What a great book. So round. Cheever's prose is also too beautiful.

I really liked the character of Jody. I felt in love with him.

This book was read in the reading club I go to and I loved realizing the different interpretations that different people can make according to their biographies. The idea of addiction functions as a very transversal metaphor.

It's truly fascinating how a single book can evoke such diverse responses and emotions from its readers. Each person brings their own unique perspective and life experiences to the table, which in turn shapes their understanding and connection with the story.

Cheever's masterful writing allows for these multiple interpretations, making the reading experience all the more rich and engaging. Whether it's the exploration of addiction, the complex relationships between the characters, or the vivid描绘 of the setting, there is something in this book for everyone to discover and appreciate.

Overall, this is a book that I would highly recommend to anyone who enjoys a thought-provoking and beautifully written novel. It has the power to stay with you long after you've turned the last page and continue to inspire and challenge you.

So here, then, is a John Cheever's great penal novel. Or should I say, penile novel. Yes, yes, the pun is too obvious to be anything but unfunny. But it's just shouting from the eaves to be thrust into the spotlight.

This is primarily because one cannot turn a page without finding cocks, balls, erections, ejaculations, peckers, dicks, tumescences, foreskins, pissings, and yes, at least one anal intrusion by a phallic object.

What would I expect, I suppose, from a prison novel? I've heard that song by Tool. I've seen Oz. I know what goes on there (or so I've heard).

But to be fair, Cheever writes of all of this stuff candidly, not pruriently. Even so, I can only assume that it was intended to be shocking and I suppose it was at the time of publication. Reading it now, however, these details, these celebrations of the male body and libido, come across as tired and sad. Reductive, even. And the allusions to Christianity don't help. As though the author intends to boil male experience down to God and cock and the spiritual turmoil that thus ensues. (In fact with Cheever this might have been the case...in more than one private musing he cursed his libido, his sexual predilections, and his penis.)

Those aspersions aside, Farragut is a complexly drawn and intriguing character. An addict and professor whose intellect and conscience are compromised by his desires (he both rationalizes and expounds upon his addiction and sexual recklessness). He's killed his brother and needless to say his family history is troubled. His marriage is superficial: a sham and a trainwreck. Also in the book's favor is the fact that it is written in Cheever's marvelously fluid prose which, unlike, say, Hemingway's chop-chop or Henry James's clockspring sentences, encourages the eye to glide across the page and seems to pour itself into the mind.

In summary, I felt quite a bit short of feeling "the ecstatic confidence of finishing a masterpiece" that Newsweek promises with its blurb on the empurpled back cover of the edition I possess. And the book has done little to dispel my predisposed disinterest in engaging the 'Great White Masters' of mid-to-late twentieth century American prose (Updike, Roth, Bellow). But I feel that I ought to at least confirm or change that opinion by basing it on some actual reading of some breadth of their work. So, on I plod.

The novel under discussion, while having its merits such as the complex portrayal of Farragut and Cheever's beautiful prose, is also marred by what some might consider overemphasis on certain aspects of the male body and libido. The allusions to Christianity seem forced and don't add much depth to the overall narrative. Despite this, it's important to note that Cheever's writing style is unique and engaging, allowing the reader to easily immerse themselves in the story. However, the book fails to live up to the lofty claims made by Newsweek. It hasn't changed the reviewer's initial disinterest in the works of other famous American prose writers of the mid-to-late twentieth century. Nevertheless, the reviewer is determined to read more of their works to either confirm or change this opinion.

Farragut, either accidentally or not, kills his brother. He is condemned and sent to Falconer.

During his time of incarceration, he recalls his past, experiences his present, and forges his future.

It is a truly beautiful romance that delves into passion, desire, and love.

“Farragut developed a supernatural sensitivity to the simple squeak of the lover's tennis shoes. There were nights when it seemed to him that life depended on that sound.”

But above all, it is a book about the greatest ambition of mankind: Liberty.

“He raised his head well, straightened his back, and walked away with a firm step. Rejoice, he thought, rejoice.”

The accompanying images add a visual dimension to the story, further enhancing the reader's experience.

