Customer Reviews

Columbus Slaughters Braves

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I feel so fortunate to have gotten my hands on an advance reading copy of Mark Friedman's first book, Columbus Slaughters Braves. I want to tell everyone I know about it (I am), but will only frustrate them until the book is published in February. Trust me...it is worth the wait. Buy it the first time you see it, regardless of the price. It is not a book that needs to be discounted!

I don't want to say too much in the review, because some of the beauty lies in what each page offers. It is a book about sibling rivalries, jealousy, and coming to terms with your family and your own life. Although one key character is a professional baseball player, this is not a book about baseball. Fans of our pastime, however, will appreciate Friedman's knowledge and insight of the sport.

Columbus Slaughters Braves has already been optioned by MGM, and will be a highly anticipated film. Funny, unpredictable, and heartbreaking, this book will stay with you long after you have told everyone you know about it.

One Sunday morning I was browsing in the neighborhood bookstore when I happened upon "Columbus." To paraphrase E.B. White in his Elements of Style treatise, 'good things often come in small packages.' To categorize this work as a "sports" novel, a relationship novel or a work of any paticular genre is truly a disservice. The work is in the tradition of Salinger and Hemingway. The message it delivers is as much unwritten (between the lines) as is succinctly and economically stated on the page. I have thrusted this book upon three of my friends with the proviso that once they start reading, they must allocate two hours to complete the work. It is compelling, eventful and destined to be a classic.

Many years from now, as old-timers rehash the great baseball novels of the early twenty-first century, they will recall Mark Friedman's rookie work, "Columbus Slaughters Braves," as one that marked the author for greatness. The novel shines on two levels: as a baseball story, it rings with authenticity, and, as a novel about sibling rivalry, it sheds light on the darker side of our personality. "Columbus" is a disturbing, shattering and important book and will rank with "Bang the Drum Slowly" and "The Brothers K" in its thematic purity and intense characterizations.

The novel's conflict is deceptively simple. CJ Columbus, the younger brother of Joe, is a remarkable athlete and has been since his childhood. With the focus of a natural, CJ becomes an adored superstar with the Chicago Cubs, and in so doing, elevates the perennial doormats into a championship-contending ballclub. However, the focus of the novel is not on the superstar, but on the brooding and frustrated older brother. Joe, suffused with guilt over his envy and enmity towards CJ, suffers a life in eclipse. His relationship with his mother teeters towards an irreparable rift; his marriage with a college sweetheart veers into sterility, and his own self-image is a wreck.

Friedman's talent mainfests itself throuhgout the novel as the author painfully creates the terror and shame of living a life in the reflected glow of the family star. His parents acquiesce in removing Joe from direct childhood competition and comparisons with CJ; "we would grow up and have to find other ways to be cruel to each other." CJ's uncanny understanding of the game results in Joe's removal from baseball and delegation to tennis, where his desultory attempts at excellence only intensify his sense of worthlessness. Rather than struggle for his own identity and value, Joe embraces lower expectations" and comes to resent the fact that nobody "ever corralled my parents on my behalf." Joe's merciless taunting of the ten-year old CJ (mired in his first slump) results in the younger brother brutally breaking the older's leg in a vicious act of retaliation. Friedman is brilliant in underscoring the ironic capitulation of the youthful Joe to an aged sense of powerlessness, futility and pain.

The adult Joe settles into his life as a teacher with little enthusiasm. His mother's patent sense of rejection and her blatant expressions of disappointment drive Joe into an even deeper lassitude. Joe compels himself to be even more different than CJ; "I wasn't afraid of competing with the world; I didn't want to compete with him." While watching his brother play professionally for the first time, Joe feels "uneasy and disconnected; I couldn't get close and had no desire to do so. When CJ earns Rookie of the Year honors, Joe doesn't even bother to offer congratulations.

Joe is a despondent, lonely man. Yearning to be a loved teacher and desperate to be loved by his career-oriented and increasingly distant wife, Joe continues to be haunted by CJ. In a particularly chilling scene, a school conference with the father of a disinterested student ends with the father insisting that Joe give him an autograph. He even measures his unsuccessful attempts to seduce his wife as a batting average. The ubiquitous CJ, now a national icon, haunts his brother. Even more frustrating to the older brother is that CJ has usurped his parents' love; Joe feels that his mother treats him more like a son-in-law than a natural son.

