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The Tunnel William H Gass 9781564782137 Books

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The Tunnel William H Gass 9781564782137 Books

Jesus. Christ. This a nightmare. A gorgeous, linguistically breath-taking masterwork 26 years in the making, but a nightmare none the less. William Frederich Kholer, who might or might not be a proxy for Gass himself, just vomits hate at EVERYTHING. His placid, academic life, his miserable midwestern childhood, his straight-out-of-a-nightmare parents, his feckless colleagues, his wife, his kids, his students his culture, his age, and above all, himself.

And yet the whole thing is told in a crazed first person voice that moves with hypnotic virtuosity between flashbacks of domestic life, bitter childhood reminiscences and that is shot through with rants, screeds, dirty limericks, experimental typesetting and word play so acidic and so funny that I actually found myself laughing out loud at several points. Like Celine, Gass creates a sickifying, vaguely fascist logic that seems to reach out, grasp at, and state right into the very worst parts of oneself. If Dante's inferno had a 10th level, it would be sitting in a room having a conversation with this books narrator.

This is a potent, at times jaw-dropping work of literature, and easily stands toe to toe with the more widely celebrated works of its age, but it's also an invitation to explore raw hatred in its numerous, crippling forms. The Tunnel offers a crushing, deforming view of humanity and history that I was almost completely revolted by. It's also, I think, a masterpiece. Pick this up at your own risk


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The Tunnel William H Gass 9781564782137 Books Reviews

Truly remarkable.
This is a very complicated and challenging book. I listened to a lecture by the then-81-year-old author, William Gass, in 2006, and almost couldn't keep up with him.
FOR MADMEN ONLY.
Consider that William Gass created this masterpiece over roughly the same time frame it takes to pay off the average mortgage -- 652 pages in 30 years. One has to respect such care in crafting The Tunnel. How many times was this draft edited to create in essence a final draft written at the plodding, prodding pace of 22 pages per annum? Gass took more time crafting The Tunnel than Joyce did Ulysses. And it shows. The syntax is not of this world. His use of metaphor is off the charts in its creativity. There are worlds, even galaxies, in his words. The writing is sheer poetry in places -- a pure joy to read. He is honest, pithy, probing, penetrating and very often hilarious in his Notes from Underground. Like Proust I recommend that you read Gass slowly to revel in the world in his every well-placed word. There is unquestionable genius in this work as evident as the genius of William Gaddis or Joyce or Proust. Gass and Gaddis redeem the contemporary American novel and Dalkey Archive should be congratulated for its devotion to publishing American masters whom America has not yet properly recognized as such. I really can't say enough in praise of this substantive literary novel, which is profoundly wise and brilliantly crafted and even luminous as a literary legacy sure to render Gass prominent, permanent billing among the American masters of the late 20th century. Savor the writing of William Gass real genius resides underground in The Tunnel.
I was drawn into the Tunnel and could not escape its disturbing reality. Others have identified the virtuosity of Gass's literary craft, I agree, but the book is more than literary genius, it is a haunting look at life, death, and all the follies between.
Very difficult read; otherwise good.
Simply amazing. As a result of this one novel, Gass has become one of my favorite authors, with the likes of Joyce, Pynchon, Mann and Wallace. Every page, every paragraph is filled with prose beautiful, inventive, and challenging. Not for the squeamish, the faint of heart There's raw emotions, real evil unearthed in THE TUNNEL. But if you love literary works and a challenge, don't miss this book.
Jesus. Christ. This a nightmare. A gorgeous, linguistically breath-taking masterwork 26 years in the making, but a nightmare none the less. William Frederich Kholer, who might or might not be a proxy for Gass himself, just vomits hate at EVERYTHING. His placid, academic life, his miserable midwestern childhood, his straight-out-of-a-nightmare parents, his feckless colleagues, his wife, his kids, his students his culture, his age, and above all, himself.

And yet the whole thing is told in a crazed first person voice that moves with hypnotic virtuosity between flashbacks of domestic life, bitter childhood reminiscences and that is shot through with rants, screeds, dirty limericks, experimental typesetting and word play so acidic and so funny that I actually found myself laughing out loud at several points. Like Celine, Gass creates a sickifying, vaguely fascist logic that seems to reach out, grasp at, and state right into the very worst parts of oneself. If Dante's inferno had a 10th level, it would be sitting in a room having a conversation with this books narrator.

This is a potent, at times jaw-dropping work of literature, and easily stands toe to toe with the more widely celebrated works of its age, but it's also an invitation to explore raw hatred in its numerous, crippling forms. The Tunnel offers a crushing, deforming view of humanity and history that I was almost completely revolted by. It's also, I think, a masterpiece. Pick this up at your own risk