Jeff Lake reviewed The Sot-weed Factor by John Barth
Review of 'The Sot-weed Factor' on 'Goodreads'
2 stars
I don't usually write reviews of books that I didn't finish. It seems unsporting, like I didn't give the book a full chance. I'm making an exception here because I want to finish this book but I just can't bring myself to read any more.
The main reason I don't get this book seems to be that it's a parody of (or homage to) other books that I, uncultured pleb that I am, haven't read; a lot of the ways this rubbed me wrong are deliberate deflations of tropes from classic picaresques like Tristam Shandy and Tom Jones.
The reason I wish I could keep at it is that this book is often engaging and very funny! It reminds me of a Coen brothers movie in the way the language is precise, the characters are all half-brilliant schemers and scoundrels, and the chapters are strung together connected more often by …
I don't usually write reviews of books that I didn't finish. It seems unsporting, like I didn't give the book a full chance. I'm making an exception here because I want to finish this book but I just can't bring myself to read any more.
The main reason I don't get this book seems to be that it's a parody of (or homage to) other books that I, uncultured pleb that I am, haven't read; a lot of the ways this rubbed me wrong are deliberate deflations of tropes from classic picaresques like Tristam Shandy and Tom Jones.
The reason I wish I could keep at it is that this book is often engaging and very funny! It reminds me of a Coen brothers movie in the way the language is precise, the characters are all half-brilliant schemers and scoundrels, and the chapters are strung together connected more often by theme than plot. One chapter in particular, in which a couple of prostitutes insult each other with various synonyms for prostitute in both English and French for five (5) straight pages without repeating, is a clever and impressive stunt of writing.
Clearly this is not meant to be engaged with straight-facedly. It's ironic, and while I don't prefer irony in fiction (true life provides more than enough), I can enjoy a joke. Unfortunately, the punch line of this joke is often rape.
This book is chock full of rape. One of the recurring gags is that the protagonist Ebenezer Cooke, who has sworn himself to virginity, takes every opportunity he can to rape, but always fails through some narrative intervention. There are other scenes of rape and mass rape. I'm aware of the prevalence of sexual violence in history (and the present), but I just couldn't convince myself that the reason for all this rape was something other than Jon Barth really likes describing rape.
The other theme that the narrative revolves around is fluidity of identity: Cooke remains an insensible prat as he idiots his way around London and colonial Maryland in a variety of stations and guises, while his intermittent companion sometimes called Burlingame seems utterly self assured even while constantly changing identities and names. Cooke accidentally changes places with his randy servant Bertrand during the Atlantic voyage and much is made of how well they fit in each other's shoes despite the gulf between their standings.
This stuff is great, and I wanted more. In particular Burlingame was a fascinating cypher to me: how much of his philosophical screeds does he actually believe? Does he believe anything, or does he just use words as covering fire for his hidden goals? Are his jokes on Cooke, or on me the reader?
But I think I get it at this point, or if I don't get it at this point (~2/3rds of the way through) I won't ever get it. Either way, it's not worth finishing.
