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The Morels
The Morels─Arthur, Penny, and Will─are a happy family of three living in New York City. So why would Arthur choose to publish a book that brutally rips his tightly knit family unit apart at the seams? Arthur's old schoolmate Chris, who narrates the book, is fascinated with this very question as he becomes accidentally reacquainted with Arthur. A single, aspiring filmmaker who works in a movie theater, Chris envies everything Arthur has, from his beautiful wife to his charming son to his seemingly effortless creativity. But things are not always what they seem.
The Morels takes a unique look at the power of art─literature, music and film in particular─and challenges us as readers to think about some fascinating questions to which there are no easy answers. Where is the line between art and obscenity, between truth and fiction, between revolutionary thinking and brainless shock value, between craftsmanship and commerce? Is it possible to escape the past? Can you save your family by destroying it?
The Morels takes a unique look at the power of art─literature, music and film in particular─and challenges us as readers to think about some fascinating questions to which there are no easy answers. Where is the line between art and obscenity, between truth and fiction, between revolutionary thinking and brainless shock value, between craftsmanship and commerce? Is it possible to escape the past? Can you save your family by destroying it?
368 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2013
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370 people want to read
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May 10, 2013
Many years ago, I bought a house while I was living with my then-boyfriend. Things weren't going well between us, to the extent that I felt more comfortable getting into a 30-year commitment with Chase Mortgage than with him. Still, we stayed together, in no small part because at one point he told me accusingly, "I know exactly what's going to happen—we're going to move and then you're going to dump me."
So of course I couldn't, even though the relationship had clearly run its course and neither of us was happy. We made it almost a year after moving, at which point he had the good sense to leave, but up to that point he had effectively inoculated the dynamic between us; he had thrown down, and for me to confirm his prediction would have been dishonorable in the extreme.
Christopher Hacker's debut novel, The Morels, feels a bit like that kind of a throw down. It's a book that dares you not to like it—it is, in essence, a powerfully alienating story about the power of a story to alienate, a tale about the ways art can redeem and destroy, the pernicious probing of authorial intent, the fragility of families, and damage done that can't be undone—or can it? It wants to ask the big questions, but it wants to make you uncomfortable in the process. Whether the purpose is to force a more honest reaction from an off-balance reader, or simply to pre-empt easy judgment, is hard to say.
Consider, for instance, the narrator. A featureless 30ish guy who lives with his mother and works in a movie theater, he is passive to the point of remaining nameless all the way through. While he's working on a film with his old college roommate, he doesn't seem to be any kind of budding auteur, biding his time in the service business in Tarantinoesque dues-paying—he's just a slacker to whom things happen, there to move the action along and, for purposes of the story, eventually run into a childhood friend, Arthur Morel.
Morel was a mysterious teenager, prone to pronouncements of the worthlessness of art as a radical statement, and who had gotten himself kicked out of their prestigious music seminary (think: act of art as a radical statement). When their paths cross 14 years later, Arthur is a writer and adjunct professor, on the verge of publishing his second novel. He's also a husband and a father, and he draws our narrator into the circle of his family—lovely wife Penelope, precocious 11-year-old son Will—in the weeks just before his family, and his life, implode. The catalyst, in this case, is the novel. It tells a story about a family called the Morels: Arthur, Penelope, and Will; a mild domestic drama that mirrors their own lives, and then culminates in a disturbingly transgressive sexual act.
It's a work of fiction, Arthur explains, even as his father-in-law sues him, his wife takes his son and leaves, he loses his job, and is arrested and put on trial. It's a made up story, he insists as the situation snowballs. Our hapless narrator and his film crew eagerly trade in their second-rate Hamlet adaptation for a documentary about Arthur, shining a literal spotlight on his parents and intensely dysfunctional childhood. But the more they find out, the less we know; the truth only serves to obscure the facts here. Is Morel a true artist willing to lose everything to make a statement? Is he a shameless self-promoter? Is he a hopelessly damaged adult child of abuse and neglect? Is he inventing, or remembering or something else?
As The Morels sets up some weighty questions, the reader will find some gnawing metafictional issues to wrestle with as well: Do the characters' lack of depth actually give them rhetorical strength? Is our inability to like any of them our fault, as readers, for requiring relatability rather than real-world homeliness? Does the narrator's lack of any defining personality turn out to serve a different purpose in the story altogether? Are we supposed to like this book? Hacker makes sure, by the end of the novel, that the reader doesn't even have the comfort of falling back on the shallow conventions of taste.
Any story about art and morals with a protagonist called Art Morel isn't going to make an initial claim to subtlety (there's also a character who cries a lot named Delores, and young Will, who sets events spinning by sheer... you get the picture). But there are layers that surprise, some vivid writing, and Hacker offers up odd moments that are, for all the book's intellectual exercise, like little jabs to the gut:
At the same time, it's disconcerting on a purely literary level, changing tenses in a way that might have been designed to mimic a camera pulling out for a wide shot and then back in, but that felt more like grit on the lens. Penelope's infatuation with Arthur the Artist is hard to take as well; he offers her a chance to read the manuscript before its publication and veto the whole enterprise, and she declines out of some servility to creative mystery that doesn't quite come off:
But something about the whole package kept turning my reactions back on myself: I'm sorry, can you not handle unpleasant characters? Is the story too ugly for you? Is it making you think too hard? I'm sure there are some Anne Tyler novels on the shelf over there—those are nice. There's something passive-aggressive about the book's stance, and at the same time accomplished; you have to admire the ways it toys with you, even if you have reservations about how you're being treated. The Morels knows you want to break up with it, but has no intention of letting you off the hook that easily.
So of course I couldn't, even though the relationship had clearly run its course and neither of us was happy. We made it almost a year after moving, at which point he had the good sense to leave, but up to that point he had effectively inoculated the dynamic between us; he had thrown down, and for me to confirm his prediction would have been dishonorable in the extreme.
Christopher Hacker's debut novel, The Morels, feels a bit like that kind of a throw down. It's a book that dares you not to like it—it is, in essence, a powerfully alienating story about the power of a story to alienate, a tale about the ways art can redeem and destroy, the pernicious probing of authorial intent, the fragility of families, and damage done that can't be undone—or can it? It wants to ask the big questions, but it wants to make you uncomfortable in the process. Whether the purpose is to force a more honest reaction from an off-balance reader, or simply to pre-empt easy judgment, is hard to say.
Consider, for instance, the narrator. A featureless 30ish guy who lives with his mother and works in a movie theater, he is passive to the point of remaining nameless all the way through. While he's working on a film with his old college roommate, he doesn't seem to be any kind of budding auteur, biding his time in the service business in Tarantinoesque dues-paying—he's just a slacker to whom things happen, there to move the action along and, for purposes of the story, eventually run into a childhood friend, Arthur Morel.
Morel was a mysterious teenager, prone to pronouncements of the worthlessness of art as a radical statement, and who had gotten himself kicked out of their prestigious music seminary (think: act of art as a radical statement). When their paths cross 14 years later, Arthur is a writer and adjunct professor, on the verge of publishing his second novel. He's also a husband and a father, and he draws our narrator into the circle of his family—lovely wife Penelope, precocious 11-year-old son Will—in the weeks just before his family, and his life, implode. The catalyst, in this case, is the novel. It tells a story about a family called the Morels: Arthur, Penelope, and Will; a mild domestic drama that mirrors their own lives, and then culminates in a disturbingly transgressive sexual act.
