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ABC
An original and radiant novel about grief, obsession, and the need for meaning from the author of "The Family," a finalist for the National Book Award.When his young son dies in a freak accident, Gerard struggles to find a reason in the smallest of details, including the scrap of paper containing the Sanskrit alphabet that is found at the site. Latching on to this final "clue," he delves intothe origins of Indo-European alphabets, his fascination taking him to England, Greece, and finally, to an ancient site in the Syrian desert where the alphabet was born some 4000 years ago. Along the way he meets othergrieving parents, who accompany him on a journey that extends beyond historical knowledge and right into the heart of love and loss.
"From the Trade Paperback edition."
274 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2007
5 people are currently reading
48 people want to read
About the author
David Plante
51 books27 followers The son of Albina Bisson and Aniclet Plante, he is of both French-Canadian and North American Indian descent.He is a graduate of Boston College and the Université catholique de Louvain. He has been published extensively including in The New Yorker and The Paris Review and various literary magazines. He is a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. Among his honours are: Henfield Fellow, University of East Anglia, 1975; British Arts Council Grant, 1977; Guggenheim Fellowship, 1983; American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters Award, 1983. He is an Ambassador for the LGBT Committee of the New York Public Library. His voluminous diary is kept in the Berg Collection of the New York Public Library. His papers are kept in the library of The University of Tulsa, Oklahoma. He is a retired professor of creative writing at Columbia University. His novels examine the spiritual in a variety of contexts, but notably in the milieu of large, working-class, Catholic families of French Canadian background. His male characters range from openly gay to sexually ambiguous and questioning.
He has been a writer-in-residence at Gorki Institute of Literature (Moscow), the Université du Québec à Montréal, Adelphi University, King's College, the University of Cambridge, Tulsa University, and the University of East Anglia. Plante’s work, for which he has been nominated for the National Book Award, includes Difficult Women (1983), a memoir of his relationships with Jean Rhys, Sonia Orwell, and Germaine Greer and the widely-praised Francoeur Trilogy--The Family (1978), The Country (1980) and The Woods (1982). His most recent book is a memoir of Nikos Stangos, his partner of forty years, The Pure Lover (2009). The papers of his former partner, Nikos Stangos (1936-2004), are in The Princeton University Library, the Program in Hellenic Studies. Plante lives in London, Lucca Italy, and Athens Greece. He has dual citizenship, American and British.
Considered to be a writer's writer and having lived for so many years among the artistic elite, David's personal memories are seen by many as high cultural history.
He has been a writer-in-residence at Gorki Institute of Literature (Moscow), the Université du Québec à Montréal, Adelphi University, King's College, the University of Cambridge, Tulsa University, and the University of East Anglia. Plante’s work, for which he has been nominated for the National Book Award, includes Difficult Women (1983), a memoir of his relationships with Jean Rhys, Sonia Orwell, and Germaine Greer and the widely-praised Francoeur Trilogy--The Family (1978), The Country (1980) and The Woods (1982). His most recent book is a memoir of Nikos Stangos, his partner of forty years, The Pure Lover (2009). The papers of his former partner, Nikos Stangos (1936-2004), are in The Princeton University Library, the Program in Hellenic Studies. Plante lives in London, Lucca Italy, and Athens Greece. He has dual citizenship, American and British.
Considered to be a writer's writer and having lived for so many years among the artistic elite, David's personal memories are seen by many as high cultural history.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
June 5, 2009
An intriguing concept marred by poor execution, flat characters, and bad dialogue.
I read the book because of its review in the Washington Post. This is what it said:
Sounds interesting, no? Sorry, but the pathos was more bathos and the only thing exceptional about this novel was how inadvertently hilarious all the pretention to spiritual meaning was. Here are some gems:
I read the book because of its review in the Washington Post. This is what it said:
"Readers in search of an intricately plotted, neatly ordered novel that disgorges camera-ready truths and platitudes should seek it elsewhere. ABC's narrative is propulsive but undeniably eccentric. Its mismatched band of "death-obsessed and death-bound friends" is a 21st-century variant on The Wizard of Oz, drawn together by grief, global tragedy and their bizarre, shared passion for etymology.
Plante's prose is careful, measured; his dialogue tends to be stilted and unnatural. But in an odd way this suits ABC's tone, which is both utterly contemporary--Gerard's companions mourn loved ones lost to terrorism, drug addiction, the war in Chechnya--and as timeless as a folk tale.
Plante is less interested in closure (a fictional construct if ever there was one) than in immanence. The correspondences between his characters' histories, between the strange groupings of objects that Gerard sees everywhere--broken toys, crumpled rags, fragments of carved stone--are inexplicable, seemingly random yet charged with an eerie, almost rapturous sense of meaning, of beauty and poignancy, impermanence and, yes, eternity.
