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Peindre, pêcher et laisser mourir
Peintre en vogue, pêcheur ardent, philosophe artisanal, Jim Stegner est embarqué dans un engrenage fatal le jour où il prend la défense d’une petite jument maltraitée. Retour de Peter Heller après La Constellation du chien. Action, fureur et poésie.
478 pages, Paperback
First published May 6, 2014
About the author
Peter Heller
41 books3,753 followersThere is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Peter Heller holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop in both fiction and poetry. An award-winning adventure writer and longtime contributor to NPR, Heller is a contributing editor at Outside magazine, Men’s Journal, and National Geographic Adventure, and a regular contributor to Bloomberg Businessweek. He is also the author of several nonfiction books, including Kook, The Whale Warriors, and Hell or High Water: Surviving Tibet’s Tsangpo River. He lives in Denver, Colorado.
Peter Heller holds an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop in both fiction and poetry. An award-winning adventure writer and longtime contributor to NPR, Heller is a contributing editor at Outside magazine, Men’s Journal, and National Geographic Adventure, and a regular contributor to Bloomberg Businessweek. He is also the author of several nonfiction books, including Kook, The Whale Warriors, and Hell or High Water: Surviving Tibet’s Tsangpo River. He lives in Denver, Colorado.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,059 reviews
May 26, 2020
The Painter is a literary work of art. The author uses a crime novel as a vehicle to display beautiful and lyrical prose. This book is going up on my “Favorites,” shelf. I put this book on the same level as All the Pretty Horses, I Lay Down My Sword and Shield and To the Bright and Shining Sun. I usually read and enjoy books that are like chocolate and popcorn, fast easy reads that are entertaining and have strong Fictive Dreams. But in between, and to cleanse my reading palette, I like something with substance, a book that cannot be rushed and has to be read word for word. These books are a seven-course meal to be savored, meat and potatoes to the chocolate and popcorn. The Painter is all meat and potatoes. I fell far behind in my reading challenge because I did not want to rush this book. (Geeze, I sound like I had some kind of weird romance with this one). Needless to say, I loved this book. It is far better than the author’s The River, or Dog Star and I loved both of those books. The story is about a painter (picture kind) and Heller uses wonderful words to describe the paintings. The painter in the book is also a fly fisherman and there are some terrific descriptions of New Mexico. There is a well-drawn and motivated murder that in my mind takes a backseat to the wonderful prose. I got lost in this book and time passed me by without notice.
I highly recommend this book.
David Putnam Author of the Bruno Johnson series.
I highly recommend this book.
David Putnam Author of the Bruno Johnson series.
May 1, 2014
At first glance, it seems that The Painter – Peter Heller’s ravishing second novel – has little in common with Dog Stars, his debut book that positioned him as a writer to watch. Yet each, in its own way, chronicles a journey toward spiritual regeneration, a journey to finding grace in a merciless universe.
The Painter reconfirms that Peter Heller has a massive talent. Our narrator is Jim Stegner, an expressionist New Mexican artist, an avid fly fisherman, and the father of a teenage girl whose life ended tragically. He also has a self-defined heart of a killer (the very first line reads, “I never imagined I would shoot a man. Or be a father. Or live so far from the sea.”) Yet as we quickly discover, Jim is a murderer with sensitivity: he rids the world of a lowlife who viciously abused a vulnerable little roan.
The dichotomies of Jim’s life – his artwork and the murder – represent his two polarities, the art of creation and the art of destruction. And both serve a more important goal: freeing himself (and the world) from pain and moving toward redemption. (Jim reflects, “To paint simply and to feel a cooling, the calmness of craft, of being a journeyman who focuses on the simple task: pin this one corner together and make it fit in an expanding universe.”)
As Jim’s paintings become more inspired, borrowing from what is happening in his life and his soul, he gradually moves from personal loss to growth. Mr. Heller writes, “Because the process has always been craft, years and years; then faith; then letting go. But now, sometimes the best work is agony. Pieces put together, torn apart, rebuilt. Doubt in everything that has been learned, terrible crisis of faith, the faith that allowed it all to work.”
The Painter can be read on many levels. On its most surface level, it’s a suspenseful narrative of a tortured man and brilliant artist who must evade the authorities as well as the vengeful clan of the man he killed. On a deeper level, it’s a book about grief and the dark places it takes us, and the ways that we struggle for understanding and the regeneration. On another level yet, it’s about how art can help us transcend our demons by capturing and recreating them. It’s a brilliant book and I can’t wait to see where this author goes next.
The Painter reconfirms that Peter Heller has a massive talent. Our narrator is Jim Stegner, an expressionist New Mexican artist, an avid fly fisherman, and the father of a teenage girl whose life ended tragically. He also has a self-defined heart of a killer (the very first line reads, “I never imagined I would shoot a man. Or be a father. Or live so far from the sea.”) Yet as we quickly discover, Jim is a murderer with sensitivity: he rids the world of a lowlife who viciously abused a vulnerable little roan.
The dichotomies of Jim’s life – his artwork and the murder – represent his two polarities, the art of creation and the art of destruction. And both serve a more important goal: freeing himself (and the world) from pain and moving toward redemption. (Jim reflects, “To paint simply and to feel a cooling, the calmness of craft, of being a journeyman who focuses on the simple task: pin this one corner together and make it fit in an expanding universe.”)
As Jim’s paintings become more inspired, borrowing from what is happening in his life and his soul, he gradually moves from personal loss to growth. Mr. Heller writes, “Because the process has always been craft, years and years; then faith; then letting go. But now, sometimes the best work is agony. Pieces put together, torn apart, rebuilt. Doubt in everything that has been learned, terrible crisis of faith, the faith that allowed it all to work.”
The Painter can be read on many levels. On its most surface level, it’s a suspenseful narrative of a tortured man and brilliant artist who must evade the authorities as well as the vengeful clan of the man he killed. On a deeper level, it’s a book about grief and the dark places it takes us, and the ways that we struggle for understanding and the regeneration. On another level yet, it’s about how art can help us transcend our demons by capturing and recreating them. It’s a brilliant book and I can’t wait to see where this author goes next.
May 31, 2014
When I first started this book I had some trouble getting into it. What kept me reading were the wonderful words and beautiful descriptions of scenery and wildlife and the compelling, but complicated persona that is the character Jim Stegner. This is a novel of contrasts, dark and gritty alongside beauty and peace.
Jim is a haunted man, a man at war, not in some other country, but within his own self. He seeks peace in painting and fly fishing and there are many descriptions of both. He is haunted by his Mother's death when he was a teenager and before he had a chance to tell her he loved her and by his fifteen yr.old daughters murder. Now a painter whose paintings sell quite well, he is living the life of a recluse in Colorado. He paints and fished to forget and also to remember. He is a smart man, one who reads novels and quotes from his favorite poets.
Yet within his psyche lives darkness and as once before an incident for which he served jail time, a situation will find him again losing control. Will the darkness once again control his life, or will he find peace and acceptance within himself? As the tension mounts and the new trouble threatens his peace, freedom and life, his paintings get better and better, come faster and faster. This will confront him with another moral dilemma.
Told in a first person narrative, this is an amazing book about a man's quest for redemption. Using nature and painting to exercise his demons, a man wanting peace but his very nature makes this less than impossible. A book to be patient with and to feel the emotional impact of this character. He could be anyone of us.
Jim is a haunted man, a man at war, not in some other country, but within his own self. He seeks peace in painting and fly fishing and there are many descriptions of both. He is haunted by his Mother's death when he was a teenager and before he had a chance to tell her he loved her and by his fifteen yr.old daughters murder. Now a painter whose paintings sell quite well, he is living the life of a recluse in Colorado. He paints and fished to forget and also to remember. He is a smart man, one who reads novels and quotes from his favorite poets.
Yet within his psyche lives darkness and as once before an incident for which he served jail time, a situation will find him again losing control. Will the darkness once again control his life, or will he find peace and acceptance within himself? As the tension mounts and the new trouble threatens his peace, freedom and life, his paintings get better and better, come faster and faster. This will confront him with another moral dilemma.
Told in a first person narrative, this is an amazing book about a man's quest for redemption. Using nature and painting to exercise his demons, a man wanting peace but his very nature makes this less than impossible. A book to be patient with and to feel the emotional impact of this character. He could be anyone of us.
February 16, 2024
I wish I could remember who suggested I read Peter Heller so I could give a proper thank you. I can't remember who it was, but I can pass the suggestion along. If you haven't read Peter Heller's books already, you should give him a try. Be warned, though, that The Painter has a fair amount of violence.
"Poor horse. It was leap and die or live and be haunted by the ability to choose."
"Poor horse. It was leap and die or live and be haunted by the ability to choose."
December 17, 2020
5 🎨 🎨 🎨 🎨 🎨
Painting and fly fishing feature prominently in this wonderful novel. I have done neither but oh my, how seductive reading about them was. The setting is Colorado and Santa Fe, New Mexico. I’ve been to both and loved the lyrical prose; close your eyes and you can picture it all from his descriptions and smell the piñon nuts.
One of my reading buddies on this won a quilt, something I used to engage in passionately. What you want in a finished piece is lots of contrast between the colors and patterns, particularly the stitching which adds depth and interest, and this story has it in abundance.
Jim and his main nemesis are complicated men. Against the beauty of the land, the paintings, the fishing line swirling over the streams, is violence and the darker side to our psyche. Thread tension and beauty were abundant throughout. You get strong character development and page turning in equal measure.
Figuring ourselves out is a lifetime process, and open-ended. I found myself not only examining the protagonist’s motives and triggers, but my own as well. Seeing yourself in the mix of characters makes for an enriching reading experience. The denouement was as good as it gets. An added bonus, it was number 100 on my yearly book count reading challenge. What a finish! Heller has become one of my favorite authors.
Painting and fly fishing feature prominently in this wonderful novel. I have done neither but oh my, how seductive reading about them was. The setting is Colorado and Santa Fe, New Mexico. I’ve been to both and loved the lyrical prose; close your eyes and you can picture it all from his descriptions and smell the piñon nuts.
