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The Waterworks
One rainy morning in 1871 in lower Manhattan, Martin Pemberton a freelance writer, sees in a passing stagecoach several elderly men, one of whom he recognizes as his supposedly dead and buried father. While trying to unravel the mystery, Pemberton disappears, sending McIlvaine, his employer, the editor of an evening paper, in pursuit of the truth behind his freelancer’s fate. Layer by layer, McIlvaine reveals a modern metropolis surging with primordial urges and sins, where the Tweed Ring operates the city for its own profit and a conspicuously self-satisfied nouveau-riche ignores the poverty and squalor that surrounds them.
253 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1994
193 people are currently reading
3433 people want to read
About the author
E.L. Doctorow
100 books1,150 followersHistory based known novels of American writer Edgar Laurence Doctorow. His works of fiction include Homer & Langley, The March, Billy Bathgate, Ragtime, The Book of Daniel, City of God, Welcome to Hard Times, Loon Lake, World’s Fair, The Waterworks, and All the Time in the World. Among his honors are the National Book Award, three National Book Critics Circle Awards, two PEN Faulkner Awards, The Edith Wharton Citation for Fiction, and the presidentially conferred National Humanities Medal. In 2009 he was short listed for the Man Booker International Prize honoring a writer’s lifetime achievement in fiction, and in 2012 he won the PEN Saul Bellow Award given to an author whose “scale of achievement over a sustained career places him in the highest rank of American Literature.” In 2013 the American Academy of Arts and Letters awarded him the Gold Medal for Fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 379 reviews
May 26, 2008
This would've been a great novel... absorbing and thoughtful and a surprising sci-fi twist... if Doctorow had been able to control his use of ellipses (elippsises?). You couldn't read three sentences... without running into at least one triad of dots... and they were... thrown... in seemingly at... random. Not only that, but every character seemed... equally to be afflicted with ... ellipsosis. What seemed at first to be an... interesting and effective means of... emphasis... quickly became profoundly distracting. So... for three dots... I give three... stars. Had there been fewer of the former, I'd've given... more... of the latter.
June 29, 2020
A moody, elegant thriller, beautifully paced. A retired New York City newspaper editor writing after the turn of the century recounts the tale of what happened when his talented freelance writer, Martin Pemberton, went missing in the 1871. This was before the city had grown much above present-day 72nd Street. Martin believes, and others agree, that he may be losing his mind. He has twice recently seen his father, dead these last two years, being driven through town in a sepulchrally white omnibus. Martin is editor/narrator McIlvaine's best writer and when he disappears McIlvaine goes looking for him. New York is not depicted at its best. It is in fact a horribly corrupt and violent town. (For background see Luc Sante's Low Life: Lures and Snares of Old New York and Herbert Asbury's The Gangs of New York.) U.S. Congressman and later NY State senator Boss Tweed runs a patronage mill called "the Ring" and virtually every municipal office is up for sale. Except for the Christian charities there are no organized social services to speak of. Child labor is rife. Streetwalkers fight over turf. Con men are a public nuisance not reigned in by the unscrupulous police department. The Lower East Side is known for its flourishing opium dens. Everyone, in short, is on the take. In the midst of this mayhem the city evinces a vibrant commercial sector, which is hardly squeaky clean itself. Martin's late father, Augustus, was perhaps its major figure. After Martin vanishes we learn that after Augustus died his vast fortune disappeared too. Hmm. And not only that, but the old man's widow is now living in penury with her son, dependent on the kindness of relatives. That's the tease. I won't reveal more. Needless to say, this is a beach or inflight read of a very high order, and perfect source material for Martin Scorsese.
February 19, 2013
Book Circle Reads 21
Rating: 3.5* of five
The Book Description: “An elegant page-turner of nineteenth-century detective fiction.”
–The Washington Post Book World
One rainy morning in 1871 in lower Manhattan, Martin Pemberton, a freelance writer, sees in a passing stagecoach several elderly men, one of whom he recognizes as his supposedly dead and buried father. While trying to unravel the mystery, Pemberton disappears, sending McIlvaine, his employer, the editor of an evening paper, in pursuit of the truth behind his freelancer’s fate. Layer by layer, McIlvaine reveals a modern metropolis surging with primordial urges and sins, where the Tweed Ring operates the city for its own profit and a conspicuously self-satisfied nouveau-riche ignores the poverty and squalor that surrounds them. In E. L. Doctorow’s skilled hands, The Waterworks becomes, in the words of The New York Times, “a dark moral tale . . . an eloquently troubling evocation of our past.”
My Review: Mel-O-Drama!! The novel is set in 1871, and like any good sudser pits one lone man against a system of evildoers and manipulators. Adding to the pleasures are steampunky elements like technology out of its time, a villainous doctor aiming to create immortal men, and double-super-secret hidden bases that are in plain sight.
When I read this for my book circle, I was taken with the plot and somewhat flat on the wiritng. Doctorow makes wonderful sentences at his best, specifically thinking of Ragtime here, but this book fell short of the mark for me then. A quick flip-through to blow fifteen years of cobwebs off my memories didn’t so much refute my earlier contention as show me how very spoiled I was by the olden-days craft of editing. If I read a novel this well-made today, I’d yodel from the housetops and dance mazurkas of rapture down the middle of the parkway.
People who have read my reviews for a while might recall how UP I was over The Night Circus, and how much I loved it. So in that context, I say this: Had The Night Circus been edited as well as this far, far less extraordinary book (published in 1994) was, I think I would simply have melted into the fabric of the cosmos from sheer bliss.
Skills are being lost. It is NOT a good thing. I grow sadder with every mediocre book I read that someone somewhere with the talent and ability to edit even the ~meh~ into BETTER ~meh~ isn’t getting the chance, the training, the mentoring, to do so.
Rating: 3.5* of five
The Book Description: “An elegant page-turner of nineteenth-century detective fiction.”
–The Washington Post Book World
One rainy morning in 1871 in lower Manhattan, Martin Pemberton, a freelance writer, sees in a passing stagecoach several elderly men, one of whom he recognizes as his supposedly dead and buried father. While trying to unravel the mystery, Pemberton disappears, sending McIlvaine, his employer, the editor of an evening paper, in pursuit of the truth behind his freelancer’s fate. Layer by layer, McIlvaine reveals a modern metropolis surging with primordial urges and sins, where the Tweed Ring operates the city for its own profit and a conspicuously self-satisfied nouveau-riche ignores the poverty and squalor that surrounds them. In E. L. Doctorow’s skilled hands, The Waterworks becomes, in the words of The New York Times, “a dark moral tale . . . an eloquently troubling evocation of our past.”
My Review: Mel-O-Drama!! The novel is set in 1871, and like any good sudser pits one lone man against a system of evildoers and manipulators. Adding to the pleasures are steampunky elements like technology out of its time, a villainous doctor aiming to create immortal men, and double-super-secret hidden bases that are in plain sight.
When I read this for my book circle, I was taken with the plot and somewhat flat on the wiritng. Doctorow makes wonderful sentences at his best, specifically thinking of Ragtime here, but this book fell short of the mark for me then. A quick flip-through to blow fifteen years of cobwebs off my memories didn’t so much refute my earlier contention as show me how very spoiled I was by the olden-days craft of editing. If I read a novel this well-made today, I’d yodel from the housetops and dance mazurkas of rapture down the middle of the parkway.