It's a work of fiction, Arthur explains, even as his father-in-law sues him, his wife takes his son and leaves, he loses his job, and is arrested and put on trial. It's a made up story, he insists as the situation snowballs. Our hapless narrator and his film crew eagerly trade in their second-rate Hamlet adaptation for a documentary about Arthur, shining a literal spotlight on his parents and intensely dysfunctional childhood. But the more they find out, the less we know; the truth only serves to obscure the facts here. Is Morel a true artist willing to lose everything to make a statement? Is he a shameless self-promoter? Is he a hopelessly damaged adult child of abuse and neglect? Is he inventing, or remembering or something else?
As The Morels sets up some weighty questions, the reader will find some gnawing metafictional issues to wrestle with as well: Do the characters' lack of depth actually give them rhetorical strength? Is our inability to like any of them our fault, as readers, for requiring relatability rather than real-world homeliness? Does the narrator's lack of any defining personality turn out to serve a different purpose in the story altogether? Are we supposed to like this book? Hacker makes sure, by the end of the novel, that the reader doesn't even have the comfort of falling back on the shallow conventions of taste.
Any story about art and morals with a protagonist called Art Morel isn't going to make an initial claim to subtlety (there's also a character who cries a lot named Delores, and young Will, who sets events spinning by sheer... you get the picture). But there are layers that surprise, some vivid writing, and Hacker offers up odd moments that are, for all the book's intellectual exercise, like little jabs to the gut:
An officer who could have been one of Arthur's students took down his name on a pad and asked him some question, each one a spoonful of grief.
At the same time, it's disconcerting on a purely literary level, changing tenses in a way that might have been designed to mimic a camera pulling out for a wide shot and then back in, but that felt more like grit on the lens. Penelope's infatuation with Arthur the Artist is hard to take as well; he offers her a chance to read the manuscript before its publication and veto the whole enterprise, and she declines out of some servility to creative mystery that doesn't quite come off:
Wasn't it refreshing, after years of seeing everything Arthur wasn't, of having pointed out to her everything Arthur could never be—and the kind of family she could never have—to be shown what her husband actually was? "So no, I don't want to go back to an Art who doesn't make art. I'd rather he offend my parents, offend me."
But something about the whole package kept turning my reactions back on myself: I'm sorry, can you not handle unpleasant characters? Is the story too ugly for you? Is it making you think too hard? I'm sure there are some Anne Tyler novels on the shelf over there—those are nice. There's something passive-aggressive about the book's stance, and at the same time accomplished; you have to admire the ways it toys with you, even if you have reservations about how you're being treated. The Morels knows you want to break up with it, but has no intention of letting you off the hook that easily.
February 13, 2013
I received a free copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for my honest, unbiased review.
This is a hard book to review. There's a lot wrong with it, but at the same time it's utterly fascinating. I'm not sure what exactly I feel about it, which makes for a successfully provocative novel I suppose.
Lets start with what I didn't like. This novel is just barely shy of being unbearably pretentious. It's a book (1) in which one of the characters writes a book (2) fictionalizing the characters in book (1). Yeah, exactly. The main character's name is Arthur, Art, in which he spends most of his screen time intellectualizing the role of art, as a child he does this through music, and as an adult through writing. The first person narration is pretty pointless, since (1) we know nothing about the narrator, not even his name (2) half the time the book slips into third person narration anyway and (3) the narrator is not really a part of the events of the real main characters, Arthur and his family, except as an observer.
All of these things could have made me put this on the DNF list fairly early on. Yet here we are. Arthur is easily unlikeable, which is only comforting by the fact that he seems not to want more from people. He has a wife and son he loves, and has little need for anyone else. So his tendencies toward arrogant intellectualism and his inability to have a normal conversation with anyone are irrelevant quirks. Until he writes a book that shatters the lives of the only two people he cares about.
For a good portion of the book, you think he's one of those assholes who doesn't (or pretends not to) understand why everyone gets so upset. You know the type. The guy that says something really fucking offensive, then stares back blankly when other people are, surprise, offended. The type of guy who prides himself on his intelligence, but then plays the nut role when other people don't react with anything less than pseudo-intellectual detachment.
But as it turns out, Arthur is much more than that. He's a man fighting his own demons, whose biggest frustration in life is not that he doesn't understand other people, but that he can't get other people to understand him. He's not a dbag, he's just a guy who can't get out of his own way.
I can't really explain the power of this book without giving a way the driving plot point. So suffice it to say this book should have been a cut and dried lambasting of a heinous monster, but was really anything but. There were people I should have despised that I ended up feeling quite a bit of sympathy for, and others I should have wept for that I kind of went "really? That's how you're going to act?"
I could have loved this book, this story. This book should have left me weeping, left me forcing it upon everyone I know, left me up all night on message boards discussing it. But it downplayed the emotionalism in what is ultimately a highly tragic story. The storytelling left one feeling not as part of the story, but rather as a casual witness to a train wreck. It was good, but it could have been so much more.
This is a hard book to review. There's a lot wrong with it, but at the same time it's utterly fascinating. I'm not sure what exactly I feel about it, which makes for a successfully provocative novel I suppose.
Lets start with what I didn't like. This novel is just barely shy of being unbearably pretentious. It's a book (1) in which one of the characters writes a book (2) fictionalizing the characters in book (1). Yeah, exactly. The main character's name is Arthur, Art, in which he spends most of his screen time intellectualizing the role of art, as a child he does this through music, and as an adult through writing. The first person narration is pretty pointless, since (1) we know nothing about the narrator, not even his name (2) half the time the book slips into third person narration anyway and (3) the narrator is not really a part of the events of the real main characters, Arthur and his family, except as an observer.
All of these things could have made me put this on the DNF list fairly early on. Yet here we are. Arthur is easily unlikeable, which is only comforting by the fact that he seems not to want more from people. He has a wife and son he loves, and has little need for anyone else. So his tendencies toward arrogant intellectualism and his inability to have a normal conversation with anyone are irrelevant quirks. Until he writes a book that shatters the lives of the only two people he cares about.
For a good portion of the book, you think he's one of those assholes who doesn't (or pretends not to) understand why everyone gets so upset. You know the type. The guy that says something really fucking offensive, then stares back blankly when other people are, surprise, offended. The type of guy who prides himself on his intelligence, but then plays the nut role when other people don't react with anything less than pseudo-intellectual detachment.
But as it turns out, Arthur is much more than that. He's a man fighting his own demons, whose biggest frustration in life is not that he doesn't understand other people, but that he can't get other people to understand him. He's not a dbag, he's just a guy who can't get out of his own way.
I can't really explain the power of this book without giving a way the driving plot point. So suffice it to say this book should have been a cut and dried lambasting of a heinous monster, but was really anything but. There were people I should have despised that I ended up feeling quite a bit of sympathy for, and others I should have wept for that I kind of went "really? That's how you're going to act?"
I could have loved this book, this story. This book should have left me weeping, left me forcing it upon everyone I know, left me up all night on message boards discussing it. But it downplayed the emotionalism in what is ultimately a highly tragic story. The storytelling left one feeling not as part of the story, but rather as a casual witness to a train wreck. It was good, but it could have been so much more.
July 15, 2013
I love to gamble on debut novels - and this one, with its premise of a family torn apart by Art - certainly has an attention-grabbing hook. And the book draws the reader in right away. Though there are some initial stylistic choices that are distracting with its unnamned narrator, shifting verb tenses and even varying perspectives, inconsistent punctuation, the book has that very distinct “literary” flavor that will appeal to many readers. And the readers who this will attract, will most likely enjoy the way the book later pokes fun at itself, the way it dares you to toss it aside (even if you are offended by some the actions the characters take). It is a very “slick” novel, and its tone varies from smug, to pretentious, to self-deprecating.