One of my reading buddies on this won a quilt, something I used to engage in passionately. What you want in a finished piece is lots of contrast between the colors and patterns, particularly the stitching which adds depth and interest, and this story has it in abundance.
Jim and his main nemesis are complicated men. Against the beauty of the land, the paintings, the fishing line swirling over the streams, is violence and the darker side to our psyche. Thread tension and beauty were abundant throughout. You get strong character development and page turning in equal measure.
Figuring ourselves out is a lifetime process, and open-ended. I found myself not only examining the protagonist’s motives and triggers, but my own as well. Seeing yourself in the mix of characters makes for an enriching reading experience. The denouement was as good as it gets. An added bonus, it was number 100 on my yearly book count reading challenge. What a finish! Heller has become one of my favorite authors.
July 29, 2016
Like many, I truly enjoyed and was moved by "The Dog Stars". This novel, however, couldn't be more different in that regard.
It was somewhat of a Sisyphusian effort to work through and finish as the protagonist was unlikable (and unbelievable), the plot overly contrived (and unbelievable) and the overall story line and action cookie cutter and formulaic. (Big, tough, talented, independent, uncompromising, moody artist...babe magnet...finds himself lamenting and struggling to survive the hellish life he has entirely and unnecessarily brought upon himself. Sigh...)
If it wasn't for the fact that I was personally familiar with many of the locales, including Paonia, from my travels, I don't know that I could have made it all the way through.
Having read "The Dog Stars" I have no doubt that Mr. Heller is capable of producing more excellent work and I eagerly await the publication.
Sadly, this book was a step in entirely the wrong direction, in my humble opinion.
It was somewhat of a Sisyphusian effort to work through and finish as the protagonist was unlikable (and unbelievable), the plot overly contrived (and unbelievable) and the overall story line and action cookie cutter and formulaic. (Big, tough, talented, independent, uncompromising, moody artist...babe magnet...finds himself lamenting and struggling to survive the hellish life he has entirely and unnecessarily brought upon himself. Sigh...)
If it wasn't for the fact that I was personally familiar with many of the locales, including Paonia, from my travels, I don't know that I could have made it all the way through.
Having read "The Dog Stars" I have no doubt that Mr. Heller is capable of producing more excellent work and I eagerly await the publication.
Sadly, this book was a step in entirely the wrong direction, in my humble opinion.
May 5, 2014
I'm not quite sure why I liked The Painter so much. I can tell you it didn't start out that way. It did start out with sort of a bang but then I was like "What the hey?". I held out, kept reading and soon got into the rhythm of Heller's style of writing. The story clicked and by book's end I decided it was pretty good, 4 stars in fact.
If I had to pick an audience I'd say this is a man's book. But that's not quite right either as the main character is a quandary of description. Jim Stegner. He's a poet, an artist, a man who can see the beauty in things. He's a fly fisher, a nature lover, an animal lover. He's an ex-husband. He's a father who has lost his only child, a young teen named Alce (Alsay), the love of his life. He's a vigilante, a murderer.
The language is beautiful, sometimes raw and poetic. My thanks to Knopf for providing the e-galley of The Painter which will be published May 6, 2014. I wanted to quote but do not have the finished work to compare.
So who and what is Jim Stegner? Read this achingly haunting story to find out. I was mesmerized.
My thanks to Knopf for providing the e-galley of The Painter which will be published May 6, 2014
If I had to pick an audience I'd say this is a man's book. But that's not quite right either as the main character is a quandary of description. Jim Stegner. He's a poet, an artist, a man who can see the beauty in things. He's a fly fisher, a nature lover, an animal lover. He's an ex-husband. He's a father who has lost his only child, a young teen named Alce (Alsay), the love of his life. He's a vigilante, a murderer.
The language is beautiful, sometimes raw and poetic. My thanks to Knopf for providing the e-galley of The Painter which will be published May 6, 2014. I wanted to quote but do not have the finished work to compare.
So who and what is Jim Stegner? Read this achingly haunting story to find out. I was mesmerized.
My thanks to Knopf for providing the e-galley of The Painter which will be published May 6, 2014
July 7, 2014
I think Peter Heller is a brilliant writer. If you loved The Dog Stars, you will like this book too.
The Painter is like reading poetry, I took my time reading this one because I didn't want it to end.
Highly recommend!
The Painter is like reading poetry, I took my time reading this one because I didn't want it to end.
Highly recommend!
March 28, 2019
[4+]"What the f--- are you doing? Stop!" I repeatedly shouted to Jim Stegner, the sensitive, violent, macho, gentle, out-of-control, fisherman-artist in The Painter. Of course he didn't listen and made mistake after mistake, keeping me off balance and held captive for 364 pages. Heller writes exquisitely. The vivid descriptions of Stegner's paintings were more than enough reward for sitting through multiple fishing expeditions. I could picture each painting and each one stunned me.
May 18, 2014
the story of a big (and I mean that literally and figuratively) man's man - 'pretty famous' artist by day painting ducks in heat, family portraits, gunshots to heads psychopath-assassin fisherman by night. Handsome, well built and trying to do the good things other people are too stupid to do.......
For someone who loved 'The Dog Stars' - I am beyond disappointed in a book of implausible silly cliches and little more.......If I had to read that he was going to have another cheroot I was going to throw the book out - cigarettes smell like life? How big was the other guy - pretty big because I'm 6'......but he was wide too. How's your x doing - she was a playboy playmate right? How much did your rod cost - that's a long one and really expensive. Paints a picture of a gun blast - and then a picture of the rich Santa Fe kids in mere minutes they absolutely love - he's like a dad to them...
I'll shelve this under schmaltzy romantic fiction
For someone who loved 'The Dog Stars' - I am beyond disappointed in a book of implausible silly cliches and little more.......If I had to read that he was going to have another cheroot I was going to throw the book out - cigarettes smell like life? How big was the other guy - pretty big because I'm 6'......but he was wide too. How's your x doing - she was a playboy playmate right? How much did your rod cost - that's a long one and really expensive. Paints a picture of a gun blast - and then a picture of the rich Santa Fe kids in mere minutes they absolutely love - he's like a dad to them...
I'll shelve this under schmaltzy romantic fiction
August 5, 2018
A very rewarding read for me, the way it stirs up so many themes about our place in nature and our impossible dream to live and act with the freedom and innocence of animals. Jim Stegner is a gifted painter working in New Mexico, struggling to get past the grief of the loss of a teenaged daughter to urban violence and ensuing end of his marriage to her mother. He is trying hard to avoid a relapse into alcohol and violence, but when he encounters an incident of terrible cruelty to a horse by local louts, he explodes into destructive action. Things escalate into a personal vendetta between him and a clan who runs a hunting camp for wealthy customers.
We experience him using his art to make sense of what is happening to him, his violence that goes beyond the heroic, and its connection to the family tragedies from his past. He is on the verge of either being killed in revenge or arrested for his own acts. He becomes quite productive with his paintings, reminding me of Wallace Steven’s line, “Death is the mother of beauty.” He also finds escape in the bed of his model and in frequent fishing forays into his own heaven of wild mountain streams. Ironically, his growing reputation as a vigilante artist spikes media interest and consequently sales of his work. As with Hemingway, we are tempted to make him our avatar of a manly mode of life while continuing to hold reservations over the childish egotism that marks his recourse to aggression and apparent exploitation of women. I haven’t read Wallace Stegner’s novels of the West, so I can only wonder about the connection of their names.
The mix of thriller elements with meditations on art makes for an odd mix. But I think it works well. Plus, the prose is outstanding in its restrained lyricism and its pacing between revery and action. Most of all I loved the portrayal of Stegner’s artistic process and linkage to development of his character. I leave you with three samples of Heller’s prose. In the first, Stegner explains how his first encounter with a painting by Winslow Homer when he was adrift at age 17 inspired him to become an artist.
“The Fog Warning”, by Winslow Homer (1885)
The man is in mid-stroke, climbing the back of a wave, and he cranes his head to get a better look at his distant ship and the coming wall of fog bearing down on it out of an ominous evening. He is completely alone and a little alarmed, and capable. If they—his ship, his rowboat—are overcome by fog before he can close the gap he may be lost at sea, forever.
…He had nothing to do but put his back into it and pull another stroke, and another.
…Six weeks later I enrolled at the San Francisco Art Institute. I didn’t graduate. I didn’t even make it halfway through, but I didn’t need to.
Here Stegner captures the pull that fly-fishing has on him, reaching levels of eloquence comparable Maclean’s “A River Runs Through It”:
The trout were probably wide awake like me tonight, finning the current at the edge of the riffles, feeding on the bugs haplessly lit.
That is where my heart went. To them. To the cool water. The unburdened sounds of water flowing over the rock, roiled into a rough edged rush and burble that was also somehow soothing. Under the moon the white-water would be rips and tears in the darkness, the pools black, or maybe black with the bright moon reflected there, the trout lost to sight but looking up themselves into a bright firmament. I cannot name it but my heart felt like that. All those reversals, rough to smooth and back again, light erupting into the dark and subsiding back to a blind flow where sound and smell and cold were more important. Where touch was. The thing about night, about dark: touch is most important. And lying there against the heat of Sofia I could feel the stones underfoot, the press and cold of the current.
Finally, this piece captures a policeman, who is investigating Stegner as a crime suspect, in the process of viewing his painting of himself swimming in a sea of alluring women and sharks:
An Ocean of Women was maybe a great painting. It took the viewer to a lot of different places at once which a great painting can do. …
The kid stood uneasily before the easel, his hand on the holstered gun, blinking. …his eyes roved from woman to woman wondering maybe how many the swimmer could fuck and still tread water. A good picture should do all of that. Invite the viewer in from just wherever he stood, lead him on a different journey that the person standing beside him. I loved that, watching different people watch a painting at the same time. Because that’s what it turned into: in front of a fine painting a viewer stopped looking and started watching, watching is more specific, watching is the hunt for something, a search, the way we watch for a loved one’s boat on the horizon, or an elk in the trees. Before a good painting they started watching for clues to their own life.
I recommend this book to anyone. So much lingers in the mind, reminding you how we as readers are looking for clues to our own life.