Because what is an alphabet, really, but a means of expressing what is inexpressible: the sum of all human history and experience and longing? "They were aware of this," Plante writes, "aware of every single object as an icon of some greater meaning than each object had in itself."
ABC is a daring book, and, despite its exploration of grief, an exhilarating one, unafraid of confronting the sort of philosophical issues that the late Ingmar Bergman did in his films. As Gerard's friend muses near the end of this exceptional novel, "We live in an unreal world, but it is only in the unreal world that meaning can be found for the real world, if meaning matters at all."
Sounds interesting, no? Sorry, but the pathos was more bathos and the only thing exceptional about this novel was how inadvertently hilarious all the pretention to spiritual meaning was. Here are some gems:
The dead had disappeared with the rain, disappeared, maybe, because their anticipation of something occuring was disappointed. The dead could be badly let down by the living.
"I believe the most amazing terrestrial phenomenon is the occurence of the idea of the universal, which idea may, just may, inspire love."
The vast longing of the dead, aware of the world's horrors far beyond the awareness of the living, could only be realised for them by the living. The living are compelled by the dead, even to the point of madness.
Read
March 23, 2008I couldn't even bear to give this silly book a star - Goodreads should introduce black stars that should state how much we hated a book.
It started off fine - a little mystery in a cabin - a death, a mysterious paper on which is written a deeply mysterious language. Then it segued into fluff. Really pretentious fluff that just didn't make any sense. As another reader note, how did a death have any meaning at all with the history of the alphabet?
All the chacters were pretentious little twits and I felt like slapping them all in the head with this book. And the dialogue (esp. the repeating) was just PAINFUL!
Waste of time!!!
It started off fine - a little mystery in a cabin - a death, a mysterious paper on which is written a deeply mysterious language. Then it segued into fluff. Really pretentious fluff that just didn't make any sense. As another reader note, how did a death have any meaning at all with the history of the alphabet?
All the chacters were pretentious little twits and I felt like slapping them all in the head with this book. And the dialogue (esp. the repeating) was just PAINFUL!
Waste of time!!!
August 27, 2020
I had a very difficult time following all of the intended attributes of this story.
September 3, 2015
Started out good. By the end however, I was more confused to the point. Lost me on this one
October 28, 2008
weird, but intriguing
September 22, 2019
I read the review for “ABC” in the Seattle Times book section…and something about the review grabbed hold of my imagination and would not let go until I purchased the book last week. The exact words or impression of the review have slipped from my grasp, and now that I look down at my finished copy of the book, I find myself wondering “Why?”
Which is, of course, the central question of this book. The main character(s) spend most of the book asking the question…while not asking either the correct “Why?” or desiring an answer. Gerard, then Catherine, then David and then Aminat are lost souls, tortured by grief…in the world but no longer of the world.
In the beginning of the novel, there is a crack as a floorboard, as Gerard’s knee, as his life and consciousness snap. There was a “before” and now there is only “after”. Time and space become amorphous. We start to doubt his reliability as a main character…I found myself wondering again and again if he was actually still alive. His impact on his wife, his world seems so minimal that he is very ghost-like.
Instead of wondering “Why?” about the death of his son, Harry, his closed off grief leads him on a quest to find out why the letters of the alphabet are in that particular order. It’s a question without an answer…as is his real question. Because he can’t confront what has happened and can’t move forward in a world without Harry, Gerard leaves that world almost entirely behind.
Any time, however, his search for order seems to come close to yielding a result, he backs off, or destroys the clue or refuses to see what is in front of him. Because, of course, if he ever gains the answer to the unanswerable question regarding the alphabet, he might be forced to confront reality.
This review seems very jumbled and confusing, even as I create it. This book leaves me with many questions…mostly along the lines of “What did I miss?” Time and reality and space are so fluid in this book that not only did I doubt the characters impressions of what was happening, I found myself doubting mine. A few quotes stand out:
“Grief, he thought. Grief. Grief seemed to have concentrated itself to exist in itself apart from them, though still in their midst, a globe about which they talked and gestured and moved, a small group of lonely people distanced from the world, aware only of another world englobing the world, which was grief.”
And yet – Gerard is SO far removed from the death of his son – that I never FELT this grief. Any time he even moved a hair’s breadth towards an actual feeling, he backed away. The reader, along with Gerard, is just numb to emotions.
“Leaving this site, he would leave the dead behind, they who denied him his human grief. He would allow in himself what grief did to make him human – in himself and for himself, and too in and for Catherine and David and Aminat, because they needed, all together, to be free of the dead.”
