Laith
What an insane little book this is. I usually have to take my time with McCarthy, but I finished this much faster than I expected to; which is great because I spent at least triple my reading time just thinking about it. Count me a McCarthy fan, but I will admit that I haven't read the whole back catalog. I'm not sure how this rates among all of his works; but when it comes to complexity, density, and sheer reader confusion, this definitely has to be near the very top. At the minimum is this among one of the most confusing books I have personally read. This is one of those books where the author is doing some sleight of hand with the plot, using the story to lead us down an alley of thought that wasn't clear or foreseeable at the outset.
On its face, this book is about a mysterious/clandestine plane crash and the life of the diver tasked with the salvage. But Bobby Western is so much more than the protagonist of a spy thriller, more than just a diver. Bobby is a genius in his own right, and among his siblings he can count his ever more intelligent but mentally ill sister Alicia, and the atom bomb (his father built the ones we dropped on Japan). This story is about the end of their lives (Bobby and Alicia), and an exercise in the processing of grief. For Bobby, this book is about moving through his life in the aftermath of his sister's suicide. The strange happenings surrounding the plane serve as the vehicle for numerous interesting conversations with Bobby's colorful host of friends, we the reader acting as passenger and witness.
Bobby is very much a self insert type of character, he's a hyper intelligent guy who lives his life as though it has already ended (or is in the processes of ending, but I guess we are all doing that to one degree or another). Bobby has an inner gaze that's only looking backwards, and his contemplations have that somber, fatalist ring to them. This book is like reading the sunset, and it's appropriate given that McCarthy has likely published his last set of stories with this series. In fact, as you read this you are actively coming to terms with the fact that McCarthy likely wrote this fully expecting it to be his last published work (or at least something close to it, who knows maybe we will be blessed with a secret project or something). I tasted that same bite of mortality and contemplation in The Hydrogen Sonata, but this was much more direct and purposeful given the realities at play.
There is no shortage of weird stuff in this book, lots and lots of eyebrow raising developments that are almost immediately glossed over or left purposefully ambiguous. Between all the road tripping and psychological horror, I found this book reminiscent of Bad Brains, especially since it evokes that same flavor of middle American decay and desolation (as if the world were one giant abandoned K-mart parking lot). What stole the show for me was the cast, particularly the characters of John Sheddan, Kline, and Debussy. Whether it's Sheddan's eccentric worldview, Kline's not-so-crazy conspiracies, or Debussy's pure hearted and raw dialogue, you can't help but highlight everything these character say.
This is more directed at Stella Marris than The Passenger, but there is a major focus on math and science in both books. If I hadn't read Scholar’s Advanced Technological System (A hilariously pro-CCP webnovel, with a surprising depth of scientific information) I wouldn't have been able to follow at least half of the conversations. There's a fair bit of required reading here, and you won't get the same depth out of this book if you can't tell Von Neumann apart from Grothendieck. At the bare minimum you need to understand the observer effect and its metaphysical implications on the nature of reality, the understanding that human understanding is based on human observation. The discussion on science meanders but this is McCarthy being critical of the scientific legacy. Not only the horror and shame brought by the bomb, but the cold reality that our understanding of the universe may ultimately amount to what we can glean from our limited ability to observe. There is a dying man's fear of the unknown, but also the horrible possibility of never knowing, of never being able to truly grasp at the answers to the great questions. Ultimately, that's what stuck with me the most, the pessimism that the universal truths may be forever beyond us.
So I guess my general impression of this book is that it's both insanely smart and well composed but also strange and enormously sad. If you salivate at the thought of challenging, meandering, and pessimistic stories, this will hit the spot with relish. I have to admit that the difficulty level of this material approaches the heights of what literature can offer, couple that with McCarthy's trademark stripped-down but vivid and poetic prose, and you have something that's incredibly rewarding to read but not necessarily entertaining or enchanting.
What an insane little book this is. I usually have to take my time with McCarthy, but I finished this much faster than I expected to; which is great because I spent at least triple my reading time just thinking about it. Count me a McCarthy fan, but I will admit that I haven't read the whole back catalog. I'm not sure how this rates among all of his works; but when it comes to complexity, density, and sheer reader confusion, this definitely has to be near the very top. At the minimum is this among one of the most confusing books I have personally read. This is one of those books where the author is doing some sleight of hand with the plot, using the story to lead us down an alley of thought that wasn't clear or foreseeable at the outset.
On its face, this book is about a mysterious/clandestine plane crash and the life of the diver tasked with the salvage. But Bobby Western is so much more than the protagonist of a spy thriller, more than just a diver. Bobby is a genius in his own right, and among his siblings he can count his ever more intelligent but mentally ill sister Alicia, and the atom bomb (his father built the ones we dropped on Japan). This story is about the end of their lives (Bobby and Alicia), and an exercise in the processing of grief. For Bobby, this book is about moving through his life in the aftermath of his sister's suicide. The strange happenings surrounding the plane serve as the vehicle for numerous interesting conversations with Bobby's colorful host of friends, we the reader acting as passenger and witness.
Bobby is very much a self insert type of character, he's a hyper intelligent guy who lives his life as though it has already ended (or is in the processes of ending, but I guess we are all doing that to one degree or another). Bobby has an inner gaze that's only looking backwards, and his contemplations have that somber, fatalist ring to them. This book is like reading the sunset, and it's appropriate given that McCarthy has likely published his last set of stories with this series. In fact, as you read this you are actively coming to terms with the fact that McCarthy likely wrote this fully expecting it to be his last published work (or at least something close to it, who knows maybe we will be blessed with a secret project or something). I tasted that same bite of mortality and contemplation in The Hydrogen Sonata, but this was much more direct and purposeful given the realities at play.
There is no shortage of weird stuff in this book, lots and lots of eyebrow raising developments that are almost immediately glossed over or left purposefully ambiguous. Between all the road tripping and psychological horror, I found this book reminiscent of Bad Brains, especially since it evokes that same flavor of middle American decay and desolation (as if the world were one giant abandoned K-mart parking lot). What stole the show for me was the cast, particularly the characters of John Sheddan, Kline, and Debussy. Whether it's Sheddan's eccentric worldview, Kline's not-so-crazy conspiracies, or Debussy's pure hearted and raw dialogue, you can't help but highlight everything these character say.
This is more directed at Stella Marris than The Passenger, but there is a major focus on math and science in both books. If I hadn't read Scholar’s Advanced Technological System (A hilariously pro-CCP webnovel, with a surprising depth of scientific information) I wouldn't have been able to follow at least half of the conversations. There's a fair bit of required reading here, and you won't get the same depth out of this book if you can't tell Von Neumann apart from Grothendieck. At the bare minimum you need to understand the observer effect and its metaphysical implications on the nature of reality, the understanding that human understanding is based on human observation. The discussion on science meanders but this is McCarthy being critical of the scientific legacy. Not only the horror and shame brought by the bomb, but the cold reality that our understanding of the universe may ultimately amount to what we can glean from our limited ability to observe. There is a dying man's fear of the unknown, but also the horrible possibility of never knowing, of never being able to truly grasp at the answers to the great questions. Ultimately, that's what stuck with me the most, the pessimism that the universal truths may be forever beyond us.
So I guess my general impression of this book is that it's both insanely smart and well composed but also strange and enormously sad. If you salivate at the thought of challenging, meandering, and pessimistic stories, this will hit the spot with relish. I have to admit that the difficulty level of this material approaches the heights of what literature can offer, couple that with McCarthy's trademark stripped-down but vivid and poetic prose, and you have something that's incredibly rewarding to read but not necessarily entertaining or enchanting.