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Car
This is a book that is in very good condition.
Paperback
First published January 1, 1972
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About the author
Harry Crews
68 books644 followersHarry Eugene Crews was born during the Great Depression to sharecroppers in Bacon County, Georgia. His father died when he was an infant and his mother quickly remarried. His mother later moved her sons to Jacksonville, Florida. Crews is twice divorced and is the father of two sons. His eldest son drowned in 1964.
Crews served in the Korean War and, following the war, enrolled at the University of Florida under the G.I. Bill. After two years of school, Crews set out on an extended road trip. He returned to the University of Florida in 1958. Later, after graduating from the master's program, Crews was denied entrance to the graduate program for Creative Writing. He moved to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, where he taught English at Broward Community College. In 1968, Crews' first novel, The Gospel Singer, was published. Crews returned to the University of Florida as an English faculty member.
In spring of 1997, Crews retired from UF to devote himself fully to writing. Crews published continuously since his first novel, on average of one novel per year. He died in 2012, at the age of 78.
Crews served in the Korean War and, following the war, enrolled at the University of Florida under the G.I. Bill. After two years of school, Crews set out on an extended road trip. He returned to the University of Florida in 1958. Later, after graduating from the master's program, Crews was denied entrance to the graduate program for Creative Writing. He moved to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, where he taught English at Broward Community College. In 1968, Crews' first novel, The Gospel Singer, was published. Crews returned to the University of Florida as an English faculty member.
In spring of 1997, Crews retired from UF to devote himself fully to writing. Crews published continuously since his first novel, on average of one novel per year. He died in 2012, at the age of 78.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 70 reviews
July 17, 2020
The main character in “Car” by Harry Crews is Herman. He is at once a fun loving and yet rebelling against the car. Herman decides upon the ultimate adoration and ultimate sacrilege. He will eat an automobile from bumper to bumper. His inspiration is seized upon by a local hotel operator, who turns his establishment over to this historic event. A ballroom is set up for some daily performances. A coast to‐coast television contract is signed and a satellite hookup to Japan arranged.
Each day Herman enters the ballroom and eats a half‐pound of a Ford Maverick. the metal has been cut from the car with a blowtorch and melted into small, swallowable pellets. Then, later in the day, he returns to sit upon his “throne” the toilet, and pass the pellets into a pan. Afterward the pellets are melted down into miniature Mavericks and sold as key chain souvenirs.
As things transpire Herman and the hotel prostitute, Margo, become infatuated with each other.
This book is brilliant.
Each day Herman enters the ballroom and eats a half‐pound of a Ford Maverick. the metal has been cut from the car with a blowtorch and melted into small, swallowable pellets. Then, later in the day, he returns to sit upon his “throne” the toilet, and pass the pellets into a pan. Afterward the pellets are melted down into miniature Mavericks and sold as key chain souvenirs.
As things transpire Herman and the hotel prostitute, Margo, become infatuated with each other.
This book is brilliant.
December 5, 2019
"Ten minutes after they opened the expressway, a truck coming over the bridge lost its airbrakes and was abandoned by the driver who died instantly when he jumped from the speeding truck and was run over by a tailgating Toyota. The truck smashed through the concrete divider and met the officials from the ribbon cutting ceremonies - a whole autocade of them complete with motorcycle escorts and the state beauty Queen riding in an open convertible."
Car is a satire about the desperate desire to be a celebrity, automobilistic consumerism and reality television. It reminded me of the Elia Kazan film A Face in the Crowd and Billy Wilders Ace in the Hole. But Crews imagination is a lot more twisted and grotesque compared to the directors and writers who made those popular classic films.
The central conceit of Car - the heir of a junkyard business Herman Mack, believes he has a higher calling and agrees to eat a car, day after day in a popular hotel, with the whole farce getting beamed out to the world on television and radio. It would take him ten years to eat the whole car. Except for the family patriarch Easy Mack, everyone eggs him on in this ridiculous exercise, including his twin brother, sister, the greedy hotel owner and the hotel prostitute who takes quite a liking for him.
It was like a JG Ballard novel filled with the wildest Crews characters. But Car was published a year before Ballard's Crash. Both short novels have quite a few similarities. In Car, two of the characters cannot seem to have sex unless they are inside a car. The brand of car increases their arousal and longing for sex. Car is not as repugnant and cold as Crash. In fact, it is pretty hilarious and likeable. You do feel bad for some of the characters in it. But both novels are a warning against technology intruding into human lives. Does technology serve humans? Or do humans serve technology? I don't know. I liked sitting in my grand uncle's Mercedes Benz a few years ago. Better than walking in the heat on terrible Indian roads with its crazy drivers.
The short novel comes with an introduction by Crews about his own obsession with cars and how he finally kicked his addiction to them.
Car is a satire about the desperate desire to be a celebrity, automobilistic consumerism and reality television. It reminded me of the Elia Kazan film A Face in the Crowd and Billy Wilders Ace in the Hole. But Crews imagination is a lot more twisted and grotesque compared to the directors and writers who made those popular classic films.
The central conceit of Car - the heir of a junkyard business Herman Mack, believes he has a higher calling and agrees to eat a car, day after day in a popular hotel, with the whole farce getting beamed out to the world on television and radio. It would take him ten years to eat the whole car. Except for the family patriarch Easy Mack, everyone eggs him on in this ridiculous exercise, including his twin brother, sister, the greedy hotel owner and the hotel prostitute who takes quite a liking for him.
It was like a JG Ballard novel filled with the wildest Crews characters. But Car was published a year before Ballard's Crash. Both short novels have quite a few similarities. In Car, two of the characters cannot seem to have sex unless they are inside a car. The brand of car increases their arousal and longing for sex. Car is not as repugnant and cold as Crash. In fact, it is pretty hilarious and likeable. You do feel bad for some of the characters in it. But both novels are a warning against technology intruding into human lives. Does technology serve humans? Or do humans serve technology? I don't know. I liked sitting in my grand uncle's Mercedes Benz a few years ago. Better than walking in the heat on terrible Indian roads with its crazy drivers.
The short novel comes with an introduction by Crews about his own obsession with cars and how he finally kicked his addiction to them.
June 13, 2016
By this point, Crews isn’t writing novels so much as extended metaphors. No one ever accused him of subtlety, but Car loses whatever traction he gained in the right direction with Karate. I notice that in Classic Crews, this and The Gypsy’s Curse are included in full so I am forced to capitulate that what I quite profoundly like about the author is not what the majority of other readers do. Hand to Rod (Stewart): I’m no contrarian and find people who go against popular opinion just to differentiate themselves—and for no reason more—to be fucking annoying. But in the case of Crews, I politely disagree with the consensus. For me, when he’s drawing from a different well than the bullshit ‘Grit-Lit’ genre (who comes up with these names?), his efforts are far more substantial—in some instances, in fact, they are sublime.
