Perpetuum mobile (Perpetual Motion, 1982) to powieść wyrastająca z tradycji epopei, próba mitologizacji przeszłości Kanady przywodząca na myśl utwory Faulknera i Mârqueza. Główny bohater, Robert Fraser — w jednej osobie farmer z kanadyjskiej głuszy, człowiek interesu i szalony wynalazca machiny wiecznego ruchu — jest postacią nieomal archetypową, a jego życie symbolicznie odzwierciedla losy, aspiracje i zbiorowe tęsknoty całego narodu. Rzeczywistość i fantastyczne marzenia, przyroda i technika, historia i mity — do nich przede wszystkim sięga autor, poszukując źródeł narodowej tradycji i narodowej tożsamości Kanadyjczyków.
Graeme Gibson CM was a Canadian novelist and conservationist and the longtime partner of author Margaret Atwood. He was a Member of the Order of Canada (1992) and one of the organizers of the Writer's Union of Canada. He was also a founder of the Writers' Trust of Canada. Gibson was best known for his 1973 book Eleven Canadian Novelists, a non-fiction work.
A remarkable and bizarre tackling of the historical novel, Perpetual Motion concerns Robert Fraser, a man from Mad River, Ontario in possession of a mastodon skeleton obsessed with creating a perpetual motion machine in spite of his banausic (a word that recurs often in this novel) background. Mixing poetic description and close character narration, alongside a more ponderous tone (with strange shifting of tenses), the style here is unique, refusing to allow the reader to sink into the familiar furniture of the conventional historical novel and keeping him or her perplexed and concerned as the focus and timbre shifts over 280-odd pages, covering from 1860-1879. The Fraser clan is the focus, alongside the cast of oddball characters that populate the father’s life, among them the Irish creep Rochefoucault Hackett, the unprankable Eddie Shantz, and the eccentric Prof. Carruthers, whose tale of a Royal banquet inside the Iguanodon provides some the funniest material in the novel. The depressive and disturbed materfamilias, the robust daughter Annie, amd feral son Angus provide the familial baggage and heart of the novel. Set-pieces include a startling hanging scene, a mass cull of wild pigeons, and the bone-rattling finale when the machine is tested to a packed crowd. The rumbling of the industrial age, the harshness of the rural life, the bawdy backchat of the barrooms, and the psychodrama of the family are rendered vividly by Gibson’s brilliant hand in an elliptical and fabulous novel.
2.5🌟 El libro prometía una experiencia literaria cargada de humor y originalidad, pero para mí fue todo lo contrario. La narrativa me resultó desordenada y poco atractiva, con una forma de contar que no logra sostener ni el ritmo ni el interés. La trama, lejos de ser ingeniosa, se presenta como una sucesión de episodios absurdos que están ahí con una coherencia forzada al entrelazarse.
El supuesto humor que se anuncia en la sinopsis brilla por su ausencia. Lo que encontré fue la historia de un hombre un poco tonto y obsesionado, incapaz de ver más allá de su propia fantasía, que sacrifica la vida de su familia por un sueño infundado que nunca se concreta. Su existencia se convierte en una cadena de fracasos, y cuando finalmente tiene la oportunidad de ofrecer una estabilidad familiar, ya es demasiado tarde: las consecuencias de sus decisiones han dejado a su familia rota.
No es mi estilo de lectura, ni me llevó a ninguna reflexión profunda. Más que una sátira o una exploración del espíritu humano, me pareció el retrato de una necedad sin redención.
The first thing that put me off about this novel was its dialogue, which is way too eccentric and sometimes too hard to follow for my taste. But Gibson often narrates dialogue instead; it’s completely different and, I think, much better. After a while I started to skim the dialogue, which worked well for me. And I enjoyed the moments of magnificent prose. But then I reached Part Two, and everything about the novel started putting me off, and there was no magnificent prose anymore. I moved on.
If ambitious theme, diligent research and facility for language were sufficient to make a book great, then this would be a great book. Unfortunately, I wanted a story that pulled me along and this, most assuredly, did not.