By the time Gerard has this thought, I find myself wondering if this shell of a man would be able to exist were he free of the dead, and if so, what life he had left to lead. He has left this world, in spirit if not in body as well.
Which is, of course, the central question of this book. The main character(s) spend most of the book asking the question…while not asking either the correct “Why?” or desiring an answer. Gerard, then Catherine, then David and then Aminat are lost souls, tortured by grief…in the world but no longer of the world.
In the beginning of the novel, there is a crack as a floorboard, as Gerard’s knee, as his life and consciousness snap. There was a “before” and now there is only “after”. Time and space become amorphous. We start to doubt his reliability as a main character…I found myself wondering again and again if he was actually still alive. His impact on his wife, his world seems so minimal that he is very ghost-like.
Instead of wondering “Why?” about the death of his son, Harry, his closed off grief leads him on a quest to find out why the letters of the alphabet are in that particular order. It’s a question without an answer…as is his real question. Because he can’t confront what has happened and can’t move forward in a world without Harry, Gerard leaves that world almost entirely behind.
Any time, however, his search for order seems to come close to yielding a result, he backs off, or destroys the clue or refuses to see what is in front of him. Because, of course, if he ever gains the answer to the unanswerable question regarding the alphabet, he might be forced to confront reality.
This review seems very jumbled and confusing, even as I create it. This book leaves me with many questions…mostly along the lines of “What did I miss?” Time and reality and space are so fluid in this book that not only did I doubt the characters impressions of what was happening, I found myself doubting mine. A few quotes stand out:
“Grief, he thought. Grief. Grief seemed to have concentrated itself to exist in itself apart from them, though still in their midst, a globe about which they talked and gestured and moved, a small group of lonely people distanced from the world, aware only of another world englobing the world, which was grief.”
And yet – Gerard is SO far removed from the death of his son – that I never FELT this grief. Any time he even moved a hair’s breadth towards an actual feeling, he backed away. The reader, along with Gerard, is just numb to emotions.
“Leaving this site, he would leave the dead behind, they who denied him his human grief. He would allow in himself what grief did to make him human – in himself and for himself, and too in and for Catherine and David and Aminat, because they needed, all together, to be free of the dead.”
By the time Gerard has this thought, I find myself wondering if this shell of a man would be able to exist were he free of the dead, and if so, what life he had left to lead. He has left this world, in spirit if not in body as well.
April 1, 2015
I'm surprised to be posting the first goodreads commentary on this serious novel, by an author nominated for the National Book Award, a full 8 years after its publication. How can it have received so little attention?
I found my copy at a swapmeet and was drawn by the synopsis, which indicated that it would be about a father's somewhat cerebral attempt to make sense of the tragedy of his little boy's sudden death. Fortunately, there've been no deaths of children in my family, but I do still grapple on a daily basis with the fact that my firstborn son's life is blighted by a profound and poorly understood developmental disability. Whatever the tragedy, one wants to know, first, how such things occur, and then why. In my case, neither question has been answered, and I find no closure or satisfaction from blaming random bad luck, blind fate, etc. So, in the same way I was drawn to The Accidental Tourist many years ago, I wanted to see how this author handled the problem.
The depiction of the accident and immediate aftermath is very gripping. Months later, when Gerard treks back out to the place where it happened, I recognized the impulse to examine the objective facts of the situation. But all that is the easy part of the narrative. By this point another process is also well under way. Moments before little Harry died, Gerard had picked up a scrap of paper that contained writing in an unfamiliar language. The two events are linked in his mind, and he feels driven, first to understand the message, if there is one, and then, since it turns out simply to be the Sanskrit alphabet, to begin pursuing the origins of letters themselves.
For Gerard, the early stages of this process are obviously a form of deep grieving, which is painful to behold, both for his wife and for the reader. But then, improbably, Gerard begins finding other people who have not only experienced similar or even worse tragedies but who are now embarked on the very same quest: Where did alphabets originate? Did individual letters once have intrinsic meanings? How did those letters become arranged in the sequence that we all now take for granted? Was there perhaps a divine or fundamentally important message, now lost, in that specific string of letters?
Such questions cannot be answered, but the narrator tells us that asking them enables the characters to "keep some control against the lack of control that could, that would, overwhelm them." They know their quest is foolish and futile, but even so it's "a way of not being helpless."
Let's say the kinds of tragedies that have affected them (and me) are meaningless. Then, as Gerard says, "Nothing matters. Of course, nothing matters, but we have got to believe something does."
