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Caroline Mabry #2
In het land der blinden
Jess Walter, a reporter whose first novel fictionalized the true crime story of a serial killer in Spokane, Washington, (Over Tumbled Graves) has penned a riveting, elegiac thriller about a middle-aged man who wants Spokane police detective Caroline Mabry to witness his confession to a crime that hasn't yet been discovered. As Clark Mason writes the long story of a childhood friendship gone horribly wrong, readers will shudder, remembering their own tortured adolescence and revisiting it in that of Eli Boyle, whose physical and social awkwardness made him a natural target for his peers. Back then, even Clark joined the crowd in making fun of Eli. But he also showed him some kindness--enough to make Eli agree to let Clark turn his fantasy game, Empire, into a high-tech start-up years later, and to bankroll Clark's run for Congress. But when the technology boom goes bust and Clark's dreams run out of steam, Eli makes a last, frightening bid for what he's always wanted--revenge on those who made his childhood hell, including the woman Clark has loved since high school. Walter's abilities as a prose stylist and his sense of narrative tension shine through in this extremely well written novel, which is far stronger than his first, but shares its deep sense of time and place. --Jane Adams
Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 2003
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About the author
Jess Walter
49 books2,694 followersJess Walter is the author of eight novels and one nonfiction book. His work has been translated into more than 20 languages and his essays, short fiction, criticism and journalism have been widely published, in Details, Playboy, Newsweek, The Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, The Boston Globe among many others.
Walter also writes screenplays and was the co-author of Christopher Darden’s 1996 bestseller In Contempt. He lives with his wife Anne and children, Brooklyn, Ava and Alec in his childhood home of Spokane, Washington.
Walter also writes screenplays and was the co-author of Christopher Darden’s 1996 bestseller In Contempt. He lives with his wife Anne and children, Brooklyn, Ava and Alec in his childhood home of Spokane, Washington.
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February 14, 2019
I love Jess Walter, as I said in other reviews I believe he is a notch above most other contemporary writers. Here is a great comment about "Land of the Blind" by the author himself:
"I wanted to write a darkly comic and suspenseful coming-of-age crime novel about politics, philosophy, the tech bubble, and the way people drag their teenage selves through the rest of our lives. And like a beginning juggler who has tentatively tossed an apple, a chainsaw, and two bowling pins in the air, and is now reaching for a saber and a football, I decided that my confessionary novel would be structured like a mystery, only in reverse - starting not with a body, but a killer - and that it would be a sequel to my first book."
The plot opens in a very intriguing way: while working the weekend night shift, Caroline Mabry, a weary Spokane police detective, encounters a seemingly unstable but charming derelict who tells her, "I'd like to confess." But he insists on writing out his statement in longhand. In the forty-eight hours that follow, the stranger confesses to not just a crime but an entire life—spinning a wry and haunting tale of youth and adulthood, of obsession and revenge, and of two men's intertwined lives.
"Land of the blind" is an original novel, just like any other novel written by Jess Walter (I've now read them all except for "The Zero"). It's original in its structure, because for being a crime novel, it doesn't show you any body or murder until the very end. It's original in the fact that it's written in a very literary style, often verging on the poetic. I read some other crime fiction recently (Dark Places), defined as "literary crime fiction" by the editor, but there was a huge difference: where "Dark places" is "literary" in a formal sense, with an above-average use of terminology, analogies and metaphors, but overall pretty cold, "Land of the blind" is "literary" in a deeper sense: the style is much warmer, intimate and personal, and where "Dark places" is pretty shallow, "Land of the blind" carried a deeper meaning.
So deep and personal, in fact, that there's no way to ignore the fact the the mysterious protagonist, Clark, has a glass eye, and Mr Jess Walter (the author) does too. And difficult to ignore the intimate reference to the famous "Monoculus rex est in terra coecorum" quote, or "The one-eyed man is a king in the land of the blind", where the book's title comes from. Walter blends fiction with his own experience of living through high-school years in Spokane, and the result is so realistic it's creepy, as it reminds you of the silent tragedies we all lived through in the turbulent years of our adolescence.
Another Jess Walter trademark is to put so many elements in his novels, so disparate from each other that you think it's going to be a whole mess, but then somehow he's able to make them gel and ultimately pull it off. As he said in the quote above: an apple, a chainsaw, a saber, a bowling pin.... but somehow, it all fits together well.
As always, Walter pours his whole heart out on the page. He is clearly using language to put on the page his deep feelings, rather than (like other authors sometimes do) starting from language and using it as a mean to induce feelings in the reader. That's why his books often feels inspired, almost like reading poetry. Here's a paraphraph I liked:
"We never learn anything. Our lives circle back around endlessly, presenting us with the same problems so we can make the same mistakes. We pretend we are moving forward but we live on a globe rotating on an axis, orbiting a burning sphere that is itself orbiting with a million other round hot stones. In a universe of circles, movement is just the illusion that comes from spinning, like a carousel - the faster it spins, the faster the world moves around it".
But then, despite this being one of the darker and more melancholic of his novels (sometimes infused with real, raw sadness), there is still a lot of Walter's sense of humor, that was a delightful discovery for me in "Beautiful Ruins" and "The financial lives of the poets".
And Walter's hometown, Spokane, with its gloom and hopelessness, is - as always - not only background to the story but an integral part of the novel: "... looked out the window at the glittering skyline of Spokane. I've always thought it a strange city that way: a city of illusion, at night its downtown big and sparkling, but during the day small and decaying, with big gaps between the buildings. At night, you can imagine great things here. But daytime in Spokane is cold and real".
"I wanted to write a darkly comic and suspenseful coming-of-age crime novel about politics, philosophy, the tech bubble, and the way people drag their teenage selves through the rest of our lives. And like a beginning juggler who has tentatively tossed an apple, a chainsaw, and two bowling pins in the air, and is now reaching for a saber and a football, I decided that my confessionary novel would be structured like a mystery, only in reverse - starting not with a body, but a killer - and that it would be a sequel to my first book."
The plot opens in a very intriguing way: while working the weekend night shift, Caroline Mabry, a weary Spokane police detective, encounters a seemingly unstable but charming derelict who tells her, "I'd like to confess." But he insists on writing out his statement in longhand. In the forty-eight hours that follow, the stranger confesses to not just a crime but an entire life—spinning a wry and haunting tale of youth and adulthood, of obsession and revenge, and of two men's intertwined lives.
"Land of the blind" is an original novel, just like any other novel written by Jess Walter (I've now read them all except for "The Zero"). It's original in its structure, because for being a crime novel, it doesn't show you any body or murder until the very end. It's original in the fact that it's written in a very literary style, often verging on the poetic. I read some other crime fiction recently (Dark Places), defined as "literary crime fiction" by the editor, but there was a huge difference: where "Dark places" is "literary" in a formal sense, with an above-average use of terminology, analogies and metaphors, but overall pretty cold, "Land of the blind" is "literary" in a deeper sense: the style is much warmer, intimate and personal, and where "Dark places" is pretty shallow, "Land of the blind" carried a deeper meaning.
So deep and personal, in fact, that there's no way to ignore the fact the the mysterious protagonist, Clark, has a glass eye, and Mr Jess Walter (the author) does too. And difficult to ignore the intimate reference to the famous "Monoculus rex est in terra coecorum" quote, or "The one-eyed man is a king in the land of the blind", where the book's title comes from. Walter blends fiction with his own experience of living through high-school years in Spokane, and the result is so realistic it's creepy, as it reminds you of the silent tragedies we all lived through in the turbulent years of our adolescence.
Another Jess Walter trademark is to put so many elements in his novels, so disparate from each other that you think it's going to be a whole mess, but then somehow he's able to make them gel and ultimately pull it off. As he said in the quote above: an apple, a chainsaw, a saber, a bowling pin.... but somehow, it all fits together well.