Unfortunately, this isn’t one of them. Sure, it’s an entertaining satire of America’s obsession with fame and the absolutely insane lengths people will go to to obtain it (like, eh, eat a car), but I found myself just cringing at the obviousness of the whole thing. Plus, I aim to be more than just entertained: that’s what raising cats for meat is for. Crews was a legendary drinkist and druggist, so I’m going to chalk this one up to his beloved morphine and booze getting the upper hand. Car's tit jokes and thinness seems like something he could’ve knocked out in a single day; it’s that bereft of substantiality.
(But, again, it looks like I’m in the minority here, so take the caveat that I’m largely a humorless shit to heart. If you could see me, my eyeliner and 14-holes alone would tell you that I’m a very serious young man that knows that this world is a vale of tears best obscured behind deadly angular black bangs. And no, I’m not crying—I have smoke in my eyes from my cloves. For your information, I cry from two-to four PM, seven days a week— barring, of course, the days that Mom/Bitch makes me peanut butter and banana sandwiches with the crusts cut-off and arranged into an alternating series of pentagrams and upside crosses.)
Unfortunately, this isn’t one of them. Sure, it’s an entertaining satire of America’s obsession with fame and the absolutely insane lengths people will go to to obtain it (like, eh, eat a car), but I found myself just cringing at the obviousness of the whole thing. Plus, I aim to be more than just entertained: that’s what raising cats for meat is for. Crews was a legendary drinkist and druggist, so I’m going to chalk this one up to his beloved morphine and booze getting the upper hand. Car's tit jokes and thinness seems like something he could’ve knocked out in a single day; it’s that bereft of substantiality.
(But, again, it looks like I’m in the minority here, so take the caveat that I’m largely a humorless shit to heart. If you could see me, my eyeliner and 14-holes alone would tell you that I’m a very serious young man that knows that this world is a vale of tears best obscured behind deadly angular black bangs. And no, I’m not crying—I have smoke in my eyes from my cloves. For your information, I cry from two-to four PM, seven days a week— barring, of course, the days that Mom/Bitch makes me peanut butter and banana sandwiches with the crusts cut-off and arranged into an alternating series of pentagrams and upside crosses.)
February 20, 2024
05/2020
From 1972
Interesting and so well written. Cars, such a huge part of life and death. This could have been symbolic but it's too in your face. I loved it for a while, but it got gross. I still read it.
From 1972
Interesting and so well written. Cars, such a huge part of life and death. This could have been symbolic but it's too in your face. I loved it for a while, but it got gross. I still read it.
September 21, 2021
A young man disgraces his family of junk yard owners by proposing to eat a Ford Maverick, piece by piece, bumper to bumper. Even more, he proposes to do it at a downtown Jacksonville hotel in front of the press from three states, the radio news and TV cameras from as far away as Japan.
This could almost be a Disney movie. Almost. If you took out all the fucks, cunts, shits, public defecation, body-shattering car wrecks, titty-sucking policemen, anus examinations, vomiting, prostitutes and fucking.
Absolute stone-cold madness from one of the South's great cult authors.
This could almost be a Disney movie. Almost. If you took out all the fucks, cunts, shits, public defecation, body-shattering car wrecks, titty-sucking policemen, anus examinations, vomiting, prostitutes and fucking.
Absolute stone-cold madness from one of the South's great cult authors.
January 14, 2016
This short novel occupies the spaces between JG Ballard's 'Crash', Paddy Chayefsky's 'Network' and an episode of 'The Waltons'. A disturbing, heartbreaking examination of car culture and fame. When the youngest of the Auto Town family decides that he's going to eat a Ford Maverick, inch by inch, consumerism and capitalism come knocking hard. 'Car' has the usual mix of Crews explicit and surreal material--balls-out and blue collar eloquent. If only the book were longer. And only Crews could have a character describing dedication of craft with the art of fellatio. They don't write shit like this anymore.
December 4, 2017
(3.5) I've read: three fiction (now), one non-fiction and one biography about/by Harry.
One can say I enjoy his writing and his crazy life. This is Crews at his satirical prime. America's arrogance and consumerism kills is the theme in this absurd anecdote. With his usual cringe-worthy theatrics towards the end, I'd say this is one that will entertain the Crews amateur and enthusiast alike.
One can say I enjoy his writing and his crazy life. This is Crews at his satirical prime. America's arrogance and consumerism kills is the theme in this absurd anecdote. With his usual cringe-worthy theatrics towards the end, I'd say this is one that will entertain the Crews amateur and enthusiast alike.
May 25, 2019
In a country where the only truly profitable and marketable skill seems to be branding yourself, I can’t think of a better story for right now than Harry Crews' "Car".
While telling an insane story about a man with a simple but outlandish plan to make some money (I won't spoil what that plan is but I'm sure it's in most rundowns of the plot if you're curious) Harry manages to tell the story of America.
He writes with an effective restraint like Steinbeck but on LSD. He comes up with the most ridiculous scenarios and tells them in the most reasoned way.
Sometimes it feels like a raucous 70s Robert Altman film but it never denies its economically nihilistic core.
Probably the best way to review this, if you love it as I do, is to just write your own thing inspired by it:
In the towers and hills of assembled garbage
From vantage points across a dozen generations
In the smoky ash of American dreams
There stood a Man
He fumbled and clawed
Dripping wet with desperation
To stand on his feet and sing
There stood a Man
The wasteland sprawled
And kicked and hurt
It choked and smothered
but There stood a Man
Atop the towers and hills of his own assembled garbage
Unable to see past the smoke from trash fires
He blindly lept at what his Mamma called hope
Into the X, a Man in his car.
While telling an insane story about a man with a simple but outlandish plan to make some money (I won't spoil what that plan is but I'm sure it's in most rundowns of the plot if you're curious) Harry manages to tell the story of America.
He writes with an effective restraint like Steinbeck but on LSD. He comes up with the most ridiculous scenarios and tells them in the most reasoned way.
Sometimes it feels like a raucous 70s Robert Altman film but it never denies its economically nihilistic core.
Probably the best way to review this, if you love it as I do, is to just write your own thing inspired by it:
In the towers and hills of assembled garbage
From vantage points across a dozen generations
In the smoky ash of American dreams
There stood a Man
He fumbled and clawed
Dripping wet with desperation
To stand on his feet and sing
There stood a Man
The wasteland sprawled
And kicked and hurt
It choked and smothered
but There stood a Man
Atop the towers and hills of his own assembled garbage
Unable to see past the smoke from trash fires
He blindly lept at what his Mamma called hope
Into the X, a Man in his car.