We experience him using his art to make sense of what is happening to him, his violence that goes beyond the heroic, and its connection to the family tragedies from his past. He is on the verge of either being killed in revenge or arrested for his own acts. He becomes quite productive with his paintings, reminding me of Wallace Steven’s line, “Death is the mother of beauty.” He also finds escape in the bed of his model and in frequent fishing forays into his own heaven of wild mountain streams. Ironically, his growing reputation as a vigilante artist spikes media interest and consequently sales of his work. As with Hemingway, we are tempted to make him our avatar of a manly mode of life while continuing to hold reservations over the childish egotism that marks his recourse to aggression and apparent exploitation of women. I haven’t read Wallace Stegner’s novels of the West, so I can only wonder about the connection of their names.
The mix of thriller elements with meditations on art makes for an odd mix. But I think it works well. Plus, the prose is outstanding in its restrained lyricism and its pacing between revery and action. Most of all I loved the portrayal of Stegner’s artistic process and linkage to development of his character. I leave you with three samples of Heller’s prose. In the first, Stegner explains how his first encounter with a painting by Winslow Homer when he was adrift at age 17 inspired him to become an artist.
“The Fog Warning”, by Winslow Homer (1885)
The man is in mid-stroke, climbing the back of a wave, and he cranes his head to get a better look at his distant ship and the coming wall of fog bearing down on it out of an ominous evening. He is completely alone and a little alarmed, and capable. If they—his ship, his rowboat—are overcome by fog before he can close the gap he may be lost at sea, forever.
…He had nothing to do but put his back into it and pull another stroke, and another.
…Six weeks later I enrolled at the San Francisco Art Institute. I didn’t graduate. I didn’t even make it halfway through, but I didn’t need to.
Here Stegner captures the pull that fly-fishing has on him, reaching levels of eloquence comparable Maclean’s “A River Runs Through It”:
The trout were probably wide awake like me tonight, finning the current at the edge of the riffles, feeding on the bugs haplessly lit.
That is where my heart went. To them. To the cool water. The unburdened sounds of water flowing over the rock, roiled into a rough edged rush and burble that was also somehow soothing. Under the moon the white-water would be rips and tears in the darkness, the pools black, or maybe black with the bright moon reflected there, the trout lost to sight but looking up themselves into a bright firmament. I cannot name it but my heart felt like that. All those reversals, rough to smooth and back again, light erupting into the dark and subsiding back to a blind flow where sound and smell and cold were more important. Where touch was. The thing about night, about dark: touch is most important. And lying there against the heat of Sofia I could feel the stones underfoot, the press and cold of the current.
Finally, this piece captures a policeman, who is investigating Stegner as a crime suspect, in the process of viewing his painting of himself swimming in a sea of alluring women and sharks:
An Ocean of Women was maybe a great painting. It took the viewer to a lot of different places at once which a great painting can do. …
The kid stood uneasily before the easel, his hand on the holstered gun, blinking. …his eyes roved from woman to woman wondering maybe how many the swimmer could fuck and still tread water. A good picture should do all of that. Invite the viewer in from just wherever he stood, lead him on a different journey that the person standing beside him. I loved that, watching different people watch a painting at the same time. Because that’s what it turned into: in front of a fine painting a viewer stopped looking and started watching, watching is more specific, watching is the hunt for something, a search, the way we watch for a loved one’s boat on the horizon, or an elk in the trees. Before a good painting they started watching for clues to their own life.
I recommend this book to anyone. So much lingers in the mind, reminding you how we as readers are looking for clues to our own life.
August 12, 2024
This book is so beautiful. I don't know that I have ever read a more fully realized character than Jim Stegner. He reminded me, in good and bad ways, of the men written by Roth, Updike, and other midcentury authors
The Painter is about grief, living an ethical life and a moral life and what happens when those two things are at odds. fly fishing. nature, and art (itself, its context, and the making of it) -- not necessarily in that order. The prose here is perfect and the questions vast. I read this slowly, often going back and re-reading. I loved it. Also, Heller made one passing reference to Alex Katz which made me feel like I could see Jim's art and this weekend I happened to be at an Alex Katz exhibition and for the first time liked his work because for the first time, I understood it. The way Heller writes about the natural world is breathtaking, the way he writes about a grown man finally becoming a grownup is even more breathtaking. This goes on my best list.
The Painter is about grief, living an ethical life and a moral life and what happens when those two things are at odds. fly fishing. nature, and art (itself, its context, and the making of it) -- not necessarily in that order. The prose here is perfect and the questions vast. I read this slowly, often going back and re-reading. I loved it. Also, Heller made one passing reference to Alex Katz which made me feel like I could see Jim's art and this weekend I happened to be at an Alex Katz exhibition and for the first time liked his work because for the first time, I understood it. The way Heller writes about the natural world is breathtaking, the way he writes about a grown man finally becoming a grownup is even more breathtaking. This goes on my best list.
August 12, 2018
A great story, ‘The Painter’ by Peter Heller focuses on Jim Stegner, avid fisherman and well known artist. The first sentence, “I never imagined I would shoot a man,” lets us know that our protagonist has a deep undercurrent of anger that can boil over into violence. Even though the anger / violence is there, it continually surprises Jim. Perhaps the emotions are a direct result of Jim’s grief, of his sorrow at the losses he suffered. These emotions also spill over into his art. Sometimes it's like a black hole that takes him over. Heller writes that it’s like a reflex. For Jim, the anger explodes, and then there are repercussions. He’s spent time in prison and says he can never go back.
A large part of the story will take place in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where Jim's dealer has an art gallery. At the beginning however, Jim has just moved to Paonia, Colorado, which is very picturesque. Heller paints with his words a vivid picture of the natural world that Jim moves in, its beauty and small town life. It’s a town where everybody knows what everybody else is doing, or at least tries to. It took a bit for me to sink down into this beautiful novel. At first, although I felt the undercurrents of tension, the tone was just a little meandering and I found myself thinking what could be said of an artist who also likes to fish. I wasn’t many pages in before I discovered that Heller has a lot to say. ‘The Painter’ is a character study that delves deep. Secondary characters are multifaceted. Even the bad guy has a lot to say. He may not say it himself, but through his connections we learn that bad behavior (anger that’s released) is multifaceted, not without cause and not without consequences.
There are many pages of descriptive prose about the setting and Jim’s art. I was engulfed by this prose, sinking both into the setting and Jim’s art. The chapter titles are the titles of art pieces that Jim is creating. Chapter two is titled ‘The Digger, oil on canvas, 20 x 30 inches.’ In this chapter, while the woman in his life, Sofia is cooking, Jim is painting a picture of a man in a garden digging a hole. Heller writes, “The dirt he threw grew into a pile. As I painted, I myself grew alarmed. The pile grew and grew, the man dug, until the hole could only be of a certain size, could only be one thing.” It’s prescient. These feelings run underneath the surface of Jim and they’re not too far down. They can easily be reached.
What I like best about ‘The Painter’ is that Heller presents Jim as a troubled, creative soul, with a penchant for violence, but makes him relatable. He comes from a humble background, a family of loggers. Because of his art, he gets propelled into a world where people have giant egos. When an interviewer asks him, “Why choose art when you might have a decent and rugged living as a logger like your father?” Jim seethes and acts on his anger. Jim is an ‘outsider.’ He doesn't come from the world of privilege and money. I understand this anger and the classism that Heller reveals. Highly recommended.
A large part of the story will take place in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where Jim's dealer has an art gallery. At the beginning however, Jim has just moved to Paonia, Colorado, which is very picturesque. Heller paints with his words a vivid picture of the natural world that Jim moves in, its beauty and small town life. It’s a town where everybody knows what everybody else is doing, or at least tries to. It took a bit for me to sink down into this beautiful novel. At first, although I felt the undercurrents of tension, the tone was just a little meandering and I found myself thinking what could be said of an artist who also likes to fish. I wasn’t many pages in before I discovered that Heller has a lot to say. ‘The Painter’ is a character study that delves deep. Secondary characters are multifaceted. Even the bad guy has a lot to say. He may not say it himself, but through his connections we learn that bad behavior (anger that’s released) is multifaceted, not without cause and not without consequences.
There are many pages of descriptive prose about the setting and Jim’s art. I was engulfed by this prose, sinking both into the setting and Jim’s art. The chapter titles are the titles of art pieces that Jim is creating. Chapter two is titled ‘The Digger, oil on canvas, 20 x 30 inches.’ In this chapter, while the woman in his life, Sofia is cooking, Jim is painting a picture of a man in a garden digging a hole. Heller writes, “The dirt he threw grew into a pile. As I painted, I myself grew alarmed. The pile grew and grew, the man dug, until the hole could only be of a certain size, could only be one thing.” It’s prescient. These feelings run underneath the surface of Jim and they’re not too far down. They can easily be reached.
What I like best about ‘The Painter’ is that Heller presents Jim as a troubled, creative soul, with a penchant for violence, but makes him relatable. He comes from a humble background, a family of loggers. Because of his art, he gets propelled into a world where people have giant egos. When an interviewer asks him, “Why choose art when you might have a decent and rugged living as a logger like your father?” Jim seethes and acts on his anger. Jim is an ‘outsider.’ He doesn't come from the world of privilege and money. I understand this anger and the classism that Heller reveals. Highly recommended.
May 24, 2020
**Between 4 and 4.5 stars**
Peter Heller's writing was new to me when I sought out The Dog Stars in March. My first response to the pandemic was to read several apocalyptic novels back to back, perhaps thinking that the dire situation depicted would be more scary than what was happening in the real world. I enjoyed that novel very much so I changed course and went on to read The River, another very well written thriller and adventure story by Heller.
Which led me then to The Painter, which is actually Heller's second novel and I'm thinking his best of the three I've read. Once again Heller goes deeply into a character study with his main character, Jim Stegner, who is a talented Western painter of high-regard.
But Jim is also well known for having a violent streak and actually did some time in jail for shooting a man in a bar, a man who needed shooting, in his estimation. There is a rage inside Jim, that comes out in physical violence on occasion. Part of this rage stems from the fact he feels he failed to protect his teenaged daughter who made some mistakes and was brutally murdered.