People who have read my reviews for a while might recall how UP I was over The Night Circus, and how much I loved it. So in that context, I say this: Had The Night Circus been edited as well as this far, far less extraordinary book (published in 1994) was, I think I would simply have melted into the fabric of the cosmos from sheer bliss.
Skills are being lost. It is NOT a good thing. I grow sadder with every mediocre book I read that someone somewhere with the talent and ability to edit even the ~meh~ into BETTER ~meh~ isn’t getting the chance, the training, the mentoring, to do so.
October 21, 2024
Kétszintes krimi. Martin, az egzaltáltan becsületes (ilyen is van, na) újságíró látni véli halott (és holtában is gyűlölt) apját egy omnibuszon, és nyomába ered a rejtélynek. Második szinten pedig Martinnak ered nyomába munkaadója, a minden hájjal megkent lapszerkesztő, mert a nagy nyomozásban az 1.0 detektívnek nyoma veszett, ezért szükség van egy 2.0-ásra. Bizonyos pontokon a gótikus rémregényekkel kokettáló szöveg - de azért mindenekelőtt, mint mondtam: krimi. Mi több: hard boiled krimi, az a fajta, amiben a bűn nem a normalitástól való eltérést jelenti, hanem a rendes ügymenetet, a nyomozók pedig nem anomália-vadászok, hanem magányos Grál Lovagok, akik kategorikus imperatívuszukra támaszkodva szembe mennek a mérgező, bűnös korszellemmel - ebben a konkrét esetben az 1870-es évek koszos, vad és korrupt New York-jának közállapotaival.
Jól működő szöveg: átjön a metropolisz rothadt bűze, a karakterek oda vannak téve, és az elbeszélői pozíció is érdekes. Kicsit csalódott is vagyok, amiért tetszett - így nem lesz szívem lepasszolni az újraközpontban*. Nem is pusztán az irodalmi megvalósítása miatt, hanem mert van egy erős etikai magja, ami engem nagyon érdekelt. Mégpedig az, hogy szabad-e boldognak lenni egy olyan közegben, ami lényegét tekintve etikátlan. Martin szerint nem. Ha New York velejéig romlott, vezetői pedig gonoszok, akkor ő nem teheti meg, hogy eszik egy zöldborsós tokányt a Sparheltben, Peronit iszik hozzá, és ÉLVEZI. Mert méltatlan dolog a szenvedőkkel szemben, ha nem szenved velük. Olyan morális véglet ez, amit embertelenség megkövetelni - a totális amoralitás (regénybeli képviselője: Dr. Sartorius) totális ellentéte. E végpontok között kell belőni magunkat, hogy élni tudjunk. Ha lehet (és még ha nehéz is: lehet), a skála felső harmadába.
* Mondjuk tény, hogy amikor az újraközpontba könyvet viszek, akkor baromi gyakran HOZOK is el könyvet, ami arra utal, hogy nem igazán fogtam fel, mi a lényege a könyvtárcsökkentő programomnak.
Jól működő szöveg: átjön a metropolisz rothadt bűze, a karakterek oda vannak téve, és az elbeszélői pozíció is érdekes. Kicsit csalódott is vagyok, amiért tetszett - így nem lesz szívem lepasszolni az újraközpontban*. Nem is pusztán az irodalmi megvalósítása miatt, hanem mert van egy erős etikai magja, ami engem nagyon érdekelt. Mégpedig az, hogy szabad-e boldognak lenni egy olyan közegben, ami lényegét tekintve etikátlan. Martin szerint nem. Ha New York velejéig romlott, vezetői pedig gonoszok, akkor ő nem teheti meg, hogy eszik egy zöldborsós tokányt a Sparheltben, Peronit iszik hozzá, és ÉLVEZI. Mert méltatlan dolog a szenvedőkkel szemben, ha nem szenved velük. Olyan morális véglet ez, amit embertelenség megkövetelni - a totális amoralitás (regénybeli képviselője: Dr. Sartorius) totális ellentéte. E végpontok között kell belőni magunkat, hogy élni tudjunk. Ha lehet (és még ha nehéz is: lehet), a skála felső harmadába.
* Mondjuk tény, hogy amikor az újraközpontba könyvet viszek, akkor baromi gyakran HOZOK is el könyvet, ami arra utal, hogy nem igazán fogtam fel, mi a lényege a könyvtárcsökkentő programomnak.
July 1, 2024
Cudowny hołd oddany dawnym mistrzom kryminału i grozy z E. A. Poe na czele, ale również niesamowita kronika Nowego Jorku lat siedemdziesiątych XIX wieku.
Nie zapowiadało, ale za 15 zeta, które dałem na Allegro za tę książkę dostałem czyste złoto oprawione w koszmarną okładkę.
Rezerwuar mnie pochłonął - ta książka jest tak spójna, tak klimatyczna i nastrojowa i tak niepokojąca, że do dziś (a skończyłem czytać dobre dwa tygodnie temu) nie mogę przestać się egzaltować i porządnie zebrać myśli, dlatego nie przedłużając napiszę tylko: warto.
Nie zapowiadało, ale za 15 zeta, które dałem na Allegro za tę książkę dostałem czyste złoto oprawione w koszmarną okładkę.
Rezerwuar mnie pochłonął - ta książka jest tak spójna, tak klimatyczna i nastrojowa i tak niepokojąca, że do dziś (a skończyłem czytać dobre dwa tygodnie temu) nie mogę przestać się egzaltować i porządnie zebrać myśli, dlatego nie przedłużając napiszę tylko: warto.
January 29, 2024
Evocative post Civil War New York with lotsa juicy images is the setting for this slightly hallucinogenic tale of familial treachery and greed. The story is told by an aged journalist who is only peripherally related to the main characters. The hypocrisy of religion, the limited morality of “science”, and the constant reminder that everything has a price, especially in “The Ring’s” NYC.
Life under Boss Tweed; dramatic poverty and hoards of neglected children “street rats”, scurrying around the powerful, rising, extraordinarily wealthy class not seen (in the new world before - or since, till now) is the palpable setting.
“A conspicuously self-satisfied class of new wealth and weak intellect was all a-glitter in a setting of mass misery.”
But even their wealth couldn’t prevent the frustration inherent in the wee, brief, transient, oh-so mortal, nature of our lives. There’s gotta be a way to buy a fix for that...right?
Life under Boss Tweed; dramatic poverty and hoards of neglected children “street rats”, scurrying around the powerful, rising, extraordinarily wealthy class not seen (in the new world before - or since, till now) is the palpable setting.
“A conspicuously self-satisfied class of new wealth and weak intellect was all a-glitter in a setting of mass misery.”
But even their wealth couldn’t prevent the frustration inherent in the wee, brief, transient, oh-so mortal, nature of our lives. There’s gotta be a way to buy a fix for that...right?
January 5, 2013
I managed to finish this ... book, but just ... barely. Will I read another by this author ... I don't think so. Did I enjoy this ... book? No ... I did not ... enjoy ... this book. Why?
The freaking ellipsis* (ellipses?)! The author's overuse of ... after ... after ... changed what could have been a fairly mediocre attempt at writing a 19th century mystery into something resembling sheer hell for this reader. These blasted dots made it impossible to tell (or care) if the character's voices were different, made it impossible to become involved , and most importantly of all, made it impossible for me to EVER so much as consider reading anything else by this pompous, overbearing, windbag.
