Frankly, these kinds of thrillers are not really my bag, but after, on the trot, reading about Robespierre, then the English Civil Wars, and then a 180-year satire on Russia’s middle-classes by Nikolai Gogol (Them: ‘You really
Well, I was disappointed, though relatively mildly. For one thing Down Cemetery Road was not a ‘new release’ but ‘re-release’. Herron wrote and published it in 2003.
Furthermore, it was his first novel and, er, I suspect he was still finding his literary sea legs, for there is something ‘curate’s egg’ about the novel.
I feel obliged to add this: many of us who read and possibly write reviews to post here also try our hand at writing fiction, and I am one such.
Those two points might be good examples of one of the many difficulties a writer faces and which present her or him with problems which she or he must solve. She and he must persuade the reader to – to use the by now almost clichéd phrase – ‘suspned their disbelieft’. And this is where the fact that every reader will have a different set of values and expectations might well work in a writer’s favour.
The ‘heroine’s’ motivation to track down a young girl she has never met might well satisfy and convince some, but it did not at all convince me at all.
I read recently read, by chance, that the – highly successful – writer Stephen King hs suggested there are two kinds of writers: those who set out with a detailed ground-plan for their work to which they more or less stick. And those – King says he is one – who simply take off to see there their story might take them. I have no idea how Herron approached Down Cemetery Road, but I suspect it was more of the second approach.
I feel obliged to add this: many of us who read and possibly write reviews to post here also try our hand at writing fiction, and I am one such.
And many might agree with me that it ain’t half as straightforward and ‘easy’ as we perhaps thought it would be. That is worth bearing in mind.
It would explain that, to stab a guess at the figures, more than half of those who plan ‘to write a novel’ don’t ever.
It would explain that, to stab a guess at the figures, more than half of those who plan ‘to write a novel’ don’t ever.
Of those, more than half get no further than the second chapter before it all peters out and they knock it on the head. And of those who do eventually finish ‘my novel’ less than half care to try again.
Then there is the – wholly subjective, of course – question of ‘literary worth’ where one man’s meat is another man’s poison: we might all like different works. it is also a question of standards – what we personally like, rate as good, bad or mediocre and what we expect will vary a great deal quite obviously have a huge impact on your judgment.
I mention all that to try to put some of my comments on Herron’s ‘first novel’ into context. You see, all other things being equal, Herron not only did finish his ‘first novel’, but then wrote around another 18/19 novels, which by repute were rather good. And that is no mean achievement.
Furthermore, for all my gripes about Down Cemetery Road, it is clear that Herron most certainly did find his ‘literary sea legs’ and that the work got better and better; and although I was not entirely bowled over by this ‘first novel’, there is more than enough in it to encourage me to read some of his subsequent work.
Before I move on to recrod my thoughts on Down Cemetery Road, I should reiterate my warning that pretty much all literary judgments are subjective, and so mine are, too. And although I have ‘finished a novel’ and written quite a few short stories, I most certainly do not see myself as in any way qualified to pontificate and trust I will not come across as though I am or, worse, think I am.
After puzzling prologue which does, though, make sense by the end fo the work, Down Cemetery Road gets off to an encouraging start with a middle-class dinner party. This set-piece, with its laconic and sardonic authorial observations as well as some very sharp and funny dialogue, promised much and does to some extent set a tone.
Then there is the – wholly subjective, of course – question of ‘literary worth’ where one man’s meat is another man’s poison: we might all like different works. it is also a question of standards – what we personally like, rate as good, bad or mediocre and what we expect will vary a great deal quite obviously have a huge impact on your judgment.
I mention all that to try to put some of my comments on Herron’s ‘first novel’ into context. You see, all other things being equal, Herron not only did finish his ‘first novel’, but then wrote around another 18/19 novels, which by repute were rather good. And that is no mean achievement.
Furthermore, for all my gripes about Down Cemetery Road, it is clear that Herron most certainly did find his ‘literary sea legs’ and that the work got better and better; and although I was not entirely bowled over by this ‘first novel’, there is more than enough in it to encourage me to read some of his subsequent work.