Jim finds solace and relief in his painting and his other joy--fly fishing. But one night while out fishing, Jim does something unpremeditated and shocking and becomes a 'person of interest' in the ensuing investigation. This also sets in motion a family's thirst for revenge. Is Jim above the law because he is talented and famous?
By having Jim tell the story in first person narrative, the reader is immersed in the creative process of his painting, what each one means to him. There is also his enjoyment of fly fishing and being out in nature, his appreciation for poetry and making love to a beautiful woman. How then to justify his moments of violence? We see what mental gymnastics he goes through to be able to live with himself.
Terrific ending that I could see coming but didn't know how it would play out. Heller has become a favorite author of mine through these three books--all quite different, but splendid in their revealing sides of human nature.
Peter Heller's writing was new to me when I sought out The Dog Stars in March. My first response to the pandemic was to read several apocalyptic novels back to back, perhaps thinking that the dire situation depicted would be more scary than what was happening in the real world. I enjoyed that novel very much so I changed course and went on to read The River, another very well written thriller and adventure story by Heller.
Which led me then to The Painter, which is actually Heller's second novel and I'm thinking his best of the three I've read. Once again Heller goes deeply into a character study with his main character, Jim Stegner, who is a talented Western painter of high-regard.
But Jim is also well known for having a violent streak and actually did some time in jail for shooting a man in a bar, a man who needed shooting, in his estimation. There is a rage inside Jim, that comes out in physical violence on occasion. Part of this rage stems from the fact he feels he failed to protect his teenaged daughter who made some mistakes and was brutally murdered.
Jim finds solace and relief in his painting and his other joy--fly fishing. But one night while out fishing, Jim does something unpremeditated and shocking and becomes a 'person of interest' in the ensuing investigation. This also sets in motion a family's thirst for revenge. Is Jim above the law because he is talented and famous?
By having Jim tell the story in first person narrative, the reader is immersed in the creative process of his painting, what each one means to him. There is also his enjoyment of fly fishing and being out in nature, his appreciation for poetry and making love to a beautiful woman. How then to justify his moments of violence? We see what mental gymnastics he goes through to be able to live with himself.
Terrific ending that I could see coming but didn't know how it would play out. Heller has become a favorite author of mine through these three books--all quite different, but splendid in their revealing sides of human nature.
December 31, 2024
I love how much space this story takes up. It's messy, morally ambivalent, violent. The men know their guns and their liquor. The women are smart, savvy, but also have long legs, trim waists, and voluminous breasts. The landscape, Colorado's Western Slope, is so rugged it practically drips cedar and sandalwood cologne. With base notes of whiskey.
If it sounds like I'm being snide or somehow mocking The Painter, let me reassure you: I loved this novel. Despite all the man-spreading, or perhaps because of it, there is room for tenderness, subtlety, humility and grace.
Peter Heller introduces us to Jim Stegner, a painter of some renown who has fled the pretense of Santa Fe—and his own past—for the quiet wilds of Delta County (did you hear me gasping in surprise and delight when I realized the book was set in Paonia, where I lived in the early 90s?). Jim keeps to himself, fly fishes when he isn't painting, flirts with the pretty ladies, and tries to steer clear of alcohol. After two marriages and time served in prison for defending the honor of his daughter, Jim needs trouble like a fish needs a bicycle. But when he happens on an act of unspeakable animal cruelty, his intervention sets off a cascade of events that leaves him both the hunter and the hunted.
There are so many reasons why this book is so very good. It's a gripping thriller styled after a classic Western tale of vengeance. It cracks open an artist's mind and lets the reader see and feel how paintings are conceived and constructed; each chapter is the title of a painting (or two) and the ensuing chapter includes scenes of Stegner creating the work. Heller's brilliance is his ability to integrate these paintings into the novel's inherent suspense. Like any good Western, the protagonist is an anti-hero you can't help but fall slightly in love with; even when Jim is doing the wrong thing, you know—or convince yourself—it's for the right reasons.
The Painter was published more than ten years ago; likely written two or three years before that. I wonder if it would be as well-received were it published in today's post-#MeToo, #toxicmasculinity era or if Heller would have written his Jim Stegner in the same way. I hope so. This is literary fiction that I can't get enough of: great story combined with stellar prose written around timeless themes.
If it sounds like I'm being snide or somehow mocking The Painter, let me reassure you: I loved this novel. Despite all the man-spreading, or perhaps because of it, there is room for tenderness, subtlety, humility and grace.
Peter Heller introduces us to Jim Stegner, a painter of some renown who has fled the pretense of Santa Fe—and his own past—for the quiet wilds of Delta County (did you hear me gasping in surprise and delight when I realized the book was set in Paonia, where I lived in the early 90s?). Jim keeps to himself, fly fishes when he isn't painting, flirts with the pretty ladies, and tries to steer clear of alcohol. After two marriages and time served in prison for defending the honor of his daughter, Jim needs trouble like a fish needs a bicycle. But when he happens on an act of unspeakable animal cruelty, his intervention sets off a cascade of events that leaves him both the hunter and the hunted.
There are so many reasons why this book is so very good. It's a gripping thriller styled after a classic Western tale of vengeance. It cracks open an artist's mind and lets the reader see and feel how paintings are conceived and constructed; each chapter is the title of a painting (or two) and the ensuing chapter includes scenes of Stegner creating the work. Heller's brilliance is his ability to integrate these paintings into the novel's inherent suspense. Like any good Western, the protagonist is an anti-hero you can't help but fall slightly in love with; even when Jim is doing the wrong thing, you know—or convince yourself—it's for the right reasons.
The Painter was published more than ten years ago; likely written two or three years before that. I wonder if it would be as well-received were it published in today's post-#MeToo, #toxicmasculinity era or if Heller would have written his Jim Stegner in the same way. I hope so. This is literary fiction that I can't get enough of: great story combined with stellar prose written around timeless themes.
January 23, 2022
The downfall of high expectations. The expectations inherent in the sophomore book from an author with a magnificent debut. How did Peter Heller fare? Fair.
Like his magnificent debut novel, "The Dog Stars", " The Painter" has a palpable mood; an ambiance that is set by the words on the page. Both novels explore lonely places; sad situations, dark frames of mind, last resort scenarios, best-left-avoided emotions. Both novels are infused, however with the right amount of light. Enough light can be seen to bring hope, to ignite love, to nurture redemption for the characters. In turn, readers can turn the last page with the satisfaction that they have ventured into the depths of the human psyche, but returned. And are that much the better for it.
The difference, for me, was how well each of the novels did the above. Like the chef whom combines all the necessary ingredients for the perfect dish, "The Dog Stars" was executed with finesse. For "The Painter", though, some measurements were imprecise; timing was not perfect. And like the perfect dish requires the chef to orchestrate the entire operation, the perfect novel requires the same of the author. And if one ingredient is slightly off, it causes the domino reaction.
The dispersion of storytelling was unbalanced. The present focuses on Jim Stegner's second murder, Dellwood Siminoe, a little liked leader of a poaching ring whom he witnesses abusing a horse. Siminoe's brother, Grant, and the brothers' nephew, Jason, seek revenge. Stegner begins to run from them, the law- but, most of all- from himself and his past.
I wish Jim's relationships with others were examined, explored, narrated, discussed more. These are relationships that made Him who he is today, e.g., his ex-wives, his daughter Alce, Irmina (his old friend/lover), Sofia (his current model turned lover turned girlfriend), Steve (his agent). Unfortunately, much of this was replaced by long monologues, stream of consciousness style, regarding his fears, dreams, philosophies, thoughts, feelings. By no means is this a negative thing, thus my utilization of the word "replaced" rather than "sacrificed". At some point, however, it became repetitive, made more so by the lack of discussion about his relationships outside his own mind.
Aside from these monologues, most of the text includes flashbacks that update the reader on Jim's past (his first murder in a bar when a guy threatened his daughter; he had been married/divorced twice; is an alcoholic, now sober for three years; is prone to violent streaks; is a considerably successful landscape/country/nature/abstract artist), tangents regarding his love for fishing and how it brings him in harmony with not only himself but with life, and similar increasingly circumlocutory passages on his painting and the therapeutic benefits it gifts him. Again, these things, the behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of a painter, to see how fishing can have such profound effects on someone, are actually what makes this novel moving. It is only when read in contrast to the little explored world outside Jim's mind and the present murders he is involved in that these prolific insights begin to seen excessive.
This novel would have been better written as two separate ones, one that beautifully and picturesquely explores the mind of a troubled painter and fisherman, the other describing the suspenseful man running from his past.
Like his magnificent debut novel, "The Dog Stars", " The Painter" has a palpable mood; an ambiance that is set by the words on the page. Both novels explore lonely places; sad situations, dark frames of mind, last resort scenarios, best-left-avoided emotions. Both novels are infused, however with the right amount of light. Enough light can be seen to bring hope, to ignite love, to nurture redemption for the characters. In turn, readers can turn the last page with the satisfaction that they have ventured into the depths of the human psyche, but returned. And are that much the better for it.
The difference, for me, was how well each of the novels did the above. Like the chef whom combines all the necessary ingredients for the perfect dish, "The Dog Stars" was executed with finesse. For "The Painter", though, some measurements were imprecise; timing was not perfect. And like the perfect dish requires the chef to orchestrate the entire operation, the perfect novel requires the same of the author. And if one ingredient is slightly off, it causes the domino reaction.
The dispersion of storytelling was unbalanced. The present focuses on Jim Stegner's second murder, Dellwood Siminoe, a little liked leader of a poaching ring whom he witnesses abusing a horse. Siminoe's brother, Grant, and the brothers' nephew, Jason, seek revenge. Stegner begins to run from them, the law- but, most of all- from himself and his past.
