A God awful book. It starts as a somewhat witty black comedy and ends as a real piece of crap. The ending negates the entire story and makes me sorry I wasted my time reading it. There should be a special kind of hell for authors who hate their leading characters so much. In my opinion, not fit for human consumption.
This was a wild change of pace after the last two Irish-American novels I've read. Where they were quiet studies of families and marriages in an Irish-Catholic setting, Tom McHale's novel is filled with satire and absurdist humor and - spoiler alert - two major characters are abruptly blown up by two separate bombs.
Farragan's Retreat follows a wealthy Irish-Catholic clan in Philadelphia in the context of the Vietnam War. Older siblings Jim and Anna are virulently patriotic and virulently racist, and their children have, respectively, lost an arm and a life fighting overseas. When Arthur Farragan's son Simon dodges the draft, escapes to Canada, and writes an apology note to Ho Chi Min, Anna and Jim decide that the only course of action is to send Arthur up to Montreal to murder his only son.
It's often a funny book, but it's also a darkly cynical and depressing one. All of the characters are sort of terrible at heart. Some are terrible in a larger-than-life way - Anna sets up a shooting range in her basement because she's convinced that all the black men in Philadelphia are conspiring to rape her - and some in a quieter, sadder way. Catholicism is a hypocritical display or a quiet, heartfelt stranglehold.
It's an interesting book, but a rather brutal one. It's well-done overall, if perhaps a little broad in its satire. But I also can't really say that I liked or enjoyed it.
A little bit of a black comedy in tone, but McHale seems to know when to just lay off and let a trickle of empathy leak in, and it really charges the novel.
McHale's personal story is a sad one. Great books, good books--all sorts of books go out of print when they shouldn't. What's to be done except try to remember them, talk about them, and keep them in some sort of circulation.
WHEW was not prepared for that ending. the story starts with an atrocity: arthur farragan's jingoistic bro & sis want him to murder his son for dodging the draft. the obscenity of it, tho, fades from mind as the 300pp b/w the narrative hook and that last chapter comprise a punch-and-judy show of inopportune erections, drinks upended over heads, slaps etc. once you remember what the moral stakes are it's too late & the thing snaps shut like a bear trap. principato was good; this is essential.
Haven't read this in years but recall it left a strong impression and was an involving read.
A tale of a Vietnam veteran asked by his wife to go to Canada, and kidnap and kill his draft-dodging son - or anyway, that's how it all starts. Full of surprises. (Yes, I remember very (.. fairly) clearly, even at 10 years distance, how it ends but not even the availability of a Spoiler tag will get me to reveal that :) ...)
Not as good as I remembered. Not as bad, either. Scranton never lacked for minds like McHale, never had one as literate either. Plus, he remembers to call it the "shore" - not the "beach." One extra star for that.
While everyone was drooling over Cheever, Updike, Bellow, and the like, McHale was writing equally solid stuff and people pretty much ignored him. Then, the dude killed himself.