And yet, despite being completely obsessed, they do not go after answers in a rational way. There are moments at which they purposefully shy away from doing anything that might lead toward understanding. Again, the narrator helpfully explains that "what stopped them from doing any serious research was the sense, the overwhelming sense, that to know anything required knowing everything, and there was no way to know everything."
Ultimately, I think, this story is not about individual tragedies but rather about the helplessness that ultimately confronts everyone, and about our response to that helplessness and to one another.
I found my copy at a swapmeet and was drawn by the synopsis, which indicated that it would be about a father's somewhat cerebral attempt to make sense of the tragedy of his little boy's sudden death. Fortunately, there've been no deaths of children in my family, but I do still grapple on a daily basis with the fact that my firstborn son's life is blighted by a profound and poorly understood developmental disability. Whatever the tragedy, one wants to know, first, how such things occur, and then why. In my case, neither question has been answered, and I find no closure or satisfaction from blaming random bad luck, blind fate, etc. So, in the same way I was drawn to The Accidental Tourist many years ago, I wanted to see how this author handled the problem.
The depiction of the accident and immediate aftermath is very gripping. Months later, when Gerard treks back out to the place where it happened, I recognized the impulse to examine the objective facts of the situation. But all that is the easy part of the narrative. By this point another process is also well under way. Moments before little Harry died, Gerard had picked up a scrap of paper that contained writing in an unfamiliar language. The two events are linked in his mind, and he feels driven, first to understand the message, if there is one, and then, since it turns out simply to be the Sanskrit alphabet, to begin pursuing the origins of letters themselves.
For Gerard, the early stages of this process are obviously a form of deep grieving, which is painful to behold, both for his wife and for the reader. But then, improbably, Gerard begins finding other people who have not only experienced similar or even worse tragedies but who are now embarked on the very same quest: Where did alphabets originate? Did individual letters once have intrinsic meanings? How did those letters become arranged in the sequence that we all now take for granted? Was there perhaps a divine or fundamentally important message, now lost, in that specific string of letters?
Such questions cannot be answered, but the narrator tells us that asking them enables the characters to "keep some control against the lack of control that could, that would, overwhelm them." They know their quest is foolish and futile, but even so it's "a way of not being helpless."
Let's say the kinds of tragedies that have affected them (and me) are meaningless. Then, as Gerard says, "Nothing matters. Of course, nothing matters, but we have got to believe something does."
And yet, despite being completely obsessed, they do not go after answers in a rational way. There are moments at which they purposefully shy away from doing anything that might lead toward understanding. Again, the narrator helpfully explains that "what stopped them from doing any serious research was the sense, the overwhelming sense, that to know anything required knowing everything, and there was no way to know everything."
Ultimately, I think, this story is not about individual tragedies but rather about the helplessness that ultimately confronts everyone, and about our response to that helplessness and to one another.
December 23, 2008
A little more than one-third of my way through the book I just gave up. I got the galley at last year's BEA in NYC. And one theme I have noticed with galleys is that the story itself seems to not be fleshed out. The typos and TK pages I can handle, but a lame story that hasn't yet been structured is being given (by the bundles) to readers to get a preview doesn't make me want to read ANYTHING else by this particular author and kinda makes me a bit pissed at the publisher for pawning this off on the public. This and the other galley I got of "Matrimony" were horrid. And I actually finished "Matrimony".
Anywho, the scope is that Gerard and his wife Peggy lose their son Harry in an accident. At the scene Gerard finds a piece of paper with scribbling in a language he's unfamiliar with. After the death Gerard withdraws from his wife and his life in general. He becomes obsessed with the piece of paper and it's meaning and is willing to leave everything he knew behind to go forward with some strangers to find out where/how the alphabet originated.
Now, the most compelling (if I may be so bold) scenes are with Gerard and the increasing distance between him and his wife. The concern she has for his well-being and for them. He's mourning, yet not really. His obsession doesn't hold the reader's attention and the information we get isn't that interesting especially when it goes on for more than half a page. My interest was in the failing relationship and the destruction of a man. And I admit that the thought of a man focusing all his energy into something else than in actually acknowledging that he's lost a big part of his life.
The interesting tie-in is the whole "Why" question. How in the beginning the son Harry is full of inquiries that contain "why" and then Gerard takes on the same question "why" is the alphabet structured the way it is? "Why" did this accident happen? "Why" did I find this piece of paper? "Why" didn't I become a philologist? That's the one thing keeping him connected to his son as he decides to leave his wife and join a couple on a journey (that looks to be more than 100 pages of the galley) to figure out things on his own. And in attaching himself to people that are as curious about the origins of language as he is he attaches himself to them, to another world that he can attempt to live in and handle.