I wish Jim's relationships with others were examined, explored, narrated, discussed more. These are relationships that made Him who he is today, e.g., his ex-wives, his daughter Alce, Irmina (his old friend/lover), Sofia (his current model turned lover turned girlfriend), Steve (his agent). Unfortunately, much of this was replaced by long monologues, stream of consciousness style, regarding his fears, dreams, philosophies, thoughts, feelings. By no means is this a negative thing, thus my utilization of the word "replaced" rather than "sacrificed". At some point, however, it became repetitive, made more so by the lack of discussion about his relationships outside his own mind.
Aside from these monologues, most of the text includes flashbacks that update the reader on Jim's past (his first murder in a bar when a guy threatened his daughter; he had been married/divorced twice; is an alcoholic, now sober for three years; is prone to violent streaks; is a considerably successful landscape/country/nature/abstract artist), tangents regarding his love for fishing and how it brings him in harmony with not only himself but with life, and similar increasingly circumlocutory passages on his painting and the therapeutic benefits it gifts him. Again, these things, the behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of a painter, to see how fishing can have such profound effects on someone, are actually what makes this novel moving. It is only when read in contrast to the little explored world outside Jim's mind and the present murders he is involved in that these prolific insights begin to seen excessive.
This novel would have been better written as two separate ones, one that beautifully and picturesquely explores the mind of a troubled painter and fisherman, the other describing the suspenseful man running from his past.
March 7, 2016
This was a good read combining western vigilantism with an artistic flavour. The Painter is about a man- who is both a painter and fisherman -trying to escape the suffering of loss he has encountered in his life. Along that journey, however, he meets up with evil and decides to act on it taking the law into his own hands. His journey becomes one of being hunted and it's through this experience he is able to heal. The book is broken into canvases rather than chapters which was interesting. Very descriptive writing - was able to visualize each painting and the passion and emotion that each evoked. I give it 4 stars.
December 4, 2016
***2.5 Stars...rounded up to 3*** Unfortunately, I just finished two splendid novels and this one suffered by comparison.
January 13, 2025
Not unlike how Homer Simpson daydreams about donuts, Jim Stegner wants to fish. It’s always on his mind. He even has his own fly — the Stegner something, I forget — and fly-fishing is part of a narrow regimen of manly habits he likes to indulge into — and tell you all about — not every few chapters, but every few pages. I have my reservations about the results.
This felt the closest I've been in a long while to reading a bestseller type of printed product. It was also an unlikely foray into a world of pickup trucks, dirt roads, snuff and cigarillos. Where men are men, and women are women, and life is simple — except it really isn't — and the police did this, and the police did that. You’ve been a bad boy, Jim Stegner, good thing your new girlfriend likes to flash her tits, it brightens your mood, right? Damn right.
(I often felt like a candid reader. Jim described his cigarillos as vanilla flavored, which didn’t strike me as manly at all, but what do I know? How much time do I ever invest in choosing the right cheroot to reflect my being a manly man of the woodsy pastimes? Kind of zero. “The cigars are little rough-ended cheroots, made to look hand rolled like the stubs Clint chewed in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Vanilla flavored and irresistible. Limit myself to two packs of eight a day.”)
When he’s not fishing or smoking cheroots, often both at the same time, Jim paints. With surprising success! And when he doesn’t paint, he occasionally flies into a blind rage and — spoiler alert! stop reading here! — he kills people. Hey, not dozens of them, chill. Just a few. He’s doing better. He’s trying hard. He’s quitting the habit, give him a break, okay? He regrets.
I’m not the target audience for this (…duh). I didn’t find the novel badly written, I found it stiffly typecast and repetitive, and pandering to socially conservative, possibly underprivileged audiences (the humour targets repeatedly signaled as much). Fine by me, just funny to read it: unusual angles, these days.
“Archery season’s in two days and Bob tells me the woods will be thick with bow hunters from Arkansas and Texas and I might have to fish in an orange vest. Never happen. If some sonofabitch from the Ozarks mistakes my white beard for the ass of a deer, well.”
You tell them, Jim, you rebel, you. Have another cheroot, while you’re at it.
This felt the closest I've been in a long while to reading a bestseller type of printed product. It was also an unlikely foray into a world of pickup trucks, dirt roads, snuff and cigarillos. Where men are men, and women are women, and life is simple — except it really isn't — and the police did this, and the police did that. You’ve been a bad boy, Jim Stegner, good thing your new girlfriend likes to flash her tits, it brightens your mood, right? Damn right.
(I often felt like a candid reader. Jim described his cigarillos as vanilla flavored, which didn’t strike me as manly at all, but what do I know? How much time do I ever invest in choosing the right cheroot to reflect my being a manly man of the woodsy pastimes? Kind of zero. “The cigars are little rough-ended cheroots, made to look hand rolled like the stubs Clint chewed in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Vanilla flavored and irresistible. Limit myself to two packs of eight a day.”)
When he’s not fishing or smoking cheroots, often both at the same time, Jim paints. With surprising success! And when he doesn’t paint, he occasionally flies into a blind rage and — spoiler alert! stop reading here! — he kills people. Hey, not dozens of them, chill. Just a few. He’s doing better. He’s trying hard. He’s quitting the habit, give him a break, okay? He regrets.
I’m not the target audience for this (…duh). I didn’t find the novel badly written, I found it stiffly typecast and repetitive, and pandering to socially conservative, possibly underprivileged audiences (the humour targets repeatedly signaled as much). Fine by me, just funny to read it: unusual angles, these days.
“Archery season’s in two days and Bob tells me the woods will be thick with bow hunters from Arkansas and Texas and I might have to fish in an orange vest. Never happen. If some sonofabitch from the Ozarks mistakes my white beard for the ass of a deer, well.”
You tell them, Jim, you rebel, you. Have another cheroot, while you’re at it.
July 2, 2014
Peter Heller can write, and write well. Often poetic, this novel is basically the inner ramblings of a complex 45 year old man, who, even confusing to himself, is an artist. When he’s stressed, he paints or goes fly-fishing. He needs nothing more in this world: to be able to fly fish, and paint. He’s got a past; he served time for shooting a man in a bar. He’s got 2 ex-wives. He’s carrying the burden of the death of his daughter. He wants to be a good man, yet trouble seems to find him.
I’m not a fan of fly-fishing, nor am I an artist. Yet, when Heller writes about fly-fishing (in detail), I’m still drawn to the book. At times it’s almost a manual in fly-fishing. Because of Heller’s beautiful and poetic writing style, I wanted to read more. Heller’s take on being an artistic painter is interesting. I’m not one, so I don’t know if what he writes is accurate, but this is fiction.
I enjoy stories of inner turmoil; of trying to be good in the face of reality. I enjoy books that are thought provoking. I really enjoy books where there is a thin line between the good guys and the bad guys. Heller does a fantastic job in covering all those topics. Reading this book is time well spent.
I’m not a fan of fly-fishing, nor am I an artist. Yet, when Heller writes about fly-fishing (in detail), I’m still drawn to the book. At times it’s almost a manual in fly-fishing. Because of Heller’s beautiful and poetic writing style, I wanted to read more. Heller’s take on being an artistic painter is interesting. I’m not one, so I don’t know if what he writes is accurate, but this is fiction.
I enjoy stories of inner turmoil; of trying to be good in the face of reality. I enjoy books that are thought provoking. I really enjoy books where there is a thin line between the good guys and the bad guys. Heller does a fantastic job in covering all those topics. Reading this book is time well spent.
July 28, 2016
This book is amazing to me on so many levels. There's harrowing suspense as a man knows he's being hunted down by family members intent on revenge. It's a psychological study of a flawed, complex man with a self destructive streak and painful family history. What I especially loved was the art. A peek inside the drive of creative genius that doesn't choose to paint, but must. The Painter's interpretations of other paintings and his own interspersed with fishing ala A River Runs Through It. How chapters open with the title of his painting and how the painting gets woven into the storyline. Well. Five stars.
December 17, 2020
4.5 rounded up.
"The eyes different colors, the colors shifting, the way pebbles on the bottom of a stream, the way the fast water is constantly moving the lances of sunlight."
The way this author captures the nuance and beauty in the natural world around him. I enjoyed it in The River, and I enjoyed it even more here. And he captures not only our natural world, but our inner worlds:
"Sometimes in a bar fight, just before it erupts, you feel the way things are going, they can't go any other way, and you strike. Preempt"
"He turned his head, worked the plug in his cheek with his tongue, looked at me, steady. His hair was very dark, almost black, but his eyes were mineral blue. They were mineral hard and the calmness in them tightened my wires more than any anger."
"I almost cannot contain--the rage and the tenderness together like a boiling weather front."
Jim is a man driven by demons. Sometimes those demons spontaneously erupt. And once they erupt, he can't control where the flow goes or what it burns.
"I felt the terrible vulnerability of everything, and the depthless peace of the evening, and I wondered that God could have made such a doubleness, allowed it all to exist together so that we might feel so helpless."
A painter, marked by grief and regret, acts on a deeper, darker instinct and sets in motion a series of events that begin to consume and change him. This novel offers the suspense of a cat and mouse game, philosophical musings on the nature of the human spirit and what warps it, how grief and guilt can spill out in unexpected ways, how we might choose when warped by life, and what it might take to overcome what threatens to drown us. The ongoing tension is punctuated by moments of fly fishing, described in such magical detail that one feels like a tied fly on Jim's hat, enjoying the ambience.
At its core, this novel asked me to ponder whether it's acceptable to do the wrong things for perhaps the right reasons. With no easy answers, and after nightmarish events, I found the ending resolution gave me a sense of peace, despite some guarded reservations.
"The eyes different colors, the colors shifting, the way pebbles on the bottom of a stream, the way the fast water is constantly moving the lances of sunlight."
The way this author captures the nuance and beauty in the natural world around him. I enjoyed it in The River, and I enjoyed it even more here. And he captures not only our natural world, but our inner worlds:
"Sometimes in a bar fight, just before it erupts, you feel the way things are going, they can't go any other way, and you strike. Preempt"
"He turned his head, worked the plug in his cheek with his tongue, looked at me, steady. His hair was very dark, almost black, but his eyes were mineral blue. They were mineral hard and the calmness in them tightened my wires more than any anger."
"I almost cannot contain--the rage and the tenderness together like a boiling weather front."