The author does not bend the narrative to a neat conclusion. Joe insists on nursing anger and bitterness. Joe is nable to accept his brother's fame; "most people enjoyed it, going along for the ride...I found that impossible." The negative feelings transform into hatred. Friedman has Joe offer a compelling rumination about the nature of hate; consuming, inwardly-directed, hatred becomes a "full-time job that takes no time at all," a destructive form of love that becomes the "only thing that keeps you alive." Joe refuses brotherly love and solidarity even when his brother is beaned and subsequently suffers a prolonged drought at the plate. CJ's decline was like "sourballs tucked in the corner of my mouth, certainly bitter but never losing their undeniably sweet bolt of flavor."

Eventually, Joe's spiral of self-destruction results in a liberating epiphany. A near ethereal calm follows Joe's ability to accept his brother as "an amazing ballplayer." Acknowledging that the two will never be close or loving siblings, Joe's growth to "neutrality" signals his re-emergence as a man. He proclaims that "his days of hating are over." The final third of the novel explores, with extraordinary grace and power, the results of Joe's emotional and social development.

Readers will relish Mark Friedman's terrific writing. Whether it be is pointed observations on classroom teaching or his truthful insights about big-league baseball, the author crafts "Columbus Slaughters Braves" with precision, strength and courage. This bold and anguished novel, which so honorably deals with personal pain and unresolved guilt, which so carefully examines the darker sides of our personality, which so eagerly embraces internal conflict and family reformation, deserves to be read and discussed by the widest audience.

Taken out of life's pages, the realism of sibling jealousy and regret is artistically portrayed in this thought-provoking first novel. I started to read this book with limited knowledge about the storyline or characters. At first I thought older brother Joe would teach younger brother CJ, a baseball prodigy, life's lessons, especially that stardom has no guarantees but anyone can achieve happiness if they work to fulfill their potential. Instead, Joe was too bound up in his own insecurities and jealousy and he missed out from enjoying his brother's success and maximizing his own talents and interests. How he attempts to recover what he has lost pulls the reader into his emotional life and doesn't let go easily.
This novel does what all good literature does: it mirrors life, teaches lessons and causes the reader to compare the emotions, insights and conflict resolution in the story to the reader's own life experiences. If Mark Friedman never writes another word he will still have made a valuable and lasting contribution to American fiction.

It's not REALLY about baseball. It's about the perverse love of siblings, the price exacted by envy, and the truth of the chestnut..."be careful what you wish for..." A wistful, fictional memoir on the love-hate relationship between brothers and whether, in such situations, either is ever capable of forming an objective assessment of either satisfaction or success.

This is a sad and beautiful novel. The story of Joe and C.J. Columbus is frightening and heart-wrenching, but its lessons are truly valuable. There are many passages in the novel that are perfect, capturing the visceral truth of the anger, resentment and spite that can detroy relationships and the forgiveness that can heal.

In his debut novel, "Columbus Slaughters Braves," Mark Friedman presents a fairly straightforward tale of sibling jealousy. The protagonist, Joe Columbus, is the older brother of Chicago Cubs third baseman CJ Columbus, who ascends to the pantheon of superstardom (complete with lucrative Nike endorsement) while Joe teaches high school science. Joe's jealousy of his golden-boy brother spills over into his marriage, his non-existent relationship with his parents, who fawn over CJ, and even his job (during a parent-teacher conference, the parent asks about CJ). Friedman writes well, almost lyrically; Joe's bitterness is palpable throughout the book. However, the story takes a maudlin "Brian's Song" turn, and while it doesn't end in tearful avowals of love, it's predictable enough to make your eyes roll. Friedman shows immense amounts of promise, but outside of Joe the characters are very stereotypical and one-dimensional. I'm not surprised the book has already been purchased for the movies; it's the type of story Hollywood loves. Still, "Columbus Slaughters Braves" is a nice evening's read, and Mark Friedman is a talent to watch.

Not only is this one of the best written sports novels out there, Mark Friedman understands that sports novels shouldn't center around the games but the people. The story was beautifully written and unlike Richard Ford's The Sportswriter, Friedman was able to tell a much better story in 150 less pages..

Any brothers can pick up this story and immediately relate, whether you are older or younger. Joe, the narrator, represented the typical Californian liberal, always needing to be stroked and noticed in order to feel good about himself. Unfortunately, it was too late before he realized his incessant hatred toward his brother was ill-advised and ill-conceived. The simple lesson, as Joe learned through his brother's success and fall from baseball, was that being on top isn't always the best view. Fame has it's detractions, but family bonds never seem to.

