Is Jonathan Lethem a genius? A virtuoso? (to use the terms used ad naus. in The Loser) I think not. Is Motherless Brooklyn a work of genius? Also no. But that doesn't mean it isn't still awesome.Lethem's deconstruction of the detective novel is painfully obvious. He fashions his protagonist by stripping him of one of the most recognizable traits of the hard-boiled private eye--laconism. Lionel Essrog doesn't have a way with words; they have their way with him. Every time he questions someone to get information about Frank's death, he runs the risk of his brain making him say something compromising. So that's sort of a new angle. And Lethem's riffs on the tics and fits of Tourette's are usually funny and/or illuminating and very rarely tiresome. I got a word out of it that will probably be useful sometime, too--Zengeance. I guess my definition of it would be a cross between witnessed karma and schadenfreude. So here's the big question: if Lionel's Tourette's is so unmanageable, so compulsive, than why is the narrative voice relatively free of tics? Nathan says that Lethem is ignoring an industry standard and leaving a lack of unity between Lionel's character and the narrative voice, which is ostensibly supposed to be Lionel's. I read it differently, though. Let's be honest here: do we really want to read a novel that is truly written, through and through, in the voice of someone with Tourette's? It might be interesting, but it would probably be too frazzled and discontinuous to contain all the other elements that Lethem clearly wants his story to contain. More than that: Lethem wants to give Lionel the verbal grace that he deserves, whether his thought-patterns realistically would look like that or not. It's not strange for an author to use a more elevated style than that of his characters, although it may be a little strange to try and pull it off in the first person. This case is less carelessness and more a willful rejection of something that came before, just as Lethem rejects normal detective-novel conventions in favor of something a little more wrinkled and faded.But here's why this isn't just a genre work, or an anti-genre work:- Lionel's loss of innocence at finding out the true nature of Frank Minna, as well as the nature of just about every other character in the novel. No hard-boiled protagonist ever has any innocence left by the time we meet him; including this aspect could be read as anti-genre but the deftness and sincerity with which it's handled indicate a book that goes a little further than mere spoof or homage or deconstruction.- Matricardi and Rockaforte, two aging mobsters that skirt around the edges of the story and never become major characters. These two guys are symbols of a number of things that no longer exist, and seem like characters straight out of one of the more conventional Delillo novels, maybe Underworld. But even though they get very few pages, they get fully realized in those few pages, which is something I feel you won't get from your standard detective novel or detective-novel-parody.- Frank Minna himself. Hard to elaborate on this one without giving any spoilers, but suffice it to say that though most characters in this novel are more than they seem (not surprising), Minna is both more and less (surprising).- Lethem never bends over backwards to set up parallels between Tourette's and anything else, beyond doing stuff like describing NY as Tourettic. But it strikes me that Lionel's quest to find Frank's killer mirrors his quest to find a cure, a balm, or treatment for his Tourette's. Both are things that corrupt and decay you from the inside out, things you could devote a lifetime to and never come close to finding the answer. Is the plot a little predictable? Maybe. The style a little too lightweight? Maybe, but only if you come in expecting real weight. I think Lethem is capable of weight, but it's not on display here. But that turns out to be fine.And Nathan, the only similarity I catch between Motherless Brooklyn and American Psycho is the mini-essay on Prince (AP has mini-essays on Whitney Houston, Huey Lewis and the News, and Genesis).