Jim is a man driven by demons. Sometimes those demons spontaneously erupt. And once they erupt, he can't control where the flow goes or what it burns.
"I felt the terrible vulnerability of everything, and the depthless peace of the evening, and I wondered that God could have made such a doubleness, allowed it all to exist together so that we might feel so helpless."
A painter, marked by grief and regret, acts on a deeper, darker instinct and sets in motion a series of events that begin to consume and change him. This novel offers the suspense of a cat and mouse game, philosophical musings on the nature of the human spirit and what warps it, how grief and guilt can spill out in unexpected ways, how we might choose when warped by life, and what it might take to overcome what threatens to drown us. The ongoing tension is punctuated by moments of fly fishing, described in such magical detail that one feels like a tied fly on Jim's hat, enjoying the ambience.
At its core, this novel asked me to ponder whether it's acceptable to do the wrong things for perhaps the right reasons. With no easy answers, and after nightmarish events, I found the ending resolution gave me a sense of peace, despite some guarded reservations.
September 12, 2014
What a tremendously frustrating book. I was on the verge of loving it a few times, but so many things kept getting in the way. Mostly the women. They are props, never people, and having read his earlier novel, the brilliant, lovely "The Dog Stars," I see no excuse for that. The first signs of trouble emerge on the second page of Chapter One: “She is twenty-eight. An age of drama. She reminds me of a chicken in the way she is top-heavy, looks like she should topple over. I mean her trim body is small enough to support breasts the size of tangerines and she is grapefruit.”’
Dude. Seriously. You are comparing her boobs to fruit? And her to a barnyard fowl? And this is literary fiction? What. Are. You. Thinking. Where was the editor? Where were the first readers? The context is not at all helpful: we are talking about a middle aged man with bum knee and a grey beard, and women nearly half his age just throw themselves and their fruit-boobs in his path. Like, throughout the book. It’s ridiculous.
Why I kept reading: everyone else seemed to love this book, so I figured I should keep going. I began to fast-read, skipping descriptions and focusing on dialog, and about halfway through I began to stop being so annoyed and start caring about what happened next. It helped a lot that Jim was in Santa Fe by this point, stomping around my old stomping grounds. Heller must have spent some serious time in the area, because he knew about weird little things like the stick-teepees in the Sangre de Cristo mountains. And that Ten Thousand Waves is nicknamed Ten Thousand Steps by regulars. It’s not often you see a place you know well depicted fairly accurately in fiction, so this bit was a real pleasure.
The murdery parts worked, too, at least in keeping the pages turning. Heller is channeling Cormac McCarthy hard here, with varying success. Both writers love their violence and their high desert, but McCarthy is less indulgent. There’s a romanticism in Heller’s writing I really don’t care for: it’s like he’s mixing All the Pretty Horses with a Marlboro Man ad, or an especially terrible John Wayne movie. There’s a longing for a masculinity I can’t take seriously, a combination of heroic violence and sentimentality that feels juvenile. But it tended to come out most in the reflective passages; the active scenes are tight and flow pretty well.
That story about the bad art on Canyon Road: “Most of this art was made with brazen pander. The sight of one blue coyote howling at a blood moon was enough to arouse my pity. The sight of a dozen made me furious. Same with fall landscapes that include an adobe house with smoke coming out of the chimney and a red 1935 International pickup parked in the drive. Strings of red chiles hanging from the porch. I didn’t get it. Why didn’t these people just deal drugs or something?” This passage made me laugh, and there’s so much in this novel about the artistic process that applies equally well to painting and to writing. But then Heller actually goes on to describe almost that same scene later in the novel, with yet another shell of a female character camped on the porch of a house that may as well have a blue howling coyote out front. It’s an adobe house with smoke coming out of the chimney, it’s autumn. It’s the very stereotype Jim was railing about a hundred pages earlier. It’s almost like Heller did it on purpose, but to what end? I have to assume he’s actually unaware of the irony, which again makes me think he’s not steering the ship. He wants to be Cormac McCarthy, and wants to be Hemingway too, badly enough that his protagonist looks just like him (he’s even nicknamed, yes, “Hemingway.” Just in case you didn’t get it already, dear reader). But Hemingway was born in 1899 and can be forgiven for the tender-hearted killer stereotype: he practically invented it. McCarthy, for his part, is never sentimental. Heller is either writing in the wrong era or just hasn’t mastered how to pull off the masculinity thing. At least not here. Strangely, it worked better in "The Dog Stars." Maybe it's just easier with post-apocalyptic fiction. As it is easier for Jim to paint when he restricts himself to a landscape. Boundaries can be freeing.
In the end, I didn’t feel Heller was entirely in control of the narrative. He has some really lovely, poetic passages, some fantastic place description (probably his strongest suit), and some great action scenes. But overall, I wasn’t sure what it all meant. Jim’s violence was not nuanced, he was just a standard heroic vigilante—a type we’ve all seen many times before, in every spaghetti western. “I was a genius and under investigation for two murders and I was the dark celebrity of the house,” he reflects. “And here was the beautiful young lover-model we have all been reading about and and and.” Yes. And and and. And what? It’s like Heller knows he’s skating on the edge of kitsch, but he can’t quite bump the story into deeper territory. He can't make it all mean something.
Dude. Seriously. You are comparing her boobs to fruit? And her to a barnyard fowl? And this is literary fiction? What. Are. You. Thinking. Where was the editor? Where were the first readers? The context is not at all helpful: we are talking about a middle aged man with bum knee and a grey beard, and women nearly half his age just throw themselves and their fruit-boobs in his path. Like, throughout the book. It’s ridiculous.
Why I kept reading: everyone else seemed to love this book, so I figured I should keep going. I began to fast-read, skipping descriptions and focusing on dialog, and about halfway through I began to stop being so annoyed and start caring about what happened next. It helped a lot that Jim was in Santa Fe by this point, stomping around my old stomping grounds. Heller must have spent some serious time in the area, because he knew about weird little things like the stick-teepees in the Sangre de Cristo mountains. And that Ten Thousand Waves is nicknamed Ten Thousand Steps by regulars. It’s not often you see a place you know well depicted fairly accurately in fiction, so this bit was a real pleasure.
The murdery parts worked, too, at least in keeping the pages turning. Heller is channeling Cormac McCarthy hard here, with varying success. Both writers love their violence and their high desert, but McCarthy is less indulgent. There’s a romanticism in Heller’s writing I really don’t care for: it’s like he’s mixing All the Pretty Horses with a Marlboro Man ad, or an especially terrible John Wayne movie. There’s a longing for a masculinity I can’t take seriously, a combination of heroic violence and sentimentality that feels juvenile. But it tended to come out most in the reflective passages; the active scenes are tight and flow pretty well.
That story about the bad art on Canyon Road: “Most of this art was made with brazen pander. The sight of one blue coyote howling at a blood moon was enough to arouse my pity. The sight of a dozen made me furious. Same with fall landscapes that include an adobe house with smoke coming out of the chimney and a red 1935 International pickup parked in the drive. Strings of red chiles hanging from the porch. I didn’t get it. Why didn’t these people just deal drugs or something?” This passage made me laugh, and there’s so much in this novel about the artistic process that applies equally well to painting and to writing. But then Heller actually goes on to describe almost that same scene later in the novel, with yet another shell of a female character camped on the porch of a house that may as well have a blue howling coyote out front. It’s an adobe house with smoke coming out of the chimney, it’s autumn. It’s the very stereotype Jim was railing about a hundred pages earlier. It’s almost like Heller did it on purpose, but to what end? I have to assume he’s actually unaware of the irony, which again makes me think he’s not steering the ship. He wants to be Cormac McCarthy, and wants to be Hemingway too, badly enough that his protagonist looks just like him (he’s even nicknamed, yes, “Hemingway.” Just in case you didn’t get it already, dear reader). But Hemingway was born in 1899 and can be forgiven for the tender-hearted killer stereotype: he practically invented it. McCarthy, for his part, is never sentimental. Heller is either writing in the wrong era or just hasn’t mastered how to pull off the masculinity thing. At least not here. Strangely, it worked better in "The Dog Stars." Maybe it's just easier with post-apocalyptic fiction. As it is easier for Jim to paint when he restricts himself to a landscape. Boundaries can be freeing.
In the end, I didn’t feel Heller was entirely in control of the narrative. He has some really lovely, poetic passages, some fantastic place description (probably his strongest suit), and some great action scenes. But overall, I wasn’t sure what it all meant. Jim’s violence was not nuanced, he was just a standard heroic vigilante—a type we’ve all seen many times before, in every spaghetti western. “I was a genius and under investigation for two murders and I was the dark celebrity of the house,” he reflects. “And here was the beautiful young lover-model we have all been reading about and and and.” Yes. And and and. And what? It’s like Heller knows he’s skating on the edge of kitsch, but he can’t quite bump the story into deeper territory. He can't make it all mean something.
May 22, 2014
Grief takes on epic and violent proportions in this story of a reclusive artist, one who is notable in Santa Fe. Jim Stegner cuts a searing, Hemingway-esque figure, the beard and the bigness, the love of fishing and the outdoors, and the laconic mask. However, Stegner doesn't possess much in the way of academic roots. He was essentially a punk, belligerent kid who dropped out of school, had an epiphany at age seventeen after viewing some art that blew him away, got accepted into the San Francisco Art Institute (and dropped out), and somehow became a sensation in a few circles--certainly he makes a good sum of money. He also lost a fifteen-year-old daughter, Alce, to murder a few years ago.
The novel captures the span of a few weeks when Jim is losing control. He does have a history of violence even from before Alce was murdered, and he served time in the pen for it. Now, his rage is coloring his world, and in the space of less than a week, he kills two brothers--one, Dell, for his abusive treatment of horses, which he witnessed one day on the road, and the other, Grant, in self-defense. In the meantime, the authorities are watching him, and interviewing his friends and neighbors, like his model and sometimes lover, Sofia.