Before I move on to recrod my thoughts on Down Cemetery Road, I should reiterate my warning that pretty much all literary judgments are subjective, and so mine are, too. And although I have ‘finished a novel’ and written quite a few short stories, I most certainly do not see myself as in any way qualified to pontificate and trust I will not come across as though I am or, worse, think I am.
After puzzling prologue which does, though, make sense by the end fo the work, Down Cemetery Road gets off to an encouraging start with a middle-class dinner party. This set-piece, with its laconic and sardonic authorial observations as well as some very sharp and funny dialogue, promised much and does to some extent set a tone.
Yet to my mind rather than go on to work as a pillar of the novel, the tone Herron adopts does become more than a little overworked, not so say often more than a little forced. Thus it becomes less and less engaging and less and less effective.
Although the ‘plot’ and its machinations are an imaginative, I remained unconvinced by the novel's central conceit, the ‘heroine’s’ motivation to find a young girl she doesn't know. It does not ring true and also seemed more than a little forced, and did come across as a necessary plot device. Yet, on the other hand, the – I assume – very unlikely existence of a shadowy secret government which more or less acts as a death squad to cover up official fuck-ups [‘fucks-up’ would be more correct - Ed] works for me however fantastical it might seem.
Although the ‘plot’ and its machinations are an imaginative, I remained unconvinced by the novel's central conceit, the ‘heroine’s’ motivation to find a young girl she doesn't know. It does not ring true and also seemed more than a little forced, and did come across as a necessary plot device. Yet, on the other hand, the – I assume – very unlikely existence of a shadowy secret government which more or less acts as a death squad to cover up official fuck-ups [‘fucks-up’ would be more correct - Ed] works for me however fantastical it might seem.
Those two points might be good examples of one of the many difficulties a writer faces and which present her or him with problems which she or he must solve. She and he must persuade the reader to – to use the by now almost clichéd phrase – ‘suspned their disbelieft’. And this is where the fact that every reader will have a different set of values and expectations might well work in a writer’s favour.
The ‘heroine’s’ motivation to track down a young girl she has never met might well satisfy and convince some, but it did not at all convince me at all.
Furthermore, one possible theme in the novel is that our heroine is childless and doesn’t want children although her husband does. There might, thus, be a suggestion that, in fact, subconsciously she did want children (and perhaps the man who was her husband put her off). Yet if that is a theme, Herron leaves it to languish undeveloped.
One aspect of fiction I have never much liked is the ‘god-like’ ability of the author to ‘know’ each characters thoughts and private emotions and to reproduce them on the page. Granted that is still the most conventional approach and in that sense Herron is mainstream. But, frankly, I don’t like it and am sometimes even irritated by it (though I could not tell you why).
One aspect of that literary device – ‘he decided, she thought, he realised, she calculated’ etc – which I find just as irritating is an author providing an account how characters feel. I pack that in the same ‘to be taken to the tip’ box as adverbs: they are to my mind a cheap cop-out. Very occasionally they can work, but 99pc of the time they are cheap replacements for more inspired, better writing (‘he wrote sneeringly / caustically / controversially / (and for some) bafflingly’).
One aspect of that literary device – ‘he decided, she thought, he realised, she calculated’ etc – which I find just as irritating is an author providing an account how characters feel. I pack that in the same ‘to be taken to the tip’ box as adverbs: they are to my mind a cheap cop-out. Very occasionally they can work, but 99pc of the time they are cheap replacements for more inspired, better writing (‘he wrote sneeringly / caustically / controversially / (and for some) bafflingly’).
What happened to the the best advice a writer gets ‘show – don’t tell’?
I read recently read, by chance, that the – highly successful – writer Stephen King hs suggested there are two kinds of writers: those who set out with a detailed ground-plan for their work to which they more or less stick. And those – King says he is one – who simply take off to see there their story might take them. I have no idea how Herron approached Down Cemetery Road, but I suspect it was more of the second approach.
But all that is a maybe: this is a first novel from a writer who has since impressed in his chosen genre. To use another ancient and modern cliché – or rather to adapt it – ‘who has never tried to write a novel, let alone finished one cast the first stone’.
I trust that piece of modesty will let me off the hook.
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