And despite its oddly compelling nature, the book is actually difficult to connect with. The characters are all unlikable, even unsympathetic. The use of symbolism and wordplay (the main character’s name is Arthur “Art” Morel.... and don’t worry, this is even blatantly pointed out for readers who weren’t paying attention to its significance) runs rampant throughout and really feels overly hammered in at times. But the main topics, the big questions of the true nature of Art is fascinating. And from a shocking live performance, to the even more consequential publication of his second novel, Arthur Morel strives to answer these large questions, and though no answers are truly found here, it provides a great springboard for some truly fascinating conversations. By raising a lot of big questions and issues, some more open-minded book clubs may really revel in this novel. But, the offensive nature of Arthur’s art may prove too much for more sensitive readers and clubs. It is an interesting and even fascinating book at times (even if its compelling nature is more akin to gaping at a traffic accident), but not one that I would recommend to everyone. It covers some dark topics, and includes some really unsympathetic characters, so be prepared!
And despite its oddly compelling nature, the book is actually difficult to connect with. The characters are all unlikable, even unsympathetic. The use of symbolism and wordplay (the main character’s name is Arthur “Art” Morel.... and don’t worry, this is even blatantly pointed out for readers who weren’t paying attention to its significance) runs rampant throughout and really feels overly hammered in at times. But the main topics, the big questions of the true nature of Art is fascinating. And from a shocking live performance, to the even more consequential publication of his second novel, Arthur Morel strives to answer these large questions, and though no answers are truly found here, it provides a great springboard for some truly fascinating conversations. By raising a lot of big questions and issues, some more open-minded book clubs may really revel in this novel. But, the offensive nature of Arthur’s art may prove too much for more sensitive readers and clubs. It is an interesting and even fascinating book at times (even if its compelling nature is more akin to gaping at a traffic accident), but not one that I would recommend to everyone. It covers some dark topics, and includes some really unsympathetic characters, so be prepared!
August 11, 2013
This book demonstrates why you should read blurbs on the cover with great care. One critic, supposedly helping the author, said of it: “It also does a lot of heavy lifting, asking big questions about art, life and family...” The lifting is not particularly heavy—this is a very accessible novel that has one shocking surprise near its beginning and variations on that theme for the rest of its length. Art Morel is a genius. That much is made clear by our anonymous narrator. Arthur is an accomplished musician but makes his big breakthrough with his first novel, an ostensible portrait of his family of eccentrics. We figure something is a bit off with Arthur when he replaces the cadenza in a Mozart Piano Concerto with a spectacular act of defecation right on stage during a student recital. Arthur’s career in music dies even faster than the gossip and conjecture as to what possessed him. He turns to fiction and creates an ending for his novel that is as shocking as the defecation. Is it true or is it not? Is this truly a reflection of his family? Can the family survive it? Can Arthur? Those “big questions” about art are asked and answered. Much of Art’s answer can be explained by his grandparents, Cynthia and Doc, hippies from way back who ran a commune in New York called The Farm. It was virtually a drug-addled open house, always jammed with artists, performers and pseudo artists and performers as well as armchair philosophers who came along for all the free sex. Arthur’s wife, Penelope, manipulated by her stern and staid father, turns on Arthur and with that turning come the questions of how much an artist’s personality should be confused with his work. In Arthur’s case, many readers simply believe that the incestuous end of his book was taken from real life, though Arthur insists it was not. Nobody wants to believe Arthur because most of them need the scandal for reasons of their own. The questions are big but they are answerable though perhaps not by the introverted Arthur whose life collapses around him. The Morels are a fascinating bunch but hardly loyal and first-time novelist Hacker does an excellent job of letting the differences, personal and philosophical, play themselves out. Arthur is a sympathetic character and you will discover why he does some of the bizarre things he does. Whether or not you accept his reasons is up to you but it makes for a distinct and rational conclusion to the story. Good reading.
March 19, 2013
I wanted to like this. I could barely finish it. I skimmed most of the middle, to be honest. I found it way too self-aware, almost like it was trying too hard to be clever. I didn't find any of it humorous or compelling, and the characters felt tired and pretentious. I seem to be in the minority with my opinion, so take it with a grain of salt.
June 12, 2013
Unforgettable.
December 21, 2017
The Morels is less like a book in the traditional sense and more like a work of modern art. Let me explain.
This book works on many different levels so bear with me as I work through each of them.
I once read in a Seth Godin book that modern art could be explained by two sentences uttered in a conversation:
"I could have done that"
"But you didn't"
A lot of 'modern art' isn't technically impressive. Consider the readymades of Marcel Duchamp which consisted of modifying and vandalizing existing objects such as a copy of the Mona Lisa or a toilet cover. Or Andy Warhol's Campbell soup cans and screen prints of Marilyn Monroe. Contrast this with works of art that are universally beloved from the Reinaissance such as Michelangelo's David or Leonardo's The Last Supper which showcase great technical prowess such as emotion, anatomical precision, composition, and more.
Modern art is an idea, which, once put into the world, can not be replicated. In a world where talent is abundant, originality is highly prized. Anyone can replicate modern art but few will invent it.
In the same sense, The Morels is not a technically impressive book. The characters aren't particularly interesting or novel (hah) in many ways.
The main character is a faceless, nameless narrator that would ordinarily have no place in a book. He works in a movie theater and spends his time outside of that working on a movie, a redneck twist on Shakespeare's Hamlet (more on this later). He has no real personality it seems, the entire book, does not undergo any sort real transformation (save the very ending) and we are not invested in his life at all. In fact, the book changes perspective from the first person (the narrator) to third person quite often throughout the book, and at the end, even starts talking about the narrator in the third person as if he is a stranger as if to emphasize his irrelevance (more on this later as well).
Arthur, aka Art, is the real focus point of the book. He is an eccentric kid who seems very bright but lacks social abilities. His wife, Penny, is a beautiful woman who tries to do the right thing (like every other character in the book it seems). And his son Will, is a energetic kid who enjoys pranks and superstitious things like ghosts and alien life.
Almost every character in the book seems quite irrelevant in fact. Hacker seems aware of this as he blatantly brings forth so many cliches and stereotypes throughout the book such as the good cop, bad cop, the ruthless prosecutor, the detectives straight out of a noir novel, and so on.
The basic premise of the book is that Arthur, a husband and father, writes books. The first one, talks about a boy who is being molested by his coach that, under the advice of "you have to deal with these things or they will haunt you", shoots his coach with a shotgun and then shares a sexual moment with his therapist (note the age difference and that the therapist is a man). No big deal.
His second book? The Morels. A book about a family of people. In the family there is a father named Arthur, a mother named Penny, and a boy named Will. Sound familiar? Hacker isn't very subtle here. At a point in the book, Will even talks about the book, saying, "They got the cover wrong, we aren't blonde". Everything inside the book is fairly mundane until the end, where it begins to talk about Arthur sharing a sexual experience with his son Will. I won't go into it too much but it basically involved Arthur taking a bath with Will where they begin to talk about erections and masturbation and it culminates with Arthur achieving orgasm through masturbation in front of Will.
At this point, you have to question Arthur's motive here. If the book is a work of fiction, why write about a grotesque made up situation involving his son? Why use their real names in it? If it's real, why confess to a crime? Throughout the entire book, Arthur is firm in believing that the book is a work of fiction and everyone in his circle of friends and family tolerates it as best they can.
Arthur, Penny, and their immediate loved ones face embarassment and criticism from outsiders following this. In the stress and pain of this difficult time in her life, Penny cheats on Arthur with the narrator. Remember this.