Besides the ellipsis problem, there were other aspects of this book that rankled.
1. The plot--what little there was of it. Sure, most 19th century mysteries aren't considered all that mysterious nowadays, but they were in their time. In their time, they were fresh, new, and exciting, and many such as those by Anna Katharine Green can still knock the breath out of you. This plot was stale, old, and boring even when judged against 19th century mysteries. When you consider that it's a 21st century attempt to mimic a 19th century work, it crosses the line from trivial to pathetic.
2. The characters. Doctorow's characters bring new meaning to the phrase two-dimensional characters. This group of cliches had to be the most poorly written characters I have ever come across. They would be forgettable if it weren't that they were so bad. On top of this, even without the freaking ellipsis (ellipsises?) they all sounded alike. I don't mean their speech was similar, I mean they all sounded EXACTLY alike. You can pick two passages of dialog at random, and unless the dialog relates to something specific to the character, there is absolutely no way you can tell who is speaking. (Trust me, I tried this.) When you add back in the freaking ellipsis, the sameness of the characters becomes almost comic.
3. Pacing. The pacing is beyond slow, it's tedious. By the time the author stretched out what little plot there was to make a novel, you wind up having to wade through pages and pages of padding to find a bit of plot. (And then what plot you do find, isn't worth the trouble.)
4. Writing style. If the author has a writing style, it's buried very deep under all the ellipsis. Buried so deep that I, for one, have neither the time nor the inclination to bother digging it out.
In short, the plot is crap, the characters are crap, the pacing is crap, and the writing is crap. If you like crap, you'll love this. If not, then don't bother unless you can find the version of the book that all the big-time critics seem to have read and rave about. (This other version must exist since there is no way they could have been reviewing the load of crap I waded through.)
*So you won't think I'm exaggerating about the ellipsis, here's an example copied straight from the book:
The freaking ellipsis* (ellipses?)! The author's overuse of ... after ... after ... changed what could have been a fairly mediocre attempt at writing a 19th century mystery into something resembling sheer hell for this reader. These blasted dots made it impossible to tell (or care) if the character's voices were different, made it impossible to become involved , and most importantly of all, made it impossible for me to EVER so much as consider reading anything else by this pompous, overbearing, windbag.
Besides the ellipsis problem, there were other aspects of this book that rankled.
1. The plot--what little there was of it. Sure, most 19th century mysteries aren't considered all that mysterious nowadays, but they were in their time. In their time, they were fresh, new, and exciting, and many such as those by Anna Katharine Green can still knock the breath out of you. This plot was stale, old, and boring even when judged against 19th century mysteries. When you consider that it's a 21st century attempt to mimic a 19th century work, it crosses the line from trivial to pathetic.
2. The characters. Doctorow's characters bring new meaning to the phrase two-dimensional characters. This group of cliches had to be the most poorly written characters I have ever come across. They would be forgettable if it weren't that they were so bad. On top of this, even without the freaking ellipsis (ellipsises?) they all sounded alike. I don't mean their speech was similar, I mean they all sounded EXACTLY alike. You can pick two passages of dialog at random, and unless the dialog relates to something specific to the character, there is absolutely no way you can tell who is speaking. (Trust me, I tried this.) When you add back in the freaking ellipsis, the sameness of the characters becomes almost comic.
3. Pacing. The pacing is beyond slow, it's tedious. By the time the author stretched out what little plot there was to make a novel, you wind up having to wade through pages and pages of padding to find a bit of plot. (And then what plot you do find, isn't worth the trouble.)
4. Writing style. If the author has a writing style, it's buried very deep under all the ellipsis. Buried so deep that I, for one, have neither the time nor the inclination to bother digging it out.
In short, the plot is crap, the characters are crap, the pacing is crap, and the writing is crap. If you like crap, you'll love this. If not, then don't bother unless you can find the version of the book that all the big-time critics seem to have read and rave about. (This other version must exist since there is no way they could have been reviewing the load of crap I waded through.)
*So you won't think I'm exaggerating about the ellipsis, here's an example copied straight from the book:
His eyes were sharp and clear black behind the incongruous pincenez [sic] affixed to the bridge of his nose ... but his head was shaved, he was beardless ... and in this freezing catacomb his legs were bare ... so that I was put in mind of some ... garden creature ... something hairless ... and all eyes.
January 31, 2024
Doctorow is a masterful writer. The Waterworks is set in 1871 New York during the heyday of the Boss Tweed administration and written in the 19th century style.
The storyteller is a newspaper man who can’t locate one of his Freelance Reporters. The plot has a Science Fiction vibe. It involves a brilliant but morally lacking doctor and his strange experiments.
Orphans are missing. Dead men are seen living and traveling in mysterious black carriages. One of the men, August Pemberton, a man of great means is seen in the carriage. His widow are her young son have been left penniless with no idea what happened to his wealth.
A reader who likes the fiction of Dickens or Henry James will enjoy this novel.
The storyteller is a newspaper man who can’t locate one of his Freelance Reporters. The plot has a Science Fiction vibe. It involves a brilliant but morally lacking doctor and his strange experiments.
Orphans are missing. Dead men are seen living and traveling in mysterious black carriages. One of the men, August Pemberton, a man of great means is seen in the carriage. His widow are her young son have been left penniless with no idea what happened to his wealth.
A reader who likes the fiction of Dickens or Henry James will enjoy this novel.
June 7, 2015
Slow-moving and boring. It didn't quite fit the crime genre nor the mystery genre. It certainly was not a thriller. It was more of a philosophical meandering asking questions about the advance of medicine and science versus religion, the advance of the machine age versus the pastoral, the acceptance and resignation of age versus the fire and idealism of youth. It has a few bright moments as a story and I would hold hope for a some pages that the writer would continue to be bright and clear, but then he goes back to written mumbling about philosophical ideas and one very much feels the stifling, soporific underwater world that plays a large part in this story.
October 6, 2009
Underrated and under-read! By all means, listen to the (abridged, unfortunately) audiobook version by the great actor Sam Waterston. History, mystery, ethics, musings about eternity, the meaning of life, and New York trivia to boot. What more could you want?
June 25, 2018
An attempted thriller, an unchallenging genre exercise somewhat distinguished by above-average prose and elegant historical atmospherics. Perfect material for a mid-budget single season Netflix costumer.
January 4, 2016
A wonderful philosophical novel and detective story with a strong moral sense and a beautiful portrait of New York City in the Boss Tweed era. And God, the man can write!
June 26, 2019
New York in 1872 has grown to a population of almost a million. A freelance journalist goes missing after telling his editor that he just seen his own father, who died the year before, though he had no sort of relationship with him, a man who had earned his fortune running slave boats along the Atlantic Coast.
Always there is the spectre of corruption, of bribery and extortion headed by the gangster Boss Tweed. As gripping as the plot is, NY itself is very much the star of the show, a place imprisoned in thuggish corruption, where the police conspire with, rather than against, crime, a maze of alleyways crawling with the street-urchins who survive on the city's garbage, darting beneath the wheels of carriages, acting as newspaper-sellers, and loitering at the edge of squalid saloons. It is brought wonderfully to life in his writing.
