I can't believe how little Malamud apparently knew baseball. I tried to understand this book three different ways - first, as a remarkable story set in the real world. NFW. Second, as a surreal fairy-tale/morality play, a la Coelho's The Alchemist. No, Malamud simply seems to believe what he wrote too much. I mean, there are obviously surreal elements, but Malamud didn't make the full commitment. It's just not that. Third, as a kid's book. Almost, until you get to the end. He really thought he had something powerful for adults.

The book's just a mess. Malamud just doesn't understand baseball. Most of the book, at-bats go three pitches. Exactly three pitches (leading me to think hey-maybe-it's-surreal. If I were to rewrite the book that's the direction I'd take. But I'd stick with it. Which convinces me he didn't get how baseball is.) The titular Roy Hobbs also has way too much control - fouling pitches where he wants them to go, consecutively. But you know, only for two pitches, because the third pitch has to end the at-bat.

The plot emerges as organized as sputum, with plenty of metaphorical guns-hung-over-the-mantel* that get forgotten, and places where Roy does the right thing only to undo it. To his fault, Malamud used one historical incident where a player got shot by a crazy woman in a hotel room, but he uses it randomly, seemingly tacked onto the front of a story about something else. To his credit, Robert Redford took a novel called The Natural and used it randomly, making a good movie out of a couple of random pieces therein.

People who like Jerry B. Jenkins' overt, confused moralizing might like this book. People who like those glurgy e-mails that seem to say something uplifting until you really think about it, might like this book. I don't.

*can be spelled either mantel or mantle. I didn't know.

A reader who begins The Natural by Bernard Malamud after having enjoyed the wonderful 1984 film starring Robert Redford and Glenn Close will be disappointed.

Like many books and films based upon the book, the two media are vastly different. This relationship reminds me of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? 3 and Bladerunner, two similar stories but essentially different and made so by the necessary distinctions of the enabling forum. Both are fine works, just very different.

First of all, Malamud’s vision is far darker than the Barry Levinson film and the book’s Roy Hobbs is not at all the same character as the one Redford portrays. Malamud’s Hobbs is the more human of the two, the cinematic version taking the noble, more palatable, almost fable like, but simpler and dimensionally pure but tragic hero. The Roy Hobbs from the book is more complex, as is the book itself.

The reader should not look for easy and inspiring Hollywood cliché’s, but the book is excellent in its own way. The author has created a mood, a dramatic tension that reminds me of Jack London’s short story “A Piece of Steak.”

2.5 but rounding up plus I feel like it’s sacrilege to give the Roy Hobbs story less than 3.

I have been meaning to read this for a really long time because I love the movie so much. My expectations for the book may have been too high, the book was written in 1952 so maybe it’s just not standing the test of time, but I think what it comes down to is simply that I didn’t like the book as much as the movie. This to me is a rare time the movie is better than the book. The stories are not the same and I prefer the movie version leaps and bounds more than the book version. Looking at other reviews I see that is a common opinion about the two.

Kudos to the author though for coming up with Roy Hobbs, an all time character. It’s a story about how one bad decision can impact your life, but it’s also about redemption. And it’s baseball!

“There goes Roy Hobbs, the best there ever was.”

Most people are familiar with the film ‘The Natural’ starring Robert Redford. It follows Roy Hobbs a thirty five year old who gets a second chance at the major leagues after he was shot by a deranged woman some fifteen years earlier while he was in the semi-pros. No one knows the secret of who this 35 year old rookie is but everyone including a sleazy sportswriter is determined to find out. Hobbs still has the bullet lodged in his gut and certainly feels self conscious about losing his second chance if his health condition were revealed. He is very mysterious and tight lipped about his past and struggles to find his way in this dark and immoral world of baseball, bookies, crooked owners and mysterious women.