While Penny and her parents aren't happy with the situation, they deal with it the best that they can, until one day, Will utters two words that confirms everyone's suspicions: "I remember"
Immediately Penny whisks Will away from Arthur to her parents house and gets the law involved. Through a very long series of events we eventually arrive to the trial and the verdict in which Arthur reveals that he was sexually molested as a child. It is never explicitly revealed who did it to him but that the experience and his upbringing (he grew up in a very sexually active environment with his parents regularly participating in orgies around the house) made him a somewhat knowledgeable boy from a very young age. At school he would participate in sexual acts with dozens of other male students in what he describes as "a virus" (sexual knowledge) spreading throughout the entire school.
Despite the inconsistency in Will's stories and his own admittance to lying about the incident, Arthur insists that he must be sentenced. He does and eventually dies in prison.
The ultimate conclusion that is drawn about why Arthur wrote his book was the fact that he wanted cathartic release from revealing his sexual molestation at a young age, and a fear that he would spread this virus to his son. In a way, the book was written as a confession.
In a passage about art in the book, Arthur reads from some great artist (I forget who) about how a story must be communicated but it should not tell. How do you tell a story without writing about it? Make the act of writing it, the story. It's the ultimate form of show, don't tell. In the deepest level, we have Arthur writing a book called The Morels. The book itself is not very good or interesting unless we take into account Arthur's own life outside of the book and the events that follow from his publishing. By writing the book, a new story has been made about the trials and tribulations he and his family go through. Peel back a layer and you have The Morels which you pick up from the bookstore. The book itself is not that interesting itself but the thoughts it provokes and the conversations that will surely stem from it will be.
I am reminded of a scene in Waking Life where the André Bazin discusses how at every moment there is a story being made. A director receives a script that he likes and starts the ball rolling on film development. He casts actors and picks locations and then goes through filming each scene in the movie. On one level, there is the story he is telling. On another, is the story that I have just told you of the director. Or what about the behind the scenes story of how the movie was made, all the conflict and resolution that had to occur to see its ultimate culmination?
As human beings we can always peel back another layer. We have recursive minds. Consider that you can be stressed about being stressed. Or the fact that you know that I know that you know. At every moment, there is another story being made.
I'm not sure if I'm alone in this, but throughout the entire book, I found myself asking: Did the author, Christopher Hacker, commit some atrocity in his life and was this book his own wany of confessing it? I am nearly certain this is the desired effect of the author, whether true or not. Consider that the narrator has a surreptitious affair with Arthur's wife. Could writing this novel be a way of confessing the own author's sin of perhaps FEAR of committing that act with a real life friend?
When we stared creating computer simulations we had to ask whether we were ourselves in a computer simulation. I believe this book is an exploration of the self-referential. The narrator was making a movie about Hamlet, where in a close and trusted friend of the family kills the father and steals the wife for themself. The narrator then pivots and decides to make a documentary about the life of Arthur and therefore has a vested interest in making Arthur's `story` as interesting as possible. Arthur ultimately dies in prison. See any connections?
Hacker makes the book even more self-referential with this documentary inside the story. The book switches perspectives from first person to third person like a camera, almost like it were a movie, wherein one scene you are following one person about his life, and then it zooms out and shows multiple people wandering about.
All of this makes, in my opinion, Hacker not a great author but a great artist.
This book works on many different levels so bear with me as I work through each of them.
I once read in a Seth Godin book that modern art could be explained by two sentences uttered in a conversation:
"I could have done that"
"But you didn't"
A lot of 'modern art' isn't technically impressive. Consider the readymades of Marcel Duchamp which consisted of modifying and vandalizing existing objects such as a copy of the Mona Lisa or a toilet cover. Or Andy Warhol's Campbell soup cans and screen prints of Marilyn Monroe. Contrast this with works of art that are universally beloved from the Reinaissance such as Michelangelo's David or Leonardo's The Last Supper which showcase great technical prowess such as emotion, anatomical precision, composition, and more.
Modern art is an idea, which, once put into the world, can not be replicated. In a world where talent is abundant, originality is highly prized. Anyone can replicate modern art but few will invent it.
In the same sense, The Morels is not a technically impressive book. The characters aren't particularly interesting or novel (hah) in many ways.
The main character is a faceless, nameless narrator that would ordinarily have no place in a book. He works in a movie theater and spends his time outside of that working on a movie, a redneck twist on Shakespeare's Hamlet (more on this later). He has no real personality it seems, the entire book, does not undergo any sort real transformation (save the very ending) and we are not invested in his life at all. In fact, the book changes perspective from the first person (the narrator) to third person quite often throughout the book, and at the end, even starts talking about the narrator in the third person as if he is a stranger as if to emphasize his irrelevance (more on this later as well).
Arthur, aka Art, is the real focus point of the book. He is an eccentric kid who seems very bright but lacks social abilities. His wife, Penny, is a beautiful woman who tries to do the right thing (like every other character in the book it seems). And his son Will, is a energetic kid who enjoys pranks and superstitious things like ghosts and alien life.
Almost every character in the book seems quite irrelevant in fact. Hacker seems aware of this as he blatantly brings forth so many cliches and stereotypes throughout the book such as the good cop, bad cop, the ruthless prosecutor, the detectives straight out of a noir novel, and so on.
The basic premise of the book is that Arthur, a husband and father, writes books. The first one, talks about a boy who is being molested by his coach that, under the advice of "you have to deal with these things or they will haunt you", shoots his coach with a shotgun and then shares a sexual moment with his therapist (note the age difference and that the therapist is a man). No big deal.
His second book? The Morels. A book about a family of people. In the family there is a father named Arthur, a mother named Penny, and a boy named Will. Sound familiar? Hacker isn't very subtle here. At a point in the book, Will even talks about the book, saying, "They got the cover wrong, we aren't blonde". Everything inside the book is fairly mundane until the end, where it begins to talk about Arthur sharing a sexual experience with his son Will. I won't go into it too much but it basically involved Arthur taking a bath with Will where they begin to talk about erections and masturbation and it culminates with Arthur achieving orgasm through masturbation in front of Will.
At this point, you have to question Arthur's motive here. If the book is a work of fiction, why write about a grotesque made up situation involving his son? Why use their real names in it? If it's real, why confess to a crime? Throughout the entire book, Arthur is firm in believing that the book is a work of fiction and everyone in his circle of friends and family tolerates it as best they can.
Arthur, Penny, and their immediate loved ones face embarassment and criticism from outsiders following this. In the stress and pain of this difficult time in her life, Penny cheats on Arthur with the narrator. Remember this.
While Penny and her parents aren't happy with the situation, they deal with it the best that they can, until one day, Will utters two words that confirms everyone's suspicions: "I remember"
Immediately Penny whisks Will away from Arthur to her parents house and gets the law involved. Through a very long series of events we eventually arrive to the trial and the verdict in which Arthur reveals that he was sexually molested as a child. It is never explicitly revealed who did it to him but that the experience and his upbringing (he grew up in a very sexually active environment with his parents regularly participating in orgies around the house) made him a somewhat knowledgeable boy from a very young age. At school he would participate in sexual acts with dozens of other male students in what he describes as "a virus" (sexual knowledge) spreading throughout the entire school.
Despite the inconsistency in Will's stories and his own admittance to lying about the incident, Arthur insists that he must be sentenced. He does and eventually dies in prison.
The ultimate conclusion that is drawn about why Arthur wrote his book was the fact that he wanted cathartic release from revealing his sexual molestation at a young age, and a fear that he would spread this virus to his son. In a way, the book was written as a confession.
In a passage about art in the book, Arthur reads from some great artist (I forget who) about how a story must be communicated but it should not tell. How do you tell a story without writing about it? Make the act of writing it, the story. It's the ultimate form of show, don't tell. In the deepest level, we have Arthur writing a book called The Morels. The book itself is not very good or interesting unless we take into account Arthur's own life outside of the book and the events that follow from his publishing. By writing the book, a new story has been made about the trials and tribulations he and his family go through. Peel back a layer and you have The Morels which you pick up from the bookstore. The book itself is not that interesting itself but the thoughts it provokes and the conversations that will surely stem from it will be.