Always there is the spectre of corruption, of bribery and extortion headed by the gangster Boss Tweed. As gripping as the plot is, NY itself is very much the star of the show, a place imprisoned in thuggish corruption, where the police conspire with, rather than against, crime, a maze of alleyways crawling with the street-urchins who survive on the city's garbage, darting beneath the wheels of carriages, acting as newspaper-sellers, and loitering at the edge of squalid saloons. It is brought wonderfully to life in his writing.
January 19, 2025
E.L.Doctorow(and I’m pretty sure at this point that the E.L. stand for Ellipses) has created a 253-page novel out of a 150-page novella. The book paints an interesting portrait of New York City in 1871: a dozen shades of gray where the fear is children will lose their names and adults will lose their souls. The author is masterful in setting this mood.
However, the story is frequently boring as hell. As the author went off on one tangent here and another there and so on, I found myself thinking: Gee, I wonder if the clothes in the washer are finished? Or, is my dog eating Christmas tree ornaments again? I don’t know how I managed to finish this.
Lastly…the use of…is beyond ridiculous. Dipping into ellipses from time to time is one thing. But…doing it constantly…throughout the…book…? Holy crap!!! Maybe the book could have been 100 pages shorter if he cut all those ellipses out.
However, the story is frequently boring as hell. As the author went off on one tangent here and another there and so on, I found myself thinking: Gee, I wonder if the clothes in the washer are finished? Or, is my dog eating Christmas tree ornaments again? I don’t know how I managed to finish this.
Lastly…the use of…is beyond ridiculous. Dipping into ellipses from time to time is one thing. But…doing it constantly…throughout the…book…? Holy crap!!! Maybe the book could have been 100 pages shorter if he cut all those ellipses out.
May 2, 2013
«و بگذار شما را با این توهم رها کنم... هر چند در حقیقت ما بهزودی در بالای برادوی مشغول رانندگی خواهیم بود در سال جدید سرور ما، در 1872.» (آب کردن؛ پاراگراف آخر)
پیش از آنکه راوی آخرین کلمات رمان را به زبان بیاورد؛ پاراگرافی پیشتر؛ او نیویورکی را در نظر میآورد که منجمد شده است. جوری که انگار تمام شهر تا ابد «تختهبند و یخ بسته و پر تلالو و مبهوت خداوند» میماند. این یکی از آخرین نمودهای «دغدغهی جاودانگی» در رمان «آب کردن» است.
«آب کردن» را سردبیر روزنامهای قرن نوزدهمی روایت میکند و مخاطبی که او برای روایتش در نظر دارد مایی هستیم که در قرونِ بعد زندگی میکنیم. راوی اگر چه که یک قرن نوزدهمی تمام و کمال است، اما در لحظاتی بصیرتی فرا قرنی از خود بروز میدهد. بصیرتی گاه حیرتانگیز:
«ممکن است فکر کنی تو همین الان و همینجا داری در یک عصر مدرن زندگی میکنی؛ اما این توهّم همهی عصر و زمانهاست. ما طوری رفتار نکردیم که گویی مقدمهی عصر شما بودیم. هیچ چیز عجیب و پر حس و حالی دوروبر ما وجود نداشت. به شما اطمینان میدهم، نیویورک پس از جنگ، جامعهای خلاقتر، موثرتر و نابغهتر از آن بود که امروز هست...» (آب کردن، 16)
در جایی از رمان، راوی به مقایسه میان سر و شکل روزنامههای «آن روزگار» با آنچه که «امروز» از روزنامه میشناسیم میپردازد:
«در آن روزگار ما گزارشهایمان را راسته به صورت ردیف، کنار هم میگذاشتیم، عنوانهای اصلی، زیرعنوانها و گزارش. اگر شما یک گزارش داشتید آن را ته ستون یک میگذاشتید و از ستون بعدی هر چه نیاز داشتید برمیداشتید. روزنامه عمودی بود. هیچ عنوانی در عرض روزنامه تیتر نمیشد، ستون دو برابر هم نداشتیم...» (آب کردن، 134)
او ویژگیهای یک روزنامهی امروزی را چگونه میشناسد؟ مگر زندگیِ امروز را تجربه کرده که میتواند بین نبوغ امروز و نبوغ آن روزگار قضاوت کند؟
پرسشهایی از این گونه هنگامی که در انتهای رمان تب و تابِ ناشی از گمشدنِ شخصیتِ محوریِ روایت؛ مارتین پمبرتون –یا به قول راوی: روزنامهنگار مستقل من- با دغدغهی جاودانهگی گره میخورد، میتوانند ایدهای را در ذهن ما متجلی کند: آیا راویای چنین آیندهآگاه میتواند زندگی را در قرن نوزدهم بدرود گفته باشد؟
جیمز جویس اصطلاحِ اپیفنی را برای تبیین فرایندی به کار برد که در آن رویداد یا فکری پیشپاافتاده به وسیلهی نویسنده به چیزی تبدیل میشود که زیبایی «جاودان» دارد (لاج، هنر داستاننویسی، 252) دکتروف در مصاحبهای (با سعید کمالی دهقان) دربارهی تکنیک اپیفنی در آثار جویس چنین میگوید:
« جویس گفته بود که قصد دارد به داستانهایش یککم حالت وحی و تجلی بدهد، طوری که وقتی خواننده داستان را تمام کرد همه چیز برایش واضح هست اما چون موضوع اصلی دربارهش حرف زده نشده و توضیحی داده نشده، در نهایت آن موضوع به شکل قویتری به خواننده منتقل میشود. و البته به همراه یک سری صحنههای دراماتیزه شده.»
آیا موضوعی که دکتروف در رمان آب کردن دربارهی آن «حرف میزند» همان موضوع اصلیِ مورد نظر اوست؟ در ادامه پاسخ منفیام به این سوال را تبیین خواهم کرد.
مارتین پمبرتون در خیابان برادوی دلیجانی سفید دیده است که سرنشینانش پیرمردانی سیاهپوش بودهاند و روی گردن یکی از آنها همان غدّهای وجود داشته که مشخصهی پدرش؛ که سالهاست مرده؛ بوده است. مارتین پمبرتون روح دیده؟ نه... راوی در همان فصلهای ابتدایی رمان، با قاطعیتی ماتریالیستی؛ از گونهی قاطعیت راویِ رگتایم در هنگام توصیف شخصیت و زندگیِ هری هودینیِ شعبدهباز؛ این گزینه را رد میکند.