As always, Walter pours his whole heart out on the page. He is clearly using language to put on the page his deep feelings, rather than (like other authors sometimes do) starting from language and using it as a mean to induce feelings in the reader. That's why his books often feels inspired, almost like reading poetry. Here's a paraphraph I liked:
"We never learn anything. Our lives circle back around endlessly, presenting us with the same problems so we can make the same mistakes. We pretend we are moving forward but we live on a globe rotating on an axis, orbiting a burning sphere that is itself orbiting with a million other round hot stones. In a universe of circles, movement is just the illusion that comes from spinning, like a carousel - the faster it spins, the faster the world moves around it".
But then, despite this being one of the darker and more melancholic of his novels (sometimes infused with real, raw sadness), there is still a lot of Walter's sense of humor, that was a delightful discovery for me in "Beautiful Ruins" and "The financial lives of the poets".
And Walter's hometown, Spokane, with its gloom and hopelessness, is - as always - not only background to the story but an integral part of the novel: "... looked out the window at the glittering skyline of Spokane. I've always thought it a strange city that way: a city of illusion, at night its downtown big and sparkling, but during the day small and decaying, with big gaps between the buildings. At night, you can imagine great things here. But daytime in Spokane is cold and real".
January 23, 2019
It just doesn’t get any better than when Jess Walter tells a story, and Land of the Blind, his second novel featuring Spokane Detective Caroline Mabry, is yet another sterling example of Walter’s creative genius—a book that is worthy of a five star rating.
The first big star speaks to the quality of the structure—an innovative approach that alternates between two narratives, each imbued with a voice that is as unique as it is engaging. Initial, and then rotating, chapters are told in third person as Carolyn Mabry is given the unwelcome task of taking a confession from a man whom police fished from a hotel ledge—a man everyone at the station is calling a “loon”. The only thing he will tell the officers is that he is confessing to a homicide, and he intially hesitates to offer anything further, not knowing where or how to begin. Eventually Mabry convinces him to write his confession—and write he does. In these chapters, told in first person, the man from the ledge recounts his story, seemingly being written even as the reader is consuming the words. He works his way to revealing his name, then to explaining his crime. In the interludes within his story, the reader is audience to Mabry’s investigation, as she works to first identify, then locate, the victim before the written confession is complete. In the tradition of most suspense novels, the plot snakes in serpentine patterns, twisting and turning as the action unfolds.
The second star is for that winding plot, at once convoluted and complex, complicated and yet somehow beautifully simple: a story of the cruelties of youth, first loves and the occasionally painful consequences of our ill-conceived actions. Though the overarching premise is one of a man’s guilt-ridden conscience, crime, and ultimate confession, it is the confession itself that is the heart of this work. It is filled with rich episode snippets in the life of a man with a fractured self-image that is based upon the perceptions of others. Readers born in the mid to late 60s will appreciate the references to the culture of the time—the products made popular, the music being played and even the athletes who were idolized—as the confessions plays out. Beginning with his childhood, the man from the ledge spends 48 hours filling tablet after tablet with a retelling of events that he claims led to the very recent death of a friend, a death for which he is responsible.
Star number three is awarded for the dynamic and diverse characters. Though first published in 2003, the characters remain relevant today, 16 years later. From the high school bully to the consummate and quiet stoner, the academic young girl to the neighborhood outcasts, the reader is able to invest in each as their relationships are explored with glaring clarity, unedited and raw. Walter presents characters so real it is as if the reader can reach out and touch them as they reach back.
Star four is for the wordsmithing. If there’s any doubt as to Walter’s talent, that concern is extinguished through passages such as this:
“...she wore a long, tight print skirt with no sign of her old smart-girl self-consciousness, and watching her walk in it, a man could be forgiven if he thought of trading everything—family, career, self-respect—for one day spent tracing that skirt’s gentle roll over hips and thighs, to the calf, where a glimpse of smooth, tanned ankle revealed a simple silver bracelet, a dizzying piece of jewelry that was impossible to ignore, to avoid imagining it as the only thing left on her, gleaming in the light from a bedroom candle.”
His ability to paint a visual that is also sensual and moving is beyond reproach.
The final star is for Walter’s ability to tell a tragically compelling story that is also steeped in social satire and dark humor. There are laugh out loud funny moments as well as tragic revelations that will make readers weep; the idea that nature and nurture are inextricably linked, that we are as much products of our environments as we are victims of fate.
If you’ve never read Jess Walter’s work, I can only ask why not and encourage you to drop everything you’re doing and read it now. Land of the Blind is the perfect place to start.
The first big star speaks to the quality of the structure—an innovative approach that alternates between two narratives, each imbued with a voice that is as unique as it is engaging. Initial, and then rotating, chapters are told in third person as Carolyn Mabry is given the unwelcome task of taking a confession from a man whom police fished from a hotel ledge—a man everyone at the station is calling a “loon”. The only thing he will tell the officers is that he is confessing to a homicide, and he intially hesitates to offer anything further, not knowing where or how to begin. Eventually Mabry convinces him to write his confession—and write he does. In these chapters, told in first person, the man from the ledge recounts his story, seemingly being written even as the reader is consuming the words. He works his way to revealing his name, then to explaining his crime. In the interludes within his story, the reader is audience to Mabry’s investigation, as she works to first identify, then locate, the victim before the written confession is complete. In the tradition of most suspense novels, the plot snakes in serpentine patterns, twisting and turning as the action unfolds.
The second star is for that winding plot, at once convoluted and complex, complicated and yet somehow beautifully simple: a story of the cruelties of youth, first loves and the occasionally painful consequences of our ill-conceived actions. Though the overarching premise is one of a man’s guilt-ridden conscience, crime, and ultimate confession, it is the confession itself that is the heart of this work. It is filled with rich episode snippets in the life of a man with a fractured self-image that is based upon the perceptions of others. Readers born in the mid to late 60s will appreciate the references to the culture of the time—the products made popular, the music being played and even the athletes who were idolized—as the confessions plays out. Beginning with his childhood, the man from the ledge spends 48 hours filling tablet after tablet with a retelling of events that he claims led to the very recent death of a friend, a death for which he is responsible.
Star number three is awarded for the dynamic and diverse characters. Though first published in 2003, the characters remain relevant today, 16 years later. From the high school bully to the consummate and quiet stoner, the academic young girl to the neighborhood outcasts, the reader is able to invest in each as their relationships are explored with glaring clarity, unedited and raw. Walter presents characters so real it is as if the reader can reach out and touch them as they reach back.
Star four is for the wordsmithing. If there’s any doubt as to Walter’s talent, that concern is extinguished through passages such as this:
“...she wore a long, tight print skirt with no sign of her old smart-girl self-consciousness, and watching her walk in it, a man could be forgiven if he thought of trading everything—family, career, self-respect—for one day spent tracing that skirt’s gentle roll over hips and thighs, to the calf, where a glimpse of smooth, tanned ankle revealed a simple silver bracelet, a dizzying piece of jewelry that was impossible to ignore, to avoid imagining it as the only thing left on her, gleaming in the light from a bedroom candle.”
His ability to paint a visual that is also sensual and moving is beyond reproach.
The final star is for Walter’s ability to tell a tragically compelling story that is also steeped in social satire and dark humor. There are laugh out loud funny moments as well as tragic revelations that will make readers weep; the idea that nature and nurture are inextricably linked, that we are as much products of our environments as we are victims of fate.
If you’ve never read Jess Walter’s work, I can only ask why not and encourage you to drop everything you’re doing and read it now. Land of the Blind is the perfect place to start.