I am reminded of a scene in Waking Life where the André Bazin discusses how at every moment there is a story being made. A director receives a script that he likes and starts the ball rolling on film development. He casts actors and picks locations and then goes through filming each scene in the movie. On one level, there is the story he is telling. On another, is the story that I have just told you of the director. Or what about the behind the scenes story of how the movie was made, all the conflict and resolution that had to occur to see its ultimate culmination?
As human beings we can always peel back another layer. We have recursive minds. Consider that you can be stressed about being stressed. Or the fact that you know that I know that you know. At every moment, there is another story being made.
I'm not sure if I'm alone in this, but throughout the entire book, I found myself asking: Did the author, Christopher Hacker, commit some atrocity in his life and was this book his own wany of confessing it? I am nearly certain this is the desired effect of the author, whether true or not. Consider that the narrator has a surreptitious affair with Arthur's wife. Could writing this novel be a way of confessing the own author's sin of perhaps FEAR of committing that act with a real life friend?
When we stared creating computer simulations we had to ask whether we were ourselves in a computer simulation. I believe this book is an exploration of the self-referential. The narrator was making a movie about Hamlet, where in a close and trusted friend of the family kills the father and steals the wife for themself. The narrator then pivots and decides to make a documentary about the life of Arthur and therefore has a vested interest in making Arthur's `story` as interesting as possible. Arthur ultimately dies in prison. See any connections?
Hacker makes the book even more self-referential with this documentary inside the story. The book switches perspectives from first person to third person like a camera, almost like it were a movie, wherein one scene you are following one person about his life, and then it zooms out and shows multiple people wandering about.
All of this makes, in my opinion, Hacker not a great author but a great artist.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 27, 2013
What is art, and how far should you go to pursue it? Are there lines that shouldn't be crossed, people who shouldn't be sacrificed, or does art supersede everything else?
These are a few of the questions addressed in Christopher Hacker's intriguing, somewhat frustrating, and slightly disturbing new novel, The Morels. Arthur Morel is a writer whose first novel was published to some acclaim, but in his everyday life, he is struggling as an adjunct college professor. Socially awkward and idiosyncratic, Arthur is married to beautiful pastry chef Penelope, and together they are raising their inquisitive and creative 11-year-old son, Will.
Arthur's second novel follows characters named Arthur, Penny, and Will, seemingly a barely fictionalized account of their lives and their struggles. But one incident in the book, involving "Arthur" and an eight-year-old "Will," so pushes the boundaries that people—Penelope and her family included—are no longer sure if this was something Arthur dreamed up or if was something that really happened. And that nagging question eats away at Arthur's relationships with his wife and son, as well as society in general. But more frustratingly, Arthur's rationale for writing this scene and his refusal to recant or apologize for it threatens to tear his marriage—and his life—apart.
The Morels is narrated by Chris, an old classmate of Arthur's who now works as a sometime filmmaker and an usher at a movie theater, who becomes reacquainted with Arthur by chance. And as he spends more time with his old classmate, Chris realizes that Arthur has never outgrown his penchant for the dramatic or his frustrating reverence for art. But Chris also envies the stability that he sees Arthur taking for granted—the beautiful wife, the loving son, the career.
As events unfold in Arthur's life following the release of his second book, Chris and his colleagues decide to produce a documentary about Arthur. And in the process they learn more about his life than they ever imagined, and how everything that occurred around him as a child led him on the path he now follows, and toward the perception that art is nobler than anything else.
This book was, for the most part, tremendously compelling, although it made me uncomfortable from time to time. I found Arthur's embrace and defense of artistic excellence, and his behavior throughout the book as shocking, frustrating, and perhaps somewhat unbelievable, but I couldn't pull myself away from finding out how the book—and Arthur's story—would resolve itself. While I felt as if Christopher Hacker veered a little off course occasionally, especially when the story spent too much time on the relationship of Arthur's parents, he definitely had some twists up his sleeve that I found really intriguing, some that made me wonder exactly what I had been reading.
The Morels is a book that somewhat defies explanation. And while it may make you uncomfortable, it definitely will make you think, and intrigue you as it pushes you beyond your comfort zone with its plot and the questions it raises.
Posted by Larry at 6:03 PM
These are a few of the questions addressed in Christopher Hacker's intriguing, somewhat frustrating, and slightly disturbing new novel, The Morels. Arthur Morel is a writer whose first novel was published to some acclaim, but in his everyday life, he is struggling as an adjunct college professor. Socially awkward and idiosyncratic, Arthur is married to beautiful pastry chef Penelope, and together they are raising their inquisitive and creative 11-year-old son, Will.
Arthur's second novel follows characters named Arthur, Penny, and Will, seemingly a barely fictionalized account of their lives and their struggles. But one incident in the book, involving "Arthur" and an eight-year-old "Will," so pushes the boundaries that people—Penelope and her family included—are no longer sure if this was something Arthur dreamed up or if was something that really happened. And that nagging question eats away at Arthur's relationships with his wife and son, as well as society in general. But more frustratingly, Arthur's rationale for writing this scene and his refusal to recant or apologize for it threatens to tear his marriage—and his life—apart.
The Morels is narrated by Chris, an old classmate of Arthur's who now works as a sometime filmmaker and an usher at a movie theater, who becomes reacquainted with Arthur by chance. And as he spends more time with his old classmate, Chris realizes that Arthur has never outgrown his penchant for the dramatic or his frustrating reverence for art. But Chris also envies the stability that he sees Arthur taking for granted—the beautiful wife, the loving son, the career.
As events unfold in Arthur's life following the release of his second book, Chris and his colleagues decide to produce a documentary about Arthur. And in the process they learn more about his life than they ever imagined, and how everything that occurred around him as a child led him on the path he now follows, and toward the perception that art is nobler than anything else.
This book was, for the most part, tremendously compelling, although it made me uncomfortable from time to time. I found Arthur's embrace and defense of artistic excellence, and his behavior throughout the book as shocking, frustrating, and perhaps somewhat unbelievable, but I couldn't pull myself away from finding out how the book—and Arthur's story—would resolve itself. While I felt as if Christopher Hacker veered a little off course occasionally, especially when the story spent too much time on the relationship of Arthur's parents, he definitely had some twists up his sleeve that I found really intriguing, some that made me wonder exactly what I had been reading.
The Morels is a book that somewhat defies explanation. And while it may make you uncomfortable, it definitely will make you think, and intrigue you as it pushes you beyond your comfort zone with its plot and the questions it raises.
Posted by Larry at 6:03 PM
June 13, 2013
Though narrated by spectator and sort-of? family friend Chris, The Morels centers around Arthur Morel, former musical prodigy, adjunct professor, quasi-successful novelist, family man: a troubled, though apparently brilliant, artist. When Morel's second novel -- ostensibly autobiographical in nature, featuring a main character named Art Morel with a wife and child with the names and likenesses of their real-life counterparts -- is released, it threatens every facet of his family life, which is maybe what Arthur intended.
I mean, the last scene in the book features father-son incest. If he didn't expect any backlash, then he's full of shit.
How much of Arthur's book is based on real-life events? Did Arthur really do...that.... with his son? To what degree does art -- music, literature, photography, whatever -- reflect real life, and to what degree does it create real life?