What also urked me is that there was no resolution to Peg and Gerard's marriage or relationship whatsoever. He thinks about her during his journey and he has some "guilt" (that's always mentioned but never shown) yet he doesn't make a move to the woman he had a child with, a life with as he goes on. While I can understand this and have seen/read stuff like this where the journey may not have been so scholarly the lack of emotional pull and interest in Gerard made this a very lackluster book from a NBA finalist. I say skip it, but you're free to have my galley if you like.
Anywho, the scope is that Gerard and his wife Peggy lose their son Harry in an accident. At the scene Gerard finds a piece of paper with scribbling in a language he's unfamiliar with. After the death Gerard withdraws from his wife and his life in general. He becomes obsessed with the piece of paper and it's meaning and is willing to leave everything he knew behind to go forward with some strangers to find out where/how the alphabet originated.
Now, the most compelling (if I may be so bold) scenes are with Gerard and the increasing distance between him and his wife. The concern she has for his well-being and for them. He's mourning, yet not really. His obsession doesn't hold the reader's attention and the information we get isn't that interesting especially when it goes on for more than half a page. My interest was in the failing relationship and the destruction of a man. And I admit that the thought of a man focusing all his energy into something else than in actually acknowledging that he's lost a big part of his life.
The interesting tie-in is the whole "Why" question. How in the beginning the son Harry is full of inquiries that contain "why" and then Gerard takes on the same question "why" is the alphabet structured the way it is? "Why" did this accident happen? "Why" did I find this piece of paper? "Why" didn't I become a philologist? That's the one thing keeping him connected to his son as he decides to leave his wife and join a couple on a journey (that looks to be more than 100 pages of the galley) to figure out things on his own. And in attaching himself to people that are as curious about the origins of language as he is he attaches himself to them, to another world that he can attempt to live in and handle.
What also urked me is that there was no resolution to Peg and Gerard's marriage or relationship whatsoever. He thinks about her during his journey and he has some "guilt" (that's always mentioned but never shown) yet he doesn't make a move to the woman he had a child with, a life with as he goes on. While I can understand this and have seen/read stuff like this where the journey may not have been so scholarly the lack of emotional pull and interest in Gerard made this a very lackluster book from a NBA finalist. I say skip it, but you're free to have my galley if you like.
March 1, 2011
David Plante is surprisingly prolific and although I haven't found a website dedicated solely to Plante, I was able to learn from various resources that he is most widely known for The Family (1978). ABC has been on the recommended reading list for Dreamworld Book Reviews since its release; however the source that recommended it has been long forgotten.
ABC is a tale about the mourning of Gerard Chauvin, a father who loses his son to a freak accident in an old abandoned house while vacationing at a lake. Moments before his son's tragic accident, Gerard picks up a random piece of paper from the floor, which happens to contain the Sanskrit alphabet. As Gerard tries to come to terms with his son's random death, he becomes obsessed with learning about the history of the alphabet, trying desperately to find some correlation or coincidence between the accident and the alphabet. Gerard then embarks on a manic journey to find these "answers" and learn everything he can about the history of the ABCs.
ABC is definitely one of the most original and unique pieces of literature I've ever read; however half of the novel is memorable while the other half is easily forgettable.
At first, directly after his son Harry's accident, ABC grows weary with details about Gerard's mourning and grief, when all of a sudden the novel takes an intriguing turn. Gerard revisits the "scene of the crime" so to speak, and we learn that Harry's accident was actually set up on purpose by the local kids who use the old deserted house as a hangout. Gerard becomes obsessed with the question of "Why?" when pondering how the daily, normal lives of others can have such a large, grand butterfly effect. Once Gerard learns that the piece of paper with the Sanskrit alphabet was left behind a local girl who uses the old house to study in, his journey is in full effect, and the novel is once again brought to life.
Although the dictionary entries and blurbs about the alphabet throughout ABC are tedious and tiring, the novel redeems itself on the subject on mourning and on coping with death as a whole. I was particularly touched by Catherine's descent and tirade into mourning her daughter. Catherine has many great points when speaking to Gerard about love and death. ABC may be the perfect novel for the griever; it's definitely very touching and brings to light validities one normally wouldn't consider unless you lost a person to an accident of sorts.
David Plante's newest book is his own memoir on grief called The Pure Lover (2010).
Read more book reviews at http://dreamworldbooks.com.
ABC is a tale about the mourning of Gerard Chauvin, a father who loses his son to a freak accident in an old abandoned house while vacationing at a lake. Moments before his son's tragic accident, Gerard picks up a random piece of paper from the floor, which happens to contain the Sanskrit alphabet. As Gerard tries to come to terms with his son's random death, he becomes obsessed with learning about the history of the alphabet, trying desperately to find some correlation or coincidence between the accident and the alphabet. Gerard then embarks on a manic journey to find these "answers" and learn everything he can about the history of the ABCs.