April 11, 2011
It’s a goal of mine to scare up votes for Jess Walter’s induction into the Pantheon of Great American Storytellers. Land of the Blind justifies his nomination. [Citizen Vince (see review) does even more so.] He’s never slow, he adds insights without overdoing it, his dialogue is bang on, and his plots keep Kindle screens refreshing incessantly. I like his style, too – kind of edgy, but with a genuine regard for his characters. If you were to shoehorn this one into a category, I guess it would be a police procedural, but in no way do you need to be a fan of the genre to enjoy it.
Clark Mason was found high up on the ledge of an abandoned hotel with too much on his mind. He’s in need of some grooming, and he’s wearing an eye patch, but police detective Caroline Mabry is oddly attracted – this despite being pegged as a “loon” in her diacritical taxonomy. He tells her he has something to confess. But this is not your typical kind of here’s-the-crime/here’s-how-I-did-it admission. In fact, he’s vague about what of the act was even criminal. He sells it as a story of a bad thing that happened for which his own culpability was key. To appreciate the guilt, he said, you had to understand the context. Caroline took the bait and soon became the Father confessor. It was a protracted statement that they decided he should write out himself. He fills multiple legal pads over multiple days. In the meantime, Caroline digs up what she can of Clark’s background and recent woes. It’s quite a story. And the context is important.
The book has two storytellers. Clark, with his first-person account beginning in grade school, was one; and an omniscient narrator, with the focus on Caroline’s investigation, was the other. Clark’s chronological telling is where we first encounter Eli, a complete social misfit with clumsiness, smelliness, and bad skin just the tip of the iceberg in his ostracized existence. Both he and Clark suffered at the hand of the neighborhood bully, but came out of it differently. Much of the rest of the tale involves their interactions and separate fortunes. I won’t reveal anything, but I will say that both are very interesting in a real-life, human kind of way. Clark’s self-awareness allows us to empathize. The independent assessments that Caroline digs up from people who knew him at various stages round out our view.
I’m going to hold back one star because it was ever so slightly clichéd and ever so slightly implausible. To the latter point, I had trouble accepting that Clark’s written output could be so comprehensive and polished all in a weekend’s time. Then again, maybe the fact that it was so good should be celebrated for the enjoyment it brings, however implausibly. The other reason I’m stingy with the extra star is that Citizen Vince, a book I liked even more, needs a one-better rating. Still, this one was much the same: memorable characters, great writing, and a real attention grabber.
Clark Mason was found high up on the ledge of an abandoned hotel with too much on his mind. He’s in need of some grooming, and he’s wearing an eye patch, but police detective Caroline Mabry is oddly attracted – this despite being pegged as a “loon” in her diacritical taxonomy. He tells her he has something to confess. But this is not your typical kind of here’s-the-crime/here’s-how-I-did-it admission. In fact, he’s vague about what of the act was even criminal. He sells it as a story of a bad thing that happened for which his own culpability was key. To appreciate the guilt, he said, you had to understand the context. Caroline took the bait and soon became the Father confessor. It was a protracted statement that they decided he should write out himself. He fills multiple legal pads over multiple days. In the meantime, Caroline digs up what she can of Clark’s background and recent woes. It’s quite a story. And the context is important.
The book has two storytellers. Clark, with his first-person account beginning in grade school, was one; and an omniscient narrator, with the focus on Caroline’s investigation, was the other. Clark’s chronological telling is where we first encounter Eli, a complete social misfit with clumsiness, smelliness, and bad skin just the tip of the iceberg in his ostracized existence. Both he and Clark suffered at the hand of the neighborhood bully, but came out of it differently. Much of the rest of the tale involves their interactions and separate fortunes. I won’t reveal anything, but I will say that both are very interesting in a real-life, human kind of way. Clark’s self-awareness allows us to empathize. The independent assessments that Caroline digs up from people who knew him at various stages round out our view.
I’m going to hold back one star because it was ever so slightly clichéd and ever so slightly implausible. To the latter point, I had trouble accepting that Clark’s written output could be so comprehensive and polished all in a weekend’s time. Then again, maybe the fact that it was so good should be celebrated for the enjoyment it brings, however implausibly. The other reason I’m stingy with the extra star is that Citizen Vince, a book I liked even more, needs a one-better rating. Still, this one was much the same: memorable characters, great writing, and a real attention grabber.
March 22, 2019
I’m a writer who makes a living mostly by editing, and to my longtime Goodreads friends it’s probably obvious that I don’t read like a civilian. That said, I’m going one step further in my response to Land of the Blind, my seventh Jess Walter book, by gushing and delighting in a way that is generally shared only in writers’ private conversations.
Lots of novelists aspire to make money and very few succeed. Some of the few who make a living garner success with formulaic works, which are really the only thing they’re good at. And even fewer get so successful that they actually hire other writers to replicate their formulas and create their books. In the publishing world, moneymakers are sought because they support the majority of books published that make no money at all.
Sometimes, in private, writers look at some of the blockbuster books that support their literary novels and can’t believe that stuff sells; we call the creators hacks, secretly wishing that we too could grind out something that would pay the rent.
Jess Walter seems to be the rare animal with the agility and ability to do it all, and this delights other writers who watch with glee, understanding exactly what he’s accomplishing. Literary novelists jump up and down at his masterful technique as he applies it to a book that conveys his deep need to express something (Citizen Vince, We All Live in Water, The Zero) or switches to a crowd-pleaser (Beautiful Ruins) or something in between (The Financial Lives of Poets).
With Land of the Blind, I can imagine the conversations—with his wife, his agent, his publisher—about writing for the market:
“I’ve got to make some money,” he moans. “We’ve got to reroof the house and now the goddam boiler broke.”
“And don’t forget the kids,” prompts Mrs. Walter. “Unless you want them growing old in the basement, we have got to start a college fund.”
“How about a series?” suggests his agent.
“Yeah,” chimes his publisher. “There’s all the subrights—TV, movies. Strong women roles are selling off the charts what with all these high-powered actresses with production companies. Maybe a strong woman cop. Whadeya think, Jess?”
“We could probably sell subrights preprint,” surmises the agent.
And so a cop series, starring lovely loner homicide detective Caroline Mabry is born.
In this volume, there is an ingeniously inserted literary memoir (the meat of the book), including a boyhood story akin to Stephen King’s nostalgic but warped young boy stories. There is a mysterious case and a confession that opens up the notion of crime and confession to philosophic examination. There is sex, attraction, deception and rejection, revenge and regrets—all done with Jess Walter’s facile literary technique, introspection, love of architecture and humanity, humor, understanding, and palpable joy at telling stories.
Jess Walter is no hack, and what a delight it is to watch him work his chops!
Lots of novelists aspire to make money and very few succeed. Some of the few who make a living garner success with formulaic works, which are really the only thing they’re good at. And even fewer get so successful that they actually hire other writers to replicate their formulas and create their books. In the publishing world, moneymakers are sought because they support the majority of books published that make no money at all.
Sometimes, in private, writers look at some of the blockbuster books that support their literary novels and can’t believe that stuff sells; we call the creators hacks, secretly wishing that we too could grind out something that would pay the rent.
Jess Walter seems to be the rare animal with the agility and ability to do it all, and this delights other writers who watch with glee, understanding exactly what he’s accomplishing. Literary novelists jump up and down at his masterful technique as he applies it to a book that conveys his deep need to express something (Citizen Vince, We All Live in Water, The Zero) or switches to a crowd-pleaser (Beautiful Ruins) or something in between (The Financial Lives of Poets).
With Land of the Blind, I can imagine the conversations—with his wife, his agent, his publisher—about writing for the market:
“I’ve got to make some money,” he moans. “We’ve got to reroof the house and now the goddam boiler broke.”
“And don’t forget the kids,” prompts Mrs. Walter. “Unless you want them growing old in the basement, we have got to start a college fund.”
“How about a series?” suggests his agent.
