Mark Danielewski, author of cult classic House of Leaves, has done it again – or rather, he's been at it for 25 years. The behemoth of Tom's Crossing weighs in at a staggering 1,200 pages, containing approximately half a million words. This new western novel tells the story of Kalin March, a 16-year-old outsider with an uncanny talent for horse riding, as he embarks on a perilous journey to save two horses from certain doom.
On the surface, Tom's Crossing appears to be a sweeping epic with all the makings of a classic western. The setting is 1980s Utah, and the narrative is driven by Kalin's quest to deliver two beloved horses, Mouse and Navidad, to safety in the wilderness beyond the Isatch mountain range. Along the way, he's joined by an unlikely trio: Tom Gatestone's ghost, Landry, and even Tom himself, who has been murdered by a ruthless local patriarch named Orwin Porch.
However, as we delve deeper into this novel, it becomes increasingly apparent that Danielewski is more concerned with showcasing his literary prowess than engaging readers on an emotional level. The story unfolds over a five-day period leading up to Halloween in 1982, but the pace is uneven, and the narrative veers wildly from action-packed set pieces to excruciatingly detailed descriptions of minor characters' personal lives.
One of the most striking aspects of Tom's Crossing is its use of multiple narrative voices. The novel claims to be an oral account of events, but in reality, it's a dizzying array of perspectives, each one more outlandish than the last. Danielewski seems determined to prove that he can tackle every literary device known to man, from Homeric epic poetry to 17th-century prose à la John Milton.
The result is often infuriating – and sometimes sublime. As our protagonist Kalin navigates treacherous terrain, avoids deadly traps, and confronts his enemies in a series of increasingly intense showdowns, Danielewski's narration careens wildly from the bizarre to the breathtaking. But when it comes time to tell us about minor characters' thoughts on the finer points of 1980s music or the geology of the region, the narrative stumbles.
Ultimately, Tom's Crossing feels like a novel designed for academic seminarians rather than everyday readers. Danielewski's ambition is undeniable – who else could make 1,200 pages feel like 300? But beneath its deliberately arcane surface lies a gripping story with mythic undertones and simple, compelling moral choices. It's as if the author has taken all his favorite literary tricks and set them loose in a western landscape.
In short, Tom's Crossing is a novel that defies summary – but here goes: it's long (seriously, it's longer than most novels), challenging (because of its narrative voice and sheer scope), and ultimately gratifying (because beneath the carapace lies a classic western at heart). If you're up for the challenge, Tom's Crossing is sure to deliver. But if not? Maybe stick with your Instagram feed – at least that won't put you to sleep.
On the surface, Tom's Crossing appears to be a sweeping epic with all the makings of a classic western. The setting is 1980s Utah, and the narrative is driven by Kalin's quest to deliver two beloved horses, Mouse and Navidad, to safety in the wilderness beyond the Isatch mountain range. Along the way, he's joined by an unlikely trio: Tom Gatestone's ghost, Landry, and even Tom himself, who has been murdered by a ruthless local patriarch named Orwin Porch.
However, as we delve deeper into this novel, it becomes increasingly apparent that Danielewski is more concerned with showcasing his literary prowess than engaging readers on an emotional level. The story unfolds over a five-day period leading up to Halloween in 1982, but the pace is uneven, and the narrative veers wildly from action-packed set pieces to excruciatingly detailed descriptions of minor characters' personal lives.
One of the most striking aspects of Tom's Crossing is its use of multiple narrative voices. The novel claims to be an oral account of events, but in reality, it's a dizzying array of perspectives, each one more outlandish than the last. Danielewski seems determined to prove that he can tackle every literary device known to man, from Homeric epic poetry to 17th-century prose à la John Milton.
The result is often infuriating – and sometimes sublime. As our protagonist Kalin navigates treacherous terrain, avoids deadly traps, and confronts his enemies in a series of increasingly intense showdowns, Danielewski's narration careens wildly from the bizarre to the breathtaking. But when it comes time to tell us about minor characters' thoughts on the finer points of 1980s music or the geology of the region, the narrative stumbles.
Ultimately, Tom's Crossing feels like a novel designed for academic seminarians rather than everyday readers. Danielewski's ambition is undeniable – who else could make 1,200 pages feel like 300? But beneath its deliberately arcane surface lies a gripping story with mythic undertones and simple, compelling moral choices. It's as if the author has taken all his favorite literary tricks and set them loose in a western landscape.
In short, Tom's Crossing is a novel that defies summary – but here goes: it's long (seriously, it's longer than most novels), challenging (because of its narrative voice and sheer scope), and ultimately gratifying (because beneath the carapace lies a classic western at heart). If you're up for the challenge, Tom's Crossing is sure to deliver. But if not? Maybe stick with your Instagram feed – at least that won't put you to sleep.