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A review by george_salis
Ancient Evenings by Norman Mailer
4.0
"My story must be long like the length of a snake. If I present the head, You will know nothing of the body. Only the smile of the snake."
When I think of Norman Mailer I think of pub pugilism, uxorial impalement, and other egotesticle activititties. But with Ancient Evenings, Mailer seems to mostly shed this persona, which is the stuff of such works as Tough Guys Don't Dance and The Fight, and provides the reader with an immersive, imaginative experience.
Sure, there is war-waging, royal sex by "all three mouths," coprophagia, and males dominating each other through the act of buggery, but these obscene scenes are aspects of ancient Egyptian mythology.
While reading this 700-page tome, you will all but swim in the Nile, bow before the Pharaoh, visit the whisper-laden House of the Secluded (eg. His harem of "little queens"), fight in a sea of chariots during the infamous Battle of Kadesh, be embalmed and soaked in natron, and fly as the human-headed bird-soul known as the Ba.
The last couple hundred pages were not as magic-infused as the preceding portions. I think this might be due to a lack of climax, a monophonic tone, and the content itself. However, I have never made the pseudo-editorial claim that a book needs fewer pages (although I've said the opposite for DeLillo's magnum opus Underworld), and I wouldn't suggest a circumcision in this case either. Rather, Mailer needs more voices to enhance the alluring, somewhat soft-spoken charm of a humble Borges that desensitizes the eyes over time. The prose is never so floral as linguaphiles Rikki Ducornet or Angela Carter, which I think is a sorely missed opportunity.
Overall, this dark and brutal book is the decade-long product of obsession and research (1972-1982, to be exact). My mental depth instrument counted four-story fathoms. Such a measurement can also be indicative of a love for storytelling, especially the ancient kind.
Also, in addition to academic articles and other paraphernalia, I've found that when researching topics for my mega-novel, I'm lucky to come across certain books that almost instantly make me comfortable writing within a given world, and this is one of them.
(I think I'll gift my copy to Karl Sanders of the death metal band Nile next time I see him in concert. It could very well inspire another masterpiece album......Update 12/12/19: On my birthday, Nile played a show. I gifted my copy of the book to Karl and he, that god of death metal, accepted my offering. Praise Ra!)
When I think of Norman Mailer I think of pub pugilism, uxorial impalement, and other egotesticle activititties. But with Ancient Evenings, Mailer seems to mostly shed this persona, which is the stuff of such works as Tough Guys Don't Dance and The Fight, and provides the reader with an immersive, imaginative experience.
Sure, there is war-waging, royal sex by "all three mouths," coprophagia, and males dominating each other through the act of buggery, but these obscene scenes are aspects of ancient Egyptian mythology.
While reading this 700-page tome, you will all but swim in the Nile, bow before the Pharaoh, visit the whisper-laden House of the Secluded (eg. His harem of "little queens"), fight in a sea of chariots during the infamous Battle of Kadesh, be embalmed and soaked in natron, and fly as the human-headed bird-soul known as the Ba.
The last couple hundred pages were not as magic-infused as the preceding portions. I think this might be due to a lack of climax, a monophonic tone, and the content itself. However, I have never made the pseudo-editorial claim that a book needs fewer pages (although I've said the opposite for DeLillo's magnum opus Underworld), and I wouldn't suggest a circumcision in this case either. Rather, Mailer needs more voices to enhance the alluring, somewhat soft-spoken charm of a humble Borges that desensitizes the eyes over time. The prose is never so floral as linguaphiles Rikki Ducornet or Angela Carter, which I think is a sorely missed opportunity.
Overall, this dark and brutal book is the decade-long product of obsession and research (1972-1982, to be exact). My mental depth instrument counted four-story fathoms. Such a measurement can also be indicative of a love for storytelling, especially the ancient kind.
Also, in addition to academic articles and other paraphernalia, I've found that when researching topics for my mega-novel, I'm lucky to come across certain books that almost instantly make me comfortable writing within a given world, and this is one of them.
(I think I'll gift my copy to Karl Sanders of the death metal band Nile next time I see him in concert. It could very well inspire another masterpiece album......Update 12/12/19: On my birthday, Nile played a show. I gifted my copy of the book to Karl and he, that god of death metal, accepted my offering. Praise Ra!)