“Yeah,” chimes his publisher. “There’s all the subrights—TV, movies. Strong women roles are selling off the charts what with all these high-powered actresses with production companies. Maybe a strong woman cop. Whadeya think, Jess?”
“We could probably sell subrights preprint,” surmises the agent.
And so a cop series, starring lovely loner homicide detective Caroline Mabry is born.
In this volume, there is an ingeniously inserted literary memoir (the meat of the book), including a boyhood story akin to Stephen King’s nostalgic but warped young boy stories. There is a mysterious case and a confession that opens up the notion of crime and confession to philosophic examination. There is sex, attraction, deception and rejection, revenge and regrets—all done with Jess Walter’s facile literary technique, introspection, love of architecture and humanity, humor, understanding, and palpable joy at telling stories.
Jess Walter is no hack, and what a delight it is to watch him work his chops!
November 4, 2012
I write books for a living. I edit books. I publish books. I =live= books. But I rarely find myself impressed by books.
I'm impressed enough with Jess Walter to read his books. Now I find myself impressed enough with Land of the Blind to get off my jaded butt to recommend it to anyone who was ever teased in school, or bullied, or humiliated, or moved by the fear of any of the above to act against his better nature.
This is a book written in pain; it is painful to read, painful to relive personal moments like the moments it churns back into the light. Beyond being a work of beauty wrought from words, it is a book of truth wrought from memories of pain.
If you were ever, for just one moment, a schoolkid in over your head, with repressed memories of the you you'd rather not face, here's that rare opportunity to take it out, to examine it, to tell you that it wasn't as bad as it seemed.
Land of the Blind is a lifetime's worth of truth-telling therapy for about the price of lunch.
I'm impressed enough with Jess Walter to read his books. Now I find myself impressed enough with Land of the Blind to get off my jaded butt to recommend it to anyone who was ever teased in school, or bullied, or humiliated, or moved by the fear of any of the above to act against his better nature.
This is a book written in pain; it is painful to read, painful to relive personal moments like the moments it churns back into the light. Beyond being a work of beauty wrought from words, it is a book of truth wrought from memories of pain.
If you were ever, for just one moment, a schoolkid in over your head, with repressed memories of the you you'd rather not face, here's that rare opportunity to take it out, to examine it, to tell you that it wasn't as bad as it seemed.
Land of the Blind is a lifetime's worth of truth-telling therapy for about the price of lunch.
July 29, 2013
Land of the Blind was not a fun read. Clark, the main character reveals in tortuous detail his adolescence . Walter's characters always seem to come from the seamy side of Spokane. He writes with so much pathos and detail, it can't all be imagined pain.
Clark begins this novel confessing to crimes, real and unnamed. He suffers as he unloads the pain of success , failure, loyalty, treason, love and detachment. His patch does not blind him. It only gives a lack of depth perception.
As I said, this was not fun. It shows Walters mastery. He is able to provide a picture of modern entanglements in an old fashioned hero. Clark is Jimmy Stewart with a sad heart.
Clark begins this novel confessing to crimes, real and unnamed. He suffers as he unloads the pain of success , failure, loyalty, treason, love and detachment. His patch does not blind him. It only gives a lack of depth perception.
As I said, this was not fun. It shows Walters mastery. He is able to provide a picture of modern entanglements in an old fashioned hero. Clark is Jimmy Stewart with a sad heart.
June 25, 2018
Öncelikle kitap şimdiki zaman kipinde anlatılmış. Yani geliyor, gidiyor vb. Beni bu tarz anlatımlar inanılmaz sıkıyor ve okuması bir işkenceye dönüşüyor.
Kitabın başında katil belli ve polise gidip cinayetini itiraf etmek istiyor. Başlıyor yazmaya. Yazıyor da yazıyor.
Kitap daha iyi işlenmiş olsa aslında sevdirebilirdi kendini. Şu durumda bana sadece işkence oldu. Bitmek bilmedi. 😒
Kitabın başında katil belli ve polise gidip cinayetini itiraf etmek istiyor. Başlıyor yazmaya. Yazıyor da yazıyor.
Kitap daha iyi işlenmiş olsa aslında sevdirebilirdi kendini. Şu durumda bana sadece işkence oldu. Bitmek bilmedi. 😒
July 14, 2014
The book is tough going in the first half because the subject is bullying and it is harsh to read.
Eli is an extremely bullied kid because he has everything wrong with him that can be wrong with someone and yet be fit enough for public school mainstreaming while still needing two special-ed classes as well - he smells, he wears ugly glasses, he's both physically and mentally handicapped, and he lives in a spiritless deadened large town. Clark, one of the narrators, is also bullied, but not as bad. They both catch a school bus at the same spot with a larger, older kid who unfortunately, while obviously destined for a state prison soon, during this time period leads a group of children in the manner of a wolf pack hunting down the weakest animals in the neighborhood.
Being an honest, if fictional, story, this leads to choices which scar the young boys. They grow up, but they never really recover from their childhood. Being able to see reality in a fully complete picture is difficult for them when the boys become men. Clark and Eli are unable to see past their childhood humiliation, and, in Clark's case, he has the additional burden of his shameful capitulation to the bully and his betrayal of Eli, who Clark knows was an innocent victim.
Eli wants desperately to escape his limitations, but cannot. He is the symbolic metaphor at the center of the book.
Clark's self-loathing blocks his seeing how people currently admire him, and that leads him into blind alleys and dead-end streets while chasing meaningful adult fulfillment. Clark is an empty man inside. He can't stop trying to fill the interior void despite possessing self-awareness of the rear-view mirror sort. He has myopia for any close reading of his life. He realizes eventually he might have a single chance left to be happy, and the realization forces Clark into embracing his dark side. He sets up a murder.
In my opinion, the character Caroline weakens the plot. She is the investigating detective, but as one of the two narrating characters she is incomplete, in my opinion. She is burned out, which is a common factor between Clark and herself, but her attraction to Clark doesn't make sense to me. We readers get fleshed-out histories of Eli, Clark, Dana and Susan, but Caroline is only a platform for the story to be told, and she is not interesting as written. I think her motive in helping Clark, perhaps, might be part of her need at this point in her life to help the unlucky who get caught like hapless deer in headlights, but I'm guessing that is what is supposed to be motivating her. Her disaffection with her life is very deep - I can't see why Clark would engage her sympathy. She is emptied out, but Clark had never filled in - he is a hollow man. Incomplete as a character as she is, it makes more sense that she'd be attracted to substance, not a child-man. Just saying.
Both Clark and Caroline need validation from helping society through public service, and both feel they have failed to make headway in their goals. However, Caroline is a successful cop until she no longer cares; Clark is a lawyer leaning on charisma and a 'love me please' neediness, never rising much above the passing grade.
I think this is an almost literary book, but it falls short. it's not really a mystery, either, but it kinda walks in spitting distance of those genres.
Eli is an extremely bullied kid because he has everything wrong with him that can be wrong with someone and yet be fit enough for public school mainstreaming while still needing two special-ed classes as well - he smells, he wears ugly glasses, he's both physically and mentally handicapped, and he lives in a spiritless deadened large town. Clark, one of the narrators, is also bullied, but not as bad. They both catch a school bus at the same spot with a larger, older kid who unfortunately, while obviously destined for a state prison soon, during this time period leads a group of children in the manner of a wolf pack hunting down the weakest animals in the neighborhood.
Being an honest, if fictional, story, this leads to choices which scar the young boys. They grow up, but they never really recover from their childhood. Being able to see reality in a fully complete picture is difficult for them when the boys become men. Clark and Eli are unable to see past their childhood humiliation, and, in Clark's case, he has the additional burden of his shameful capitulation to the bully and his betrayal of Eli, who Clark knows was an innocent victim.
Eli wants desperately to escape his limitations, but cannot. He is the symbolic metaphor at the center of the book.
