I've long admired people who can work with their hands, particularly in trades such as carpentry that require not only visual-spatial intelligence but also creativity, fine craftmanship skills and the ability to improvise and improve upon. I had also read a similarly-themed book last year called 'Fat, Forty & Fired' by Nigel Marsh about his experience of being fired. It was so well written, laugh-out-loud funny and a genuinely great story that I passed it around at work begging the other book lovers to read it. So when I read The Cliff Walk's back flap, about a college professor who fired from his job but discovers carpentry, I guess I started reading the book with high expectations.
I was warned at the first 2 pages, where Snyder mentions "rich people" three times in a way in which it's obvious that this man's motive for becoming an English professor was mainly to distance himself from his working class roots, and that he envies and resents rich people as much as he wants to be just like them. Not even a quarter of the way through, I found myself disliking Synder so much that I didn't really want to read any further, but I wanted to get to the bit about how he discovered carpentry.
Snyder is not only pompous and self-important, believing any other work besides a professorship below him, but also goes to some length to portray himself in a noble and positive light while denigrating others. He talks of leaving his childhood behind through a football scholarship to a private college leaving behind his "low-wage, no-ambition" relatives. He boasts that at one job, he was paid more than the combined income of both his uncles when they retired. He makes sure that his readers know how much his students loved him; how he was the best teacher they'd ever had; how he rushed to the aid of a former student who'd had a nervous breakdown(very commendable - but why feel the need to mention it? - and when is he going to stop whining and start his manual labour job?) No, not yet, because Snyder wants to tell us about renting a holiday house in Maine with his wife's money. His wife is written as an Irish stereotype: long-suffering, endlessly patient, loving and sweet-natured. By this stage, any other Irishwoman would have kicked him up the arse and demanded he shape up or ship out. Endless passages are given to describing how good and beautiful she is, but meanwhile he's content to sleeping his days away while she looks after other people's children and organises and cares for the family with minimal contribution from his part.
When he finally starts working for a construction firm, there are only a few pages left in the book. I felt like laughing outloud. A whole book on how miserable he feels, how depressed he is, how low down he has had to fall, how a smart man like him has to work with his hands. As he has no trade skills, his main job is cleaning up the site. He still can't resist phoning his wife from the construction site during a rare spell away from his cleaning duties where he has been given the job of hammering on top of a ladder, and asking her to drive the family past so that his children can think he's one of the builders of the house instead of the person doing the cleanups. Even in this job he must categorise it into a hierarchy and pretend he's something that he's not.
If you haven't figured it out by now - I really disliked this book and thought it could have been so much more. The plot was so promising but the author's self-pity and self-absorption and total lack of courage and spine become more and more revolting as the book progressed. People change jobs all the time, but Snyder wants to dramatise it and likens his situation throughout the book to Willy Loman in Death of a Salesman. All I wanted to say to Snyder was what his wife probably should have said right from the start - stop your whining and grow a spine, man.