First published in 1935, this novel is a penetrating study of a father and son caught in the moral and economic undertow of the Great Depression. The action hinges upon a sudden mischance in which accident and intention tragically coincide. Swept along by the inexorable logic of events, Callaghan’s protagonists are forced to re-examine the nature of individual conscience and responsibility. In their personal struggle is expressed the mood of the age, its cynicism and anger, its desperate idealism, and its agonized longing for redemption.
Overall, I would say that beneath this novel lies a deep reservoir of emotion and contemplation, however, the execution feels a bit of a hodgepodge.
I'm always hopeful for Callaghan. Our Canadian member of the illustrious Lost Generation. Immediately from chapter 1, I thought, This is going to be a good one. A few chapters later we get some dialogue that feels like it came out of a 1930's Humphrey Bogart film. Filled with peculiar expressions that really make me wonder if people talked like that, or if it were being used for effect. (I'm sorry Morley, but chapter 4 really is Quite similar to that other author you hated being compared with.) I really don't think anyone every spoke like those characters from early film-noire. It's like people who think Grease is a realistic portrayal of the 50-60's. On top of this we get a healthy dose of social-economic commentary throughout the novel. How the working man must band together to form a new social construct and overthrow the greedy capitalists. Again I wonder if this was really common discussion at the time. (I do find it saddening compared with today when most adults are discussing Game of Thrones, Captain America and trying to fit into the TicTok world of their children.) If that weren't enough we get several occasional bits of Christianity inserted here and there.
And that's just what's going on in the background.
In the foreground we've got quite a good story of two men wrestling with the consequences of a situation which has drastic effects on their lives.
I was hoping for some satisfaction, but doubting it was possible with all the peripheral philosophy hanging in the air. Would it be the same novel without all the extra theoretical contemplation? It would have been much shorter, that's all I can say.