One image shows a scene that might be related to the events in the book, while the other provides a different perspective.

Together, they create a more immersive and engaging reading experience.

The world is full of randy prisoners. — John Cheever, Falconer

John Cheever's 1977 novel Falconer presents readers with a disturbing yet richly symbolic world - a prison, where time stagnates, people search for themselves, and memory becomes the only vehicle of freedom. It is not just a story about a prison - it is an attempt to uncover the hidden essence of life, which oscillates between love, sin, forgiveness, and self-redemption.

Ezekiel Farragut - a former college professor, drug-addicted, fratricide - he is the protagonist and symbol of this novel. All the possibilities of his life are covered in thick darkness. But Cheever does not portray this character just as a "criminal." Instead, this character becomes an unconscious reflection of modern man, whose life is mechanized, ambiguous, and full of the hope of redemption.

Farragut's sexuality, especially the aspect of male-male relationships, is boldly explored in this novel - a rare act in 70s mainstream literature. This aspect can also be read as the author's literary evolution and the manifestation of Cheever's own bisexual nature.

Falconer State Prison is like a modern adaptation of Dante's Inferno. Here, every character has a sin, but that sin makes them more human. The friendships here, the prison rules, and Farragut's inner psychological tension - all combine to make this place a symbolic world where people are forced to examine themselves.

Cheever uses the prison not just as the result of the judicial process but as a metaphor for life - an existential limbo where people face their own past and guilt.

The most powerful theme of the novel is freedom. Not physical freedom, but spiritual freedom. The love that Farragut has with a fellow inmate Jody cannot be understood just in terms of sexual or emotional sympathy. It is like a silent dialogue of the soul.

Cheever here speaks of a kind of personal rebirth in the vein of Christian theology. We see Farragut as a suffering soul who finally learns to forgive himself. At that very moment, he plans a bold escape - a physical event, but at the same time a symbol of mental freedom.

Cheever's prose is full of virtuosity. He creates a wonderful blend of lyricism and roughness, which forces the reader to stop and stand at every paragraph. His descriptions, especially of Farragut's psychological interior and reminiscences - are as elusive and profound as those of a modern poet.

Cheever's own experiences, hidden sexuality, alcoholism - all these have come together in this novel and created a disturbing yet profound image in the reader's mind.

Although Cheever was known as an artist of suburban American life (as seen in his famous story The Swimmer), Falconer takes him to another height. It not only changes the mode of his literature but also makes a bold turn in the whole of American literature.

Here, he has chosen a narrative part that constantly struggles between grief and hope. 'He who sins can love' - in this essence, Cheever shows through Farragut that sin is not the last word.

Finally, it can be said that Falconer is a painful yet hopeful novel. It is completely personal, but also completely universal. Like Farragut, there is an invisible prison within all of us - of some crime, of some remorse, or of some unfulfilled love.

Cheever's this novel is not just something to be read - it forces the reader to look at his own soul. And in the end, it reminds us that freedom is not always in flight, but in accepting oneself.

Falconer, the Danish hell of the 20th century. It is an astonishing book about human psychology and the limits to which it can reach, a kaleidoscope of personalities and behaviors within the Falconer reformatory. Without being tiresome and silly and without having intense action and adventures, based on the incarceration of the rapist and murderer Ezekiel Farragut, we get to know one by one the inmates and the warden of the institution, the living conditions, their daily lives, the echo from life in the outside world. Like other heroes of O'Connor and Dickens, the Lake, the Horn, the Mountain, the Tyro welcome us into their miserable lives, their guilty past and their routinized future within four prison walls. And Johnny.....

Farragut, although married and with a child, recognizes love in Johnny's eyes and is drawn into a different erotic adventure that ends completely suddenly. Farragut's mindset and character change drastically and the central hero comes face to face with his true self, which he does not hesitate to bring to light and tear apart in order to reveal the deeper truth of his true identity. From the most interesting homosexual relationships that one can read, it seduces and moves, without the text being cheap or pornographic. A very well-written and sensitive relationship between two men who know that nothing will change in their lives after their imprisonment. This is exactly what I mean: CONVINCE ME when you write something, no matter how strange, outlandish or unlikely it may be to happen.