Clark's self-loathing blocks his seeing how people currently admire him, and that leads him into blind alleys and dead-end streets while chasing meaningful adult fulfillment. Clark is an empty man inside. He can't stop trying to fill the interior void despite possessing self-awareness of the rear-view mirror sort. He has myopia for any close reading of his life. He realizes eventually he might have a single chance left to be happy, and the realization forces Clark into embracing his dark side. He sets up a murder.
In my opinion, the character Caroline weakens the plot. She is the investigating detective, but as one of the two narrating characters she is incomplete, in my opinion. She is burned out, which is a common factor between Clark and herself, but her attraction to Clark doesn't make sense to me. We readers get fleshed-out histories of Eli, Clark, Dana and Susan, but Caroline is only a platform for the story to be told, and she is not interesting as written. I think her motive in helping Clark, perhaps, might be part of her need at this point in her life to help the unlucky who get caught like hapless deer in headlights, but I'm guessing that is what is supposed to be motivating her. Her disaffection with her life is very deep - I can't see why Clark would engage her sympathy. She is emptied out, but Clark had never filled in - he is a hollow man. Incomplete as a character as she is, it makes more sense that she'd be attracted to substance, not a child-man. Just saying.
Both Clark and Caroline need validation from helping society through public service, and both feel they have failed to make headway in their goals. However, Caroline is a successful cop until she no longer cares; Clark is a lawyer leaning on charisma and a 'love me please' neediness, never rising much above the passing grade.
I think this is an almost literary book, but it falls short. it's not really a mystery, either, but it kinda walks in spitting distance of those genres.
April 29, 2025
Great Spokane setting
Having stayed at the splendidly restored Davenport Hotel, if fifteen-odd years after this takes place ca. 2001 when said edifice was still in decrepit hibernation, I can vouch for the authenticity of Spokane native Jess Walter's depiction. This follows the first installment of Caroline Mabry's detective work, about six months after her downward spiral in Over Tumbled Graves, which I also reviewed. For a long stretch, I thought I'd rank the sequel higher. Perhaps it's a Sixties connection: while the author's born midway and I nearer the decade at its start, I was hooked by 5th grader Clark/Tony Mason's unending, unsettled, upbringing mid-Seventies, as it echoed my own, white working-class nowhere.
I happen to be to finishing (delaying as I will miss it) a full-cast audio of his recent The Cold Millions, set ninety years earlier. In it, the leading "voice" reveals how exposure to "War and Peace" broadens his perceptions. Similarly, Mason within this "confession" shows how in college, hearing the allegory of Plato's cave opens up intellectual depth and enchants--and disturbs--his youthful complacency.
Walter gets sharp details down for his troubled (aren't we all?) character, who relates, albeit verbosely (some dramatic license taken) to Caroline how he wound up inside the shut down hotel in downtown, and what led him to the predicament he narrates to police. It's focused on interior motivation than external action. So it may not please those expecting a frantic pace akin to Citizen Vince or Graves...
But as in both those tales, Alan Dupree, now retired from the force, plays again a doleful role. There's less about the present condition of adrift, lonely, aging Caroline compared to either Mason or his longtime foil Eli Boyle. The transformation of Seattle in the Eighties, as Mason and hipster bros turn the nascent tech boom into a juggernaut, with all the morbid connotations that carries, too, earns deft critique. The gas stations get turned into coffee shops, the dive bars look identical but warp into imitations for the Scandinavian sailors and stranded bums who've been discovered, romanticized, and dispersed. (Imagine the impact a generation later, as Amazon hadn't even flooded yet...). Walter's at his sharpest in these passages. They encapsulate a view of "our" West which blow-ins can't discern.
That's why I read him, more than the plots of his procedurals. They may plod along, amidst a stark backdrop. But the surroundings and the observations: these convince me of his talent beyond genre.
Having stayed at the splendidly restored Davenport Hotel, if fifteen-odd years after this takes place ca. 2001 when said edifice was still in decrepit hibernation, I can vouch for the authenticity of Spokane native Jess Walter's depiction. This follows the first installment of Caroline Mabry's detective work, about six months after her downward spiral in Over Tumbled Graves, which I also reviewed. For a long stretch, I thought I'd rank the sequel higher. Perhaps it's a Sixties connection: while the author's born midway and I nearer the decade at its start, I was hooked by 5th grader Clark/Tony Mason's unending, unsettled, upbringing mid-Seventies, as it echoed my own, white working-class nowhere.
I happen to be to finishing (delaying as I will miss it) a full-cast audio of his recent The Cold Millions, set ninety years earlier. In it, the leading "voice" reveals how exposure to "War and Peace" broadens his perceptions. Similarly, Mason within this "confession" shows how in college, hearing the allegory of Plato's cave opens up intellectual depth and enchants--and disturbs--his youthful complacency.
Walter gets sharp details down for his troubled (aren't we all?) character, who relates, albeit verbosely (some dramatic license taken) to Caroline how he wound up inside the shut down hotel in downtown, and what led him to the predicament he narrates to police. It's focused on interior motivation than external action. So it may not please those expecting a frantic pace akin to Citizen Vince or Graves...
But as in both those tales, Alan Dupree, now retired from the force, plays again a doleful role. There's less about the present condition of adrift, lonely, aging Caroline compared to either Mason or his longtime foil Eli Boyle. The transformation of Seattle in the Eighties, as Mason and hipster bros turn the nascent tech boom into a juggernaut, with all the morbid connotations that carries, too, earns deft critique. The gas stations get turned into coffee shops, the dive bars look identical but warp into imitations for the Scandinavian sailors and stranded bums who've been discovered, romanticized, and dispersed. (Imagine the impact a generation later, as Amazon hadn't even flooded yet...). Walter's at his sharpest in these passages. They encapsulate a view of "our" West which blow-ins can't discern.
That's why I read him, more than the plots of his procedurals. They may plod along, amidst a stark backdrop. But the surroundings and the observations: these convince me of his talent beyond genre.
August 28, 2025
Published in 2003, this is one of Jess Walter's earlier stories and as with many authors, comes across as a fictional recounting of personal experiences. And while I'm sure the Clark Mason confession is 100% fictional, the explicit backstory details had me wonder if they were a factual accounting.
Carol Mabry is a police officer who encounters a nameless man who wishes to confess. Questioning him about the who, when and why is fruitless since the 'Loon' insists on writing his confession. The story toggles back and forth between countless pages of Clark Mason's life which begins in grade school. Riding the bus he befriends Eli Boyle, who like himself lacks confidence. As with most children some use bullying to offset insecurity. On a regular basis Peter Decker verbally and physically accosts Clark and Eli and at one point a BB hits Clark's eye causing severe damage. This experience has behavioral impacts on the friendship between Clark and Eli and as they mature, it grows deeper. While Clark's persona is relatively normal, Eli's is anything but.
During the back and forth between the confession writing and present, the pacing bogs down severely due to pages upon pages of personal experiences, then fast forwards to a shift in Clark's life when he's convinced to run for Congressman. In between these periods, we learn about his womanizing, deceit and greed. Like many introverted souls, Eli's 'genius' takes form during the early days of computer games; what follows is a classic 'dot com' episode. As a result, egos flare when investor benchmarks aren't met and with them, anger and violence.
While reasonably interesting, the story pace is tedious, characters predictable and outcome exactly as expected. As with all arts, we're each drawn to something different. If this sort of story is of interest, add it to your list.
Carol Mabry is a police officer who encounters a nameless man who wishes to confess. Questioning him about the who, when and why is fruitless since the 'Loon' insists on writing his confession. The story toggles back and forth between countless pages of Clark Mason's life which begins in grade school. Riding the bus he befriends Eli Boyle, who like himself lacks confidence. As with most children some use bullying to offset insecurity. On a regular basis Peter Decker verbally and physically accosts Clark and Eli and at one point a BB hits Clark's eye causing severe damage. This experience has behavioral impacts on the friendship between Clark and Eli and as they mature, it grows deeper. While Clark's persona is relatively normal, Eli's is anything but.