Many years from now, as old-timers rehash the great baseball novels of the early twenty-first century, they will recall Mark Friedman's rookie work, "Columbus Slaughters Braves," as one that marked the author for greatness. The novel shines on two levels: as a baseball story, it rings with authenticity, and, as a novel about sibling rivalry, it sheds light on the darker side of our personality. "Columbus" is a disturbing, shattering and important book and will rank with "Bang the Drum Slowly" and "The Brothers K" in its thematic purity and intense characterizations.

The novel's conflict is deceptively simple. CJ Columbus, the younger brother of Joe, is a remarkable athlete and has been since his childhood. With the focus of a natural, CJ becomes an adored superstar with the Chicago Cubs, and in so doing, elevates the perennial doormats into a championship-contending ballclub. However, the focus of the novel is not on the superstar, but on the brooding and frustrated older brother. Joe, suffused with guilt over his envy and enmity towards CJ, suffers a life in eclipse. His relationship with his mother teeters towards an irreparable rift; his marriage with a college sweetheart veers into sterility, and his own self-image is a wreck.

Friedman's talent mainfests itself throuhgout the novel as the author painfully creates the terror and shame of living a life in the reflected glow of the family star. His parents acquiesce in removing Joe from direct childhood competition and comparisons with CJ; "we would grow up and have to find other ways to be cruel to each other." CJ's uncanny understanding of the game results in Joe's removal from baseball and delegation to tennis, where his desultory attempts at excellence only intensify his sense of worthlessness. Rather than struggle for his own identity and value, Joe embraces lower expectations" and comes to resent the fact that nobody "ever corralled my parents on my behalf." Joe's merciless taunting of the ten-year old CJ (mired in his first slump) results in the younger brother brutally breaking the older's leg in a vicious act of retaliation. Friedman is brilliant in underscoring the ironic capitulation of the youthful Joe to an aged sense of powerlessness, futility and pain.

The adult Joe settles into his life as a teacher with little enthusiasm. His mother's patent sense of rejection and her blatant expressions of disappointment drive Joe into an even deeper lassitude. Joe compels himself to be even more different than CJ; "I wasn't afraid of competing with the world; I didn't want to compete with him." While watching his brother play professionally for the first time, Joe feels "uneasy and disconnected; I couldn't get close and had no desire to do so. When CJ earns Rookie of the Year honors, Joe doesn't even bother to offer congratulations.

Joe is a despondent, lonely man. Yearning to be a loved teacher and desperate to be loved by his career-oriented and increasingly distant wife, Joe continues to be haunted by CJ. In a particularly chilling scene, a school conference with the father of a disinterested student ends with the father insisting that Joe give him an autograph. He even measures his unsuccessful attempts to seduce his wife as a batting average. The ubiquitous CJ, now a national icon, haunts his brother. Even more frustrating to the older brother is that CJ has usurped his parents' love; Joe feels that his mother treats him more like a son-in-law than a natural son.

The author does not bend the narrative to a neat conclusion. Joe insists on nursing anger and bitterness. Joe is nable to accept his brother's fame; "most people enjoyed it, going along for the ride...I found that impossible." The negative feelings transform into hatred. Friedman has Joe offer a compelling rumination about the nature of hate; consuming, inwardly-directed, hatred becomes a "full-time job that takes no time at all," a destructive form of love that becomes the "only thing that keeps you alive." Joe refuses brotherly love and solidarity even when his brother is beaned and subsequently suffers a prolonged drought at the plate. CJ's decline was like "sourballs tucked in the corner of my mouth, certainly bitter but never losing their undeniably sweet bolt of flavor."

Eventually, Joe's spiral of self-destruction results in a liberating epiphany. A near ethereal calm follows Joe's ability to accept his brother as "an amazing ballplayer." Acknowledging that the two will never be close or loving siblings, Joe's growth to "neutrality" signals his re-emergence as a man. He proclaims that "his days of hating are over." The final third of the novel explores, with extraordinary grace and power, the results of Joe's emotional and social development.

Readers will relish Mark Friedman's terrific writing. Whether it be is pointed observations on classroom teaching or his truthful insights about big-league baseball, the author crafts "Columbus Slaughters Braves" with precision, strength and courage. This bold and anguished novel, which so honorably deals with personal pain and unresolved guilt, which so carefully examines the darker sides of our personality, which so eagerly embraces internal conflict and family reformation, deserves to be read and discussed by the widest audience.