The scene where Ezekiel kills his brother is very dramatic and in fact at a point where I said the author goes, he forgets because he puts his hero in. Indeed, throughout the book I felt exactly this: it doesn't matter why the protagonist got in, the author preferred not to burden the text with ALL of Farragut's past, the reasons and the causes. On the contrary, he gave the reader the most important scenes where and when he sees fit, like a treat in an already delicious sweet.

In many parts of the book I stopped breathless as to the magnitude of the misery and misfortune of the inmates, some of whom have no one to wait for them, to visit them, to care about them. Instead, they eat whatever the worst one can imagine dietetically, here and there they are remembered for medical examinations by people who are also finished as personalities and professionals. And the end impressed me even more. We do not have an end in the sense of completion but an end in the sense of change, reversal, "happiness", as the author writes, closing his book with this word.

An amazing book, written in 1987 please, in which the real life of the author John Cheever (1912-1982) is reflected, who was born into a prosperous economic family, and after the impoverishment of his father he lives a rebellious life with abuses, alcohol and smoking. Although married, his psychologist diagnoses bisexuality and his troubled relationship with his wife goes through even more difficult times. A "rebel with a cause" then and a book that "for many reasons" you should read!

Characteristic excerpts:

[after the visiting hour, Farragut watches his relatives and friends leave from his window]: "They were free, free to run, to dance, to f..., to drink, to go aimlessly to Tokyo. They were free, yet they treated their most precious privilege so indifferently, as if they were frittering it away. Their movements did not show that they valued their freedom" (p. 35).

"The Farraguts were the kind of people who lived in a Victorian mansion and when they lost it they returned to the family farm. And this included a noted but magnificent 18th-century house and the exploitation of two gasoline pumps.... -You can't put gasoline! -Why? -Because... you'll lose all your friends!. -On the contrary... I'll learn who my real friends are!", (p. 60).

"He probably spent an inordinately large part of his life and energy waiting, but even when no one came, he didn't feel that waiting was a complete waste, his life resembled a bit the structure of a funnel" (p. 100).

"He is beautiful, but because he is young. In ten years he will look like everyone else" (p. 110).

"In twelve years no one has come to see you. And this shows that there is no soul out there that knows you. Not even your own mother knows you. Sisters, brothers, uncles, friends, girlfriends, you have no one to sit with you at the table. You are worse off than a dead man. You are laughing. The dead don't laugh" (p. 156).

"My housewife is one of those stinking old widows –even if her husband puts fire in the kitchen, she's a widow..." (p. 199).

‚Falconer‘ is a novel that delves into the life of Farragut, a complex character who is both a college professor and a drug-addict. The story takes a dark turn when he murders his brother and is subsequently locked up in prison.

While I was truly impressed by Cheever‘s remarkable wit and eloquence, the novel as a whole failed to have a profound impact on me. It is, however, quite interesting to observe Farragut‘s journey as he attempts to come to terms with his various demons, including his addiction, failed marriage, and bisexuality.

Despite this, he remains a rather unlikable protagonist throughout the novel. His actions and decisions often left me feeling detached and unengaged.

On a positive note, fans of Isherwood‘s ‚A Single Man‘ might find this book appealing. In my opinion, both novels share a similar tone and sense of humour, which could make ‚Falconer‘ an interesting read for those who enjoyed Isherwood‘s work.

Overall, while ‚Falconer‘ has its merits, it didn‘t quite manage to capture my heart and soul.

