Customer Reviews

Ironweed

5 star:		(42)
4 star:		(15)
3 star:		(9)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

With Ironweed, William Kennedy completes his three novels of Depression-era Albany, wrapping up this study of time, place, and people with an emotionally gripping Pulitzer Prize-winner (1984) that focuses on those who call themselves "bums," all of them living apart from society because their dreams have died. Francis Phelan, long-absent father of Billy Phelan, the main character in the previous novel, Billy Phelan's Greatest Game, returns to Albany for the first time in twenty-two years. In the previous novel, which concludes a week before Ironweed begins, Francis reconnects with his son Billy, who, stunned by Francis's reappearance, gets him out of jail, gives him money, and begs him to visit his mother and the family.

Francis, a former pro ballplayer, lost his career when he lost part of a finger in a fight. He abandoned his wife Annie and his family when he accidentally dropped and killed his 13-day-old son Gerald, an act for which he still atones. Francis, however, now discovers from Billy that Annie has never revealed to anyone how Gerald died, a proof of forgiveness that Francis finds astounding.

For the past nine years Francis has been living on the road with another down-and-outer, Helen Archer, who managed one year at Vassar studying classical piano before her father died and her life fell apart. Smart and perceptive about people, Helen, like Francis, has tried unsuccessfully to find solace in the bottle, and now, suffering from a tumor and the effects of alcoholism, she tries to make peace with herself and her life. Both Francis and Helen understand that they have chosen their lives, and they cast no blame on others or on fate. Their many acquaintances all have similar stories, and as these stories interweave and overlap, Kennedy endows them with a tenderness of feeling and, sometimes, with an overwhelming violence which stun the involved reader with their power.

As Francis relives events in his life, his inner world takes shape. The opening scene, a trip to the cemetery, where Francis visits his parents' graves and that of baby Gerald for the first time, is one of the most dramatic openings ever written, and as Francis converses with his lost family, he establishes the contrasts with his present life. Scenes in which Francis, cursed with a hair-trigger temper, literally fights to the death alternate with scenes involving Annie and his family; scenes of his childhood and adolescence alternate with sad scenes involving the deaths of his homeless friends.

A book so good it will leave you reeling, Ironweed tears at the heart without showing a trace of sentimentality, depicting hard lives lived by down-and-out people, most of whom still possess the redeeming virtues of the more saintly who live "normal" lives. Hard-edged, sometimes violent, and even cruel, it also reveals human kindness, sweetness, and love. Kennedy's naturalistic style and ability to create realistic dialogue give life to the stories of these characters and leave the reader with new insights into the nature of family ties, the choices we make, the forgiveness sometimes offered by others, and the nature of redemption if we choose to accept it. n Mary Whipple

In life, we all make mistakes, some more than others. People do not grow into faultless perfection. That is something that is done through hard work and deep thought, and even then, it is not fully achieved - much to our dismay. People sometimes unsuccessfully surrender themselves to their fantasies, their ideologies, and thus, make big mistakes, for to err is human. The protagonist in William Kennedy's Ironweed - Francis Phelan - is certainly no exception. He is a man who has made one too many mistakes. From the murdering of a scab, to his accidentally killing his son, to taking refuge in alcohol, to family abandonment, it becomes a grim picture of a life not worth living. All this stretches out before and beyond the Great Depression of 1929.

In youth, Francis had looks, health, vitality and a burgeoning baseball career that included such notables like Ty Cobb, Tris Speaker and Eddie Collins. But then it all disappeared to mediocrity and then into something even less than that. One would figure, like Job in the Bible, Francis would scream, "God, wht hast thou forsaken me?" He does not do that. In that respect, that is what makes this novel so refreshing. It does not evolve into a pity party, although the theme, plot and environment would lead a reader to think otherwise. Francis and his associates, specifically Helen Archer and Rudy, just propel themselves onward, despite or until mental and physical difficulities impede them. The characters don't whine or pout; they just deal with it. When the joys of life ebb away into that which we do not think we can handle, that's when the true self emerges, the thick skin manifests itself during adversity.

Despite what I have written, it is not all grim and tragic. Far from it. In darkness there is light, and that is especially true in the latter part of the book. The jocularity of the dialogue and semi jocund personalities of the characters give this novel an uplifting air of hope and possibility. And it makes one belive that no matter how dark our times may be, no matter how tragic our circumstances are, somewhere, in the far off distance, there is a gleaming ray of hope at the end of the tunnel.

