John Irving, or rather, "Owen Meany", taken, er, meanly.

Here's an edit I scumbaggishly wrote...and thenSPOILERS-FOLLOW-SPOILERS-FOLLOW didn't have the balls to update.  It's about "A Prayer for Owen Meany", by John Irving.  I'll be honest: John Irving isn't my favorite writer.  I'll be even more honest by explaining why: I feel that he errs (minorly -- sheesh, the guy can write -- this is about content, not *skill* -- I assure you, John Irving is a very skilled writer) in two ways, and I'd be happy to hear why I'm off-base on this -- because I probably am.  And sorry about all the ellipses -- I don't know why it works so well with what I write, but it just does.  And no, that wasn't a further dig at Mr. Irving, or anyone else -- its just an Apology (in the half-assed, or non-assed sense that someone would do in Rome in 410 AD, roughly) for my HYPHEN-HYPHEN ellipses -- anyway, on with my edit:


At this point, three more characters are introduced  - John’s cousins Hester (a tomboy), Simon and Noah (both rough-housing older boys). Owen begs to be introduced, but embarrasses himself by accidentally urinating on Hester when startled during a game of hide-and-seek. Despite this (and despite Hester’s antagonistic nature) all is forgiven, and Owen and Hester begin to develop an unorthodox closeness. Although John himself grows to be incestuously attracted to Hester, he puts these feelings away (chalking them up to lust, and by extension his absent father) especially after Owen admits his own serious attraction to Hester.  Perhaps the denouement of this thread is when Hester makes crappy-1960s-spaghetti, and talks about Owen's huge penis -- at which point the reader finally starts rooting for the misfit-cum-stonecarver-cum-Christ-figure-cum-Vietnam-dude.


Two major events (both theatrical) then occur, shaping the narrative. The Gravesend Players, the local amateur acting group, put on a performance of [[A Christmas Carol]] while the boys' [[Episcopal Church in the United States of America|Episcopalian]] Church puts on a performance of [[The Nativity]]. Owen, with natural charisma, gets the parts of both baby [[Jesus]] and the [[Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come]].  The reader is told, in great detail, how powerful Owen's voice is..but that its also a sqwauk, and something of a baritone-pygmy-wail, but it makes everyone in the mean-spirited, shallow, Niewe-Englandt town exclaim, "My Gott, we must have this boy sent to the Vietnam War, for he is both so ugly, and so beautiful, and he can make a great noise unto the Reagan Administration, oops-too-late."


Shit, that's too mean to post.  Hence, a website: "I'm a better writer than John Irving -- but only in spurts, and I did enjoy some of his work, and yes, Harold Bloom is a whiney faggot."


I'm glad I didn't post that.  Oh, crap, and....(adding spoiler message, da da da da da da) done.  For starters, if John Irving ever reads this, I'm really, really sorry for being such a wiseass.  I hope you can take it as the weak joke it was.  That said, MORE-SPOILERS-MORE-SPOILERS it really kinda irritated me that the narrator -- John Wheelwright, I believe -- was losting his shit over Reagan's plays in the end-game of the Cold War.  Because: while I'm not a political sort, I felt that (hindsight-20-20-crap!) this was....well, yeah, its dickish of me to call this out as misbegotten (misuse) a decade-and-a-half (when I read Meany) later.  Honestly, I just have a question, or rather two:

#1: Did you believe, during the period that you were writing Meany, that Reagan was going to get us all killed?

#2: Were you ever one of those dudes who was so furious at the President that you made a political point of moving to another country?  I know *one* person who's done this (Paul!  Hit me up!), and while I disagree with his reasoning (well, his political reasoning -- he had some very beautiful land up in Canada, and I certainly don't want to imply that people of the free world -- and I do still see a difference -- but that people of the fre world shouldn't be able to move FREELY.  EXCEPT WE CAN'T.  And...well, I'm off-track.  But that's what this web-log is about, consarnit!

As always,
-JWD