During the back and forth between the confession writing and present, the pacing bogs down severely due to pages upon pages of personal experiences, then fast forwards to a shift in Clark's life when he's convinced to run for Congressman. In between these periods, we learn about his womanizing, deceit and greed. Like many introverted souls, Eli's 'genius' takes form during the early days of computer games; what follows is a classic 'dot com' episode. As a result, egos flare when investor benchmarks aren't met and with them, anger and violence.
While reasonably interesting, the story pace is tedious, characters predictable and outcome exactly as expected. As with all arts, we're each drawn to something different. If this sort of story is of interest, add it to your list.
January 1, 2015
In Land of the Blind, Jess Walter has written a dolorous thriller about a man who wants police detective Caroline Mabry to witness his confession to a crime that has yet to be reported. With legal paper in hand, Clark Mason proceeds to write a long story of a childhood friendship gone horribly wrong—a "story of weakness, not of strength"—one in which he alternately befriends and betrays oddball Eli Boyle.
Years later, Eli agrees to let Clark turn his recreational, hobby-like fantasy game, Empire, into a computer game. Eli also bankrolls Clark's attempt at Congress. But when the techno boom busts and Clark's platform runs out of steam, Eli enacts a final, horrifying revenge on those who made his childhood a living hell, including the woman Clark has been in love with since grade school.
The strength of Land of the Blind is its theme: that the scars of childhood often last our entire lives. They shape us, as adults, in ways we never fully understand. Clark's physical scars are evident—including the eye he lost as a child. Full of allusions to sight and vision, the book shows us that emotional scars are far more debilitating and every bit as permanent.
Clark's honest portrayal of his life—one laced with poignancy—comes from a gutsy clarity that comes from a person with nothing left to lose. For all his flaws, Clark remains sympathetic, thanks to his relentless attachment to Eli Boyle and Jess Walter's enthralling script. Somehow, Walter is able to transform a book about life's failure to deliver on the promises of youth into a book you can't possibly put down.
I highly recommend Land of the Blind, especially those who were teased in school, or humiliated, or moved by the fear of any of the above to act against their better nature.
Years later, Eli agrees to let Clark turn his recreational, hobby-like fantasy game, Empire, into a computer game. Eli also bankrolls Clark's attempt at Congress. But when the techno boom busts and Clark's platform runs out of steam, Eli enacts a final, horrifying revenge on those who made his childhood a living hell, including the woman Clark has been in love with since grade school.
The strength of Land of the Blind is its theme: that the scars of childhood often last our entire lives. They shape us, as adults, in ways we never fully understand. Clark's physical scars are evident—including the eye he lost as a child. Full of allusions to sight and vision, the book shows us that emotional scars are far more debilitating and every bit as permanent.
Clark's honest portrayal of his life—one laced with poignancy—comes from a gutsy clarity that comes from a person with nothing left to lose. For all his flaws, Clark remains sympathetic, thanks to his relentless attachment to Eli Boyle and Jess Walter's enthralling script. Somehow, Walter is able to transform a book about life's failure to deliver on the promises of youth into a book you can't possibly put down.
I highly recommend Land of the Blind, especially those who were teased in school, or humiliated, or moved by the fear of any of the above to act against their better nature.
July 14, 2014
Most sequels are similar in style to their predecessor, but Land of the Blind is stylistically very different from Over Tumbled Graves. I don't know if Walter's book deal at that point was dependent on this second novel being a sequel, but it seems to me that's not what he wanted to write and the novel suffers a bit from stretching to be a detective mystery involving Caroline Mabry.
I really liked Caroline in OTG, where she was a central figure. Here she's just hanging on to the periphery of the novel, just as she's barely hanging on to her job. She does have one scene of bad-guy-asskicking that shows some of her former glory, but mostly she's just a shadow, running around trying to figure out what crime could have been committed by her suspect. One thing that is consistent is that Caroline's romantic attractions make absolutely no sense to me. Serious WTF territory.
The heart of the novel is a handwritten (thank you, Jess Walter, for not using some hokey faux-handwriting font) "confession" from Clark, a failed politician, bankrupt both financially and morally, who after being picked up for trespassing at a hotel undergoing remodeling, says he wants to confess to a murder, but only under Caroline's watch. His is a story of growing up poor, of being bullied, and of rising above all that through sheer determination, only to falter time after time. His story is intertwined with that of Eli, alternately the focus of his rage and pity, the person he claims to have killed.
Walter is becoming one of my favorite writers and he excels when writing in Clark's voice. Overall, I'd rate this novel 3.5 stars, rounding up because the parts that are good are very, very good.
I really liked Caroline in OTG, where she was a central figure. Here she's just hanging on to the periphery of the novel, just as she's barely hanging on to her job. She does have one scene of bad-guy-asskicking that shows some of her former glory, but mostly she's just a shadow, running around trying to figure out what crime could have been committed by her suspect. One thing that is consistent is that Caroline's romantic attractions make absolutely no sense to me. Serious WTF territory.
The heart of the novel is a handwritten (thank you, Jess Walter, for not using some hokey faux-handwriting font) "confession" from Clark, a failed politician, bankrupt both financially and morally, who after being picked up for trespassing at a hotel undergoing remodeling, says he wants to confess to a murder, but only under Caroline's watch. His is a story of growing up poor, of being bullied, and of rising above all that through sheer determination, only to falter time after time. His story is intertwined with that of Eli, alternately the focus of his rage and pity, the person he claims to have killed.
Walter is becoming one of my favorite writers and he excels when writing in Clark's voice. Overall, I'd rate this novel 3.5 stars, rounding up because the parts that are good are very, very good.
November 24, 2024
Een thriller waar ook daadwerkelijk een goed verhaal achter zit. Het einde was wel wat snel afgeraffeld. Uniek perspectief waarin je de verklaring van iemand leest die hij op dat moment opschrijft.
September 19, 2012
Jess Walter does it again. I know this was written well before The Financial Lives of the Poets, but I read them out of order. But this, like Financial Lives, is a book that I must recommend.
This book tells the life story of Clark Anthony Mason, an aspiring politician, hack-job lawyer, people pleaser, and identity-challenged individual. Clark goes to the police, namely Caroline Mabry, wanting to confess. He doesn't know how to go about it. Finally, he decides on confessing to murder through a longhand written statement that ends up being, well, this novel. Part of the novel is Clark's written statement, and part is Caroline reacting to this seemingly crazy confessor and what she digs up on him within the forty-eight hour period in which Clark is writing.
At first, I was a little turned off by the mystery-crime-solving-thriller vibe that the interrogation style gave off, but, after a couple of perspective changing sections, I was hooked. At the end of one of the present day sections, I was dying to know what Caroline would do or discover next. Then, at the end of Clark's story sections, I was enthralled by the story; naturally, I wanted to know what happened next. This style of writing I think was sort of like a cliff hanger setup, but it was far less artificially-construed interest. That is, the story was strong enough to keep the interest rather than cliffhangers for the sake of making the reader turn the page.
This book, all things said and done, was great. I struggled with accepting the ending, but after a while, I decided that any other way of ending the novel would have either catered to a more run of the mill audience who is happy with their feel-good sitcoms, or it would have left me hating Jess Walter for doing terrible things to characters he made me love. There is plenty of ambivalence about whether or not we should like/love/hate any certain amount of characters. I think that's really one of the most enjoyable aspects of Jess Walter's writing, particularly in Land of the Blind.