March 20, 2010
a simple compact story that bends your mind. Crews has a way of making the unexpected weirdness packed full of subtle heartbreak, as well as good old fashioned raw tension. A good book to grab and take out on the town: put it in your back pocket, bring a jacket, then take the book to coffee, on a bus, and finish it at a small bar that you never go to.
March 15, 2024
Crews went through a prolific period of five years leading up to 1972, during which he wrote five novels, each a bit funnier, each a bit shorter, each more inventive, but each with less emotion than the previous.
This is a good example, the fifth of those five, as it has far less to it. It seems he was prepared to sacrifice bold experimental ideas in favour of more of a satirical comedic situation.
Compare it with the second of that five year period, Naked in Garden Hills, which was a realistic and grotesque portrayal of a disintegrating American landscape and its immoral inhabitants. A more serious piece.
There are still Crews trademarks, but less of them. His earlier work was better, at least during this period. He went on, years later, to produce his best work, with the likes of A Feast of Snakes. Here, Crews is more focused on sending up consumerism and the grip television was beginning to have on society.
This may well be the funniest of Crews’s books, but in its second half, the plot has nowhere to go, and it falls in on itself, with a degree of frustration.
Easy, and his three children Mister, Junell and Herman, own a 43 acre junkyard called Auto Town. Their lives are dominated by the automobile. When there is a wreck on the neighbouring highway Junell arrives to it in her huge tow truck, Big Mama, quicker than the ambulance does, in case there is competition for the ruined vehicles. Mister crushes the wrecks into suitcase sized lumps of metal.
Herman, jealous of the attention and to the embarrassment of the family, announces he wants to eat a Maverick, and attracts the attention of Mr Edge, the manager at the Hotel Sherman, who sees it as an opportunity to make money, and offers to host the event.
So much for the plot.. but what Crews does, which I need not tell any regular reader of his, is to produce surges of brilliance that completely captivate, and go to make him one of my favourite writers.
This may not be his best, but it is still damned good. The passage when Junell arrives with Big Mama at a 72 vehicle pile up on the ‘superhighway’ is Crews at his very best. While Junell cavorts with her lover, the ambulance driver, on the backseat, victims, and parts of victims, are being cut out of their vehicular tombs. It’s a scene of absolute horror, but with Crews’s touch, it is the very definition of black humour.
Here’s a clip from Herman’s attempt at eating the Maverick..
This is a good example, the fifth of those five, as it has far less to it. It seems he was prepared to sacrifice bold experimental ideas in favour of more of a satirical comedic situation.
Compare it with the second of that five year period, Naked in Garden Hills, which was a realistic and grotesque portrayal of a disintegrating American landscape and its immoral inhabitants. A more serious piece.
There are still Crews trademarks, but less of them. His earlier work was better, at least during this period. He went on, years later, to produce his best work, with the likes of A Feast of Snakes. Here, Crews is more focused on sending up consumerism and the grip television was beginning to have on society.
This may well be the funniest of Crews’s books, but in its second half, the plot has nowhere to go, and it falls in on itself, with a degree of frustration.
Easy, and his three children Mister, Junell and Herman, own a 43 acre junkyard called Auto Town. Their lives are dominated by the automobile. When there is a wreck on the neighbouring highway Junell arrives to it in her huge tow truck, Big Mama, quicker than the ambulance does, in case there is competition for the ruined vehicles. Mister crushes the wrecks into suitcase sized lumps of metal.
Herman, jealous of the attention and to the embarrassment of the family, announces he wants to eat a Maverick, and attracts the attention of Mr Edge, the manager at the Hotel Sherman, who sees it as an opportunity to make money, and offers to host the event.
So much for the plot.. but what Crews does, which I need not tell any regular reader of his, is to produce surges of brilliance that completely captivate, and go to make him one of my favourite writers.
This may not be his best, but it is still damned good. The passage when Junell arrives with Big Mama at a 72 vehicle pile up on the ‘superhighway’ is Crews at his very best. While Junell cavorts with her lover, the ambulance driver, on the backseat, victims, and parts of victims, are being cut out of their vehicular tombs. It’s a scene of absolute horror, but with Crews’s touch, it is the very definition of black humour.
Here’s a clip from Herman’s attempt at eating the Maverick..
One of the reporters was sitting on the throne where Herman was going to pass every morning at nine-thirty. It was an elaborate structure, designed and fabricated by Mr. Edge's own interior decorators.
"Do you think the public is ready for this?" the reporter asked Mr. Edge.
"Would you be surprised to know that I'm ..." He glanced at Mister standing beside him... “that we're negotiating to put it on nationwide TeeVee?"
"Nationwide TeeVee?" asked the reporter. He whipped out a pad and wrote on it. The other reporters who had gathered close behind him wrote too.
"Of course," said Mr. Edge, "the immediate area—a three-hundred-mile radius or so—will be blacked out."
"Could you tell us about the negotiations?”
“Only to say that we're talking to all the networks." Mr. Edge shrugged.
"What the hell, I guess it's all right to say that the network we're closest with is ABC. They want it for their 'Wide World of Sports.'"
"And you think you can put this on national TeeVee?" The reporter howled like a dog, and dissolved in laughter.
"Sponsored by Preparation H," shouted another reporter.
The reporter got off the throne and they all stood looking at it, while Mr. Edge talked. "It's ingenious. American knowhow. You can see his head. These drapes will conceal his body. Here is where the Maverick drops. The audience can see it drop. But they can't see him." In exasperation he looked at the reporters, all of whom were scribbling furiously. "For God's sake give us credit for a little class and a little taste. We wouldn't show his rectum to an American audience."
"And now a special announcement. As you know, Herman Mack will eat for the first time this evening at six."
A roar of applause.
"In the morning, the first half-ounce he passes at nine-thirty will be auctioned off to the highest bidder." Mr. Edge paused. There was utter silence. He could hear the doctor shuffling around behind him. The audience sat stunned. Mr. Edge rushed on. “We have facilities here at the Hotel Sherman for melting down the half-ounce and casting it into the shape of a miniature Maverick-an absolute replica. And moreover, each subsequent half-ounce will be similarly melted and cast into small cars with a hole through the top suitable for wearing on your key chains. These small cars will be sold at twelve dollars and fifty cents each plus state sales tax on a first come first served basis."
September 15, 2020
Sería una pena contar los detalles que más profundamente se me han quedado grabados (es decir, lo que más me ha sorprendido, divertido y gustado) por si os animáis a leerlo. Evitaré dar detalles en la reseña que no aparezcan en contraportada o sinopsis, pero seré feliz el día que me plante en frente de alguien que lo haya leído y podamos decir: JODER.
La novela no solo consiste en averiguar cómo alguien se come un coche sino en mostrarnos a los personajes y el espectáculo que va a formarse alrededor de esto, explicarnos de qué forma afecta a la familia al completo. Crews en este libro critica, básicamente, la imbecilidad. La imbecilidad y la avaricia, el objeto y el producto de una obsesión.