روایت در غیاب مارتین پمبرتون آغاز میشود و حول محورِ جستوجو برای یافتن او پیش میرود، اما یافتن او –که در یک سوم پایانیِ رمان میسّر میشود- هیچ کدام از خطوط اصلیِ روایت را نمیبندد، چرا که از میانهی راه جستوجو برای یافتن مارتین جای خود را به جستوجو برای یافتن دکتر سارتوریوس، که از نگاه راوی و همراهِ پلیسش شاهکلید ماجرای مرگهای دروغینی از نوع مرگِ پدر مارتین است میدهد. بسیار کنایی است که شخصیت اصلی رمان، که روایت بر مبنای فقدان او شکل گرفته است، بسیار اتفاقی و در عملیاتی که با هدف یافتن سارتوریوس انجام شده، یافته میشود. به پرسش این نوشته بازگردیم: داستان اصلیِ «آب کردن» چیست؟ جستوجو برای یافتن مارتین؟ یا شاید هم کشف رازِ مردهگانی که نمردهاند؟
سارتوریوس در قرن نوزدهم میلادی از بیمارانش نوار مغزی تهیه میکند و حتا در حال آزمایش پیوند اعضاست. او به رازِ عمرِ جاودانه پی برده است و یا حداقل پیرمردانِ ثروتمندِ نیویورکی چنین میپندارند. آنها ثروت خود را در اختیار سارتوریوس قرار دادهاند، خود را به مرگ زدهاند و در آزمایشگاه سارتوریوس زندگیِ رخوتآلودِ جاودانهشان را تجربه میکنند. قصهی قشنگی است. اینطور نیست؟ این قصه از نیمهی دومِ رمانِ آب کردن، اندک اندک جایگزینِ قصّهی گم شدنِ مارتین پمبرتون میشود و آن را به حاشیه میبرد. اما نه... آن چیز که جایگزین میشود جستوجوی ماست برای کشف رازِ مردهگانی که نمردهاند. همهی این قصه کمتر از یک دهم از این رمانِ حدود سیصد صفحهای را به خود اختصاص داده است. آیا میشود آن را قصّهی اصلی رمان دانست؟ نه.
علاوه بر این خطوط روایی، «آب کردن» خطِ رواییِ دیگری دارد که در کمال تزویر خود را پشتِ داستانهای ماجراجویانهی هیجانانگیز پنهان میکند. آب کردن داستانِ سردبیری کهنهکار است که در پی یافتن سوژهای برای نوشتنِ یک گزارشِ دوران ساز از اتاق خود در تحریریه به خیابان پا میگذارد و در نهایت هنگامی که این سوژه را به سرانجام میرساند، آن را در قالب گزارش نمینویسد. آن را در قالبی مینویسد که احتمال جاودانهگیِ روایت را بیشتر کند. در رمانِ آب کردن علاوه بر پیرمردانِ مشکی پوش و دکتر سارتوریوس شخصِ دیگری هم هست که دغدغهی جاودانهگی دارد. او کسی است که در جای جای رمان از خودش بصیرتهای فرا قرن نوزدهمی، بروز داده است. این داستان علاوه بر آنکه در نهایت با تمِ تقلا ��رای جاودانه شدن گره میخورد، از همان ابتدا تقلایی است برای جاودانه شدن، از سوی روزنامهنگاری که به مقولهی جاودانهگی بسیار میاندیشد.
بین آیندهآگاهیِ راوی و آزمایشهای دکتر سارتوریوس برای جاودانهگی چه ارتباطی برقرار است؟ آیا میتوان چنین فرض کرد که در رمانی گره خورده با تمِ جاودانهگی، نویسنده بدون هیچ غرضی، مشخصههای یک شخصیت را به نوعی ترسیم میکند که ما دربارهی طبیعی یا غیرطبیعی بودنِ عمرِ او دچار تردید شویم؟ و آیا میتوان گفت دکتروف تحت تاثیر جویس و برای آنکه به داستانش «یک کم حالت وحی و الهام بدهد» تا آن را به چیزی تبدیل کند که به قول جویس «زیبائیِ جاودان دارد» علتِ آیندهآگاهیِ راوی را سربسته باقی میگذارد؟ آیا نویسندهای هست که درگیر دغدغهی جاودانهگی نباشد؟
ای. ال. دکتروف، آب کردن را پس از رمان جاودانهاش «رگتایم» نوشته است. در آستانهی قرنی جدید. در سالِ جدیدِ سرور ما، در 1995. آیا دغدغهی رودرویی با قرنِ آینده در شکل گرفتنِ چنین رمانی تاثیر داشته است؟ کسی جوانمردی کند و این سوال را از او بپرسد!
پیش از آنکه راوی آخرین کلمات رمان را به زبان بیاورد؛ پاراگرافی پیشتر؛ او نیویورکی را در نظر میآورد که منجمد شده است. جوری که انگار تمام شهر تا ابد «تختهبند و یخ بسته و پر تلالو و مبهوت خداوند» میماند. این یکی از آخرین نمودهای «دغدغهی جاودانگی» در رمان «آب کردن» است.
«آب کردن» را سردبیر روزنامهای قرن نوزدهمی روایت میکند و مخاطبی که او برای روایتش در نظر دارد مایی هستیم که در قرونِ بعد زندگی میکنیم. راوی اگر چه که یک قرن نوزدهمی تمام و کمال است، اما در لحظاتی بصیرتی فرا قرنی از خود بروز میدهد. بصیرتی گاه حیرتانگیز:
«ممکن است فکر کنی تو همین الان و همینجا داری در یک عصر مدرن زندگی میکنی؛ اما این توهّم همهی عصر و زمانهاست. ما طوری رفتار نکردیم که گویی مقدمهی عصر شما بودیم. هیچ چیز عجیب و پر حس و حالی دوروبر ما وجود نداشت. به شما اطمینان میدهم، نیویورک پس از جنگ، جامعهای خلاقتر، موثرتر و نابغهتر از آن بود که امروز هست...» (آب کردن، 16)
در جایی از رمان، راوی به مقایسه میان سر و شکل روزنامههای «آن روزگار» با آنچه که «امروز» از روزنامه میشناسیم میپردازد:
«در آن روزگار ما گزارشهایمان را راسته به صورت ردیف، کنار هم میگذاشتیم، عنوانهای اصلی، زیرعنوانها و گزارش. اگر شما یک گزارش داشتید آن را ته ستون یک میگذاشتید و از ستون بعدی هر چه نیاز داشتید برمیداشتید. روزنامه عمودی بود. هیچ عنوانی در عرض روزنامه تیتر نمیشد، ستون دو برابر هم نداشتیم...» (آب کردن، 134)
او ویژگیهای یک روزنامهی امروزی را چگونه میشناسد؟ مگر زندگیِ امروز را تجربه کرده که میتواند بین نبوغ امروز و نبوغ آن روزگار قضاوت کند؟
پرسشهایی از این گونه هنگامی که در انتهای رمان تب و تابِ ناشی از گمشدنِ شخصیتِ محوریِ روایت؛ مارتین پمبرتون –یا به قول راوی: روزنامهنگار مستقل من- با دغدغهی جاودانهگی گره میخورد، میتوانند ایدهای را در ذهن ما متجلی کند: آیا راویای چنین آیندهآگاه میتواند زندگی را در قرن نوزدهم بدرود گفته باشد؟
جیمز جویس اصطلاحِ اپیفنی را برای تبیین فرایندی به کار برد که در آن رویداد یا فکری پیشپاافتاده به وسیلهی نویسنده به چیزی تبدیل میشود که زیبایی «جاودان» دارد (لاج، هنر داستاننویسی، 252) دکتروف در مصاحبهای (با سعید کمالی دهقان) دربارهی تکنیک اپیفنی در آثار جویس چنین میگوید:
« جویس گفته بود که قصد دارد به داستانهایش یککم حالت وحی و تجلی بدهد، طوری که وقتی خواننده داستان را تمام کرد همه چیز برایش واضح هست اما چون موضوع اصلی دربارهش حرف زده نشده و توضیحی داده نشده، در نهایت آن موضوع به شکل قویتری به خواننده منتقل میشود. و البته به همراه یک سری صحنههای دراماتیزه شده.»