ABC is definitely one of the most original and unique pieces of literature I've ever read; however half of the novel is memorable while the other half is easily forgettable.
At first, directly after his son Harry's accident, ABC grows weary with details about Gerard's mourning and grief, when all of a sudden the novel takes an intriguing turn. Gerard revisits the "scene of the crime" so to speak, and we learn that Harry's accident was actually set up on purpose by the local kids who use the old deserted house as a hangout. Gerard becomes obsessed with the question of "Why?" when pondering how the daily, normal lives of others can have such a large, grand butterfly effect. Once Gerard learns that the piece of paper with the Sanskrit alphabet was left behind a local girl who uses the old house to study in, his journey is in full effect, and the novel is once again brought to life.
Although the dictionary entries and blurbs about the alphabet throughout ABC are tedious and tiring, the novel redeems itself on the subject on mourning and on coping with death as a whole. I was particularly touched by Catherine's descent and tirade into mourning her daughter. Catherine has many great points when speaking to Gerard about love and death. ABC may be the perfect novel for the griever; it's definitely very touching and brings to light validities one normally wouldn't consider unless you lost a person to an accident of sorts.
David Plante's newest book is his own memoir on grief called The Pure Lover (2010).
Read more book reviews at http://dreamworldbooks.com.
May 10, 2011
Stated simply: A great story written poorly.
The idea is intriguing, but the execution and unveiling of plot is terrible. Plante pounds you over the head with philosophy, ideology, and something close to overwhelming transcendentalism. And the dialogue is as difficult to follow as a lecture on any of the aforementioned - something Plante is familiar with as he is himself a professor (heaven help his students). Plante also uses an exorbitant amount of convoluted sentences, punctuated with unnecessary clauses and phrases, which make the concepts he delves into all the more difficult to understand.
I enjoyed the parts with a bit of mystery and wish there had been more in the way of "ah ha" moments when the characters (and the reader) finally make connections about the nature of the alphabet. I also wish there had been more connection between the ultimate mystery of the arrangement of the alphabet and the death of the protagonist's son. Without that connection the death is rendered pointless in the telling, though I suppose any connection would make the whole story reach into the supernatural realm, but the book could've borrowed it for a more interesting read.
Truthfully, I only forced myself to continue reading because I find philology and interesting subject and I enjoy stories that delve deeper into language or use language in a new way.
To put it bluntly, the ending is complete shite.
I would recommend anyone interested in the subject read the literature from which Plante pulled his research. Another more lighthearted read, one of my favorites, is Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn.
The idea is intriguing, but the execution and unveiling of plot is terrible. Plante pounds you over the head with philosophy, ideology, and something close to overwhelming transcendentalism. And the dialogue is as difficult to follow as a lecture on any of the aforementioned - something Plante is familiar with as he is himself a professor (heaven help his students). Plante also uses an exorbitant amount of convoluted sentences, punctuated with unnecessary clauses and phrases, which make the concepts he delves into all the more difficult to understand.
I enjoyed the parts with a bit of mystery and wish there had been more in the way of "ah ha" moments when the characters (and the reader) finally make connections about the nature of the alphabet. I also wish there had been more connection between the ultimate mystery of the arrangement of the alphabet and the death of the protagonist's son. Without that connection the death is rendered pointless in the telling, though I suppose any connection would make the whole story reach into the supernatural realm, but the book could've borrowed it for a more interesting read.
Truthfully, I only forced myself to continue reading because I find philology and interesting subject and I enjoy stories that delve deeper into language or use language in a new way.
To put it bluntly, the ending is complete shite.
I would recommend anyone interested in the subject read the literature from which Plante pulled his research. Another more lighthearted read, one of my favorites, is Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn.
December 18, 2008
When I mentor new writers, I always tell them to write what interests them---that’s the only way readers will find their topics interesting. Well, that sage bit of council was blown to smithereens when I read the first two-thirds of David Plante’s new novel, ABC.
The novel opens on a family outing where the six-year-old son of Gerard and Peggy, Harry, is killed. Gerard is also critically injured, but the text doesn’t really specify if the injury is to his legs or back or both. Moments before the accident, Gerard finds a piece of paper upon which is written the Sanskrit alphabet.
As Gerard begins to heal, he becomes obsessed with two things—why did Harry die and, based on his interest in the Sanskrit, about the origins of our alphabet. Why does our alphabet “start with A B C and not F D Q?” As Gerard becomes more mobile, he begins to look for books on the origins of our alphabet. On his book shelf is a book that belonged to his grandfather, Webster’s International Dictionary.