No ha parado de sorprenderme (ojos como platos) y me he echado unas buenas risas como espectadora de la lucha entre esa naturaleza humana rancia, avariciosa y egoísta versus los pocos corazones maltratados, rechazados y -a pesar de todo- puros que existen. Me ha molado esta ida de olla de Crews.
"Él era un coche. Un coche magníficamente equipado. (...) Y su inmortalidad yacía en innumerables desguaces, todos de fácil acceso desde cualquier rincón de América. No tendría más que ir y reemplazar el guardabarros, reemplazaría las ruedas, incluso reemplaza el motor, lo reemplaza todo hasta dejar de ser lo que había sido hasta entonces. Lo reemplazaría todo por todo hasta no ser nadie y ser todos al mismo tiempo."
Reseña completa en https://denmeunpapelillo.net/coche-ha...
La novela no solo consiste en averiguar cómo alguien se come un coche sino en mostrarnos a los personajes y el espectáculo que va a formarse alrededor de esto, explicarnos de qué forma afecta a la familia al completo. Crews en este libro critica, básicamente, la imbecilidad. La imbecilidad y la avaricia, el objeto y el producto de una obsesión.
No ha parado de sorprenderme (ojos como platos) y me he echado unas buenas risas como espectadora de la lucha entre esa naturaleza humana rancia, avariciosa y egoísta versus los pocos corazones maltratados, rechazados y -a pesar de todo- puros que existen. Me ha molado esta ida de olla de Crews.
"Él era un coche. Un coche magníficamente equipado. (...) Y su inmortalidad yacía en innumerables desguaces, todos de fácil acceso desde cualquier rincón de América. No tendría más que ir y reemplazar el guardabarros, reemplazaría las ruedas, incluso reemplaza el motor, lo reemplaza todo hasta dejar de ser lo que había sido hasta entonces. Lo reemplazaría todo por todo hasta no ser nadie y ser todos al mismo tiempo."
Reseña completa en https://denmeunpapelillo.net/coche-ha...
March 16, 2012
So I felt I had to search for this after work today after my friend Zachary rated in 5/5 stars. I found it at Myopic Books and was able to read it in a single workout, which definitely was one factor in it receiving only 4/5 stars...I tend to prefer my novels less like novellas and more like deliberate literary developments where I can grow attached to the characters over a period of time. 600 pages is about perfect for me, with 900-1,000 pages being an extra special value. I mean, have you ever noticed that most used book stores charge the same amount for a 200 page book as for a 1,000 page one? Where's the value in that? I don't like a Hershey kiss as much as a rich and delicious truffle I'll savor in all my memories!
I digress with my venting, which happens when I'm tired. In any case, this novel is mainly about the American psyche and the American dream. It is a little bit about sex and a little bit about cars and family but to deduce it to that would be to miss the point. In some ways, it is about a family that has worked hard all of their lives and longs for this sense of financial assurance but there's this other idea is that the car is where all of the important things for Americans happen...the car is America (no one is trying to eat a bicycle in this book incidentally...made me wonder if anyone has tried...another night, Google!) In any case, it's a grand delusion that if you love the idea and the sense of the car that much your body won't reject it. Our main hero eats quite a bit of one until he really begins to suffer. And I think, in a sense, this is what contorted dreams and materialism does to any person living in America...it eats away at you from the inside and what was once so attractive becomes painful and a little indigestible too.
Let's not forget..the car may be where, as one character suggests 10% of babies are conceived but it's also the place where people lose their lives, where bloody wrecks that ruin bodies and stop those from breathing occur. If there's an allure to the Cadillac here and a nod to the idea that the environment of a car is the perfect place to "respect a woman" there's also a nod to the fact that a car wreck can leave you dead or deformed, gasping for your last breath, and screaming your last words. In many ways, a car is just a microcosm of America itself, a joy ride and a devourer of dreams both. And, of course, sometimes the American dream, brand spanking new off the lot has a real problem: it squeaks.
I thought it was interesting that Crews made a parallel with the man who loves cars with a woman who works as a prostitute...he's so focused on cars that he can't engage her in the intimacy she offers and she's so engaged in this intimacy that she can't reach him on his car level (but again, it's just a symbol or a metaphor for the overarching sense of America and history imo)
So, I think Crews does well with making these points and capturing a certain point in time in America as well. We feel a certain sympathy for the family involved, the brother, sister, and father of this hopeless dreamer who thinks eating a car is a pretty good idea to make something of himself. And he also captures a certain vileness of the audience watching our hero Herman devour the car, though I felt that even for 1972, using racist slurs and calling children with cognitive disabilities idiots was a bit too vicious (of course, I am quite sensitive to these things.)
In any case, he gets his ideas across and well enough that I'm interested in reading other works, especially longer ones that I can delve into properly.
Memorable quotes
pg. 8 "Women were emotional and full of gestures"
pg. 19 "...he thought everybody must be able to look at him and tell he had raised a son who was going to eat a car. It weighed heavily on his conscience."
pg. 49 "I only know that I refuse to have my life measured out in cars," cried Herman, choking on the knowledge of some awful truth that he could not say, "Goddam cars are measuring me! Me! Don't you see we're on the wrong end?"
pg. 50-51 "He solemnly opened his mouth as though about to take upon his tongue a sacrament, but instead his pink lolling tongue lapped out of his mouth and touched the hood of the Maverick car. It was clean and cold and he felt himself tighten around his stomach. He longed to have it in his mouth. To feel it in his throat. To hold it in his stomach. It would amaze the world. "
pg. 73-74 "Filled with terror and joy, he tried to wake up. But he was not asleep. His eyes filled with cars. They raced and competed in every muscle and fiber. Dune buggies raced over the California sands of his feet; sturdy jeeps with four-wheel drive and snow tires climbed the Montana mountains of his hips; golden convertibles, sleek and topless, purred through the Arizona sun of his left arm; angry taxis, dirty and functional and knowledgeable, fought for survival in the New York City of his head."
(I thought this was a brilliant nod to Coleridge:) pg. 74 "Cars cars everywhere and no place to drive."
pg. 75 "Tell me about it, darling Herman. And then you'll see it's only a dream..."
"I was full of cars."
"Full of..."
"They were in my arms and legs and head, my blood, my heart."
"Well, a dream," she said, trying to soothe him
"Then I was a car."
pg. 151 "They went under the arch, she leading him, under the mountain. It wasn't really a tunnel at all. It was just a long series of accidental open spaces."