I had to read this novel for my AP english class and i wasn't exactly looking forward to reading it. But once i got down to reading it, the book took on a life of its own. William Kennedy's brilliant prose and selection of words defined the character of Francis Phelan. The reader can truly feel sorrow, joy, disgust with each action of Francis, all through the excellent writing of Mr. kennedy. The book is a sad look on a depressing era, but it is also a novel that demonstrates the love and bond of family and the tenacity of human nature to hold on. A great book...highly recommended.

This is a novel about a bum in Albany, New York in 1938. It won a Pulitzer Prize and got a lot of critical praise. Right off the bat, you have to wonder. Serious fiction writers love to write books about bums and down-and-outers in America because they know they'll never be criticized for doing so and everybody will pretend to love it. Anything that shows the good ole U. S. of A. in an unsavory light--whether true or ridiculously impossible--is bound to be adored by the oh-so-enlightened literary set, so it is prudent to be suspect of something they seem to like so much.

But this is a good one. Our hero, Francis Phelan, is a bum and he knows he's a bum and he routinely and humorously refers to himself and his acquaintances as such. When we meet him, he's 58, but much of the novel is in flashbacks so we get to see how it is that he got to this decrepit state. It's a great character study.

Phelan, you see, is an angry man. A fighter. When wronged, he lashes out violently. These episodes occur throughout the course of his life and right up to the end of the novel, and though few in number, always result in his having to flee. First his job, then his town, and then finally his family after a catastrophic mishap with one of his children. Not an introspective man, and certainly not one to ever apologize to anyone about anything, the reader gradually begins to perceive that Phelan nevertheless has a sense of remorse--if not outright guilt--about all of this, which is what causes him to seek refuge on the outskirts of society. This is where he thinks he belongs. This is what he deserves.

It is a tough, no-nonsense novel, about a tough, no-nonsense guy. Best of all is the novel's tone. Despite the fact that life has not always been fair--and that it occurs during the midst of the great depression is only one of his problems--there is no self-pity from the character whatsoever. None. And none from the author either. No tear-jerking sentimentality here; no turtles crossing the road and getting flipped over by swift and oblivious automobiles.

The style is excellent also. Though told in a relatively straightforward manner, the reader is constantly aware that there is much going on right under the surface. There are also a couple of dreamlike, surreal sequences that are very effective, and towards the end the author dazzles us with the use of the future-perfect tense in a remarkable, extremely moving scene. This is great writing, and an accomplished, first-class novel.

Both dark and astoundingly, funny, IRONWEED is one of those books that never leave your memory. It doesn't last long on your bookshelf, though; you are always lending it out or re-reading some, if not all of it. Set in Depression-era Albany, IRONWEED is an unforgettable tale of one man's search to reconcile himself with a past riddled with calamity and many loves gone awry.

The opening chapter, where protagonist Francis Phelan and his friend, Rudy, work as gravediggers for a day is as great a piece of dark comedy as the scene where Hamlet meets the gravediggers. I felt a sort of uneasiness about laughing at all of Francis Phelan's wisecracks, though. We know that they all stem from a life filled with pain, alcoholism, terrible coincidences, and frustrated dreams. Yet, he is a generous man. He will give those even more down-and-out than himself the last bite of his sandwich or the last sip from his bottle of cheap wine. And it is this sort of attitude--slivers of hopefulness out of seemingly permanent bleakness, generosity out of poverty, humanity out of an unfeeling world--that gives the book its life, humor, and appeal.

Rocco Dormarunno, author of The Five Points.

This Pulitzer Prize Winning entry in Kennedy's Albany Cycle of novels tells the story of Francis Phelan, an ex-baseball player, now bum, who is haunted by ghosts in Albany, NY in 1938. Twenty two years earlier Phelan picked up his thirteen day old son by his diaper and the boy slipped to the ground and was killed. He also killed a scab driver during a strike when he beaned him with a rock. In the intervening years, he has taken to the bottle. Now the ghosts of these and other figures from his past are coming back & Francis must try to reconcile with their spirits and with the remaining members of his family.

I happen to have recently read Sophie's Choice & Beloved (see review) which also deal with parental guilt over culpability for a childs death. I found them both to be hopeless. This book, on the contrary, like Fearless by Rafael Yglesias, offers hope of redemption and the reader inevitably ends up rooting for Francis Phelan and hoping he can exorcise the demons that drive him.

GRADE: A

This was the first book to show me what traumatic personal events in the story of immigration to America might have brought on the deep, collective sorrow that runs, unexplained, through my working-class background. No one in my family can discuss the particular incidents, for as they happened they were deliberately ignored.