Alce was a good kid, but as teenagers are wont to do, she got caught up with a reckless and dangerous crowd. It would have been a temporary rebellion, but she was viciously murdered. Since then, Jim has been finding solace in fishing and painting--but, even after cleaning up his heavy drinking, he is stuck in despair, and contemptuous of the world around him. Yet, his paintings are also an aching, nuanced outpouring of his burdens, the daughter he lost, the brothers he killed. Stegner has a mountain of guilt that he can't unload, and he feels responsible for Alce's death.
"She died because she was just like me." And, in his descriptions braided through the novel, he conveys it well. He never married Alce's mother, and after this tragedy, they permanently separated. Whereas Cristine moved on with her life, Stegner was consumed in torpor. And yet, his paintings are dynamic.
Stegner lives in the flank of mountains that lead to Crested Butte, Colorado, which is a beautiful place I have stayed at, so I get a buzz when he describes the setting; he captures the landscape superbly. He spends most of the days fishing and, of course, painting. His style is sort of a Zen approach--to get inside the movement of the creation, and allow the spirit to move him forward. His large-canvas paintings are often executed in a matter of a few hours, and are more about momentum and color than studied technique. "...I wonder if painting isn't a way just to be like an animal for a few hours. To be in the stream of eternity... ...To feel like that. Same as fishing."
At a certain point, the plot becomes a cat-and-mouse suspense, which has a manic sort of pulse. Stegner has a manic pulse, too, one that is both a gift and an albatross. It could redeem him, which he desires, or finish him off. "Things pile up... ...What they mean by the weight of evidence. It just piles and piles up and you carry it with you until you're walking around like a hunchback."
Heller gets to the heart of Stegner's grief, and evokes a compelling perception of how art and life, and the life of the artist, are intertwined. At times, I was annoyed at how often Stegner scoffed at Southwestern art, especially because Heller came right at the edge of Stegner being a parody of himself. Stegner criticized his peers in a way that occasionally made me think less of him as a painter. After all, his breadth of knowledge should also clue him in that there are more than a few ways to skin a cat...or render a chicken! But, as the novel progressed, this was at least partially defended, i.e., Stegner's perceptions were thwarted by his rage, and he was often pessimistic about the agendas of others.
Also, the spacing of this novel almost dumbed it down. It was inorganic and distracting. Too many uncalled for spaces between dialogue, passages, and paragraphs. (This is also in the published version, so it is not just an ARC quirk). However, this tale was so superb, and Stegner such a riveting protagonist, and the prose itself unbearably beautiful, that I didn't let the flaws undermine my five-star assessment. His landscape/settings were stunning and the inner dialogue of the grief-stricken artist was breathtaking and poetic. In the end, I see this as a memorable and captivating novel about loss, redemption, and reinvention, and how art moves through it all, with love.
"The reason people are so moved by art and why artists tend to take it all so seriously is that if they are real and true they come to the painting with everything they know and feel and love, and all the things they don't know, and some of the things they hope, and they are honest about them all and put them on the canvas."
The novel captures the span of a few weeks when Jim is losing control. He does have a history of violence even from before Alce was murdered, and he served time in the pen for it. Now, his rage is coloring his world, and in the space of less than a week, he kills two brothers--one, Dell, for his abusive treatment of horses, which he witnessed one day on the road, and the other, Grant, in self-defense. In the meantime, the authorities are watching him, and interviewing his friends and neighbors, like his model and sometimes lover, Sofia.
Alce was a good kid, but as teenagers are wont to do, she got caught up with a reckless and dangerous crowd. It would have been a temporary rebellion, but she was viciously murdered. Since then, Jim has been finding solace in fishing and painting--but, even after cleaning up his heavy drinking, he is stuck in despair, and contemptuous of the world around him. Yet, his paintings are also an aching, nuanced outpouring of his burdens, the daughter he lost, the brothers he killed. Stegner has a mountain of guilt that he can't unload, and he feels responsible for Alce's death.
"She died because she was just like me." And, in his descriptions braided through the novel, he conveys it well. He never married Alce's mother, and after this tragedy, they permanently separated. Whereas Cristine moved on with her life, Stegner was consumed in torpor. And yet, his paintings are dynamic.
Stegner lives in the flank of mountains that lead to Crested Butte, Colorado, which is a beautiful place I have stayed at, so I get a buzz when he describes the setting; he captures the landscape superbly. He spends most of the days fishing and, of course, painting. His style is sort of a Zen approach--to get inside the movement of the creation, and allow the spirit to move him forward. His large-canvas paintings are often executed in a matter of a few hours, and are more about momentum and color than studied technique. "...I wonder if painting isn't a way just to be like an animal for a few hours. To be in the stream of eternity... ...To feel like that. Same as fishing."
At a certain point, the plot becomes a cat-and-mouse suspense, which has a manic sort of pulse. Stegner has a manic pulse, too, one that is both a gift and an albatross. It could redeem him, which he desires, or finish him off. "Things pile up... ...What they mean by the weight of evidence. It just piles and piles up and you carry it with you until you're walking around like a hunchback."
Heller gets to the heart of Stegner's grief, and evokes a compelling perception of how art and life, and the life of the artist, are intertwined. At times, I was annoyed at how often Stegner scoffed at Southwestern art, especially because Heller came right at the edge of Stegner being a parody of himself. Stegner criticized his peers in a way that occasionally made me think less of him as a painter. After all, his breadth of knowledge should also clue him in that there are more than a few ways to skin a cat...or render a chicken! But, as the novel progressed, this was at least partially defended, i.e., Stegner's perceptions were thwarted by his rage, and he was often pessimistic about the agendas of others.
Also, the spacing of this novel almost dumbed it down. It was inorganic and distracting. Too many uncalled for spaces between dialogue, passages, and paragraphs. (This is also in the published version, so it is not just an ARC quirk). However, this tale was so superb, and Stegner such a riveting protagonist, and the prose itself unbearably beautiful, that I didn't let the flaws undermine my five-star assessment. His landscape/settings were stunning and the inner dialogue of the grief-stricken artist was breathtaking and poetic. In the end, I see this as a memorable and captivating novel about loss, redemption, and reinvention, and how art moves through it all, with love.
"The reason people are so moved by art and why artists tend to take it all so seriously is that if they are real and true they come to the painting with everything they know and feel and love, and all the things they don't know, and some of the things they hope, and they are honest about them all and put them on the canvas."
November 17, 2014
Peter Heller’s The Painter introduces us to the life of Jim Stegner, a 45 year old artist, fly fisherman and somewhat darkly and introspective individual, twice divorced and still grieving the loss of his daughter, whose life ended in violence. Heller begins The Painter with “I never imagined I would shoot a man.” Stegner seeks for a peaceful life, through the Zen of his fly-fishing as well as his art, and his choice of living a relatively isolated life.
Heller’s portrait of Stegner maintains the balance between the peace and the violence, but Stegner is never very far away from either side of the emotional fence, with grief underlying every day. Heller relays the episodes in Stegner’s life without judgment or condescension, allowing you to fully feel Stegner’s emotions as his journey unfolds.
" I knew: that whatever I was, my soul was no more substantial than a tattered leaf, one of those torn off a streamside tree in the flood. That I was nothing, that whatever I had done in my life amounted to just that, shreds no heavier than leaves, and that also whatever I had done, I had done it like a blind storm-ripped thing, or like a blind animal nosing from scent to scent and was whomped and carried most of my life by the wrath and high spirits of a power without malice, and that I had done my best and loved my daughter. I had loved her. I had loved Alce the best I could, the best I knew which was nothing to brag about, but I had loved her hard, as hard as a heart could, as hard as this flood tonight. I loved you. I wept and I said it over and over, I loved you. I loved you."
Heller’s portrait of Stegner maintains the balance between the peace and the violence, but Stegner is never very far away from either side of the emotional fence, with grief underlying every day. Heller relays the episodes in Stegner’s life without judgment or condescension, allowing you to fully feel Stegner’s emotions as his journey unfolds.
" I knew: that whatever I was, my soul was no more substantial than a tattered leaf, one of those torn off a streamside tree in the flood. That I was nothing, that whatever I had done in my life amounted to just that, shreds no heavier than leaves, and that also whatever I had done, I had done it like a blind storm-ripped thing, or like a blind animal nosing from scent to scent and was whomped and carried most of my life by the wrath and high spirits of a power without malice, and that I had done my best and loved my daughter. I had loved her. I had loved Alce the best I could, the best I knew which was nothing to brag about, but I had loved her hard, as hard as a heart could, as hard as this flood tonight. I loved you. I wept and I said it over and over, I loved you. I loved you."
December 26, 2020
"Some creeks you simply loved, and seeing the railroad sign with the craggy gorge reminded me that we can proceed in our lives just as easily from love to love as from loss to loss. A good thing to remember in the middle of the night when you're not sure how you will get through the next three breaths."
When I first started reading this book,
I had trouble getting into it. So I am thankful that The Painter by Peter Heller was a "buddy read", which encouraged me to ignore the bits of coarse language and keep reading past the brief animal abuse scene.
While I didn't identify with the characters, I enjoy nature and the peace and tranquility it offers. Peter Heller's picturesque descriptions of the forests, rivers, streams and trails and roads through the woods make it easy to visualize.
Jim Stegner thinks of his daughter Alce everyday and blames himself for her death. He immerses himself with fly fishing and painting pictures.
When Jim went fishing in the creek near the camp, I became wary and was not surprised by the violent behaviour.
This author has a wonderful way with words. He skillfully uses language to paint beautiful pictures, create and maintain tension, and keep the reader on a rollercoaster of emotions.
"Jim, in every life there are seasons. You are a planet you know....You are a planet and you have a magnetic resonance," she said, "and spin, and gravity. You have an atmosphere and a hot core. You do. I've told you that. Others have a core that is cooling. You have seasons and tides and one or two moons who will circle you for life."
"You rest now. Rest for longer than you are used to resting. Make a stillness around you, a field of peace. Your best work, the best time of your life will grow out of this peace. And don't worry, compa, you will be rowdy and out of control again. You will throw off every kind of light. You can't help yourself."
"That was the other lesson Irmina taught. It is okay for people you love to leave. For them to come and go. She taught it to me over and over."
