Such a dreadful bore indeed! The book, which is supposed to be a sort of political melodrama, disappoints greatly. Its narrative lacks all the operatic qualities, earthiness, and emotion that the term suggests. The characters come across as lifeless and bland, failing to capture the reader's interest. The plot is equally uninteresting, meandering along without any real excitement or tension. The prose, on the other hand, is calculating and careful, when perhaps a more manic and unhinged approach could have injected some much-needed life into these tired scenarios. I truly hate writing negative reviews, so I'll refrain from going on at length. Suffice it to say that there is simply nothing in this book that engages the reader, and there is really nothing worth further comment.

Where has Norman Mailer been all my life?

I have just discovered his works, and I am completely captivated. I love his style, which is so vivid and engaging. His descriptions are so detailed that people seem real, and the streets feel grimy. It's as if he is painting a picture in my mind with his words.

For me, his writing is the closest to real life. It's raw, it's honest, and it doesn't shy away from the harsh realities of the world. I find myself completely immersed in his stories, feeling every emotion that the characters experience.

After reading this particular piece, I know that I will need to go back and re-read the end in the future. There are so many profound lines that I want to fully understand and appreciate. One line that really stood out to me was, "If Moloch is not fed, the last stage of hell will vanish, and with it, the apparatus of hell." It's a powerful statement that makes me think about the nature of evil and the consequences of our actions.

Overall, I am so glad that I have discovered Norman Mailer's writing, and I can't wait to explore more of his works.

I stopped reading with approximately 30 pages remaining as I simply didn't care anymore.

The initial half of the book was okay. The somewhat indistinct socialist ranting didn't bother me too much until it started to become a more significant aspect of the narrative.

His ideas always lacked sufficient clarity. They weren't properly connected to a great deal within the story; they were just sort of randomly placed there.

He made an effort, that's for sure. But I don't think it was all that successful.

The lack of clear integration of his socialist concepts made the reading experience less engaging and left me feeling rather disengaged by the end.

Perhaps with more careful thought and better weaving of these ideas into the fabric of the story, it could have been a more impactful and enjoyable read.

As it stands, however, it just didn't quite hit the mark for me.

Mailer's second novel stands as a remarkable work that vividly reflects the Joseph McCarthy-era during which it was penned.

Set against the backdrop of this tumultuous time, the novel delves deep into the social and political climate of the era. It explores the paranoia, fear, and suspicion that gripped the nation as McCarthy and his followers launched their witch hunts.

The characters in the novel are forced to grapple with the consequences of living in such a climate, where one wrong word or association could lead to ruin. Through their experiences, Mailer offers a powerful commentary on the dangers of extremism and the importance of protecting individual freedoms.

The novel also provides a fascinating glimpse into the cultural and intellectual life of the time, with references to literature, art, and music. Overall, Mailer's second novel is a must-read for anyone interested in understanding the Joseph McCarthy-era and its lasting impact on American society.

This was my very first attempt with Mailer. I was really excited to explore his work, but unfortunately, it didn't quite meet my expectations.

I know that his writing style is different from the rest, and perhaps that's what threw me off a bit. But still, I just didn't like his tone or the way he told the story.

It felt a bit too detached and cold for my taste. I prefer a more engaging and emotional writing style that really draws me in and makes me care about the characters and the plot.

However, I'm not one to give up easily. I'm going to try another of his works and see if I can get a better understanding of his writing and maybe even grow to like it.

After all, everyone has their own unique style, and it might just take me a bit more time and effort to appreciate Mailer's.

This particular attempt at creating a noir atmosphere fails miserably. Mailer seems to have lost faith in his character's long-winded rant that extends over several pages. This excessive rambling effectively kills the momentum of the novel, leaving the reader disengaged.

Moreover, the Macguffin in this story is truly annoying. It doesn't serve to enhance the plot or add any real depth or intrigue. Instead, it becomes a distraction that detracts from the overall reading experience.

The characters themselves also fall short. They lack the complexity and charisma necessary to make this a novel truly worth reading. Their actions and decisions seem forced and unconvincing, further diminishing the quality of the work.

Overall, this novel fails to deliver on the promise of a captivating noir tale. It is a disappointment that leaves the reader longing for something more substantial and engaging.

Wow, this is a very strange book.

It is not at all like An American Dream, at least in the beginning.

The narrative here is not driven by insane desire and sense. Instead, there is a quiet, slow, almost Kafka-esque build.

It involves a bunch of mysterious and strange-talking roomers in a boardinghouse in what seems to be a twilight zone version of the Cold War (or maybe something out of a Sartre play).

There are hints and allegations, insanity and duplicity. It's all very intriguing, and despite the fact that very little happens, it is definitely a page-turner.

However, until about halfway through, everything goes horribly wrong.

All the cards get turned over at once, and we are left with just a bunch of people sitting in a room tiresomely debating communism.

Mailer is still an amazing writer, and I am greatly enjoying my rediscovery of him. But good lord, when he goes off the rails, he really goes off the rails.

It's been a long time since the second half of a book let me down as much as this one.

Oh wait... An American Dream. Seems to be a trend developing.

The beginning was okay. It seemed like things were going smoothly and there was a glimmer of hope. However, as time went on, the situation gradually deteriorated. What was once tolerable became pretty unbearable. The problems started to pile up one after another, and it felt like there was no end in sight. The stress and frustration were palpable, and it was difficult to maintain a positive attitude. It was as if a dark cloud had descended upon everything, casting a shadow over the entire experience. Despite trying to find solutions and hold on, it became increasingly clear that something had to change. Otherwise, this unbearable situation would continue to persist and take its toll.