This book tells the life story of Clark Anthony Mason, an aspiring politician, hack-job lawyer, people pleaser, and identity-challenged individual. Clark goes to the police, namely Caroline Mabry, wanting to confess. He doesn't know how to go about it. Finally, he decides on confessing to murder through a longhand written statement that ends up being, well, this novel. Part of the novel is Clark's written statement, and part is Caroline reacting to this seemingly crazy confessor and what she digs up on him within the forty-eight hour period in which Clark is writing.
At first, I was a little turned off by the mystery-crime-solving-thriller vibe that the interrogation style gave off, but, after a couple of perspective changing sections, I was hooked. At the end of one of the present day sections, I was dying to know what Caroline would do or discover next. Then, at the end of Clark's story sections, I was enthralled by the story; naturally, I wanted to know what happened next. This style of writing I think was sort of like a cliff hanger setup, but it was far less artificially-construed interest. That is, the story was strong enough to keep the interest rather than cliffhangers for the sake of making the reader turn the page.
This book, all things said and done, was great. I struggled with accepting the ending, but after a while, I decided that any other way of ending the novel would have either catered to a more run of the mill audience who is happy with their feel-good sitcoms, or it would have left me hating Jess Walter for doing terrible things to characters he made me love. There is plenty of ambivalence about whether or not we should like/love/hate any certain amount of characters. I think that's really one of the most enjoyable aspects of Jess Walter's writing, particularly in Land of the Blind.
February 29, 2016
Jess Walter has accomplished something rare with Land of the Blind. He has followed up his stellar debut detective novel, Over Tumbled Graves with an equally stellar sequel told in an entirely different way. While OTG was a straightforward, 3rd-person omniscient literary thriller with loads of hardcore detective work and all the other conventions of the genre, LotB was more of an epistolary novel, telling the story of the crimes, committed or only conceived, through a series of handwritten confessions and a bare minimum of half-hearted investigation on the part of world-weary, disillusioned, beaten-down detective Caroline Mabry. This second and apparently final book in the series turns almost all the conventions of the crime fiction genre on their heads to startling effect. At its conclusion, I found myself wishing there were more in the series, but it appears Walter has, at least for now, put Detective Mabry’s gun & badge in the bottom drawer. I’ll be moving on to Citizen Vince and beyond soon, but Mr. Walter, if you ever happen across this review, hear my prayer: Make the Caroline Mabry mysteries a trilogy, and let us see where she ends up 15 or 20 years down the road, whether she’s still with the police or doing something else. Your writing blew me away, and I fell in love with Caroline Mabry. My life won’t be complete ‘til her story is fully told.
December 19, 2020
Jess Walter is a stylistic chameleon. He can do Don Delillo type post-modern paranoia in "The Zero", true crime in "Ruby Ridge", short stories in "We Live in Water", humorous books that play around with the concept of the American dream and politics "Citizen Vince". I think he fumbled trying to do romantic comedy in "Beautiful Ruins" but I think I'm in the minority on that.
In Land of the Blind he plays with two different genres at the same time. The book is the second book with detective Caroline Mabry as the protagonist. The first "Over Tumbled Graves" is a pretty straight forward murder mystery. This second book starts out along those lines, but ends up taking a more interesting turn. There's a murder mystery going on, but there's a book within the book. The book within the book isn't really about murder at all, but is a pitch perfect funny look at adolescent misfits and high school.
I had put off reading this for awhile, because I wasn't wowed by his first murder mystery book, but "Land of the Blind" is so much more than that. Walter's ability to shift genres is perfectly suited for this kind of story.
In Land of the Blind he plays with two different genres at the same time. The book is the second book with detective Caroline Mabry as the protagonist. The first "Over Tumbled Graves" is a pretty straight forward murder mystery. This second book starts out along those lines, but ends up taking a more interesting turn. There's a murder mystery going on, but there's a book within the book. The book within the book isn't really about murder at all, but is a pitch perfect funny look at adolescent misfits and high school.
I had put off reading this for awhile, because I wasn't wowed by his first murder mystery book, but "Land of the Blind" is so much more than that. Walter's ability to shift genres is perfectly suited for this kind of story.
July 5, 2012
Land Of The Blind has some interesting aspects to it, but it is not as satisfying as Jess Walter's debut, Over Tumbled Graves or his subsequent novel, Citizen Vince. A lot of the premise was too on the nose-too obviously taken from the headlines: dot com bubble frauds, local political races. Other aspects were too over the top, Clark becoming a millionaire and the utter helplessness and afflictions of Eli. It has the makings of a compelling mystery, but the execution seemed somewhat marred by inauthentic details piling up. However, I liked the set pieces about Clark and Eli's youth-growing up in the East Valley on the other side of Division on Empire in Spokane. I also liked the use of the historic Davenport Hotel as a story location. I liked some of the observations Walter makes about the east-west divide of the state and Seattle vs. Spokane. In particular he says that Spokanites don’t trust anyone who left town but thinks everyone that stayed must be too stupid to get out.
January 9, 2015
Not my favorite by Mr. Walter, but an excellent read none-the-less. This is a follow-up to his novel Over Tumbled Graves and as different from that one as night is to day. Basically they both share a main character; otherwise the tale and the way it's told are nothing alike.
Spokane is once again a focus. It reminds me sometimes of the area in which I grew up near Beaumont, Texas. Another mid-sized town in a 50 year recession, full of hopeless optimism and a never-ending supply of excuses for failure. There is much made of the ever present past from childhood that follows you into life from wherever you came, but especially when you come from a place like this.
Spokane is once again a focus. It reminds me sometimes of the area in which I grew up near Beaumont, Texas. Another mid-sized town in a 50 year recession, full of hopeless optimism and a never-ending supply of excuses for failure. There is much made of the ever present past from childhood that follows you into life from wherever you came, but especially when you come from a place like this.
February 26, 2018
Another excellent story from Jess Walter.. becoming one of my favorite authors. He knows how to spin an exciting tale for sure. The story begins with a murder confession, no body or identity, and the rest unspools from there!
October 14, 2020
you see, THIS is why we need to teach our children to say no to stuff.
if Jess Walter came into his editor's office to pitch this piece of shit and had been told to fuck off, I wouldn't have lost so many hours of my life.
I'd rather rip my dick off with my teeth than reading another page of this guy's confessions.
Foda-se essa merda também. Toda vez que parece que vai andar essa merda esse imbecil dá um jeito de cagar no pau todo.
Mais um alumni da Escola Preparatória Stephen King para Aniquilação de Boas Ideias.
Nao encosta em mim
if Jess Walter came into his editor's office to pitch this piece of shit and had been told to fuck off, I wouldn't have lost so many hours of my life.
I'd rather rip my dick off with my teeth than reading another page of this guy's confessions.
Foda-se essa merda também. Toda vez que parece que vai andar essa merda esse imbecil dá um jeito de cagar no pau todo.
Mais um alumni da Escola Preparatória Stephen King para Aniquilação de Boas Ideias.
Nao encosta em mim
July 23, 2018
Jess Walter is such a pleasure to read! I've been going through his novels kind of in reverse order. This was one of his first, and it mixes crime and literary fiction in a unique way. As with his others, there are moments of excruciatingly hilarious and painful depictions of how we behave in our youth or in love or under the influence of other inflammatory factors. This especially resonates with how it feels to survive childhood among bullies and pecking orders: the terror and humiliation, the fascinating ways we cope. There's also lots about ambition and sex and the dot com bubble, and no better writing about Spokane than I've ever seen.
March 3, 2025
3.5
In some respects this is a basic, almost film noir detective story. However, Jess Walter writes so well about gritty, rundown Spokane and in this book he contrasts with the Seattle tech bubble of the late 90s. Main character Clark wrestles with who he is and how you measure success in a way that reflects the country and politics at large.
Enjoyable and thoughtful.
In some respects this is a basic, almost film noir detective story. However, Jess Walter writes so well about gritty, rundown Spokane and in this book he contrasts with the Seattle tech bubble of the late 90s. Main character Clark wrestles with who he is and how you measure success in a way that reflects the country and politics at large.