"Vertigo. What time was it? Would this day ever end? Time did that thing it does, when it uncurls and lengthens like a rattlesnake patiently sliding after a mouse."
I appreciate Peter Heller's exquisite writing and highly recommend his audiobook The River published in 2019 read by Mark Deakins. I gave it 5 stars and give this book 4.5 stars
February 20, 2020
More like a 2.5 maybe?
This one was a hard one for me to rate. There are some things about this book I love and some I hated. First, I love Peter Heller's writing style. This is his second book I have read; I also read The River and loved it! He uses very short sentences and is very descriptive but in very few words. It's hard to explain but for some reason I really connect with this style. It seems to make me feel things very intensely, if I was creeped out by something I felt very creeped out; if I loved something then I really loved it! The writing felt very suspenseful and intense. For this reason alone, I will definitely be trying out more of his books.
Now for this actual book I didn't really feel connected to the characters at all and that is important to me in a book. I felt very creeped out by the main character, like he was trying to come off as this bad boy gone good but just said or thought really weird strange things about women that made my skin crawl. I wasn't feeling any of the "sex/romance" parts at all. They were very uncomfortable. I knew right from the first chapter when he met a woman in a coffee shop, asks her to pose for him, tells her he is a violent criminal who shot someone and she just giggles and smiles like she finds it endearing. I'm pretty sure no girl would ever continue talking to a stranger who started a conversation with her this way let alone then go over to his house alone. Weird. I think this just set the book off on the wrong foot for me and I just couldn't connect to the main character after this. It isn't a long book and it took me a long time to get through it, I just never really felt much like picking it up. Unfortunately this book wasn't a winner for me.
This one was a hard one for me to rate. There are some things about this book I love and some I hated. First, I love Peter Heller's writing style. This is his second book I have read; I also read The River and loved it! He uses very short sentences and is very descriptive but in very few words. It's hard to explain but for some reason I really connect with this style. It seems to make me feel things very intensely, if I was creeped out by something I felt very creeped out; if I loved something then I really loved it! The writing felt very suspenseful and intense. For this reason alone, I will definitely be trying out more of his books.
Now for this actual book I didn't really feel connected to the characters at all and that is important to me in a book. I felt very creeped out by the main character, like he was trying to come off as this bad boy gone good but just said or thought really weird strange things about women that made my skin crawl. I wasn't feeling any of the "sex/romance" parts at all. They were very uncomfortable. I knew right from the first chapter when he met a woman in a coffee shop, asks her to pose for him, tells her he is a violent criminal who shot someone and she just giggles and smiles like she finds it endearing. I'm pretty sure no girl would ever continue talking to a stranger who started a conversation with her this way let alone then go over to his house alone. Weird. I think this just set the book off on the wrong foot for me and I just couldn't connect to the main character after this. It isn't a long book and it took me a long time to get through it, I just never really felt much like picking it up. Unfortunately this book wasn't a winner for me.
September 15, 2014
One of the more annoying things about social media – or at least some of the people I'm friends with – are the vague posts decrying all the "drama" in their lives. "I'm sick of all the drama," they say, or else they blame other people for bringing this drama into their lives. But what I always notice is the supreme lack of self-knowledge these posts reflect, because here's a newsflash: if there's constant drama in your life, you're the one inviting it. It doesn't happen by accident and the universe doesn't hate you – whatever drama afflicts you is likely born of the choices you've made, either to do questionable things or surround yourself with questionable people. There hasn't been a cosmic roll of the dice where you've come up short. It's you.
All of this is a roundabout way of introducing Joseph Heller's The Painter, which is essentially the literary equivalent of the person who posts on Facebook, "I'm sick of all the drama," without realizing he's at least partially to blame for it. Jim Stegner is a moderately famous painter, but his life is otherwise a wreck: two failed marriages, a dead daughter, a stint in prison for shooting a man in a bar, and an uncontrollable rage that overtakes him in moments of duress. He's come to Colorado to fish and paint in silence, to find some peace, to turn his back on the drama of his life. But of course it finds him again – or, to complete my introductory thesis, he invites it back into his life. While fishing, Jim comes across two men beating a horse. Rather than walking away, he attacks the two men, and this unleashes a chain of violence and revenge that unspools over the next 300 pages (and which I won't describe here because part of the fun is seeing how Heller plays with the conventions of the revenge-thriller genre). The problem with Stegner, however, is that he never really realizes it's his fault, that acrimony doesn't occur by happenstance. The ensuing struggle doesn't happen without Stegner's temper.
The Painter seems to me not quite as good as Heller's previous novel, The Dog Stars, but I'm also willing to concede that this may just be a matter of taste. The Dog Stars hit me hard with its fractured, unstructured melancholy; The Painter, despite treading similar ground, reads more like genre fiction – not a bad thing, but its more conventional story, of justice and redemption, didn't reach me in the same way. It reads, at times, too much like Cormac McCarthy Lite™, where The Dog Stars seemed to be Heller's singular voice. But as someone who often wishes he could turn off his brain, I can certainly relate to Stegner, a vividly-drawn narrator who's compelling in the degree to which he can't seem to get out of his own way. We (or at least I) never stop rooting for him, even as we (or at least I) want to shout at him, "Don't you see what you're doing?!"
There's no question, though, that Heller is a writer I'll be watching and whose work I'll look forward to with anticipation. There's some beautiful stuff in here about loss and regret, about enjoying the present while simultaneously fearing the future, and, especially, about how violence inescapably begets more violence. I didn't like The Painter as much as The Dog Stars, but in many ways this is like saying, "I don't like ice cream as much as I like popcorn." They're both great; it's just a matter of preference.
All of this is a roundabout way of introducing Joseph Heller's The Painter, which is essentially the literary equivalent of the person who posts on Facebook, "I'm sick of all the drama," without realizing he's at least partially to blame for it. Jim Stegner is a moderately famous painter, but his life is otherwise a wreck: two failed marriages, a dead daughter, a stint in prison for shooting a man in a bar, and an uncontrollable rage that overtakes him in moments of duress. He's come to Colorado to fish and paint in silence, to find some peace, to turn his back on the drama of his life. But of course it finds him again – or, to complete my introductory thesis, he invites it back into his life. While fishing, Jim comes across two men beating a horse. Rather than walking away, he attacks the two men, and this unleashes a chain of violence and revenge that unspools over the next 300 pages (and which I won't describe here because part of the fun is seeing how Heller plays with the conventions of the revenge-thriller genre). The problem with Stegner, however, is that he never really realizes it's his fault, that acrimony doesn't occur by happenstance. The ensuing struggle doesn't happen without Stegner's temper.
The Painter seems to me not quite as good as Heller's previous novel, The Dog Stars, but I'm also willing to concede that this may just be a matter of taste. The Dog Stars hit me hard with its fractured, unstructured melancholy; The Painter, despite treading similar ground, reads more like genre fiction – not a bad thing, but its more conventional story, of justice and redemption, didn't reach me in the same way. It reads, at times, too much like Cormac McCarthy Lite™, where The Dog Stars seemed to be Heller's singular voice. But as someone who often wishes he could turn off his brain, I can certainly relate to Stegner, a vividly-drawn narrator who's compelling in the degree to which he can't seem to get out of his own way. We (or at least I) never stop rooting for him, even as we (or at least I) want to shout at him, "Don't you see what you're doing?!"
There's no question, though, that Heller is a writer I'll be watching and whose work I'll look forward to with anticipation. There's some beautiful stuff in here about loss and regret, about enjoying the present while simultaneously fearing the future, and, especially, about how violence inescapably begets more violence. I didn't like The Painter as much as The Dog Stars, but in many ways this is like saying, "I don't like ice cream as much as I like popcorn." They're both great; it's just a matter of preference.
December 30, 2014
An amazing book! To listen to it narrated by Mark Deakins no doubt made it more enjoyable than if I had read it. I'm afraid the many fly fishing facts at the beginning would have otherwise bored me, a non-fisherperson, to sleep. But the narrator added a sexy smoothness to the listening experience, no matter what he was saying. The prose on its own, with a multitude of vivid and evocative descriptions of nature, was luminous and clear as the Colorado sky under which the story unfolds. Contrast that to the story, which was gritty and turbulent.
Jim Stegner, the painter, is a damaged man with a disturbing violent streak that he struggles to control, yet often fails. His art seems to feed off the various times in his life when he inflicted damage or experienced grief from the violence of others. Despite his boyhood in a trailer park, or because of it, Jim has become quite successful.
I couldn't get enough of this character who, despite his very serious shortcomings, was very endearing to me in a twisted sort of way. I think I have a litte crush on Jim Stegner, a bad boy with good intentions. And a big crush on Mark Deakins.
Jim Stegner, the painter, is a damaged man with a disturbing violent streak that he struggles to control, yet often fails. His art seems to feed off the various times in his life when he inflicted damage or experienced grief from the violence of others. Despite his boyhood in a trailer park, or because of it, Jim has become quite successful.
I couldn't get enough of this character who, despite his very serious shortcomings, was very endearing to me in a twisted sort of way. I think I have a litte crush on Jim Stegner, a bad boy with good intentions. And a big crush on Mark Deakins.
January 12, 2019
A mixed bag of thoughts is what I'm left with after reading this book. The descriptions of landscape was beautiful; the land could seem quite haunting at times. The paintings were wonderfully described; I would really like some of these paintings on my walls. The women are one dimensional and are all physically beautiful and have large breasts; they all love the protagonist in some way. The protagonist is an emotional mess: passionate about painting, fishing, drinking; angry with little control. He's a man haunted by his past, yet keeps on the same path.
At times I was drawn into the story. At other times I lost some interest. In the end, I'm wondering at the point of the story. It seems to end where it began. Is that the point? We are who we are and change is minimal at most?
Good writing. I would try another book by this author. I'm just not convinced about this story. The painter, though, does paint interesting and whimsical paintings.
At times I was drawn into the story. At other times I lost some interest. In the end, I'm wondering at the point of the story. It seems to end where it began. Is that the point? We are who we are and change is minimal at most?
Good writing. I would try another book by this author. I'm just not convinced about this story. The painter, though, does paint interesting and whimsical paintings.
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