آیا موضوعی که دکتروف در رمان آب کردن دربارهی آن «حرف میزند» همان موضوع اصلیِ مورد نظر اوست؟ در ادامه پاسخ منفیام به این سوال را تبیین خواهم کرد.
مارتین پمبرتون در خیابان برادوی دلیجانی سفید دیده است که سرنشینانش پیرمردانی سیاهپوش بودهاند و روی گردن یکی از آنها همان غدّهای وجود داشته که مشخصهی پدرش؛ که سالهاست مرده؛ بوده است. مارتین پمبرتون روح دیده؟ نه... راوی در همان فصلهای ابتدایی رمان، با قاطعیتی ماتریالیستی؛ از گونهی قاطعیت راویِ رگتایم در هنگام توصیف شخصیت و زندگیِ هری هودینیِ شعبدهباز؛ این گزینه را رد میکند.
روایت در غیاب مارتین پمبرتون آغاز میشود و حول محورِ جستوجو برای یافتن او پیش میرود، اما یافتن او –که در یک سوم پایانیِ رمان میسّر میشود- هیچ کدام از خطوط اصلیِ روایت را نمیبندد، چرا که از میانهی راه جستوجو برای یافتن مارتین جای خود را به جستوجو برای یافتن دکتر سارتوریوس، که از نگاه راوی و همراهِ پلیسش شاهکلید ماجرای مرگهای دروغینی از نوع مرگِ پدر مارتین است میدهد. بسیار کنایی است که شخصیت اصلی رمان، که روایت بر مبنای فقدان او شکل گرفته است، بسیار اتفاقی و در عملیاتی که با هدف یافتن سارتوریوس انجام شده، یافته میشود. به پرسش این نوشته بازگردیم: داستان اصلیِ «آب کردن» چیست؟ جستوجو برای یافتن مارتین؟ یا شاید هم کشف رازِ مردهگانی که نمردهاند؟
سارتوریوس در قرن نوزدهم میلادی از بیمارانش نوار مغزی تهیه میکند و حتا در حال آزمایش پیوند اعضاست. او به رازِ عمرِ جاودانه پی برده است و یا حداقل پیرمردانِ ثروتمندِ نیویورکی چنین میپندارند. آنها ثروت خود را در اختیار سارتوریوس قرار دادهاند، خود را به مرگ زدهاند و در آزمایشگاه سارتوریوس زندگیِ رخوتآلودِ جاودانهشان را تجربه میکنند. قصهی قشنگی است. اینطور نیست؟ این قصه از نیمهی دومِ رمانِ آب کردن، اندک اندک جایگزینِ قصّهی گم شدنِ مارتین پمبرتون میشود و آن را به حاشیه میبرد. اما نه... آن چیز که جایگزین میشود جستوجوی ماست برای کشف رازِ مردهگانی که نمردهاند. همهی این قصه کمتر از یک دهم از این رمانِ حدود سیصد صفحهای را به خود اختصاص داده است. آیا میشود آن را قصّهی اصلی رمان دانست؟ نه.
علاوه بر این خطوط روایی، «آب کردن» خطِ رواییِ دیگری دارد که در کمال تزویر خود را پشتِ داستانهای ماجراجویانهی هیجانانگیز پنهان میکند. آب کردن داستانِ سردبیری کهنهکار است که در پی یافتن سوژهای برای نوشتنِ یک گزارشِ دوران ساز از اتاق خود در تحریریه به خیابان پا میگذارد و در نهایت هنگامی که این سوژه را به سرانجام میرساند، آن را در قالب گزارش نمینویسد. آن را در قالبی مینویسد که احتمال جاودانهگیِ روایت را بیشتر کند. در رمانِ آب کردن علاوه بر پیرمردانِ مشکی پوش و دکتر سارتوریوس شخصِ دیگری هم هست که دغدغهی جاودانهگی دارد. او کسی است که در جای جای رمان از خودش بصیرتهای فرا قرن نوزدهمی، بروز داده است. این داستان علاوه بر آنکه در نهایت با تمِ تقلا ��رای جاودانه شدن گره میخورد، از همان ابتدا تقلایی است برای جاودانه شدن، از سوی روزنامهنگاری که به مقولهی جاودانهگی بسیار میاندیشد.
بین آیندهآگاهیِ راوی و آزمایشهای دکتر سارتوریوس برای جاودانهگی چه ارتباطی برقرار است؟ آیا میتوان چنین فرض کرد که در رمانی گره خورده با تمِ جاودانهگی، نویسنده بدون هیچ غرضی، مشخصههای یک شخصیت را به نوعی ترسیم میکند که ما دربارهی طبیعی یا غیرطبیعی بودنِ عمرِ او دچار تردید شویم؟ و آیا میتوان گفت دکتروف تحت تاثیر جویس و برای آنکه به داستانش «یک کم حالت وحی و الهام بدهد» تا آن را به چیزی تبدیل کند که به قول جویس «زیبائیِ جاودان دارد» علتِ آیندهآگاهیِ راوی را سربسته باقی میگذارد؟ آیا نویسندهای هست که درگیر دغدغهی جاودانهگی نباشد؟
ای. ال. دکتروف، آب کردن را پس از رمان جاودانهاش «رگتایم» نوشته است. در آستانهی قرنی جدید. در سالِ جدیدِ سرور ما، در 1995. آیا دغدغهی رودرویی با قرنِ آینده در شکل گرفتنِ چنین رمانی تاثیر داشته است؟ کسی جوانمردی کند و این سوال را از او بپرسد!
July 2, 2020
I was very disappointed in this novel. Had high expectations as I have read others by E.L. Doctorow.
Didn’t care for the medical terms or prose used at times.
Couldn’t develop feeling for the characters.
What I did gain is a thirst for knowledge about NYC history.
2.5
Didn’t care for the medical terms or prose used at times.
Couldn’t develop feeling for the characters.
What I did gain is a thirst for knowledge about NYC history.
2.5
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 7, 2016
I bought, and still have, the original hardcover edition, from 1994, when Simon Schama classified it in the review in the New York Times as a "startling and spellbinding new novel". There was another review in the Times that year mentioning a "haunting new novel" and later, on the author's death, a consideration of "a dark mystery set in Manhattan in the 1870s, involving a journalist who vanishes and an evil scientist."
Now that I finally got around to actually reading it, I can confirm it all. Ta-Nehisi Coates includes the book in the 2015 list of the ten best of his life so far and states that it is "one of the most thrilling books I’ve ever read. And I still believe in that, you know? That stories should sometimes thrill people. Not all the time. But sometimes." Well, yes, absolutely.
