Customer Reviews

Snow Man

5 star:		(5)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

This is the best thing Chute has ever written. So why did it turn her into an unperson among the literary elite? Ostensibly because her hero is a right-wing militiaman who assassinates a US Senator. But the assassination is shown to be a rather horrid affair: no glorification there. And this right-winger's heroes are all Latin American left wing guerillas. And aside from a bitterness toward the rich and powerful, the hero does not express his views with any degree of coherence, so this is not right wing propaganda.

To find out why this book has caused Ms. Chute to be dropped from the A list, you have to go back to Tom Wolfe's Radical Chic. Underlying the limousine liberal's love affair with the Black Panthers was a certain sense of superiority and contempt for the blacks they pretended to listen to. It was the same reason why Ms. Chute was lionized for her earlier books about the Maine equivalent of Tobacco Road: she was the tour guide who would give them a nice, safe viewing of an inferior culture, rather like the way the aristocracy visited lunatic asylums in the 18th century.

Now Ms. Chute has slipped her traces. The tour guide has joined the toothless outsiders and set fire to the bus. Her hero may be a killer who deserves his fate, but he has manners, grace, authenticity and character. The liberal matron and her consciousness-raised daughter fall into his bed because he has qualities they haven't seen before, certainly not in the worthless men of what passes for an elite in this country these days. And that is what causes the revolt of the book reviewers. Yes many of her characters are empty vessels, plastic men with plastic women. But that is entirely Ms. Chute's point.

Carolyn Chute is a true literary master. Her previous novels have consistantly upheld her in the forefront of American writers today. The Kirkus review you just read was probably written by a frustrated novelist who wishes he could write with half of the depth that Chute does. His review is rife with spelling and grammatical errors, and he probably needs to get laid.

If you have any interest in knowing about the currents that roil just below the glassy calm of American life, read this book. Carolyn Chute is a great storyteller and this is a great story, no matter what the barely literate, unconcealably jealous Kirkus reviewer says. The Amazon reviewer has him nailed cold. For that matter, the Kirkus review is exactly what is wrong with the book biz -- anything that gets too powerful, put it down, try to squelch its sales, ignore it. Maybe Amazon.com will change some of that. Hope so.

I read Carolyn Chute's first novel, "The Beans of Egypt, Maine" in 1985. It introduced me to a world of the working poor in a rural area of Maine and I remember how it opened my eyes to their poverty. In "Snow Man", Ms. Chute's fourth novel, some of this territory is familiar. But unlike her other book, this is not a big rambling family saga. Instead, it is a tightly drawn and fast paced story of an urban terrorist, Robert Drummond, a member of a militia, who publicly murders a senator in Boston. Wounded, he flees to the home of another senator who is off in Washington, and therefore away from his home at the time. Here, this second senator's wife and daughter nurse the fugitive back to health and hide him from the authorities.

Ms. Chute's prose is tense and clear although she has a tendency to use words like "orangey" a little too often. She's particularly good at describing wounds and Robert Drummond's painful shoulder wound is a throbbing reminder of his discomfort. But the rest of his hiding-out time certainly is pleasant and there's seduction at play here too, and not just on a physical level. He's portrayed as a strong and sympathetic character and we hear his philosophy of life over and over again. It's shown in bitter contrast to the life of the two upper class women taking care of him. For example, when he tells them his wife had to go out and get a job, the senator's daughter, who just happens to be a professor of women's studies, makes a comment about the need for women to pursue careers and get out of the house. Then she asks what kind of job his wife got. Robert's answer is simple - "McDonalds". There are constant references like that illustrating yuppie naivety about what it means to be poor in America.

I read this novel quickly as the story moved along well, but I just couldn't get into the characters. It seemed unlikely that the two women would become so enamored with this man even though he comes across as attractive and macho. All the people are stereotypes, created by Ms. Chute to forward her own political philosophy. In a way this is refreshing because it is a philosophy not often seen in mainstream fiction. But I never really understood why Robert Drummond's frustration with his poverty and anger about corporate greed would make him want to take the life of another human being. I wonder though, if I, too, am just being naïve.

Those who might want a glimpse into the thought processes of a militiaman might find this book interesting. However, it is only a glimpse and doesn't go deep enough. And the story, while well crafted, is basically superficial.

I guess I'm still just looking for someone to tell me why this book was ever written. Intrigued by The Beans of Egypt Maine and amazed at the breadth and perceptiveness and sheer wonder of Merry Men, despite it's controversial characters, I was struck dumb with disappointment for days after reading Snow Man. The characters are shallow and inconsistent (all of them-- left, right and center). The plot could have been taken from any murder "mystery." And the theme was not only blatantly sensational, but worse, devoid of any real substance. Chute opens the book with the warning that this is only a preview of a larger work to come, more fully exploring right-wing militias. If this is the way she's going to approach them, let's hope she was only kidding. Skip it, and bring us the next Merry Men!

I often refer friends to the work of Ms. Chute, for its raw realism, extraordinary character development, and ability to take one to places and situations never imagined. This book is the first time she has disappointed me (tremendously) on the first two counts, and while better on the third, still does not measure up to her other work. This book reads like a first draft or idea for a book, which is never adequately developed.

Carolyn's Chute's novel, "Snow Man" is unintentionally hilarious. The hero, whose "manhood "is apparent from his cold-blooded murder of a senator and his neanderthal approach to male-female relationships, is an absurd knock-off of the worst of Ayn Rand's heroes. The women, a mother and daughter who blissfully submit to virtual rape at his hands, read like escapees from some ignorant pornographic fantasy. Incredibly, the daughter is a professor of Women's Studies who in her heart of hearts just needs some rough sex to set her straight. I was actually laughing out loud reading this drivel, and find it genuinely hard to believe that anyone could take it seriously.

I anticipated another wonderful Carolyn Chute book when I picked this one up. I did not find any of the colorful characters and unique story that she has entertained me with in the past. It was so far off from her other books, it makes me wonder where she wrote it and why she wrote it.

As someone who enjoyed previous works by this author, I was stunned at how poorly written and conceived this book was. The characters are repulsive as are the sentiments expressed. Actually the incompetent writing is the book's saving grace: it is lacking to the point that at least it injected some (unintentional) humor into the proceedings. One of the worst books I've ever read.

This novel is not worth the reader's time and energy, to say nothing of investment. It is miserably written--full of cliches, contradictions in description, irrelevant detail, and simple-minded prose. It would be useful only as example to my English students on 'what not to do.' It surely did not have an editor. The story is unbelieveable and full of gratuitous description of male genitals; the identity of the narrator is never clear--other than the author apparently preaching her politics in the form of the 'royal we.' The dog in the story achieves godlike omniscience. All of the book's shallow and juvenile blather makes one hope any serious militia member would distance himself from this as presentation of worthwhile ideas. It insults the reader with its lack of depth.