Falconer by John Cheever is a remarkable work that I have had the pleasure of reading for the second time. On this occasion, I rated it 9 out of 10. John Cheever is one of my all-time favorite authors, and while the second reading of Falconer had its less exalting moments in a few chapters, his cathartic short stories are truly outstanding. Some of his notable works include The Season of Divorce, The Chaste Clarissa, The World of Apples, and many more. TIME Magazine has included Falconer on its All-TIME 100 Novels list, and it has been praised by writers and critics alike. However, as a reader, I found that I could only fully appreciate the magic of this favorite author in parts. The sexual change of the main character, Ezekiel ‘Zeke’ Farragut, was quite difficult for me to cope with, especially since we cannot say for sure what his orientation was before he entered prison. The details of intimacy also were not to my taste. Despite this, I must emphasize that Falconer is not a typical romance novel. The main character is a sophisticated intellectual who reads Descartes in jail. The poetry of the writing is evident in passages such as ‘he was among the living dead…primordial man confronted with romantic love…loneliness can change anything on earth.’ However, the story also has its moments of terror, such as when the cats are viciously killed. Farragut is a drug addict, and his dependence on drugs has led to his downfall. He was sentenced to prison for fratricide after killing his brother, Eben. The other inmates in Falconer also have their own stories, which add to the complexity of the novel. Overall, Falconer is a very sad story, but it is also a powerful one that explores themes such as love, loss, addiction, and redemption.

I must admit that I did pick up this particular item solely because of the line in a song by The National that mentions John Cheever.

I have always been a great admirer of his prose. He is, without a doubt, an absolutely beautiful writer. His words have a certain charm and elegance that draw you in and make you want to keep reading.

However, when it came to the actual story, I found it a bit meh. It didn't quite have the same impact or excitement that I was hoping for. Maybe my expectations were too high, or perhaps the story just didn't resonate with me as much as I thought it would.

Despite this, I still appreciate Cheever's writing and will continue to explore his works in the future. I believe that there is always something to be learned from a great writer, even if the individual story doesn't quite hit the mark.

So, while this particular experience may not have been as satisfying as I had hoped, it has not deterred me from my love of literature and my appreciation for the works of John Cheever.

This isn't your typical correctional facility.

In fact, Falconer Correctional Facility is extremely boring. There is literally nothing happening. It's just a collection of lonely men attempting to endure their sentences.

There is no brutality or abuse. The only riot that occurs in the book is as dull as the rest of prison life.

The main character, Farragut, is convicted of murdering his brother. He hails from a formerly wealthy family and is a drug addict.

The entire book revolves around him and his longing for methadone. Sadly, nothing else of significance really takes place.

It seems that life in Falconer Correctional Facility is a monotonous and uneventful existence, with Farragut's struggle for methadone being the only glimmer of something that could potentially break the boredom. But even that doesn't lead to much excitement or change.

Overall, the description of this prison and its inmates paints a rather bleak picture of a place where time seems to stand still and hope is in short supply.

Just started last night as I abruptly ran out of books to read with time left on the reading "clock."

So far I've read "The Wapshot Chronicle" and some short stories by Cheever. He's a great writer. The set-up seems a bit fishy here (an upper-crust murderer???), but we'll see. The wife's a mega-bitch but maybe she has cause to be. The imprisoned husband's a drug addict who "accidently" killed his brother - that's some seriously bad stuff!

This book gets a shout-out in the "Seinfeld" Cheever episode.

Now well past the midway point in this essentially plot-less book. We've had a bit of the gay sex thing, but it doesn't seem objectionable to me. I assume that the book is essentially a monologue about what it means to be John Cheever, with a little bit of distance supplied by the oh-so-close narration. I don't think that JC was fooling anybody! Still, the writing is very good and a treat to read - JC was a real smoothie - a genius with words - and some fundamental points are made about the need for love and companionship which can become unbalanced in a place like Falconer. Another point is made about the problem(s) associated with growing up with aloof, uninvolved and unloving parents. I can and have identified with Farragut. He seems to be more than just a drug addict (Cheever was a cigarette and alcohol addict - like my father) - I think he's a sex and emotion addict as well. That's his personality - sick. So far no explanation of what happened and why (he killed his brother). I have lived in all, or mostly all-male institutions (boarding school, college and the Navy) and can attest to the need for friendship and companionship. Why this need gets sexualized in prisons I'm not sure. Perhaps it's the situation of so many men confined to such a small and depressing place for long periods without much to live for. Emotional and sexual expressions take on more importance I suppose. I really don't know.

- At times reminds me of Eliot and Hemingway (the skiing scene relates to "A Movable Feast.").