This is a wonderful novel of New York ("Our brickworks . . . our makers of ink and our paper mills . . . our book publishers . . . our mowers and harvesters and sowers and reapers -- all still, unmoving, stricken, as if the entire city of New York would be forever encased and frozen, aglitter and God-stunned."), marked by steampunk allegories ("These were connected by wires to a pair of needles with their points resting against a revolving wax cylinder set in a wood box. He explained everything as he went along. The cylinder was turned by a gear' shaft attached to a small brass steam engine.") and science-fiction themes ("I saw him transfuse blood from one living being to another. I saw him with a hypodermic tube inject cellular matter into deadened brains. I saw first one, then another, of the orphan children begin to age, like leaves turning yellow. Was this the work? Though I saw some of it, I was in crucial matters kept ignorant.") in a mesmerizing literary accomplishment ("Whatever their state of being, they were hardly more pathetic than people you will find strolling on Broadway, or shopping in Washington Market, all of them severely governed by tribal custom, and a structure of fantasies which they call civilization, Civilization does not fortify the membranous mind, or alter our subjection to the moment, the moment that has no memory, The person who grows old, or halt, has no past in the eyes of others, The gallant soldier on the battlefield one day is the next day the amputated beggar we would rather not look at on the street corner. "We live subject to the moment according to cycles of light and dark, and weeks and months. Our bodies have tides, and flow with measurable impulses of electric magnetism. It may be that we live strung like our telegraph wires in fields of waves of all kinds and lengths, waves we can see and hear and waves we cannot, and the life we feel, the animacy, is what is shaken through us by these waves, Sometimes I cannot understand how these demanding questions of truth do not impel everyone - why I and a few others are the exception to the mass of men so content with their epistemological limitations that some even make poetry of them.")
The press is realistically presented: "As a jobless editor I was still jealous of my exclusive. Sitting there in the hospital room, I experienced additionally the feelings of a private person who shudders in contemplation of the prospect, of serious matters of his own intimate knowledge, subjected to the low standards and deplorable practices of the newspaper profession."
Amazingly good and yes, very thrilling.
Now that I finally got around to actually reading it, I can confirm it all. Ta-Nehisi Coates includes the book in the 2015 list of the ten best of his life so far and states that it is "one of the most thrilling books I’ve ever read. And I still believe in that, you know? That stories should sometimes thrill people. Not all the time. But sometimes." Well, yes, absolutely.
This is a wonderful novel of New York ("Our brickworks . . . our makers of ink and our paper mills . . . our book publishers . . . our mowers and harvesters and sowers and reapers -- all still, unmoving, stricken, as if the entire city of New York would be forever encased and frozen, aglitter and God-stunned."), marked by steampunk allegories ("These were connected by wires to a pair of needles with their points resting against a revolving wax cylinder set in a wood box. He explained everything as he went along. The cylinder was turned by a gear' shaft attached to a small brass steam engine.") and science-fiction themes ("I saw him transfuse blood from one living being to another. I saw him with a hypodermic tube inject cellular matter into deadened brains. I saw first one, then another, of the orphan children begin to age, like leaves turning yellow. Was this the work? Though I saw some of it, I was in crucial matters kept ignorant.") in a mesmerizing literary accomplishment ("Whatever their state of being, they were hardly more pathetic than people you will find strolling on Broadway, or shopping in Washington Market, all of them severely governed by tribal custom, and a structure of fantasies which they call civilization, Civilization does not fortify the membranous mind, or alter our subjection to the moment, the moment that has no memory, The person who grows old, or halt, has no past in the eyes of others, The gallant soldier on the battlefield one day is the next day the amputated beggar we would rather not look at on the street corner. "We live subject to the moment according to cycles of light and dark, and weeks and months. Our bodies have tides, and flow with measurable impulses of electric magnetism. It may be that we live strung like our telegraph wires in fields of waves of all kinds and lengths, waves we can see and hear and waves we cannot, and the life we feel, the animacy, is what is shaken through us by these waves, Sometimes I cannot understand how these demanding questions of truth do not impel everyone - why I and a few others are the exception to the mass of men so content with their epistemological limitations that some even make poetry of them.")
The press is realistically presented: "As a jobless editor I was still jealous of my exclusive. Sitting there in the hospital room, I experienced additionally the feelings of a private person who shudders in contemplation of the prospect, of serious matters of his own intimate knowledge, subjected to the low standards and deplorable practices of the newspaper profession."
Amazingly good and yes, very thrilling.
September 5, 2011
I seem to be all over the place with Doctorow. Some of his books I have loved while others - like this one - I really regret picking up. It read to me like a pastiche of popular (not literary) novels of the time in which it was set. Well done as an exercise for the writer but not enjoyable for the reader.
June 18, 2023
«Când o să-mi scriu memoriile, o să fiu eroul lor. Nu doresc să rămân în posteritate doar ca un cronicar al familiei Pemberton. În nici un caz. Picturile mele vor fi expuse în muzee. Destinul meu e o altă poveste, nu asta. Nu asta.»
September 28, 2025
E.L. Doctorow wrote some outstanding books, and though I don’t think this is his best, it’s a solid example of what made him a great, if underrated, American author. His writing styles and narrative voice may change, but the same bedrock basics are observed. Character, setting, plot: check, check, check. If you’ve read Ragtime or Billy Bathgate, this one is built on the same basic chassis. A New York City newspaperman looks back at the surreal events of 1871, an incredible tale involving one of his freelance reporters, who was born into – and estranged from – one of the city’s wealthiest and most notorious families, and who suddenly fancies that his famously dead father may still be alive somewhere. I won’t give away the secret, but as Porky Pig might say, the proceedings are preposterous. Still, as a horror mystery this seems to be a requirement for the genre, both fiction and non-fiction, and you have to be willing to suspend your disbelief the same way you would for Frankenstein or The Killing Fields. I liked the narrator’s self-conscious tone and delivery, as he revels in New York mythology while describing the city’s grim, Dickensian conditions of that time. Enough real-life characters and events are woven into the story’s fabric to give it the slightest whiff of authenticity, if not plausibility. I’d grade this as light middleweight to middleweight in the literary boxing ring. Doctorow’s father named him Edgar in honor of Edgar Allen Poe, and Doctorow said this book was his own tribute to Poe.
August 9, 2025
Maybe 4.25 stars? Late 1800s nyc is a cool setting. Wild growth from the industrial revolution, deeply corrupt ruling class/government, abject poverty throughout the city etc.
It was less depressing than what I heard but yea definitely has a hopeless atmosphere. Themes of moral/societal decay but idk maybe I'm just into that
It was less depressing than what I heard but yea definitely has a hopeless atmosphere. Themes of moral/societal decay but idk maybe I'm just into that
July 16, 2009
Book Report on
WATERWORKS by E.L. Doctorow
07/16/09
DID YOU FIND OUT ABOUT THE EVENTS OF THE STORY IN THE ORDER IN WHICH THEY WOULD ACTUALLY HAVE HAPPENED?
No. The narrator, McIlvane, is retelling the story years after it has occurred and makes many jumps forward and back as he goes along. It nicely reinforces the idea that he's been thinking a lot about the events of the novel himself, and that he's worked hard to understand things and put them in sequence when in some ways that isn't really possible. It's also kind of endearing. Makes the storyteller seem more human. He'll start down a path and then say "I know we haven't met this guy yet but it's important you know about him already" or "You should really know about the way things were before we continue."
DO YOU THINK THE TITLE IS APPROPRIATE FOR THE STORY?
Absolutely, but you don't really figure out why until fairly late in the story. Water is actually very present throughout the story in different forms (rivers, reservors, what have you) and in many places the narrator uses it to make important metaphorical connections. Also, on reflection, a lot of very important events in the book seem to happen near water of some kind.
WHAT IS THE STORY REALLY ABOUT?
That's a tough one - there are a lot of themes in the book. I'd say in large part it's about what people do when confronted by something 'wrong' in the world - be it through acts of evil people, or injustices done, or whatever. Everyone in the story has been confronted by a choice and must either get involved and fight to change what they cannot stand, or stand aside and just try to live a day-to-day existence in the midst of what they know is not right.