Tell me to do it muffin ass …. to rest the lust of a loaftomb! …. Barnamum Pierogi lug! Meet Lionel Essrog. Viable Guessfrog, Lionel Deathclam, Liable Guesscog, Ironic Pissclam. Lionel is a Minna Man. A full fledged Hardly Boy… A freakshow… A member of Motherless Brooklyn. I love Lionel. Not in my special groupie way. Hold your hats here; I might be growing as a person. Nah. I just really love Lionel’s brain. Peirogi kumquat sushiphone! Domestic marshmallow ghost! Insatiable Mallomar! Did I mention Lionel has Tourette’s? I’ve only met one person with Tourette’s and he wasn’t as lyrical as Lionel. He was a neurology resident. He used to yip and scurry down the hall of the hospital. You always knew when he was on the floor. One time I was in the room with him and he squirted some of that hand soap onto his palm and mid squirt his Tourette’s kicked in and some of the foamy soap ended up in a nurse’s hair ala Something about Mary and we didn’t tell her. (We don’t like nurses very much.) Anyway, that’s my Tourette’s story… on to Lionel and the Minna Men. Motherless Brooklyn wasn’t one of those books that I couldn’t put down, but it was one that will stick with me. Not just because it gave me such lines as Trend the decreased! Mend the retreats! or spread by means it finds, fed in springs by mimes, bled by mangy spies or an insight to what living with Tourette’s might be like but because it’s so human. It’s gritty and what I imagine Brooklyn to be like. I don’t picture quaint neighborhoods, I see steel and dirt and warehouses and underpasses and guys hanging out on stoops with greased back hair and… (I’m not saying this is accurate, I’m saying this is what I see and this is what Lethem gifts me with.) The Minna Men, 4 bedraggled orphans who are taken under by Frank Minna, a two bit hustlin’, Philip Marlowe wannabe. There’s Tony, the quintessential mobster in the making. Danny, the too-cool-for-school b-ball player who is more attitude than words. Gilbert, the brawny, mouthy one and then, there’s Lionel. I loved the sense of these guys. The classic Lost Boys. Lethem does a great job of fleshing these guys out, taking emotions like guilt and concepts like conspiracies and waxing touretticly poetic (yeah, so I made that up…sue me):Is guilt a species of Tourette’s? Maybe. It has a touchy quality, I think, a hint of sweaty fingers. Guilt wants to cover all the bases, be everywhere at once, reach into the past to tweak, neaten, and repair. Guilt like Tourettic utterance flows uselessly, inelegantly from one helpless human to another, contemptuous of perimeters, doomed to me mistaken or refused on delivery. Guilt, like Tourette’s, tries again, learns nothing.And the guilty soul, like the Tourettic, wears a kind of clown face---the Smokey Robinson kind, with tear tracks underneath. Conspiracies are a version of Tourette’s syndrome, the making and tracing of unexpected connections a kind of touchiness, an expression of the yearning to touch the world, kiss it all over with theories, pull it close. Like Tourette’s, all conspiracies are ultimately solipsistic, sufferer and conspirator or theorist overrating his centrality and forever rehearsing a traumatic delight in reaction, attachment and causality, in roads out from the Rome of self. The second gunman on the grassy knoll wasn’t part of a conspiracy—we Touretters know this to be true. He was ticking, imitating the action that had startled and allured him, the shots fired. It was just his way of saying, Me too! I’m alive! Look here! Replay the film!I don’t want to get too into the plot; I don’t feel that that’s what makes this book so great...the writing, the wordplay, that’s where it’s at.
What do You think about Motherless Brooklyn (2000)?
Seriously, if you haven't yet read anything by Lethem, do it! This book is about a detective with Tourette's, and the writing is hysterical. It would be a normal mystery except for the internal (and external) dialogue of the character, putting in ridiculous words like EATMEBAILEY in the middle of sentences.