Finished last night with a rather weird ending. As I have said before, the primary virtue of this book is the fine prose. Cheever was truly gifted. He didn't seem to have it in him to write the great novel, however. In that sense he was like his pal Ray Carver. Also in the self-destructive alcoholic-smoker thing as well. AND... in the fact that both found abstinence in their lives before the end. Unfortunately both had wrecked their bodies already. I can't say that I really "get" what this book's about. Something about love and compassion perhaps? Farragut reminded me of my father and the mystery (to me) of whatever may have been going on in his mind all those sad, self-destructive years. One thing that AA teaches us, however, is that to expect or demand that "others" (ESPECIALLY those we have harmed) to forgive us, love us, take care of us, understand us... whatever... is putting the emphasis in the wrong place. Active alcoholics/addicts who express resentment towards Alanon might consider this evaluation of Cheever by a therapist he'd hoped would take his side in his struggle to "fix" his relationship with his wife. From Wiki: "Hays (the therapist) claimed that Cheever himself was the problem: 'a neurotic man, narcissistic, egocentric, friendless, and so deeply involved in (his) own defensive illusions that (he has) invented a manic-depressive wife.' Cheever soon terminated therapy." Farrugut is a Cheever stand-in: self-absorbed, self-destructive, selfish, self-pitying, impulsive, full of denial, emotionally-childishly needy (he needs his 10-year-old son to tell him "I love you."). I have a far-away friend who's written a couple of novels and has battled mental/emotional illness for years (one failed suicide attempt). It seems now that he won't speak to me as I had some reservations about his long-delayed second novel. The story was about a sad sack (him - of course) who made a pilgrimage (like David Copperfield to his Aunt Betsy) to his old girlfriend to try to get her to "save" him by taking him back and (unspoken) take care of him. I told him that I enjoyed the book - he IS a talented writer - but I had misgivings about the (to him legitimate) need/desire to have someone take care of and "understand" the unhappy "hero/stand-in." That is a need/desire of the raging codependent-addict. Compassion and acceptance is the proper kind of love for such people to be receiving from the rest of us, but detachment needs to be maintained. The therapist's creed: "Whether my patient/client gets better/heals/recovers is none of my business."

- So much for the random ranting of this adult child of family alcoholism and addiction. Who would want someone like Cheever for a father? I pretty much did - nothing I could do about it! You love 'em and you hate 'em.

- Forgot to mention that Cheever makes use of the Attica disaster. He calls the place "Alma" and "The Wall."

- 4.5* for the writing - 2.5* for the "story" = 3.75* overall.

A novel penned by John Cheever has proven to be precisely the remedy I required to emerge from a reading slump. His works have a unique charm that draws readers in and keeps them engaged from start to finish.

The trials and tribulations that the upper-class in New England face are not only captivating but also highly relevant. Cheever's ability to depict the complex emotions, relationships, and social dynamics within this particular milieu is truly remarkable.

His novels offer a window into a world that is both familiar and foreign, allowing readers to gain a deeper understanding of the human condition. Whether it's the struggles with love, money, or identity, Cheever's characters face challenges that we can all relate to on some level.

In conclusion, if you're looking for a great read that will transport you to another time and place, while also exploring the universal themes of life, then a novel by John Cheever is definitely worth checking out.

The most likely book that I read this year. The words do not abound in Tsiver. He writes as if he cuts with a scalpel, deeply and accurately, existence, interpersonal relationships, the social condition. He is tough, economical and chatters only when the scene dictates. Prison is the laboratory for him to spread out his materials and compose a work that speaks of freedom not necessarily as a good but more as liberation from the human condition. Good translation but I very much want to read the next Tsiver in English.

Tsiver's writing style is truly unique. It's as if he peels back the layers of our lives with surgical precision, revealing the raw and unfiltered truth. His exploration of existence, relationships, and society is both profound and thought-provoking. The way he uses language is masterful, concise yet powerful.

The concept of prison as a laboratory is an interesting one. It implies that in the confined space of prison, Tsiver is able to distill his ideas and create something that has the potential to liberate us from the limitations of our human condition. I can't wait to see what he has in store for us in his next work.