Omensetter's Luck

What is the nature of good and evil? In this original story we are presented with thoroughgoing goodness in the character of Brackett Omensetter; but he faces challenges, foremost as presented by the Rev. Jethro Furber. In reading this novel the question is raised as to the fate of goodness and

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innocence in our lives.

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OMENSETTER'S LUCK is an impressionistic steam-of-consciousness novel featuring many voices. A dense yet playful fiction that isn't easy to grasp (never mind keep hold of!). In many ways it is reminiscent of a vivid dream - a dream reflecting a long-lost North American past - quirky, nostalgic, full

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of merging meaning, colours and scenes. I would say this is primarily a work for prose-lovers: surreal and wondrous descriptions mingle with gritty realism, stark machinations and crazy-clunky confabs. A book to either get joyously lost in or be utterly bemused by.

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Apparently I've been delegated to write the dissenting opinion on this one. I first read it in college and was so unimpressed that I gave the book away (a bad idea in retrospect, it's nice to have around). I was equally unimpressed this time, despite, I flatter myself, being a much better reader,

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and, particularly, having read much more Gass. But Omensetter's Luck (one of the great *titles* of the twentieth century) inspires a lot of rapture from reviewers, and I'm not sure I've come across any book that inspires people to write more creative responses. Well, well, what do we live for but to disagree about books.

The Gass you may know and love from The Tunnel, Middle C and his essays (possibly novellas too, which are next on my Gass reading itinerary) is absent for all but a few pages of this one. Instead of the post-Bernhardian rants of his later novels, OL is mostly post-Joyceian stream of consciousness, or quasi-Gaddisian dialogue. It's also interesting to note that there's a real plot in this book, and that The Tunnel, for instance, seems to have been written at least in part to prove that even a 700 page book (probably closer to 800 standard sized pages) can be written with literally no plot other than "I dug a tunnel, but didn't get anywhere".

Stream of consciousness: I have to come up with some rules for what I will and won't read. I'm getting older, and reading more, but there's still an infinite number of books, good books, that I will never get to read. So, I will no longer be reading books written after... 1945, say, which feature stream of consciousness that is not obviously parodic. Contrary to what is sometimes suggested, nobody's internal world looks like that. Which wouldn't matter at all, if it was formally, intellectually or emotionally invigorating. It is not. Even a master of prose and ideas like Gass can't make silk from a series of sow's ears. "That's mighty funny, you know that. He wore a fur hat like a hunter's. Thin hot face. Determined. Splotched. Knox on his arm like a cane. Pride, Furber suggested. Pride. Domestic tiff" etc etc... This kind of thing is almost deliberately destructive of everything that Gass does well: here there's no syntactical or rhythmic complexity, and little rhetorical bloat (a good thing, in his case).

Dialogue: there's almost no dialogue in the later novels, and now I know why--Gass is the anti-Gaddis. While double D can conjure the entire history of financial capital in a few words spoken over the phone by a middle-school student, Gass's dialogue (particularly towards the end, when Furber starts defending Omensetter) is less interesting and a good deal more repetitive than his narration (though more interesting and less repetitive than the stream of consciousness stuff).

In other words, this book comprises, for the most part, three thing that Gass is not good at, or that nobody is good at, plot, dialogue and stream of consciousness. And yet people love it, and occasionally give reasons for loving it. And there are things here I like, I admit. Furber is a glorious character, halfway between a Gaddis creation and Gass's later ranters. His sermon certainly points toward the latter, as does his general position as an intelligent man driven mad by stupidity (and, presumably, religion).

Also, the afterword is wonderful. The afterword is actually better than the novel, inasmuch as Gass's style has matured into its acid and hate, and the little tale he spins about the book is truly fascinating. You should read Gass, but if you're looking for someone to tell you to start elsewhere, I'm your man. Start with Middle C (pending the re-release of In the Heart of the Heart of the Country).

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A knockout, difficult but rewarding novel. This book will inspire you to get a tetanus shot when you step on a nail.

Omensetter’s Luck addresses the fragility of love in human society as seen through the pseudo-porn obsessions of a deprived preacher in an isolated community.