The tale of Robert Fraser in rural Ontario mid-to-late 1800s as he pursues the perpetual motion machine went astray far too many times to hold my interest. I was initially captivated by the idea, especially since Fraser initially unearths on his property the remnant bones of a full mastadon, and what was to become of such an intriguing discovery was quite gripping. But here the tone and narrative strayed into near farce (a scene inside a hotel in Mud River that served no discernible purpose beyond, I'm guessing, amusement) as did scenes in Toronto and often any vignette that described consumption of copious amounts of whiskey.
Those reveries and whimsies stood in contrast to the mythical ambience touched by fabulism that describes, for example and most especially, the disappearance of Robert and Mary Fraser's 4-year old son, Angus. An event that is clearly intended to import grave meaning to the story. Except that nothing becomes of that event for some 150+ pages as Angus carries on his life at home without the reader sharing any insight, then -- poof! -- centre stage again. Which may still be compelling, but for the fact I have no attachment to Angus, so I skim the new developments.
The fabulism is also doled out in too heavy a hand with all the freaking birds taking flight, alighting, roosting, and whatnot, before culminating in a large scene involving millions and millions of passenger pigeons on Fraser's property. No matter if historically such events occurred, their frequent interjection as ominous signal throughout the narrative grew tedious for me.
And the perpetual motion machine. Again, intriguing, but Fraser pretty much neglects it (or at least, this was my perception) for years and years, so that when he rededicates himself to it near the end, again, I found it difficult to care.
I suppose the idea behind all of this was some kind of allegory, man's appetite to control nature, rather than live in harmony with it, inevitably leading to destruction. Or somesuch. But I steadily lost interest as the narrative waxed and waned, so that in the end, the allegory just wasn't sufficient to justify my time on this novel.
This book was a really interesting depiction of man's struggle against uncontrollable natural events. The writing was unique, the dialogue was done in a really intriguing way, and some of the scenes that Gibson evokes were riveting. Although this book is definitely more eclectic than your average novel, but I think the payoff is worth it. The story meanders at times, but it ultimately builds up to an exciting climax that is worth some of the more confusing parts that are interspersed throughout the book.
In my opinion, the best part of this book was its coverage of the passenger pigeon slaughters. Gibson uses the phenomenon to demonstrate human greed, the folly of unrestrained consumption, and the impacts of casual violence on the human psyche. On another level, he perfectly captures the spirit of unrestrained materialism and consumption that characterized popular society by the late 1800's. The slaughter of the passenger pigeons, wholesale in their roosts, was described in fire and brimstone language that highlighted the scale of the slaughter and the sheer logistical problems it caused. Millions of passenger pigeons, darkening the skies of Southwestern Ontario, is a compelling illustration of an unbridled force of nature. This theme, also evoked by Fraser's attempts to construct a perpetual motion machine, is very well suited for the time period in question. One critique I had of this book, and it is a minor one, is that some of the connecting plot points were a touch too abstract when they had to be concrete in order to advance the storyline or develop certain characters. Gibson would go on tangents at times that were interesting to read, but might not have been the most effective storytelling method. The best way I can describe it, is that there are large parts of this book that seem like they are plucked perfectly for a high school English class to demonstrate certain literary techniques. Those parts are great. But there are many sections that connect those wonderfully written parts, that seem more fever dream than they had to be. This is a minor complaint though, I get what Gibson was going for and I appreciated it nonetheless.
Overall, this was a really solid book. I can't wait to read the quasi-sequel Gentleman Death by the same author!
I had a very hard time with the first half of this book, so much so that I set it aside with the intention of not finishing it. Eventually, I picked it up again and thoroughly enjoyed it from that point on. What changed? The book? Me? No idea but I'll go on to another by him and see how that goes.
The book opens with a fury. There is a gravity to the writing. But as it goes on, it slowly winds down. It doesn't quite fulfill what it seemed it could be.
I love the gritty details. Not overdone, but realistic to the time. Dirt, sweat, blood, hardship, swearing. Not glossed over like Hollywood stories of pioneers.
Graeme Gibson is a novelists, bird watcher, environmentalist and a not bad thinker. This novel, set in the 19th century can be seen as a cautionary tale on the arrivial of the industrial age and what it will mean for human beings and the environment. I won't be spoiling much to say that it doesn't work out well in the end.
I do not know if it was me or what , but i never got into this book. It was never of any interest to me. toooo rambling , no theme, no flow, no story for me. no interest