Of Kennedy's many achievements in "Ironweed" I'm most impressed by these two: the archaeology of our heritage of private suffering, and the poetry of our inarticulate ancestors. First person accounts of the isolated lives of the hapless poor are more than rare. Kennedy is well-educated in the history of his native Albany, and with threads of this great story he weaves Francis Phelan's humble tale. It is a lyric ballad for the poor souls who managed to bring children (like my grandparents) into this harsh, new world before meeting their unceremonious ends. In isolated moments of grace and dignity, Kennedy brings flickers of indelicate humor, intense beauty and slangy sweetness.

The most intriguing aspect about William Kennedy's "Ironweed" is that, for a novel about so many depressing characters, it somehow manages a cheerful, if not optimistic, mood without degenerating into sentimentality or contrived plot devices. It takes place in 1938 in the poor Irish neighborhoods of Albany, New York, still reeling from the Depression.

The protagonist is a 58-year-old bum named Francis Phelan. He didn't spend his whole adult life as a bum, though -- he used to be a third baseman for the Washington Senators, and a pretty good one at that. But a history of personal problems has brought him to his present station in life. It all started when, at twenty-one, he killed a scab trolley car conductor during a workers' strike, for which he was neither caught nor punished. Fifteen years later, his baby son died when he accidentally dropped him on the floor. Since then, he has been in self-imposed exile from his wife and his other two children, wandering around the country as a vagrant, a time in which he happened to kill another bum in a fight.

Eventually Francis returned to Albany where, destitute and homeless, he works at odd jobs like grave digging and junk hauling. He maintains a somewhat distant relationship with his family; even though they love and forgive him and would like him to be a part of their lives once again, his lingering guilt keeps him from fully reaching out to them. Adding to his guilt is the fact that the story of his crime at the trolley strike was the subject of a play by a local writer, whose melodramatic, manipulative seductress of a wife had been Francis's first love.

On the street, he drinks and hangs out with several other homeless friends, including a woman named Helen to whom promiscuity is a way to get a place to sleep on a cold night. Helen is an archetypal tragic figure; she came from an affluent family and was studying at Vassar to be a classical pianist when her father committed suicide, leaving insufficient funds for her to continue. Now, fattened and disfigured by a tumorous stomach, she drinks away her sorrows while waiting for death.

The chronological structure of the novel is fairly complex, made more so by Francis's common subconscious visions of ghosts from his past, where he tries to rationalize his actions. There are recurring motifs of junk and weeds, symbols of the uselessness and ugliness of the unpleasant lives these homeless people suffer or have brought upon themselves to suffer. Despite the overall bleakness, however, some of the characters almost seem to enjoy their lives, even if just to drink; they're inspirited by their fatalism. Likewise, Francis -- a poor, hardworking man who made a few mistakes in his life and is willing to do the right thing by his family, and also a sort of labor "hero" with regard to the trolley strike incident -- often reminded me of Tom Joad, making this novel a worthy successor to John Steinbeck's epics of the down-and-out.

Good period piece (late depression) and geographic novel (upstate NY/Albany). The protagonist is a long homeless depression era bum and the story follows his life and the cast of others like him. Neither glamorizes nor justifies their lives, merely tells their story in a well written novel. This is the third book in a trilogy, but I was given this book as a gift, read it first, and it stands alone fine. I was told it was the best of the author's work. The story is full of tragedy, and steers clear of an unrealistically happy ending. Reminded me a lot of On the Road, set in a different time, with a different set of parameters. Not a light hearted novel; it is one that will grab those who are willing to invest themselves in reading a deeply insightfull book

IRONWEED by William J. Kennedy was the latest selection for a book club I've recently joined. The premise of the club is to read a novel and then view the movie (at the group meeting) that was based on the novel. As I expected, the movie paled in comparison to the book, despite the screenplay being written by Kennedy himself. Jack Nicholson plays the main character (Francis) and Meryl Streep is his "wanna be" socialite girlfriend (Helen), but this star power doesn't elevate the story beyond what Kennedy had already done in the novel.

Set during the "Great Depression," IRONWEED is a great look at the underbelly of society: drunks, homeless, impoverished, and in that regard the story is timeless. I enjoyed the characters' quirkiness and the loosely connected plots, but more significantly to me were the themes of redemption, forgiveness, and love. The love aspect may be hard to spot, but it is there, unconventionally, in many of the character's interactions.

This favorable recommendation comes with a warning: it can be a depressing read, definitely not a happy one, and while I found it inspirational, it will not conjure any blithe emotions. IRONWEED is definitely not a June beach read, being more apropos to a long winter night, indoor, by a warm fire.