These questions might seem central to the novel, but although the whole disturbing scene is a driving force in the plot of The Morels, what the book really does is deal with the questions of art: What purpose should art serve? Should it reinforce what we believe about ourselves, or should it effect something more dangerous and sinister -- should art makes us question ourselves? Should art be only beautiful, or can art also be wretched, disturbing, riot-provoking work? Can art be therapeutic, cathartic, purifying -- and for whom, reader or writer? How far can we take it -- beyond the intellectualizing and theorizing of college classrooms, does art have real, concrete consequences? Can we call an artist brave?
Everything. Both. Yes. Both. Too far and not far enough. Yes. Sometimes. I don't know what I'm talking about anymore, but I feel like I'm not going to get over this book for a long time.
Oh, and cons? Takes a while to really get going. Narrator is kind of a dick. May leave you feeling confused and/or ambivalent toward any, or all, of the characters. Also: child abuse.
I mean, the last scene in the book features father-son incest. If he didn't expect any backlash, then he's full of shit.
How much of Arthur's book is based on real-life events? Did Arthur really do...that.... with his son? To what degree does art -- music, literature, photography, whatever -- reflect real life, and to what degree does it create real life?
These questions might seem central to the novel, but although the whole disturbing scene is a driving force in the plot of The Morels, what the book really does is deal with the questions of art: What purpose should art serve? Should it reinforce what we believe about ourselves, or should it effect something more dangerous and sinister -- should art makes us question ourselves? Should art be only beautiful, or can art also be wretched, disturbing, riot-provoking work? Can art be therapeutic, cathartic, purifying -- and for whom, reader or writer? How far can we take it -- beyond the intellectualizing and theorizing of college classrooms, does art have real, concrete consequences? Can we call an artist brave?
Everything. Both. Yes. Both. Too far and not far enough. Yes. Sometimes. I don't know what I'm talking about anymore, but I feel like I'm not going to get over this book for a long time.
Oh, and cons? Takes a while to really get going. Narrator is kind of a dick. May leave you feeling confused and/or ambivalent toward any, or all, of the characters. Also: child abuse.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 3, 2013
Difficult, moving, and frustrating in alternating doses, Hacker's novel wrestles with a number of tough ideas regarding fiction, culpability, family, and the ferreting out of truth, to a mostly satisfying conclusion. We get through a number of flights and shifts the story of the titular family, and while I don't want to go too much into detail, I'll say that the book takes a very difficult and totally not neat twist, and dresses it with considerably lucid and compelling prose that propels you through a number of eddies of plot and exposition, to its messy conclusion. And I'm glad it does, because it means that the veins of inquiry around which this novel's built, regarding truth's role in fiction, provocation in art, and the bloody unpacking of someone's personal history in the quest to understand their motives, power a fully-realized story, with weighty characters built on vivid detours, into New York of the recent past, into familial history and its inherent fucked-uppedness, and storytelling on paper and film. I was recommended this by a friend and I traded a galley from my company for a galley of this. I'm glad, because I'm not certain I would have picked this up from just hearing a plot description, so while I reacognize that this frustrating vagueness may not be the book's greatest selling point, it, like so many difficult-to-summarize-or-pitch novels, should be given a chance, and with any luck, you will find yourself as engrossed (done in less than 24 hours!) as I was.
June 26, 2013
The Morels tells the story of a disturbingly self destructive act: a man who writes a book of fiction that tears apart his family. We wonder why, but we discover that perhaps, the resulting impact was the goal of the book after all. The nature and purpose of art is questioned. The book asks us, is insider art really art? What space is left in an area like literature, or classical music, to truly create art, when the symphony is now a place for rich folks to applaud without understanding through their yawns?
Should true art be subversive and challenge our assumptions? If so, what assumptions and taboos are left to challenge to create real art? Does art need to be destructive, risky, to challenge us?
Ultimately the author does not take a sympathetic look at the protagonist's approach to these questions, nor do we come to like the title character. However we come to deeply understand the motivations.
The conclusion is both inevitable and disturbing as the conclusion of the novel within the novel. Nothing feels forced or gimmicky about the book despite the lofty premise. It was hard to put it down and the questions raised stay with you. Be warned several scenes are emotionally disturbing.
Should true art be subversive and challenge our assumptions? If so, what assumptions and taboos are left to challenge to create real art? Does art need to be destructive, risky, to challenge us?
Ultimately the author does not take a sympathetic look at the protagonist's approach to these questions, nor do we come to like the title character. However we come to deeply understand the motivations.
The conclusion is both inevitable and disturbing as the conclusion of the novel within the novel. Nothing feels forced or gimmicky about the book despite the lofty premise. It was hard to put it down and the questions raised stay with you. Be warned several scenes are emotionally disturbing.
July 29, 2013
Ugh. While I intellectually understand that this is supposed to be a commentary on the effects of art/writing on real life, I did not think it achieved that goal. Let's start with the title, obviously a play on morals. Tee hee. Then let's craft the most vile characters we can find: the precocious obnoxious child, the enabling mother, and the arrogant/conceited/pseudo intellectual father. Arthur was a jerk from birth, even though he had a ridiculous upbringing he was still an attention craving egotistical jerk and I had no sympathy for him. As for Penelope, she needed to be slapped a la Cher in Moonlighting with a SNAP OUT OF IT. And gee poor Will-the alleged victim of incest, or wait, was he??> either way we all know children like this, so smart, so adult like, and anyone who has children of their own want to slap them too. Only a childless group of men like the filmmakers would find this child amusing.
I am sure this book will get all sorts of press and maybe even awards. Obviously Mr. Hacker is a smart guy with a big vocabulary and vast knowledge of music. But we do not need that crammed down our throats.
I am sure this book will get all sorts of press and maybe even awards. Obviously Mr. Hacker is a smart guy with a big vocabulary and vast knowledge of music. But we do not need that crammed down our throats.
June 1, 2013
This book, like many of its characters, doesn't want to be liked. So maybe two stars is unfair, since it was successful. But the structure was clunky, the plot felt padded, and the conclusions weren't as profound as the author hoped.
Also, can we start proofreading books again? That would be great. Because roofs have "eaves," not "eves." And there were a few other examples in this book.
Also, can we start proofreading books again? That would be great. Because roofs have "eaves," not "eves." And there were a few other examples in this book.
June 21, 2013
Fantastic. It starts off as a little character study, then has its major "holy shit" moment... and then everything falls apart in the best way possible. It's almost too good, too clever, and the final twist would be pretty contrived in weaker hands. But yeesh, good job, man.
June 9, 2013
Too clever by half, derivative of another novel (and if I named that novel, I'd be giving a spoiler), and with a clunky narrative structure that left me wondering "Why???"
August 25, 2019
While the central idea of the book is certainly interesting, the execution falls well short of the author's ambitions. As other reviewers have noted, the characters are more than a little flat, and not just because one of them is named "Art Morel" lol. Howevermuch that comes across as a bit of a gimmick, I think the real failing here is of the flatness: the story could only ever truly shock and grip a reader if the characters were both life-like and their scenes together rendered more realistically.
In terms of dialogue, this is the chief reason why the characters aren't vivid, three-dimensional, and believable (in terms of their reactions to situations). Their preponderance to launch into soliloquies doesn't do much for the novel. It comes across as a pale imitation of "Doctor Zhivago," except the theme here is art and not revolution. To cite just one instance: the unnamed narrator shows up at Art's workplace, Art initially tells him to get lost, then, with no further explanation, launches into a multi-page diatribe about art... this is very unrealistic: if Art doesn't wish to see the narrator, why would he bother? It would be a lot more believable if the narrator and Art decided to step outside for a drink or something similar.