There are no Mailer fans less avid than I.

However, "Barbary Shore" is truly an awkward and lead-footed novel. In this work, the author endeavors to transform a handful of ideas regarding Marxism, existentialism, and a strange amalgamation of Reichian/Laurentian sexual dialectics into a believable account of a would-be writer's stay in a Brooklyn boarding house.

One could perhaps excuse the fact that his second novel was Mailer's attempt to pen a fiction that wasn't just another war novel like his first, the brilliant "The Naked and the Dead". But the excuses for the context can only go so far. This work is, in fact, a failure, only sporadically elevated by a keen phrase or paragraph.

The quicksilver prose that is characteristic of Mailer wouldn't emerge until after the publication of "Advertisements for Myself" a few years later. "Barbary Shore", one would think, seems as if it were written by a lesser writer.

Probably I was in the war. There is the mark of a wound behind my ear, an oblong of unfertile flesh where no hair grows. It is covered over now, and may be disguised by even the clumsiest barber, but no barber can hide the scar on my back. For that a tailor is more in order.

When I stare into the mirror I am returned a face doubtless more handsome than the original, but the straight nose, the modelled chin, and the smooth cheeks are only evidence of a stranger’s art. It does not matter how often I decide the brown hair and the gray eyes must have always been my own; there is nothing I can recognize, not even my age. I am certain I cannot be less than twenty-five and it is possible I am older, but thanks to whoever tended me, a young man without a wrinkle in his skin stands for a portrait in the mirror.

Whenever I am reading an author who has been around for a long time, I tend to think about the scope of their career before too long. A lot of careers (for novelists who stick around) go one of a couple of ways. A modest debut will sometimes give way to a very ambitious second or third novel, and sometimes a very ambitious first novel eventually gives way to a very modest second or third novel. Norman Mailer began his career with The Naked and the Dead, one of the first of the big WWII novels, and a book that is ambitious in both scope and form, coming in at around 800 pages and involving a lot of the interiority of the various characters.

This book involves a single, first person narrator, and takes place exclusively in a Brooklyn walk up. Mailer was just shy of 30 when he published it, and it’s a very mid-20s novel. The narrator is Mike Lovett, a character who in the opening lines, suggests he’s experiencing a kind of personal (presumably metaphorical) amnesia about his early life as he finds himself now in his mid-20s trying to learn about to be a writer. This amnesia is both real for a lot of people — think about how different you felt at 18, 22, 25, 30 and wonder if you always connected those independent experiences and consciences to the same being. Sometimes I do, and other times very much not. He gets involved with a woman on the first floor who seems to own the place, has a three year old daughter, and talks about a husband who’s not around. There’s also an ambiguous character who lives on a different floor, whom Mike talks to from time to time about the world, and then a new figure, a young man from somewhere in the “heart of the heart of the country” (as they say), who seems comically naïve.

The story seems initially to be about sex, writing, and discovery of one’s self, but what emerges is a meditation on the post WWII early days of the Cold War and the paranoia that describes it. What fails about this novel is that the tone and tension never quite reaches the fever pitch you want for it. There’s also some very uncomfortable sexualization that happens here, though it’s not immediately clear if it’s being observed or projected, and then how it’s being thought of. The characters are complex and flawed, which makes them interesting, but the overall narrative could have been tighter and more engaging. Despite its flaws, it’s still an important work that offers a glimpse into the mind of a young writer trying to make sense of a changing world.

I had never read anything by Norman Mailer before. He was indeed very popular (or at least controversial) during my young adulthood. However, I can't claim that I really enjoyed the book I read by him.

It contains a long diatribe, perhaps taking up the last one-third of the book, about communism. This was a time (1951 publication date) when communism was much hated in the US. Besides being politically suspect, the book was probably also considered quite racy. It discussed love affairs, described some lovemaking scenes, and even referred to lesbianism. Although by today's standards it would be considered tame.

The story is about a man, a writer, who moves into a seedy boarding house. It tells of his relationships with two women and two other men who live there. One of these men seems to have been some sort of operative. Even after finishing the book, I was never completely sure if he was a communist operative. For a long time, I even wondered if he might have been a Nazi. It was interesting to read, especially having lived through the time in which Mailer wrote. But I can't say that I would recommend the book, except perhaps for its historical interest.

I began this book with great anticipation as it was Norman Mailer, and I had been completely captivated by the previous Mailer book I had read. That initial work was journalism, but "Barbary Shore" is fiction. Sadly, I was deeply disappointed by this novel, which was Mailer's second publication.

The story centers around the protagonist, Michael Lovett, a World War II veteran afflicted with amnesia. He rents a room in a boarding house with the intention of writing a book. While there, he discovers that the other residents of the house are rather mysterious. McLeod is uptight and inflexible. Guinevere, the landlady, speaks of a rotten husband whom nobody has ever seen. Hollingsworth is a sex-obsessed maniac, and Lannie appears out of nowhere in a mysterious fashion.

Then the novel takes a turn for the worse. The last hundred pages become a confusing and pointless witch hunt for communist executioners. It seems to be a derivative of Kafka's "The Trial," but while "The Trial" was deliberately confusing from the start, "Barbary Shore" is only confusing in its last third. Its first two thirds were focused on Lovett's attempts to have sex with Guinevere. As a result, the novel is utterly pointless. It merits only two stars solely because of Mailer's occasionally beautiful prose.