I digress with my venting, which happens when I'm tired. In any case, this novel is mainly about the American psyche and the American dream. It is a little bit about sex and a little bit about cars and family but to deduce it to that would be to miss the point. In some ways, it is about a family that has worked hard all of their lives and longs for this sense of financial assurance but there's this other idea is that the car is where all of the important things for Americans happen...the car is America (no one is trying to eat a bicycle in this book incidentally...made me wonder if anyone has tried...another night, Google!) In any case, it's a grand delusion that if you love the idea and the sense of the car that much your body won't reject it. Our main hero eats quite a bit of one until he really begins to suffer. And I think, in a sense, this is what contorted dreams and materialism does to any person living in America...it eats away at you from the inside and what was once so attractive becomes painful and a little indigestible too.
Let's not forget..the car may be where, as one character suggests 10% of babies are conceived but it's also the place where people lose their lives, where bloody wrecks that ruin bodies and stop those from breathing occur. If there's an allure to the Cadillac here and a nod to the idea that the environment of a car is the perfect place to "respect a woman" there's also a nod to the fact that a car wreck can leave you dead or deformed, gasping for your last breath, and screaming your last words. In many ways, a car is just a microcosm of America itself, a joy ride and a devourer of dreams both. And, of course, sometimes the American dream, brand spanking new off the lot has a real problem: it squeaks.
I thought it was interesting that Crews made a parallel with the man who loves cars with a woman who works as a prostitute...he's so focused on cars that he can't engage her in the intimacy she offers and she's so engaged in this intimacy that she can't reach him on his car level (but again, it's just a symbol or a metaphor for the overarching sense of America and history imo)
So, I think Crews does well with making these points and capturing a certain point in time in America as well. We feel a certain sympathy for the family involved, the brother, sister, and father of this hopeless dreamer who thinks eating a car is a pretty good idea to make something of himself. And he also captures a certain vileness of the audience watching our hero Herman devour the car, though I felt that even for 1972, using racist slurs and calling children with cognitive disabilities idiots was a bit too vicious (of course, I am quite sensitive to these things.)
In any case, he gets his ideas across and well enough that I'm interested in reading other works, especially longer ones that I can delve into properly.
Memorable quotes
pg. 8 "Women were emotional and full of gestures"
pg. 19 "...he thought everybody must be able to look at him and tell he had raised a son who was going to eat a car. It weighed heavily on his conscience."
pg. 49 "I only know that I refuse to have my life measured out in cars," cried Herman, choking on the knowledge of some awful truth that he could not say, "Goddam cars are measuring me! Me! Don't you see we're on the wrong end?"
pg. 50-51 "He solemnly opened his mouth as though about to take upon his tongue a sacrament, but instead his pink lolling tongue lapped out of his mouth and touched the hood of the Maverick car. It was clean and cold and he felt himself tighten around his stomach. He longed to have it in his mouth. To feel it in his throat. To hold it in his stomach. It would amaze the world. "
pg. 73-74 "Filled with terror and joy, he tried to wake up. But he was not asleep. His eyes filled with cars. They raced and competed in every muscle and fiber. Dune buggies raced over the California sands of his feet; sturdy jeeps with four-wheel drive and snow tires climbed the Montana mountains of his hips; golden convertibles, sleek and topless, purred through the Arizona sun of his left arm; angry taxis, dirty and functional and knowledgeable, fought for survival in the New York City of his head."
(I thought this was a brilliant nod to Coleridge:) pg. 74 "Cars cars everywhere and no place to drive."
pg. 75 "Tell me about it, darling Herman. And then you'll see it's only a dream..."
"I was full of cars."
"Full of..."
"They were in my arms and legs and head, my blood, my heart."
"Well, a dream," she said, trying to soothe him
"Then I was a car."
pg. 151 "They went under the arch, she leading him, under the mountain. It wasn't really a tunnel at all. It was just a long series of accidental open spaces."
May 16, 2025
I think I like Car a lot better than Crash. The comparison is so obvious, and I do wonder how many people come to this book not at least having some knowledge of the other. Whereas Crash is purposefully smug, cold, procedurally callous, Car is lonely, naive, simple in its language and sincere in its plot. Car has a heart, or is at least desperately searching for one. Both books take seriously the unique and ubiquitous specter of American Consumerism, and instead of simple condemnation speculate convincingly about its libidinal origins.
March 7, 2025
What would you be willing to do for fame? What if you want to be famous but have no talent? If popular culture in America has proven anything, it is that some people will do anything, no matter how degrading or humiliating, just as long as they have a camera pointed in their direction. In the 1970s, there was The Gong Show. It was a talent show for people who had no talent. They would get on stage and make fools of themselves and if the celebrity panel hated them enough they would bang a gong and whoever was on stage lost. There were rarely ever any winners. I do have to say, however, that the recurrent guest Gene Gene the Dancing Machine was an all around cool contestant. I’d share a six pack with him any day of the week.
Fascination for this kind of junk entertainment isn’t limited to America or any one time and place. Previous times gave us carny freak shows and circus side shows with geeks who bit the heads off live chickens. There might be an artistic side to boxing, but in the end all the audience wants to see is somebody being beaten to a bloody pulp. Entertainment in the Roman Empire made a spectacle out of gladiators fighting to the death. Medieval times made bear baiting a sport. Even Shakespeare satirized a talentless theater troupe in the last act of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In more recent times we’ve had TV shows like Fear Factor and The Jerry Springer Show. Jackass was all about people who intentionally hurt themselves for the sake of comedy. In the 1980s, a man from India made it into The Guiness Book of World Records for growing the longest fingernails; he said he did that simply because his life’s goal was to be famous. The contemporary porn industry is partially about people voluntarily subjecting themselves to sexual degradation and humiliation in exchange for large sums of money. In the middle of all this, we’ve got the short novel Car by the master of grit lit himself, Harry Crews.
The lead character of the book is Herman. He grew up in the presence of wrecked cars. His father came up with the idea of making an auto graveyard in Jacksonville, Florida. Open to the public, people can spend a few quiet moments with a car they had crashed or one in which a loved one has died. His sister Junell’s job is to collect the wrecks in her tow truck and stack them up in the yard. His twin brother, strangely named Mister, puts the cars through compactors so they can be sold as scrap metal. The auto graveyard didn’t turn out to be lucrative enough so the family had to start selling the junked vehicles to make money. Herman grew up in this atmosphere, surrounded by auto wrecks at a business that didn’t live up to the vision his father had conceived. The theme of deferred dreams runs throughout the novel and sets us up for what comes later. Speaking of conception, Herman also wonders how many babies are conceived in the back seats of cars. In American culture, the automobile is all pervasive. It is alpha and omega and everything in between. Automobiles are fetishized for sexuality and status, and in Herman’s case, automobiles are food.