Other issues which bothered me:
- there are a lot of little grammatical errors (including once where the ex-girlfriend 'An' is referred to as 'Ann,'),
- characters come and go to serve the plot (Penelope's random friend, to name just one),
- the pacing is jagged,
- the narrator's dialogue is nearly all either exposition or prompts that read like coat hooks onto which the other characters can hang their paragraphs-long speeches,
- the shifts in verb tense and point of view are jarring and often purposeless.
The last point especially warrants a bit more explanation. The unnamed narrator is omniscient at times, but at others, we are severely restricted to his view of events. The central plot point reminds me a lot of "The Slap," and whereas I found that book similarly frustrating (for different reasons), I think this novel would have been better served by giving us the story from various characters' viewpoints, perhaps limited to the three main characters and the narrator (though he could have been removed with little detrimental effect to the overall work). That would have cleared up a lot of the clutter which bogs the reader down and it would have made verb tense shifting serve more of a concrete, character-building purpose.
The circular style of the narrative was indeed interesting, but the payoff didn't feel justified, and too many things were pat: the estrangement of Doc from his family, Arthur's trial, the in-laws, etc.
Overall, an interesting conceit, but quite poorly executed.
In terms of dialogue, this is the chief reason why the characters aren't vivid, three-dimensional, and believable (in terms of their reactions to situations). Their preponderance to launch into soliloquies doesn't do much for the novel. It comes across as a pale imitation of "Doctor Zhivago," except the theme here is art and not revolution. To cite just one instance: the unnamed narrator shows up at Art's workplace, Art initially tells him to get lost, then, with no further explanation, launches into a multi-page diatribe about art... this is very unrealistic: if Art doesn't wish to see the narrator, why would he bother? It would be a lot more believable if the narrator and Art decided to step outside for a drink or something similar.
Other issues which bothered me:
- there are a lot of little grammatical errors (including once where the ex-girlfriend 'An' is referred to as 'Ann,'),
- characters come and go to serve the plot (Penelope's random friend, to name just one),
- the pacing is jagged,
- the narrator's dialogue is nearly all either exposition or prompts that read like coat hooks onto which the other characters can hang their paragraphs-long speeches,
- the shifts in verb tense and point of view are jarring and often purposeless.
The last point especially warrants a bit more explanation. The unnamed narrator is omniscient at times, but at others, we are severely restricted to his view of events. The central plot point reminds me a lot of "The Slap," and whereas I found that book similarly frustrating (for different reasons), I think this novel would have been better served by giving us the story from various characters' viewpoints, perhaps limited to the three main characters and the narrator (though he could have been removed with little detrimental effect to the overall work). That would have cleared up a lot of the clutter which bogs the reader down and it would have made verb tense shifting serve more of a concrete, character-building purpose.
The circular style of the narrative was indeed interesting, but the payoff didn't feel justified, and too many things were pat: the estrangement of Doc from his family, Arthur's trial, the in-laws, etc.
Overall, an interesting conceit, but quite poorly executed.
March 31, 2022
I read a lot of books and I’ve only ever re-read one book in my life—I just have this sense that there are too many good books that could go unread in my life, but this books was such a ride, such a mind bend, pages packed full of conversations, shocking words to read, suspense.. I would take this book journey, albeit sensitive and shocking, again. I am sure I was speed reading at parts just to get to the conclusion because I just want to know where it was going.
I paused a few times to read the reviews, the ones without the spoilers, to guess or see if I could sense where the book would go. Most reviews mention how the struggle to give the book a 5 star because of the topics, but that they couldn’t get past the fact that it was a good book and the stars were deserving.
I found a copy of this book in a little library in my town, someone front yard. My book (sorry, I’m keeping it) is an “advanced uncopyedited edition” with a letter inside from the author, to a bookseller, and a letter from the SOHO book publisher out of NY. So, in addition to the story, I feel like I found treasure.
Not everyone will like the book, but if you are interested in a daring read that leaves you frantically flipping the pages, order this on Amazon and take the trip. There is some sensitive, and what could be for some, triggering material.
Thanks to the bookseller for giving up your copy. Thanks to the reader who put it in the little library. Thanks to the author, who appears to have vanished, but took the time to write this book. What a ride. Thanks.
I paused a few times to read the reviews, the ones without the spoilers, to guess or see if I could sense where the book would go. Most reviews mention how the struggle to give the book a 5 star because of the topics, but that they couldn’t get past the fact that it was a good book and the stars were deserving.
I found a copy of this book in a little library in my town, someone front yard. My book (sorry, I’m keeping it) is an “advanced uncopyedited edition” with a letter inside from the author, to a bookseller, and a letter from the SOHO book publisher out of NY. So, in addition to the story, I feel like I found treasure.
Not everyone will like the book, but if you are interested in a daring read that leaves you frantically flipping the pages, order this on Amazon and take the trip. There is some sensitive, and what could be for some, triggering material.
Thanks to the bookseller for giving up your copy. Thanks to the reader who put it in the little library. Thanks to the author, who appears to have vanished, but took the time to write this book. What a ride. Thanks.
May 9, 2021
I keep going back and forth between 3 and 4 stars for this one but that doesn't mean it's a 3.5. Most the books I read a read are packed with action. The Morels does not have much physical action, it's much more about the action that words have on paper and on families. Christopher Hacker writes a very ambitious first novel that tackles tough subject matter with occasional humor and narrative time shifts that for the most part work. Sometimes they don't, especially in one instance Hacker reveals things too soon then catches up to them much later to explain them. Other times, he spends too much time on a moment that isn't very important. So maybe he needed a better editor but at the same time I think it added to reading the inexperience of a first novel. The prose is excellent, the sentences are engaging and he describes interactions that are interesting to read. The subject of the book, Arthur Morel is complicated. I'm not happy with his ending but I feel like I understood him. I feel like the praise for the book and the first half do not prepare the reader for the more somber and sad things that happen at the end of the book. Has Christopher Hacker written more books? I think I need to look into this.
February 27, 2017
This book was so unusual, I don't know how to rate it. It was both memorable and disturbing. I didn't feel like the characters were very well fleshed-out, but it seemed to be more about the philosophy of art, than the character arcs anyway. I'm not sure I'd recommend it to just anyone, but I'd be interested to hear what my friends think of it and the philosophy within. Anyway, it was worth reading to the end.
March 17, 2019
this started off so interestingly, like a Salinger or a Chabon. although a Chabon Character would have sooo much more character than these guys. the ending just kind of sucks, sorry
Read
July 2, 2022O_O
September 6, 2013
what is this book about? ummm...well I would say: art. specifically, Arthur's views on art.
If focuses on how art affects Arthur's life (among others)...more importantly (or is it more important), how his life affects his art.
you might hear yourself shouting BULLSHIT, while reading his passionate views on art or you might scream a resounding YES, so glad that someone 'gets it.' or you might just fling the book down, tired of having philosophies shoved down your throat in the most contrived manner.
who knows...and do tell.
me, well I became engrossed and intrigued and. ..slightly annoyed. a variety emotions and thoughts were had throughout this book but mostly I was curious. simply curious how it would pan out.
curiosity is a hell of drug. and so i read and so i finished;momentarily satisfied, yet slightly ill at eased.
I would've given this 5 stars but the rantings in this book were nonsensical and only serve to irk me as well as force me to skim the pages, hoping to the for an end (much like the catholic talking to the atheist). 4 stars isn't too shabby and neither is Arthur. ...if that's your type.
If focuses on how art affects Arthur's life (among others)...more importantly (or is it more important), how his life affects his art.
you might hear yourself shouting BULLSHIT, while reading his passionate views on art or you might scream a resounding YES, so glad that someone 'gets it.' or you might just fling the book down, tired of having philosophies shoved down your throat in the most contrived manner.
who knows...and do tell.
me, well I became engrossed and intrigued and. ..slightly annoyed. a variety emotions and thoughts were had throughout this book but mostly I was curious. simply curious how it would pan out.
curiosity is a hell of drug. and so i read and so i finished;momentarily satisfied, yet slightly ill at eased.