Many years from now, as old-timers rehash the great baseball novels of the early twenty-first century, they will recall Mark Friedman's rookie work, "Columbus Slaughters Braves," as one that marked the author for greatness. The novel shines on two levels: as a baseball story, it rings with authenticity, and, as a novel about sibling rivalry, it sheds light on the darker side of our personality. "Columbus" is a disturbing, shattering and important book and will rank with "Bang the Drum Slowly" and "The Brothers K" in its thematic purity and intense characterizations.

The novel's conflict is deceptively simple. CJ Columbus, the younger brother of Joe, is a remarkable athlete and has been since his childhood. With the focus of a natural, CJ becomes an adored superstar with the Chicago Cubs, and in so doing, elevates the perennial doormats into a championship-contending ballclub. However, the focus of the novel is not on the superstar, but on the brooding and frustrated older brother. Joe, suffused with guilt over his envy and enmity towards CJ, suffers a life in eclipse. His relationship with his mother teeters towards an irreparable rift; his marriage with a college sweetheart veers into sterility, and his own self-image is a wreck.

Friedman's talent mainfests itself throuhgout the novel as the author painfully creates the terror and shame of living a life in the reflected glow of the family star. His parents acquiesce in removing Joe from direct childhood competition and comparisons with CJ; "we would grow up and have to find other ways to be cruel to each other." CJ's uncanny understanding of the game results in Joe's removal from baseball and delegation to tennis, where his desultory attempts at excellence only intensify his sense of worthlessness. Rather than struggle for his own identity and value, Joe embraces lower expectations" and comes to resent the fact that nobody "ever corralled my parents on my behalf." Joe's merciless taunting of the ten-year old CJ (mired in his first slump) results in the younger brother brutally breaking the older's leg in a vicious act of retaliation. Friedman is brilliant in underscoring the ironic capitulation of the youthful Joe to an aged sense of powerlessness, futility and pain.

The adult Joe settles into his life as a teacher with little enthusiasm. His mother's patent sense of rejection and her blatant expressions of disappointment drive Joe into an even deeper lassitude. Joe compels himself to be even more different than CJ; "I wasn't afraid of competing with the world; I didn't want to compete with him." While watching his brother play professionally for the first time, Joe feels "uneasy and disconnected; I couldn't get close and had no desire to do so. When CJ earns Rookie of the Year honors, Joe doesn't even bother to offer congratulations.

Joe is a despondent, lonely man. Yearning to be a loved teacher and desperate to be loved by his career-oriented and increasingly distant wife, Joe continues to be haunted by CJ. In a particularly chilling scene, a school conference with the father of a disinterested student ends with the father insisting that Joe give him an autograph. He even measures his unsuccessful attempts to seduce his wife as a batting average. The ubiquitous CJ, now a national icon, haunts his brother. Even more frustrating to the older brother is that CJ has usurped his parents' love; Joe feels that his mother treats him more like a son-in-law than a natural son.

The author does not bend the narrative to a neat conclusion. Joe insists on nursing anger and bitterness. Joe is nable to accept his brother's fame; "most people enjoyed it, going along for the ride...I found that impossible." The negative feelings transform into hatred. Friedman has Joe offer a compelling rumination about the nature of hate; consuming, inwardly-directed, hatred becomes a "full-time job that takes no time at all," a destructive form of love that becomes the "only thing that keeps you alive." Joe refuses brotherly love and solidarity even when his brother is beaned and subsequently suffers a prolonged drought at the plate. CJ's decline was like "sourballs tucked in the corner of my mouth, certainly bitter but never losing their undeniably sweet bolt of flavor."

Eventually, Joe's spiral of self-destruction results in a liberating epiphany. A near ethereal calm follows Joe's ability to accept his brother as "an amazing ballplayer." Acknowledging that the two will never be close or loving siblings, Joe's growth to "neutrality" signals his re-emergence as a man. He proclaims that "his days of hating are over." The final third of the novel explores, with extraordinary grace and power, the results of Joe's emotional and social development.

Readers will relish Mark Friedman's terrific writing. Whether it be is pointed observations on classroom teaching or his truthful insights about big-league baseball, the author crafts "Columbus Slaughters Braves" with precision, strength and courage. This bold and anguished novel, which so honorably deals with personal pain and unresolved guilt, which so carefully examines the darker sides of our personality, which so eagerly embraces internal conflict and family reformation, deserves to be read and discussed by the widest audience.