debut, House of Leaves.
The story centers around Kalin March, a 16-year-old outsider with an affinity for horse riding who forms an unlikely bond with Tom Gatestone, a charismatic and popular figure in the small Utah town of Orvop. After Tom's untimely death from cancer, Kalin is driven by a promise to save their beloved horses, Mouse and Navidad, from certain doom at the local knacker's yard. This seemingly straightforward narrative serves as the foundation for an epic tale that spans five days in October 1982.
Danielewski masterfully weaves together elements of western fiction with mythic undertones, crafting a story that is both captivating and disorienting. The plot unfolds against the backdrop of sweeping landscapes, family feuds, and primal struggles for survival in hostile terrain. However, it's not all about guns, horses, and ghosts – there are also dark secrets, sinister characters, and an unflinching exploration of the human condition.
Yet, beneath its blockbuster surface, Tom's Crossing harbors a multitude of aesthetic choices that will frustrate or delight readers depending on their taste. The novel's conceit is to present events as already widely known, with interjected passages detailing the thoughts and inspirations behind these creations. This device, while thought-provoking in theory, often feels like an exercise in indulgence.
Another point of contention lies with the narrative voice, which veers wildly between Homeric grandeur and rural colloquialism. The text is peppered with obscure vocabulary, arcane references, and an overall tone that's equal parts poetic and prolix. While some moments are sublime and thrilling, others feel like an exercise in stylistic showmanship.
Perhaps the most baffling aspect of Tom's Crossing is its willingness to prioritize academic consideration over accessibility. Danielewski seems more concerned with stimulating seminars than engaging readers on a visceral level. The result can be disorienting, as if the novel is constantly veering between high-brow literary devices and low-brow pulp fiction.
And yet, hidden beneath this complex web of narrative choices lies a gratifyingly straightforward western tale with all the makings of a blockbuster hit – violence, limited nudity, simple moral choices, and an unflinching exploration of the human condition. It's this 'gooey centre' that Danielewski seems to be hiding in plain sight.
Ultimately, Tom's Crossing is a novel that will polarize readers. Its sheer ambition, literary density, and deliberate stylistic choices may alienate those who crave more accessible storytelling. However, for those willing to brave the labyrinthine narrative and immerse themselves in its complexities, Danielewski offers a richly rewarding experience – one that's equal parts a challenging work of art and an unapologetic western epic.
The story centers around Kalin March, a 16-year-old outsider with an affinity for horse riding who forms an unlikely bond with Tom Gatestone, a charismatic and popular figure in the small Utah town of Orvop. After Tom's untimely death from cancer, Kalin is driven by a promise to save their beloved horses, Mouse and Navidad, from certain doom at the local knacker's yard. This seemingly straightforward narrative serves as the foundation for an epic tale that spans five days in October 1982.
Danielewski masterfully weaves together elements of western fiction with mythic undertones, crafting a story that is both captivating and disorienting. The plot unfolds against the backdrop of sweeping landscapes, family feuds, and primal struggles for survival in hostile terrain. However, it's not all about guns, horses, and ghosts – there are also dark secrets, sinister characters, and an unflinching exploration of the human condition.
Yet, beneath its blockbuster surface, Tom's Crossing harbors a multitude of aesthetic choices that will frustrate or delight readers depending on their taste. The novel's conceit is to present events as already widely known, with interjected passages detailing the thoughts and inspirations behind these creations. This device, while thought-provoking in theory, often feels like an exercise in indulgence.
Another point of contention lies with the narrative voice, which veers wildly between Homeric grandeur and rural colloquialism. The text is peppered with obscure vocabulary, arcane references, and an overall tone that's equal parts poetic and prolix. While some moments are sublime and thrilling, others feel like an exercise in stylistic showmanship.
Perhaps the most baffling aspect of Tom's Crossing is its willingness to prioritize academic consideration over accessibility. Danielewski seems more concerned with stimulating seminars than engaging readers on a visceral level. The result can be disorienting, as if the novel is constantly veering between high-brow literary devices and low-brow pulp fiction.
And yet, hidden beneath this complex web of narrative choices lies a gratifyingly straightforward western tale with all the makings of a blockbuster hit – violence, limited nudity, simple moral choices, and an unflinching exploration of the human condition. It's this 'gooey centre' that Danielewski seems to be hiding in plain sight.
Ultimately, Tom's Crossing is a novel that will polarize readers. Its sheer ambition, literary density, and deliberate stylistic choices may alienate those who crave more accessible storytelling. However, for those willing to brave the labyrinthine narrative and immerse themselves in its complexities, Danielewski offers a richly rewarding experience – one that's equal parts a challenging work of art and an unapologetic western epic.