Herman is a dreamer. His dream is to become famous. How does a man whose talents extend no further than running a junkyard become famous? He captures the attention of the world by announcing that he will eat a car in public, piece by piece, over the course of several years. The news spreads all over America and even gets as far as Japan. When the time comes, he appears on stage in a hotel ballroom in front of a packed audience twice a day. For the morning show, he eats little pieces of the car and for the late show, he poops the pieces out after passing through his digestive system. The pieces are then sold for outrageous amounts of money and some are made into model replicas of the car he is eating. This is broadcast live on television and Herman’s fame keeps growing.
Herman is narratively paired up with a prostitute named Margo. She works at the hotel where Herman’s car consumption takes place. As the two bond with each other, she offers to have sex with him for free. She has a bit of a car fetish and sleeping with him will be the closest she ever comes to having sex with a car. As the saying goes, you are what you eat. The two becomes friends rather than lovers since they connect at a human level. Both of them attempt to consume something that can’t be entirely consumed. Herman wants to consume a car and Margo wants to consume sexuality itself by sleeping with as many men as possibly. Both of them attempt to fill a void resulting from past experience. Herman is haunted by a childhood trauma that happened in the auto graveyard and Margo was disappointed with her first sexual experience in the back of a sports car with a complete stranger. These are their interpersonal connections. The wider social circumstances link them together too because both are victims of financial exploitation.
Mr. Edge is a businessman who owns the hotel where Herman is eating the car. He is the promoter of the show and also the one who hired Margo to sell her body there to draw customers. Crews uses Mr. Edge to attack the dehumanizing institution of show business. His sole motivation is money and making it through the exploitation of Herman and Margo is his means. He cares nothing about their physical or psychological safety just as long as the money keeps rolling in. In the tradition of P.T. Barnum, he gets rich by making a spectacle out of degradation. If Herman and Margo are paired as objects of exploitation for profit, albeit willing ones, Mr. Edge is equally paired with Herman’s twin brother Mister in the way they both capitalize off Herman’s stunt. Mister sees the potential for getting rich off Herman, elects himself to be his business manager, and bullies Mr. Edge into signing a contract giving him a large percentage of the earnings drawn from the performances. But poetic justice is served when Herman is in too much pain to continue eating the car. Mister, being his identical twin, is forced by Mr. Edge to take Herman’s place on stage without the audience knowing the difference. The results are not pleasant for Mister and you can’t feel sympathy for him because he places money making before family. His wealth derives from using his brother for entertainment, not caring how that might be effecting Herman.
As for the audience, the only reason this kind of entertainment is possible is because millions of people eagerly pay money to watch it. There is something in humanity that is amused by watching people make fools of themselves. It allows us to point our fingers at them and say,”I may not be anything special but at least I’m not the one doing that.” It appeals to our sense of superiority. And as a reading audience we are just as guilty of this as the ones in the ballroom watching Herman eat the car and shit out the pieces. After all, the reason you read this is because you want to watch a guy eat a car. This book confronts you with your own morbid sense of curiosity.
Harry Crews successfully critiques the sleaziness and dehumanization of the entertainment industry. He also critiques the way that cars have become an all consuming fetish in American culture in the way that people celebrate the beauty of the automobiles’ appearance and use, the sentimental attachments people form with their cars, and the fascination with destruction in the form of car crashes and junkyards. But Harry Crews is a humanist and underneath the steely surface of this novel, he finds humanity in the forsaken dreams and past traumas of some of the characters. The world in this book is a rotten world and people like Margo, Herman, and his father are caught up in it. They may have made bad choices, but that is what happens to most people at some time so you can’t fault them for that.
There are two parts of the story that don’t quite work. One is the reason Herman gives for wanting to eat the car. I don’t mean the desire to be famous; I do mean the connection between his childhood trauma and his strange fascination with wanting to devour a motor vehicle. The trauma did involve cars, but I can’t see why he would think that his publicity stunt would compensate for that. The other part is Margo’s self-disclosures. Her explanation of her trade is hard to buy as most prostitutes don’t enter their profession because they love promiscuity. It’s also hard to swallow her explanation for why some prostitutes don’t have gag reflexes (pun intended). It looks like Crews felt he needed to have Margo explain herself, but didn’t have a solid idea of what he wants her to say.
Still, Car is a great book to read. The writing is rough around the edges, but Harry Crews does here what he does best. He lures you in by tempting you with something so sick and absurd that you don’t want to turn away. In the process, he confronts you with observations about human nature you might not have considered otherwise. This novel might comfort you or it might disturb you. It depends on who you are. But never will it bore you. Otherwise, it’s a whole new way of looking at consumer culture.
Fascination for this kind of junk entertainment isn’t limited to America or any one time and place. Previous times gave us carny freak shows and circus side shows with geeks who bit the heads off live chickens. There might be an artistic side to boxing, but in the end all the audience wants to see is somebody being beaten to a bloody pulp. Entertainment in the Roman Empire made a spectacle out of gladiators fighting to the death. Medieval times made bear baiting a sport. Even Shakespeare satirized a talentless theater troupe in the last act of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In more recent times we’ve had TV shows like Fear Factor and The Jerry Springer Show. Jackass was all about people who intentionally hurt themselves for the sake of comedy. In the 1980s, a man from India made it into The Guiness Book of World Records for growing the longest fingernails; he said he did that simply because his life’s goal was to be famous. The contemporary porn industry is partially about people voluntarily subjecting themselves to sexual degradation and humiliation in exchange for large sums of money. In the middle of all this, we’ve got the short novel Car by the master of grit lit himself, Harry Crews.
The lead character of the book is Herman. He grew up in the presence of wrecked cars. His father came up with the idea of making an auto graveyard in Jacksonville, Florida. Open to the public, people can spend a few quiet moments with a car they had crashed or one in which a loved one has died. His sister Junell’s job is to collect the wrecks in her tow truck and stack them up in the yard. His twin brother, strangely named Mister, puts the cars through compactors so they can be sold as scrap metal. The auto graveyard didn’t turn out to be lucrative enough so the family had to start selling the junked vehicles to make money. Herman grew up in this atmosphere, surrounded by auto wrecks at a business that didn’t live up to the vision his father had conceived. The theme of deferred dreams runs throughout the novel and sets us up for what comes later. Speaking of conception, Herman also wonders how many babies are conceived in the back seats of cars. In American culture, the automobile is all pervasive. It is alpha and omega and everything in between. Automobiles are fetishized for sexuality and status, and in Herman’s case, automobiles are food.
Herman is a dreamer. His dream is to become famous. How does a man whose talents extend no further than running a junkyard become famous? He captures the attention of the world by announcing that he will eat a car in public, piece by piece, over the course of several years. The news spreads all over America and even gets as far as Japan. When the time comes, he appears on stage in a hotel ballroom in front of a packed audience twice a day. For the morning show, he eats little pieces of the car and for the late show, he poops the pieces out after passing through his digestive system. The pieces are then sold for outrageous amounts of money and some are made into model replicas of the car he is eating. This is broadcast live on television and Herman’s fame keeps growing.