When author Plante starts listing entries from the dictionary, I began to lose interest. By page 86 when Gerard buys a copy of Histoire de L’Ecriture and has a discussion with a girl in a bookstore about the Bhagavad Gita, I gave up. Plante never defined what the Bhagavad Gita is.
Not being one to give up easily, I read until about page 125 when Gerard goes to London with a Chinese woman who had also lost a child. ABC didn’t make any sense to me, and I happily abandoned it.
Originally appeared on www.armchairinterviews.com
The novel opens on a family outing where the six-year-old son of Gerard and Peggy, Harry, is killed. Gerard is also critically injured, but the text doesn’t really specify if the injury is to his legs or back or both. Moments before the accident, Gerard finds a piece of paper upon which is written the Sanskrit alphabet.
As Gerard begins to heal, he becomes obsessed with two things—why did Harry die and, based on his interest in the Sanskrit, about the origins of our alphabet. Why does our alphabet “start with A B C and not F D Q?” As Gerard becomes more mobile, he begins to look for books on the origins of our alphabet. On his book shelf is a book that belonged to his grandfather, Webster’s International Dictionary.
When author Plante starts listing entries from the dictionary, I began to lose interest. By page 86 when Gerard buys a copy of Histoire de L’Ecriture and has a discussion with a girl in a bookstore about the Bhagavad Gita, I gave up. Plante never defined what the Bhagavad Gita is.
Not being one to give up easily, I read until about page 125 when Gerard goes to London with a Chinese woman who had also lost a child. ABC didn’t make any sense to me, and I happily abandoned it.
Originally appeared on www.armchairinterviews.com
December 24, 2007
David Plante writes fabulous atmospheric scenes: deeply moving, personal, psychologically nerve-tingling depictions of living, and this book is no exception. It opens with a blissful summer day in a canoe on a lake, a young family paddling toward an abandoned cabin. But all is not well, or won't be shortly, and the way he manages to introduce those elements of danger is creepy. Everything that happens in and around the cabin is profoundly eerie and disturbing.
What follows becomes as unhinged as the main character Gerard. His plight - while viscerally real - becomes too dense and obscure to make much sense. After spotting some Sanskrit writing at the scene of horror at the cabin, Gerard embarks on a strange quest to decipher the writing and uncover the origins and order (or disorder) of the alphabet. His ABCs are in a jumble, and at some point 3/4 through the book, I found it hard to care about this sad man despite all the beautiful, fascinating meandering paths the author takes us on.
In Plante's work or at least in the novels I've read, his characters are often lost and embarking on doomed journeys, yet powerless to stop or turn back. As if overtaken by some force, as if we're all puppets guided by whatever we latch onto. It's rich, and its presentation gorgeous, but often it's grim beyond words.
What follows becomes as unhinged as the main character Gerard. His plight - while viscerally real - becomes too dense and obscure to make much sense. After spotting some Sanskrit writing at the scene of horror at the cabin, Gerard embarks on a strange quest to decipher the writing and uncover the origins and order (or disorder) of the alphabet. His ABCs are in a jumble, and at some point 3/4 through the book, I found it hard to care about this sad man despite all the beautiful, fascinating meandering paths the author takes us on.
In Plante's work or at least in the novels I've read, his characters are often lost and embarking on doomed journeys, yet powerless to stop or turn back. As if overtaken by some force, as if we're all puppets guided by whatever we latch onto. It's rich, and its presentation gorgeous, but often it's grim beyond words.
October 8, 2015
This is a nearly abstract novel about grief, about experiencing and expressing the inexpressible and asking unanswerable questions. Except for one review of the e-book version of this book, none of the reviewers so far has appreciated this National Book Award finalist.
After the accidental death of a child that begins the novel, the novel becomes more mystical than actual. It is told in third person, limited to the child’s father (a POV that creates an effective and appropriate distance between reader and protagonist). The story follows his encounters with people who share his obsession.
The novel could be said to be minimalist, in the musical sense, with a repetitive theme (the shared obsession) that slowly changes as the novel moves along. Also, the novel’s wrenching emotions are conveyed in a prose lacking in affect. The effect is far more powerful than if the author had tried to embody these emotions in his prose.
This is a singular reading experience. The only author this novel brings to mind is Nicholas Mosley.
After the accidental death of a child that begins the novel, the novel becomes more mystical than actual. It is told in third person, limited to the child’s father (a POV that creates an effective and appropriate distance between reader and protagonist). The story follows his encounters with people who share his obsession.
