Jan 14, 2009 Posted by booktiger on Jan 14, 2009 in Modern Literature, USA | 0 comments

An Arsonist’s Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England – Brock Clarke

Although you can’t judge a book by it’s cover, or it’s title for that matter, that doesn’t stop us from being attracted to a book by one or other of those things. I was attracted to An Arsonist’s Guide to Writer’s Homes in New England by the curious title. I knew nothing about it, and as usual I avoided reading any reviews before I picked it up, and I gave it a go.

Unfortunately, it took me a chapter or two to realise that this wasn’t fiction in the sense of a good story. This was literary fiction which tells a story, but which has the purpose of delivering a deeper message. Because of this, the plot becomes obscure, almost incidental to the message. It is the kind of thing that many Booker Prize winning novels suffer from. I can see what the author is trying to do, but sometime the message is so obscure, or difficult to spot that all you are left with is absurdity.

The story is narrated by Sam Pulsifer, a man who is a ‘bumbler’. He is a pretty pathetic character throughout most of the story – so pathetic that I realised he couldn’t be a real character, all he could be was a metaphor. His completely dysfunctional childhood, where he was accused of burning down the historical house of Emily Dickinson in Massachusetts and goes to prison for 10 years for arson, is overshadowed by his even more dysfunctional adulthood after he is released from prison. He goes through prison without even being touched – he is the same, vague kind of bumbler after he comes out as he was before he went in. When he comes out though, he embarks on a strange career in packaging science, marries (also a very strange event) and then gets accused by his wife of having an affair (in circumstances which are a bit ridiculous), after which time he returns to the house of his previously educated, literary family and finds them both raging alcoholics.

None of this rang true, which is why I had to keep in my mind that the whole story was a metaphor and perhaps I just wasn’t reading deep enough. But as deep as I read, I just couldn’t figure out what it was trying to say. The pathetic guy finally adds courage to his vacuous identity? Being pathetic means fate ensures you take the blame for everything? No matter how pathetic you are, everyone has it in them to protect the one person they love? None of these seemed adequate to justify the irritating weakness of the main character and the complete absurdity of the story.

The oddest thing of all was the cover was festooned with quotes like “a hilarious tale” and “laugh out loud”. What? Yes, it was strange, but it was so dark that I struggled to find humour in it (unless you take enormous pleasure in laughing at people who are so low they couldn’t fall any further – which I don’t). There was not one part of the book which raised a smile. It was well written, undoubtedly, and the language structure was very elegant, but I feel it widely missed the mark if it was supposed to be comedy and it also fell short of quality literature. Perhaps I have missed something with this book, and perhaps it was written as a critique on academia, literature and life, but I simply came away feeling slightly depressed and shaking my head.

Interestingly, I have read Evelyn Waugh’s The Loved One since finishing this (the review will come soon, when I have caught up!) and it stands as a marked contrast. It is also a critique of a particular society but the grim humour, absurdity and scathing observation was far more subtle, and therefore, in my opinion, far more effective.

Rating: 6/10
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Year: 2007
Date Finished: 26 December 2008
Pages: 303