WATERWORKS by E.L. Doctorow
07/16/09
DID YOU FIND OUT ABOUT THE EVENTS OF THE STORY IN THE ORDER IN WHICH THEY WOULD ACTUALLY HAVE HAPPENED?
No. The narrator, McIlvane, is retelling the story years after it has occurred and makes many jumps forward and back as he goes along. It nicely reinforces the idea that he's been thinking a lot about the events of the novel himself, and that he's worked hard to understand things and put them in sequence when in some ways that isn't really possible. It's also kind of endearing. Makes the storyteller seem more human. He'll start down a path and then say "I know we haven't met this guy yet but it's important you know about him already" or "You should really know about the way things were before we continue."
DO YOU THINK THE TITLE IS APPROPRIATE FOR THE STORY?
Absolutely, but you don't really figure out why until fairly late in the story. Water is actually very present throughout the story in different forms (rivers, reservors, what have you) and in many places the narrator uses it to make important metaphorical connections. Also, on reflection, a lot of very important events in the book seem to happen near water of some kind.
WHAT IS THE STORY REALLY ABOUT?
That's a tough one - there are a lot of themes in the book. I'd say in large part it's about what people do when confronted by something 'wrong' in the world - be it through acts of evil people, or injustices done, or whatever. Everyone in the story has been confronted by a choice and must either get involved and fight to change what they cannot stand, or stand aside and just try to live a day-to-day existence in the midst of what they know is not right.
August 26, 2015
On a cobbled street at the lower east tip of Manhattan is a gift shop filled with absurdly priced items -- $3,800 coffee tables. $400 earrings. $2,000 leather satchels. Hell! It's New York, so who am I to try to understand prices? But on the second floor of this gift shop is something I understand perfectly: books. This bookshop is devoted to the idea that celebrities are people too; this bookshop sells only the 10 favorite books of certain celebrities. I took a spin around the store reflecting on celebrity culture and wrinkling my nose at Tom Ford's literary love of Ayn Rand. And then I found the shelf dedicated to the favorite books of Ta-Nehisi Coates. And on that shelf I found The Waterworks. And in The Waterworks, I found the most mesmerizing and upsetting examination of American values I have read in a long time. Wealth and power, the inconvenient poverty of city life, the media circus that ultimately gives rise to the truth. I think I understand Coates better after reading this book.
I'm not precisely sure where to start. Set in NYC in the years following the Civil War, this novel is about young Martin Pemberton's quest to find his old scoundrel of a father. The novel is told from the perspective of Martin's newspaper boss, many years later. Martin's father was pure evil in life -- he defrauded the US Government, traded slaves by bribing port inspectors, drained all capital from his estate, and faked his own death. But his father's destiny in faked death is stranger (and somehow more appropriate?) than I ever dreamed. Child abduction. Municipal fraud. Grave robbing. Civil War service loyalty. The evil doctor. I loved it. The author E.L. Doctorow died recently, and reading this book was a humbling in memoriam.
I'm not precisely sure where to start. Set in NYC in the years following the Civil War, this novel is about young Martin Pemberton's quest to find his old scoundrel of a father. The novel is told from the perspective of Martin's newspaper boss, many years later. Martin's father was pure evil in life -- he defrauded the US Government, traded slaves by bribing port inspectors, drained all capital from his estate, and faked his own death. But his father's destiny in faked death is stranger (and somehow more appropriate?) than I ever dreamed. Child abduction. Municipal fraud. Grave robbing. Civil War service loyalty. The evil doctor. I loved it. The author E.L. Doctorow died recently, and reading this book was a humbling in memoriam.
November 27, 2010
It is not a story of a lost writer, it is the story of a city. New York is actually the main character of the book. Doctorow depicts the city in a very elaborate and gloomy way and he takes us to a journey of New York in old times. We can breathe that air with the author's meticulous style. However, he doesn't capture the reader so easily. The mysterious story of the lost writer Martin Pemberton could have been told more thrillingly in my opinion but Pemberton doesn't give what we expect as readers. After some point, I lost my attention towards the story. The book expects high concentration from the reader and it turns into the story of a weird doctor which was a bit disappointing to me. I don't mean to say that a story should have a surprising and stunning ending but it shouldn't be like this either.
December 11, 2024
Exciting top notch read! It’s a tale from the 1870's, with real historical personalities and language and environs woven in nicely. It does a great job of revealing the inner workings of its characters. I loved so many things about this. Oddly enough, the basic story is a boilerplate short story horror tale, the kind of thing you have read several versions of before. An episode of Pseudopod, if you will. But what Doctorov has done with it is wonderful. And I see that this is not even considered to be his best work.
I looked forward to opening the book every chance I got. Scene setting, philosophical exploration, pacing, pure craft: read it! I guess I can ding Doctorov for his 2- dimensional female characters, but that would be knocking him for a not-doing. What he has done is create a gem of a little book.
I looked forward to opening the book every chance I got. Scene setting, philosophical exploration, pacing, pure craft: read it! I guess I can ding Doctorov for his 2- dimensional female characters, but that would be knocking him for a not-doing. What he has done is create a gem of a little book.
December 9, 2020
Took me a couple of tries to finish this. Loved the way in which the author mimicked the writing style of the times and how he described the city and all it’s going ons. The detective story dragged a little for me and when it finally came together it wasn’t that satisfying. All that said, I appreciate the points made about money, the quest for immortality, the exploitation of youth, modernization and science, the gilded age nature of humanity, corruption and Tweed and the idea that nothing is really new here, it’s just the city and the humanity that makes it up again and again and again, true immortality itself.
June 28, 2019
A lush, grim novel, generous with language and the detail with which the characters are drawn, but dark, dark about the power and emptiness of money. The narrator is a newspaperman who has been driven to inarticulacy by the horrors he had discovered. The use of ellipses... is... telling. This is in large part a horror novel, with the mad Doctor Sartorius and his amoral pursuit of knowledge being the perfect match to the amoral capitalists and their pursuit of wealth holding sway over the sway over the glittering icy city of New York. What is the purpose of it all?
August 4, 2022
I think the core plot of the story - a man searching for a man who goes missing after searching for a dead man - is not too bad. Putting it in a place and time I haven't frequented before was interesting as well and serves as a great setting for some child abduction and ghoul-making. But the narration is (purposely?) a wistful ramble. It wasn't unpleasant to read, but it is exactly what non-readers mean when they say books put them to sleep. This one could have used a few more explosions and motorcycles being chased by dinosaurs; metaphorically, I mean.
December 21, 2022
Not easy to get into the book. The descriptions of NYC, Tweed and the newspaper business of the 1870s appealed to my interests. The mystery within the story wasn’t suspenseful, but the question of morality in regards to medicine/science is one that we still struggle with. I found the sentence structure difficult to wade through in McIlvaine’s long asides and skimmed them at times to get on with the story. I would much have had his points brought out in the characters’ dialogue.
June 24, 2013
very grim, but insightful, even profound. I loved the narrator with his masterfully rendered voice of a 19th-century new yorker and his whole persona evolving around this seemingly disembodied voice. and of course New York itself - beautiful and nuanced stylisation into which history weavened not as facts or numbers but as living pulse of the city life, so that one can feel its beat even today.
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