The novel could be said to be minimalist, in the musical sense, with a repetitive theme (the shared obsession) that slowly changes as the novel moves along. Also, the novel’s wrenching emotions are conveyed in a prose lacking in affect. The effect is far more powerful than if the author had tried to embody these emotions in his prose.
This is a singular reading experience. The only author this novel brings to mind is Nicholas Mosley.
Read
February 5, 2009How does a parent carry on after the death of a child? And why do critics differ so greatly in their opinions of veteran author David Plante's latest work? While some appreciated Plante's simple, unadorned writing, others found it oddly flat and perfunctory, reducing character descriptions and settings to "labels on cans" (New York Times Book Review). The novel's middle section, in which the history of the alphabet is explored in a series of lectures given by a Cambridge professor, drains the plot of its forward momentum. Some heartrending moments depict a parent's unspeakable grief, and the nearly universal ideas behind Gerard's quest are intriguing enough. However, critics largely found that these points of interest were not enough to carry the novel.
This is an excerpt from a review published in Bookmarks magazine.
August 18, 2010
Ugh. This had the potential to be a fascinating book but was marred by bad storytelling. The author attempted to deepen the story with the presence of the dead and metaphysical happenings and lots of philosophical ponderings, but he didn't take any of those concepts deep enough. It left the story mixed up and schizophrenic and frustrating. I wanted more of the actual history of the alphabet! And, please tell me, what was necessary about that long, detailed and horrific account of the Chechen wars? It turned me off even more.
October 14, 2012
The author's intention is to repeatedly shout out about grief and death. The philological connection introduced at the beginning is a play on a Da Vinci by Dan Brown in order to hook the reader and attempt to promise a journey to a worthwhile read. Instead there is a meaningless scattering of historical references to alphabet creation and modification. It's an absolute jumble in time and some of the references are doubtful. All populations over time have had war and human standards that cause suffering, so the author dwells on that fact using neurotic characters and minimal dialogue.
September 20, 2008
I read through the first 10 pages and had to give up. 10 pages was very generous, I feel; I knew by the third sentence that the writing in this book was terrible:
For all the ten years Gerard had been spending his summers on the other side of the lake in the house his wife, Peggy, had inherited from a rich uncle, the cove with the abandoned house overlooking it had been the end of every canoe ride.
Eesh. This is either a poorly-written book or a crime against humanity.
For all the ten years Gerard had been spending his summers on the other side of the lake in the house his wife, Peggy, had inherited from a rich uncle, the cove with the abandoned house overlooking it had been the end of every canoe ride.
Eesh. This is either a poorly-written book or a crime against humanity.
February 13, 2008
This book started off so promising, I was sure it was going to be a great lunchtime read. Well, I guess it actually did serve that purpose because it was somewhat short, but please please please don't read this book. It just disintigrates about halfway through and then it no longer makes any sense whatsoever. And I'm sorry, but I just don't see any connection AT ALL between losing a loved one and obsessing over the alphabet. It's actually kind of degrading.
June 4, 2013
This could have been a much better book considering the mystery behind the symbols, the historical references and lessons learned, but Plante failed to truly bring the characters to life during the course of the book. It became difficult at times to continue reading because the characters were so 2 dimensional and were pretty difficult to connect to. The most interesting parts were learning the historical meanings and values of certain things.
December 9, 2008
This book was bearable for about the first 100 pages. The next 150 dragged on ever so painfully slow. I only finished it because I was mildly curious how the story related to the death of the main character's son. The book never quite tied up this fact, and I am sorry I continued reading.
April 16, 2011
In the beginning I thought this may be a good book with a good stroy. I finished the book simply becuase I already had time invested in it, but I finshed the book and scratched my head. I have no idea what the point behind this book was and felt like I had been robbed of valuable reading time.
October 10, 2007
I couldn't finish this book
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January 18, 2008I really did not enjoy this book. I didn't connect with the characters and in the end I didn't get the point of it. Don't read it.
February 6, 2008
Inventive, but wanders off on so many tangents one (including the protagonist) is hard-pressed to see the point.
March 17, 2008
Disappointing. It started out as a great mystery that never lived up to its initial promise.
February 25, 2011
I gave up!
The book started off interestingly enough and then quickly turned into an academic exploration of the nature of language/the alphabet.
The book started off interestingly enough and then quickly turned into an academic exploration of the nature of language/the alphabet.
July 30, 2012
I just could not get into this book. I didn't finish it, and that rarely happens with me.
August 2, 2013
Worst book ever.
March 19, 2013
This book was hard to get into and hard to follow. The end left you wondering what the point of the book was.
June 29, 2008
So very glad I did not buy this turkey. Welcome to a rare thing, a book I did not finish.
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