Enjoyable and thoughtful.
Read
June 30, 2024I liked the structure: a novel within a novel. The framing story is a police procedural and the other story is a confession written out by a guy in an interrogation room. Peters out by the end, almost like the author was losing interest (I did too).
January 19, 2023
Kon het haast niet wegleggen. Interessante karakters, interessant verhaal, mooie schrijfstijl en mooi einde.
August 13, 2014
In a serendipitous manner, “Land of the Blind” landed in my purview, and I’m glad it did. It is considered a mystery or detective story, but it is actually a first-rate novel. Since I have been exposed to Jess Walter, I plan to read his 2012 novel “Beautiful Ruins,” which Maureen Corrigan (NPR) called a “literary miracle.”
I love women detectives and Caroline Mabry, a single 37-year old, was the perfect choice. She has been demoted to the swig shift in a Spokane police station where drunks and derelicts end up. A strange man with a patch on one eye, whom they refer to initially as the Loon, comes into the station and declares “I want to confess.” Caroline thinks he looks familiar, but cannot place him. She has no idea what he wants to confess, so she gives him a legal pad and tells him to write his confession down. While he spends two days writing his confession, and fills many legal pads, Caroline begin an investigation trying to figure out what he wants to confess, whether someone has really been murdered, and how the people he introduces in his confession fit into the picture.
The story is told from two perspectives: Caroline’s and the Loon, who we discover is Clark Mason. It turns out that his crime is more of a plea to be forgiven for all the things he did which were accidental against people he loved. Clark is burdened with his past and has never really let go of it. Someone has died, but who is responsible? Has a murder really been committed? That’s the question we ask ourselves throughout the novel. Caroline’s story is as emotional as Clark’s. There is a bond there that is both witty and sad. The ending is original and surprising. Walter is an author worth reading. He is talented and creative.
I love women detectives and Caroline Mabry, a single 37-year old, was the perfect choice. She has been demoted to the swig shift in a Spokane police station where drunks and derelicts end up. A strange man with a patch on one eye, whom they refer to initially as the Loon, comes into the station and declares “I want to confess.” Caroline thinks he looks familiar, but cannot place him. She has no idea what he wants to confess, so she gives him a legal pad and tells him to write his confession down. While he spends two days writing his confession, and fills many legal pads, Caroline begin an investigation trying to figure out what he wants to confess, whether someone has really been murdered, and how the people he introduces in his confession fit into the picture.
The story is told from two perspectives: Caroline’s and the Loon, who we discover is Clark Mason. It turns out that his crime is more of a plea to be forgiven for all the things he did which were accidental against people he loved. Clark is burdened with his past and has never really let go of it. Someone has died, but who is responsible? Has a murder really been committed? That’s the question we ask ourselves throughout the novel. Caroline’s story is as emotional as Clark’s. There is a bond there that is both witty and sad. The ending is original and surprising. Walter is an author worth reading. He is talented and creative.
May 30, 2023
I enjoy Jess Walter's books, so I picked up "Land of the Blind." This is my least favorite book by him. I just did a little background reading and discovered that it is the second book in which Carolyn Mabry does the police work. "Over Tumbled Graves" is the first which I will read soon.
Clark Mason enters the police station and confesses to a murder. Carolyn is assigned the case. The lack of a body makes this unusual. Also Clark refuses to tell who he murdered and insists on writing his confession. However he fills four notebooks which takes a couple of days.
During this time Carolyn, with practically no sleep, is working to find a body. This novel is Clark's autobiography beginning when he was in grade school. Eli Boyle is a classmate. He is poor, crippled, leaking dandruff, bespectacled--a perfect target for the other kids. A couple of conflicting bullies coerce Clark into fighting with this poor kid. Even then Clark finds Dana Brett irresistible.
These characters complete high school and move into adulthood. As grown ups they have complicated relationships with one another culminating in Clark's confession to Carolyn. Until the end, we are not sure if there even is a body let alone a murder.
I didn't like the book particularly for several reasons. It wasn't believable. The characters were caricatures of the nerd, the bully, and the beauty. Also I don't know if there was a theme. Clark wasn't very likeable, less so as he got older. Carolyn was a conduit to further the plot. Maybe I missed something, but I don't see the point of the book.
November 4, 2012
I think I'd read anything Jess Walter wrote. I'm even considering the true crime stuff, and that's not really my scene. This is an early work of Walter's, and though it's not quite up there with the amazing Citizen Vince, it certainly shows the promise that would be fulfilled in subsequent works.
One of the proofs for me that a writer is worth paying attention to is when they can tell you a story that you don't think you'll be interested in and suck you in anyway. I was drawn right in by the detective story that opens the book--what was this strange character doing wandering around a derelict hotel?--but wasn't so sure when the alternating point of view turned out to be one of boyhood tribulations and pecking orders. But there's just something about the way Walter tells a story that made me unable to put the book down.
The fact that a major part of the book is an almost novel length confession that is written in a surprisingly compressed time is just one of those suspensions of disbelief that novels sometime require of us. There's nothing wrong with the telling of the tale itself.
One of the proofs for me that a writer is worth paying attention to is when they can tell you a story that you don't think you'll be interested in and suck you in anyway. I was drawn right in by the detective story that opens the book--what was this strange character doing wandering around a derelict hotel?--but wasn't so sure when the alternating point of view turned out to be one of boyhood tribulations and pecking orders. But there's just something about the way Walter tells a story that made me unable to put the book down.
The fact that a major part of the book is an almost novel length confession that is written in a surprisingly compressed time is just one of those suspensions of disbelief that novels sometime require of us. There's nothing wrong with the telling of the tale itself.
May 21, 2014
Un giallo con la "S" maiuscola.
Le colpe di una vita imperfetta, la vigliaccheria sopratutto e la cecità ai bisogno degli altri: killer anonimi per un mystery che voglia dirsi tale. Eppure Jess Walter riesce ad dar loro corpo con ritmo e una suspence che porta a divorare pagine più velocemente di quanto non accada leggendo molti action thriller. Un romanzo per amanti del "giallo che incatena" ma anche per i lettori che cercano il noir macerato/macerante. E poi che scrittura! Questo Jess Walter è un grandissimo per lo meno lo è a giudicare dalla traduzione di Alfredo Colitto: uno scrittore con la "esse" maiuscola.
Le colpe di una vita imperfetta, la vigliaccheria sopratutto e la cecità ai bisogno degli altri: killer anonimi per un mystery che voglia dirsi tale. Eppure Jess Walter riesce ad dar loro corpo con ritmo e una suspence che porta a divorare pagine più velocemente di quanto non accada leggendo molti action thriller. Un romanzo per amanti del "giallo che incatena" ma anche per i lettori che cercano il noir macerato/macerante. E poi che scrittura! Questo Jess Walter è un grandissimo per lo meno lo è a giudicare dalla traduzione di Alfredo Colitto: uno scrittore con la "esse" maiuscola.
March 20, 2013
I couldn't put this book down. Jess Walter's book stands between literary fiction and great mystery. His characters seem so real probably because they are people he knew from his own coming of age in working class Spokane. A town that wasn't yet spiffed up in the 80s and 90s but a town Walter knew and loved. Though it's a sad story in many ways with tolerance of bullying and meanness there is also a sweetness to it and a feeling the characters cared for each other.
November 10, 2016
Like the first Caroline Mabry book, this one is a wild variation on the standard detective novel, completely different in form and interest from the first one. Here we have a self-confessed killer writing his memoir-confession in alternate chapters with Mabry investigating what might be going on at the present. A body is not discovered until 3/4 of the way through the book. And as in the first novel, this one is full of vivid observation, smart personal insight, and unexpected plotting.
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