Thomas Wolfe

Look Homeward, Angel

A destiny that leads the English to the Dutch is strange enough; but one that leads from Epsom into Pennsylvania, and thence into the hills that shut in Altamont over the proud coral cry of the cock, and the soft stone smile of an angel, is touched by that dark miracle of chance which makes new magic in a dusty world.

Devin Ware

I wish that I could rate this book higher with a sincere heart, but I can't. What this wants to be is a work by someone who is not Whitman, but who feels a kindred spirit with him. Walt Whitman was his own person, and Thomas Wolfe was his own person, but both of them want to encompass America, and to be in it and of it and to show it to the world. And the most disappointing thing to me is that Wolfe could have done this. Though the story is old hat (the troubles of a young white man coming of age), the voice is bountiful and elegant, yet still crude and blasphemous. If reading a book could be compared to a relationship, then this is a man that is a loud fool who speaks so ecstatically that I can't help but run away with him. There are parts of this book that were life-changing to read, and it contains one of the best opening pages I have yet encountered in my journey through literature, one that I will be revisiting just so that I may revel in its transcendent boldness. 

The problem is that it is stained, and not in a beautiful way. Wolfe wants to go above humanity and to hold it in his arms at the same time, but he only succeeds in the second one. The biggest issue is his racism and sexism. Please do not assume that I am bringing this up just to harp on issues that are trendy. I'm an English major and, if you'll forgive the profanity, I am used to swimming through bullshit to find things of worth. 

There are several scenes involving race, gender, or both, that are genuinely repulsive to me. This is coming from someone born and raised in Georgia, so perhaps I have a more visceral reaction since I was originally raised to believe in some of these ideas, and broke away from them on my own. Regardless, if this were written by a mediocre writer who simply wanted to express themselves (the 20th century version of an internet incel) then I would read it, close the book, and put it back on the library shelf to be forgotten. The issue is that Thomas Wolfe is a beautiful bellowing maniac. This could have been so much more. This book could have brought me to dizzying heights and left me breathless in mad laughter. That is certainly what it wanted to do, and it came close in the beginning. But in the end, it is too much of its time, and too connected to the ignorant upbringing of its author. I'm glad that I read it. The last few chapters are incredibly powerful, but as I read them, I was taken over by a horrible sadness because I could not appreciate their power the way Wolfe must have felt when he was writing them. They are stained with the foolishness of human history, and their value is lessened, and there is nothing that I or anyone can do to fix that. Only read it, appreciate it for what it is, and take a moment to mourn what it could have been.

Gabe Cortez

Joshua Line

Eitan Hershkovitz

A family with a great appetite for living is dominated by the father until an older son, Eugene is able to free himself

Look Homeward, Angel

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