Herman is narratively paired up with a prostitute named Margo. She works at the hotel where Herman’s car consumption takes place. As the two bond with each other, she offers to have sex with him for free. She has a bit of a car fetish and sleeping with him will be the closest she ever comes to having sex with a car. As the saying goes, you are what you eat. The two becomes friends rather than lovers since they connect at a human level. Both of them attempt to consume something that can’t be entirely consumed. Herman wants to consume a car and Margo wants to consume sexuality itself by sleeping with as many men as possibly. Both of them attempt to fill a void resulting from past experience. Herman is haunted by a childhood trauma that happened in the auto graveyard and Margo was disappointed with her first sexual experience in the back of a sports car with a complete stranger. These are their interpersonal connections. The wider social circumstances link them together too because both are victims of financial exploitation.
Mr. Edge is a businessman who owns the hotel where Herman is eating the car. He is the promoter of the show and also the one who hired Margo to sell her body there to draw customers. Crews uses Mr. Edge to attack the dehumanizing institution of show business. His sole motivation is money and making it through the exploitation of Herman and Margo is his means. He cares nothing about their physical or psychological safety just as long as the money keeps rolling in. In the tradition of P.T. Barnum, he gets rich by making a spectacle out of degradation. If Herman and Margo are paired as objects of exploitation for profit, albeit willing ones, Mr. Edge is equally paired with Herman’s twin brother Mister in the way they both capitalize off Herman’s stunt. Mister sees the potential for getting rich off Herman, elects himself to be his business manager, and bullies Mr. Edge into signing a contract giving him a large percentage of the earnings drawn from the performances. But poetic justice is served when Herman is in too much pain to continue eating the car. Mister, being his identical twin, is forced by Mr. Edge to take Herman’s place on stage without the audience knowing the difference. The results are not pleasant for Mister and you can’t feel sympathy for him because he places money making before family. His wealth derives from using his brother for entertainment, not caring how that might be effecting Herman.
As for the audience, the only reason this kind of entertainment is possible is because millions of people eagerly pay money to watch it. There is something in humanity that is amused by watching people make fools of themselves. It allows us to point our fingers at them and say,”I may not be anything special but at least I’m not the one doing that.” It appeals to our sense of superiority. And as a reading audience we are just as guilty of this as the ones in the ballroom watching Herman eat the car and shit out the pieces. After all, the reason you read this is because you want to watch a guy eat a car. This book confronts you with your own morbid sense of curiosity.
Harry Crews successfully critiques the sleaziness and dehumanization of the entertainment industry. He also critiques the way that cars have become an all consuming fetish in American culture in the way that people celebrate the beauty of the automobiles’ appearance and use, the sentimental attachments people form with their cars, and the fascination with destruction in the form of car crashes and junkyards. But Harry Crews is a humanist and underneath the steely surface of this novel, he finds humanity in the forsaken dreams and past traumas of some of the characters. The world in this book is a rotten world and people like Margo, Herman, and his father are caught up in it. They may have made bad choices, but that is what happens to most people at some time so you can’t fault them for that.
There are two parts of the story that don’t quite work. One is the reason Herman gives for wanting to eat the car. I don’t mean the desire to be famous; I do mean the connection between his childhood trauma and his strange fascination with wanting to devour a motor vehicle. The trauma did involve cars, but I can’t see why he would think that his publicity stunt would compensate for that. The other part is Margo’s self-disclosures. Her explanation of her trade is hard to buy as most prostitutes don’t enter their profession because they love promiscuity. It’s also hard to swallow her explanation for why some prostitutes don’t have gag reflexes (pun intended). It looks like Crews felt he needed to have Margo explain herself, but didn’t have a solid idea of what he wants her to say.
Still, Car is a great book to read. The writing is rough around the edges, but Harry Crews does here what he does best. He lures you in by tempting you with something so sick and absurd that you don’t want to turn away. In the process, he confronts you with observations about human nature you might not have considered otherwise. This novel might comfort you or it might disturb you. It depends on who you are. But never will it bore you. Otherwise, it’s a whole new way of looking at consumer culture.
March 13, 2024
Many reviewers of this novel like to comment on how obvious the central metaphor seems: Consumerism in America depicted as a simple lower class American literally consuming a Ford automobile with various scumbags and ne'er do wells trying to take advantage of him for profit. But these reviews leave out the most important part of the story. As soon as Herman voices the central traumatic moment of his life, his ability to consume stops. Similarly, as soon as Mona witnesses Herman’s change, she moves on from questionable predilections as well.
Crews is explaining why we consume, what motivates us, and how we are traumatized into self-destructive behavior patterns. Underlying those patterns is the belief--often unsaid--that by running ourselves into the ground or repeating that pattern until failure, we can break the pattern and thereby free ourselves from it. Unfortunately, the truth is that patterns are never broken, they are walked away from. Crews is saying that sometimes it takes work to understand where the pattern began for us—which often happened well before we were even born--and that if we can see where we fell into it, then maybe we can walk away from it. In other words, we can self-actualize.
It may seem simple at first but there is real and real complicated insight there. And it’s beautifully wrapped in a grotesque, funny, shocking, and disturbing little chunk of southern gothic(ish) goodness—and all in less than 200 pages! Really good stuff. This is what so many modern satirical/transgressive authors wish they could do.
Crews is explaining why we consume, what motivates us, and how we are traumatized into self-destructive behavior patterns. Underlying those patterns is the belief--often unsaid--that by running ourselves into the ground or repeating that pattern until failure, we can break the pattern and thereby free ourselves from it. Unfortunately, the truth is that patterns are never broken, they are walked away from. Crews is saying that sometimes it takes work to understand where the pattern began for us—which often happened well before we were even born--and that if we can see where we fell into it, then maybe we can walk away from it. In other words, we can self-actualize.
It may seem simple at first but there is real and real complicated insight there. And it’s beautifully wrapped in a grotesque, funny, shocking, and disturbing little chunk of southern gothic(ish) goodness—and all in less than 200 pages! Really good stuff. This is what so many modern satirical/transgressive authors wish they could do.
September 25, 2010
read this one awhile back. this guy gets it in his head to eat a car. big to-do about it, a stage is set up where he passes the parts that are wrenched off the automobile, view of him there set up high and it's understood that he is sitting on a throne, passing parts. clink!
sure, funny, you bet! toward the end you can hear the machinery clanking as one of ben hur's chariots is lowered from the ceiling. you can almost hear that sexy-voice, like in the day-time soaps?...voice speaking as all of the characters on the set pause as this voice, that they can't hear, speaks? yeah. but still, a good story.
sure, funny, you bet! toward the end you can hear the machinery clanking as one of ben hur's chariots is lowered from the ceiling. you can almost hear that sexy-voice, like in the day-time soaps?...voice speaking as all of the characters on the set pause as this voice, that they can't hear, speaks? yeah. but still, a good story.
