gorecki's review against another edition
5.0
Ironweed, for me, was a ghost story. A book about people that are neither here in our world, nor have they left it yet. While they are still physically here, their souls are stuck somewhere in their past. And meanwhile other souls haunt their days.
Francis Phelan is homeless. In his youth, he has committed a series of mistakes that have resulted in a few people losing their lives. On the run from both his actions and their consequences, he has slowly but surely convicted himself to a life in limbo. He and his partner Helen roam the streets of Albany trying to earn a few dollars, buy a few drinks, and find a dry and not-cold place to sleep, while their paths are crossed by a number of other characters: their homeless friends, their families, and their ghosts who keep them so detached from the world around them.
I really loved how this book was both raw and poetic at the same time. The way William Kennedy switched between the romantic and poetic language of the narrator and the crude and brutish dialogues of the characters brought me a mild shock every time. For some reason, I imagined this book to be much more contained and avoiding topics such as abuse, sexuality and unvurtious lifestyles. I couldn't have been more wrong! Kennedy's writing is quite explicit at times, hitting topics such as domestic abuse (in its homeless equivalent) and sexuality quite hard. It also tackles the topic of homelessness in an admirable and, I think for its time, an innovative way - it shows how "easy" it is for someone to suddenly find themselves in a situation like this even if they have had a stable life, home and income at an earlier point in their life. It goes through the whole process of falling from grace, becoming a social outcast, and then all the internal and external processes that keep you stuck in that position, be it society's pure aggression towards you, or your own sabotages against yourself. I'm sorry to see that 40 years on not much has changed in the world, with people still going through the same struggles and society still reacting in much the same way.
This book really touched me, though I appreciate it's not a beautiful one. But that might be why it worked so well for me - the beauty under all its ugliness.
Francis Phelan is homeless. In his youth, he has committed a series of mistakes that have resulted in a few people losing their lives. On the run from both his actions and their consequences, he has slowly but surely convicted himself to a life in limbo. He and his partner Helen roam the streets of Albany trying to earn a few dollars, buy a few drinks, and find a dry and not-cold place to sleep, while their paths are crossed by a number of other characters: their homeless friends, their families, and their ghosts who keep them so detached from the world around them.
I really loved how this book was both raw and poetic at the same time. The way William Kennedy switched between the romantic and poetic language of the narrator and the crude and brutish dialogues of the characters brought me a mild shock every time. For some reason, I imagined this book to be much more contained and avoiding topics such as abuse, sexuality and unvurtious lifestyles. I couldn't have been more wrong! Kennedy's writing is quite explicit at times, hitting topics such as domestic abuse (in its homeless equivalent) and sexuality quite hard. It also tackles the topic of homelessness in an admirable and, I think for its time, an innovative way - it shows how "easy" it is for someone to suddenly find themselves in a situation like this even if they have had a stable life, home and income at an earlier point in their life. It goes through the whole process of falling from grace, becoming a social outcast, and then all the internal and external processes that keep you stuck in that position, be it society's pure aggression towards you, or your own sabotages against yourself. I'm sorry to see that 40 years on not much has changed in the world, with people still going through the same struggles and society still reacting in much the same way.
This book really touched me, though I appreciate it's not a beautiful one. But that might be why it worked so well for me - the beauty under all its ugliness.
ldjdbooks's review against another edition
dark
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
imperfectcj's review
dark
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
A soft pick as I've grown weary of this testosterone-soaked writing style. This is a bleak novel in which punishments are self-inflicted and permanent, and in which a little self-reflection and humility would derail the entire plot. It is also a beautifully written novel and an honest portrayal of how people sabotage themselves.
wathohuc's review against another edition
3.0
There were moments of superior writing, but it just fell short for me. The theme is not very uplifting, and there wasn't much of a resolution to the storyline. Just not my cup of tea.
grete_rachel_howland's review
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Beautiful and heartbreaking. A poetic reminder of all that goes into a person's life, and how little we know of or understand each other.
morbid_swither's review against another edition
4.0
3.5 stars. This is the third time I’ve read Ironweed, which is curious.
A friend and I once had a conversation around the concept of favorite movies. Certainly, I often would consider the unwritten lists we keep in our minds of things we value and appreciate the most. But like many people, even a causal stab at a selection of Favorites is a dubious thing. Josh’s thoughts on the matter were a revelation to me. He said that his favorites have little to do with anything too analytical. He told me that the movies he considers favorites possess only one criterion: that regardless of anything else, a favorite film is one that under typical circumstances he would more or less always be down to watch.
Ironweed, much like Nunez’s The Friend or Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow…, has emerged as a favorite in this way. Without question a powerful novel, Ironweed isn’t The Savage Detectives (though voice in both is extremely strong), nor is it Stone Upon Stone or Conversation in the Cathedral—books I typically say are my Favorites.
Ironweed isn’t a book you give to the sensitive and joyful people in your life when they ask for a recommendation. It’s an almost impossibly sad story that elevates the downtrodden, ghost filled plight of the itinerant alcoholic—as derelict as a littered liquor-store paper bag blowing in the wind—into something quite universal. Simultaneously austere, spiritual, convincing, sordid, funny and tragic, for this reader, Ironweed proves a perennial “comfort.”
Thematically, Redemption is intrinsic to this work. But not Forgiveness. Or maybe I have that backwards. The boldest thing I can say about Ironweed, and why I decided to round up instead of down, is that the pathos in this short novel (potent within or without the context of the “Albany Cycle” trilogy it concludes) is bittersweet in the most satisfying way. As its reader, we asymptotically approach some sense of hope.
Neither do we merge with the notion that things will ever really be okay.
A friend and I once had a conversation around the concept of favorite movies. Certainly, I often would consider the unwritten lists we keep in our minds of things we value and appreciate the most. But like many people, even a causal stab at a selection of Favorites is a dubious thing. Josh’s thoughts on the matter were a revelation to me. He said that his favorites have little to do with anything too analytical. He told me that the movies he considers favorites possess only one criterion: that regardless of anything else, a favorite film is one that under typical circumstances he would more or less always be down to watch.
Ironweed, much like Nunez’s The Friend or Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow…, has emerged as a favorite in this way. Without question a powerful novel, Ironweed isn’t The Savage Detectives (though voice in both is extremely strong), nor is it Stone Upon Stone or Conversation in the Cathedral—books I typically say are my Favorites.
Ironweed isn’t a book you give to the sensitive and joyful people in your life when they ask for a recommendation. It’s an almost impossibly sad story that elevates the downtrodden, ghost filled plight of the itinerant alcoholic—as derelict as a littered liquor-store paper bag blowing in the wind—into something quite universal. Simultaneously austere, spiritual, convincing, sordid, funny and tragic, for this reader, Ironweed proves a perennial “comfort.”
Thematically, Redemption is intrinsic to this work. But not Forgiveness. Or maybe I have that backwards. The boldest thing I can say about Ironweed, and why I decided to round up instead of down, is that the pathos in this short novel (potent within or without the context of the “Albany Cycle” trilogy it concludes) is bittersweet in the most satisfying way. As its reader, we asymptotically approach some sense of hope.
Neither do we merge with the notion that things will ever really be okay.
grace_theliteraryfiend's review against another edition
challenging
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
anastasia_s's review
dark
emotional
hopeful
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
boehmek's review
4.0
A fast, yet powerful, read. It's about the daily human struggle of forgiving oneself, even when everyone else has forgiven you.