I would've given this 5 stars but the rantings in this book were nonsensical and only serve to irk me as well as force me to skim the pages, hoping to the for an end (much like the catholic talking to the atheist). 4 stars isn't too shabby and neither is Arthur. ...if that's your type.
March 19, 2014
It's been a few months since I read this now, but The Morels has really stuck with me. I find that the characters and the issues they deal with really raised a lot of questions that I still think about from time to time in my daily life and in my own writing. Hacker's prose makes the pages skip by luxuriously and enjoyably, but the subject matters he deals with manage to lodge themselves deep inside you—that is no mean feat! What is the purpose of art? What are the lines between fantasy and reality? What lines should never be crossed? Do we need to be provoked to notice? Can the means of provocation be justified by their ends? If you think about any of these things, buy this book and enjoy the time you will spend in contemplation because of it. My only criticism is that the characters don't seem to have strong answers to these questions, but that just might be my problem because I like my artists to take the intellectual risk of being a bit more didactic and offer an argument to build upon or rebut rather than simply stir the pot…but The Morels sure stirs the pot with all the right ingredients!
February 24, 2013
The best literature challenges you somehow. And that seems to be exactly what The Morels is about. Its subject, Arthur Morel, is an artist who has constantly shocked and challenged those around him, usually to his detriment. As a whole, this novel considers his place as an artist but mostly considers his motives for acts that are more than shocking, they're self-destructive.
(This isn't a novel for the faint of heart. That's something I say often, since I have a thing for dark fiction. But the issues here are somewhat disturbing.)
Narrated by a childhood acquaintance of Arthur's who happens upon him again as an adult, the novel isn't just about Arthur's art but the narrator, an amateur film producer who is searching for the "answer with a capital-A." It also follows Arthur's lovely wife, Penelope, who loves the mad genius in her husband without really understanding what makes him tick.
This is unlike anything I can remember reading in the last few years, a fantastic unique experience.
(This isn't a novel for the faint of heart. That's something I say often, since I have a thing for dark fiction. But the issues here are somewhat disturbing.)
Narrated by a childhood acquaintance of Arthur's who happens upon him again as an adult, the novel isn't just about Arthur's art but the narrator, an amateur film producer who is searching for the "answer with a capital-A." It also follows Arthur's lovely wife, Penelope, who loves the mad genius in her husband without really understanding what makes him tick.
This is unlike anything I can remember reading in the last few years, a fantastic unique experience.
May 3, 2013
I was drawn in by the Morel family. Arthur the artist father who sets the self-destruct button with the incendiary novel he publishes, Penelope the understanding and supportive wife and mother who reaches the end of her tether and finally Will, the hurt and angry son. We view these characters largely through the eyes of a childhood acquaintance of Arthur's. He's a slacker, working at a movie theater and working on a film that's a trailer park version on Hamlet. When he next turns the lens on Arthur we discovered the troubled roots behind the novel that is ruining his beautiful family. Hacker's narrative voice is confident, humorous and unafraid to digress into the meaning and purpose of art. What is art if it doesn't make people react? For all of the novel's pertensions of examining the meaning of art, the bottom line was I was hooked in the by the characters and story. I teared up at the end. Something I rarely do.
April 27, 2013
The Morels by Christopher Hacker (SoHo Press, 368 Pages, $29.95) is a sometimes difficult, often brilliant, and disturbing novel which examines the role of art and the artist within the context of a confused and difficult family during the period from the counter culture days of the 1960's to the near present. Narrated by an unnamed observer/friend of the Morel family, it follows the central character Arthur Morel as he publishes a second novel he calls the "The Morels" creating a constant confusion and strain between the real writer Arthur Morel and the Arthur Morel character who becomes mired in almost unspeakable behavior which rips his family life to shreds. Read the rest of my review here: http://tedlehmann.blogspot.com/2013/0... If you plan on purchasing the book, please consider using the Amazon portal on my site.
June 14, 2013
Here's a peek at what our readers had to say...
Mary Liz "Do you like to debate what makes art “art”? Then this is the story for you." Grade: B
Rosie T. "I liked The Morels because it was a very unusual book, and I haven’t read anything like it before. I also liked the characters, because they are so complicated, but I didn’t feel emotionally attached to any of the characters." Grade: C+
Gigi "I am not sure what to say about this book. I enjoyed it. But I’m not confident enough in it to recommend it to anyone else." Grade: B
Jessica "The best literature challenges you somehow. And that seems to be exactly what The Morels is about. Its subject, Arthur Morel, is an artist who has constantly shocked and challenged those around him, usually to his detriment." Grade: B+
See their full reviews here.
Mary Liz "Do you like to debate what makes art “art”? Then this is the story for you." Grade: B
Rosie T. "I liked The Morels because it was a very unusual book, and I haven’t read anything like it before. I also liked the characters, because they are so complicated, but I didn’t feel emotionally attached to any of the characters." Grade: C+
Gigi "I am not sure what to say about this book. I enjoyed it. But I’m not confident enough in it to recommend it to anyone else." Grade: B
Jessica "The best literature challenges you somehow. And that seems to be exactly what The Morels is about. Its subject, Arthur Morel, is an artist who has constantly shocked and challenged those around him, usually to his detriment." Grade: B+
See their full reviews here.
August 5, 2013
The description doesn't do this book justice.
In a shockingly beautiful telling the author questions the institutions of art, family, and guilt on an unpaved road wrought with familiar pain of being self-aware. You are led down this road by a long absent classmate who through happenstance encounters an old classmate and recounts his classmates descent into sanity. Though confused and even misguided the writing really draws you in to Art’s , the main focus, decline. Initially his action seem depraved and bizarre, but the more you read the more you hope to excuse his actions. The more you hope for his success. The more you can even empathize.
This movement is truly thanks to the author’s story telling. Though I won’t ruin the end, I will recommend you read this book in light of your own escapism.
In a shockingly beautiful telling the author questions the institutions of art, family, and guilt on an unpaved road wrought with familiar pain of being self-aware. You are led down this road by a long absent classmate who through happenstance encounters an old classmate and recounts his classmates descent into sanity. Though confused and even misguided the writing really draws you in to Art’s , the main focus, decline. Initially his action seem depraved and bizarre, but the more you read the more you hope to excuse his actions. The more you hope for his success. The more you can even empathize.
This movement is truly thanks to the author’s story telling. Though I won’t ruin the end, I will recommend you read this book in light of your own escapism.
October 27, 2013
The Morels is told from the perspective of a childhood friend of Arthur Morel, who witnessed a young Arthur's musical genius and self destruction first hand. This friend then meets him again as an adult and finds himself witnessing Art's pursuit of art (in the form of literature) threatening the happy life he's built with his wife and son.
Until the very end of this novel, I wasn't quite sure what to make of this meditation on art and the pursuit of creating art. Neither the narrator nor his subject - Arthur Morel - are likeable. However, the premise is intriguing and important questions raised about the subjectivity of art, how far is too far in pushing the boundaries of social conventions, and how do you cope when what you've created is no longer fully in your control. A challenging read that may not be for everyone.
Until the very end of this novel, I wasn't quite sure what to make of this meditation on art and the pursuit of creating art. Neither the narrator nor his subject - Arthur Morel - are likeable. However, the premise is intriguing and important questions raised about the subjectivity of art, how far is too far in pushing the boundaries of social conventions, and how do you cope when what you've created is no longer fully in your control. A challenging read that may not be for everyone.
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