November 26, 2022
Family drama around a man eating a car.
Crews captures American culture with a perverse comedic wit that turns otherwise mundane charchters into fascinating subjects.
This was not quite as good as "Body," but I would say it is similar in structure. Family being slowly torn down by their obsession around an niche culture deeply rooted in Americana.
I would probably lean towards a 3.5 but the last two chapters are really well executed, Crews often ends on a revelatory note and I really love the strong switch in the family dynamic and the amount of chaos it causes acorss the last few chapters.
Crews captures American culture with a perverse comedic wit that turns otherwise mundane charchters into fascinating subjects.
This was not quite as good as "Body," but I would say it is similar in structure. Family being slowly torn down by their obsession around an niche culture deeply rooted in Americana.
I would probably lean towards a 3.5 but the last two chapters are really well executed, Crews often ends on a revelatory note and I really love the strong switch in the family dynamic and the amount of chaos it causes acorss the last few chapters.
February 8, 2024
This should be taught in schools.
May 1, 2025
I’m glad I held out for this.
One of the strangest things I’ve ever read, and oddly beautiful. Also—incredibly horny for some reason.
One of the strangest things I’ve ever read, and oddly beautiful. Also—incredibly horny for some reason.
February 4, 2025
bless your mind, H. Crews
May 6, 2019
The Mack family of Florida owns Auto Town, a business that crushes totaled cars and sells the scrap metal. Easy Mack is the father, his daughter Junelle drives a tow truck (and has erotic encounters with a state trooper at the scenes of accidents), his son Mister operates the car crush, and his other son, Herman (Mister's twin brother), wants bigger things out of life and has announced that he will ear a Ford Maverick, half a pound at a time, in the ballroom of a Jacksonville hotel, thus gaining fame and fortune. This is an offbeat, whacked-out novel, that I breezed through -- not only because it was so short, but also because it was so engrossing. It might not be to everyone's taste, but I loved it.
April 22, 2020
How can people not give this a 5? I am re-reading this in 2020 and it really has not aged as a piece of writing from 1972.
I think some people don't like Crews who was an aggressively blue-collar stylist, but he really doesn't compare badly to Hemingway in my opinion.
An excerpt from early in the book. When I read something like this, I'm grabbed. Not everyone is.
I have to think that Ballard read this when he wrote Crash. Crews has a couple of characters, a trooper and a tow truck operator, who can only perform sexually in his cruiser at the scene of an accident. In fact they try to hook up when she is given a free room at the hotel where her brother is supposed to publicly eat the Ford Maverick, and cannot consummate. Is it just a coincidence?
I think some people don't like Crews who was an aggressively blue-collar stylist, but he really doesn't compare badly to Hemingway in my opinion.
An excerpt from early in the book. When I read something like this, I'm grabbed. Not everyone is.
Twenty-five tons of machinery waited, poised on rails at either end of the car-crusher, to shorten the Cadillac, to reduce it to a manageable unlovely square lump.
. . .
The voices pumped quietly in Mister's head. Quietly he participated in the car's evolution. He saw the first Cadillacs--solid and square as Sherman tanks. But gradually, they were attenuated by the wind, stretched and smoothed like teardrops. Then the first evidence of a fin began to appear. A small bump at the small end of the teardrop. And from that small bump there grew a giant fin of such proportions as to take the breath away. It swam through all the garages from ocean to ocean, from Canada to Mexico. It went upstream, savage and unrelenting, to the headwaters of the American heart. And there it remained. There it would always remain. Who could doubt it?
I have to think that Ballard read this when he wrote Crash. Crews has a couple of characters, a trooper and a tow truck operator, who can only perform sexually in his cruiser at the scene of an accident. In fact they try to hook up when she is given a free room at the hotel where her brother is supposed to publicly eat the Ford Maverick, and cannot consummate. Is it just a coincidence?
January 15, 2015
Such an interesting read. It read like a cartoon in its absurdity, but it certainly wasn't for kids. It was so funny, but while laughing at the cartoon, there was something earnestly, heartbreakingly real about it.
Remember, the car kills. Many may romanticize a joy ride, but no one thinks they'll die in a car wreck. And so America is a Cadillac. No matter how perfect it seems, it's not perfect. It never will be. And people are going to get hurt when they fall for it and eat it up like cake.
Love this quote:
So good.
This isn't Harry Crews best. I can't imagine anything will ever beat Celebration for me, but I hope to be proven wrong. Half the time when I read Crews, I hate it, but I hurry to the end because I can't stop reading and, by then, I love it.
Remember, the car kills. Many may romanticize a joy ride, but no one thinks they'll die in a car wreck. And so America is a Cadillac. No matter how perfect it seems, it's not perfect. It never will be. And people are going to get hurt when they fall for it and eat it up like cake.
Love this quote:
"And I think because I love it so much, I can't stand for it to cause that kind of pain in me. I mean I can stand the pain - I think I could stand the pain if it was just pain - but I can't stand that kind of pain from something I love."
So good.
This isn't Harry Crews best. I can't imagine anything will ever beat Celebration for me, but I hope to be proven wrong. Half the time when I read Crews, I hate it, but I hurry to the end because I can't stop reading and, by then, I love it.
December 13, 2020
A great book for grownups. Not a thriller, not a romance, not a sci-fi/fantasy. Not your New Yorker literary contortion, not an arduous endless tome. It doesn't fit neatly in a niche. Just a plain ol' entertaining page-turner. Hey, who writes those any more? Structure, dialogue, characters, and a ridiculous, hilarious plot. I'd like to see the movie! So many reviewers can't lighten up: seeking a metaphor, a message, a commentary. Relax already and enjoy.
February 2, 2015
As if Kafka wrote Metamorphosis in the context of twentieth century american car culture.
June 1, 2023
I would eat my 1999 Honda Accord, personally
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March 8, 2025
Harry Crews haciendo de Harry Crews. Qué pena que no desarrolle más a los secundarios, que en esta novela tienen una potencia inusual.
Libro más "redondo" de lo que me tiene acostumbrado, aunque (spoilers)...
Libro más "redondo" de lo que me tiene acostumbrado, aunque (spoilers)...
August 15, 2019
Strangely funny and entertaining. It's a dark satire about Americas obsession with cars and one mans goal to eat an entire car, piece by piece. This book is worth reading for per entertainment and enjoyment
October 21, 2022
3.5 stars. This is one that might have been great if written by Vonnegut. But, even though its my third Crew’s read, it was the one that got me interested in him even before reading it. Won’t be the last.
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