—Jenny (Reading Envy)
And the third time's indeed the charm!Read previously circa 2000 and again several years later. My first read, at least, was as an audiobook.This is the tale of four punks and a hoodIn Brooklyn, New York, tryin' to make good,Mommyless orphanage, no Cub Scouts or den--Instead, Mista Meanor made 'em his men.Once they're abandoned, the center can't hold;Our ticcy hero must be bold (or fold).You follow the thread as the story unspools,Learning who are the wise guys and who are the foolsAnd who, the financial wizards of Zen,And how can our motherless boys become men.In the midst of the noir and the middle of chaos,Can the love and sacrifice yet be the stronger force?Outbursts tics, outcome art, drawing both tears and laughter--The Shakespeare of Tourette's: Lethem's the crafter! Why did I burst into song? Motherless Brooklyn isn't considered poetry. Yet it finally occurred to me that's exactly what it is. The author may have studied up on Tourette's syndrome, but the only way he could have written those verbal tics is as though writing poetry.Look at a sample of what he does with the guy's name alone--Lionel (rhymes with Vinyl) Essrog. Viable GuessrogAlibyebye Essmob--Alibi hullabaloo gullible bellyflop smellafish....Unreliable ChessgrubYessrogEdgerog, 33, seeks EdgeLaughing GassrogLaugh-or-cry EdgelostWell, you had to be there! Context is everything.Before, I gave the book a "3." So, what changed? If the other reads were audio, that could be part of it. One part that, one part lying fallow, one part reading times three, and one part laughing out loud, lol. Throw in one part read for book club, just in case it was too-intense-to-read-alone. And finally figuring out after the reading was done that it's like a musical, the hero launching, genre as trampoline, not so much into music as into weird haiku-ish poetry and manic stand-up, words for drumbeats. Lemme entertain you. Lionel Essrog is a mover and a talker, a word and a gesture, a detective and a fool. Lionel Essrog c'est moi.
—Jan Rice
Prima di tutto mi unisco a chi prima di me ha criticato la discutibile scelta della traduzione del titolo in italiano, che sarebbe stato preciso se fosse stato tradotto letteralmente dal titolo americano, Brooklyn senza madre.E' un giallo con caratteristiche peculiari: la trama gialla c’è, c’è l’omicidio di Frank Minna, un piccolo boss italoamericano invischiato con la mafia e con affari made in Japan; c’è uno dei suoi Uomini, Lionel Essrog, soprannominato Testadipazzo, che si improvvisa detective per scoprire chi l’ha ucciso; ci sono tanti strani personaggi di contorno, che caratterizzano la storia come fosse una pellicola cinematografica (a proposito, ho letto che c’è un progetto di trarre un film da questo libro, che secondo me è adattissimo allo scopo), magari di Woody Allen. Ma andando avanti con la lettura, l’attenzione del lettore non è concentrata tanto sulla trama gialla, ma sui protagonisti: Lionel Essrog e la sua sindrome di Tourette. Ignoravo l’esistenza di questa malattia ossessivo compulsiva caratterizzata da tic verbali, consistenti nella emissione di parole senza senso, disarticolate, e fisici. L’elemento drammatico della storia emerge dalle pagine del libro: Lionel, malato di Tourette, è cresciuto in un orfanatrofio di Brooklyn, solo, senza amici, fino a quando non viene “adottato” da Frank Minna, un boss mafioso di Court Street. E’ già difficile andare avanti deriso dagli altri, come un testadipazzo; figuriamoci mettersi a fare il detective!Lethem riesce ottimamente a stemperare il lato drammatico con i toni fantastici, a volte surreali, dell’incontenibilità linguistica e corporea di Lionel Essrog, personaggio verso il quale si prova un mix di tenerezza ed affetto, che non impediscono di trattenere un sorriso per gli effetti sbalorditivi che le sue ossessioni, che puntualmente compaiono nei momenti meno opportuni, provocano su chi si trova di fronte. Un personaggio con il quale si rimane invischiati, con le sue frasi sconnesse, i colpetti alle spalle, i baci e le sue ossessioni numeriche.E dunque non potrei classificare il romanzo come un giallo o un noir, non è catalogabile in una categoria precisa, se non in quella di un bel romanzo di uno scrittore eclettico e talentuoso.Il mio primo incontro con Lethem è stato positivo, ora ho da leggere quello che dicono sia il suo capolavoro, “la fortezza della solitudine”.
—Sandra