In my opinion the novel, written by Bernard Malamud and upon which the film is based, is better. The film closely tracks the novel up to the concluding scenes where the plots diverge. The novel is slightly darker and is the more historically realistic of the two. It is said that Hobbs was based on two figures: Shoeless Joe Jackson, who was part of the famous 1919 BlackSox betting scandal, and Eddie Waitkus, a major league all star who in 1949 was shot by a deranged teenage girl.

The novel was published just a few years after the Eddie Waitkus shooting in Chicago. In fact most of the book’s major events take place in Chicago. In reading I never got a sense that Malamud had any developed knowledge of baseball but in a weird way this made the story better for me as a fan of the sport. Malamud described baseball in vivid and odd ways that I’ve never heard before such as; “The ball appeared to the batter to be a slow spinning planet looming toward the earth” or “Though he stood about sixty feet away, he loomed up gigantic to Roy, with the wood held like a caveman’s ax on his shoulder”.

Malamud writes as a humanist and morality and fate are the themes of the book. While The Natural is more fantastical, mystical and allegorical than his other great novels, The Assistant and The Fixer, the main characters aren’t that dissimilar. His characters, including Hobbs, are all instruments of fate; dreaming of ways to change their outcomes in life but just unable or unwilling to do so. I don’t know that any of the main characters are even that likable, yet I am so invested in them. I wanted Roy Hobbs to vanquish his demons and triumph over the bookies and villains in the worst way.

Yes Malamud was a one of a kind. His collection of short stories called The Magic Barrel was also quite good.

Five stars.

The story of a flawed and injured man who hides his scars, both physical and mental, as he tries to resume his interrupted career as a professional baseball player. In the end, he destroys it all to try to win a woman who doesn't love him but has manipulated him.

The ending is very powerful and so much better than the "happily ever after" ending which I gather was used in the film of this book.

Four stars.

A great tale made, these days anyway, popular by the Robert Redford movie. The book shows the characters in a much harsher light. Roy is a jock and that's all he wants to do. Memo, what a name, the unattainable woman with shady connections, the corrupt owner, the true baseball manager, Gus the glass-eyed gambler, all the stereotypes set for a generation or two.

There is a great passage on ballplayers being role models.

Nice to read a literary book about a sport other than boxing. A cliched, often imperfect, but ultimately redemptive American novel.

Malamud è un formidabile raccontatore di storie di infelicità. Ha una prosa nitida, di una agilità e di una eleganza che non fa intuire sforzi. Un talento naturale.

Come quello di Roy Hobbs, che voleva diventare iI Migliore dei giocatori di baseball. Molti si lamentano del baseball, parlando di questo libro. Ma sbagliano. Non importa capirci niente di mazze e palle, in realtà, per starci dentro. E molti parlano di demolizione del Sogno Americano, quello per cui, se sei bravo e ce la metti tutta, l’America ti dà un’opportunità e poi un’altra e prima o poi ce la fai. Con Malamud non funziona mai così. E non per via che il Sogno Americano è un imbroglio. Quello, se è vero, viene dopo, è un corollario. Non funziona così perche Malamud ha una visione tetra prima che pessimistica dell’uomo in generale e della sua traiettoria di vita, ovunque si svolga: in uno shtetl o a Brooklyn, in una bottega o nella stadio più importante del mondo. I suoi personaggi anche quando hanno un talento, come in questo caso, anche quando ci provano una prima volta e poi ci riprovano, come accade qui, si portano dentro una inguaribile insoddisfazione, una consapevolezza di vanità dello sforzo e una inconsapevole percezione che non andrà bene, che qualcosa di malato dentro di loro o dentro la vita in quanto tale, prima o poi li porterà a fallire. Parla di “gente che nella vita, per una ragione o per l’altra, viaggia sempre sugli stessi binari e non ottiene mai quello che vuole, qualunque cosa sia”.

Ci sono pagine e figure belle per davvero in questo romanzo: il giudice e in particolare il primo incontro di Roy con lui, per esempio. E lo sono anche certe annotazioni come l’esaltazione del buio o come la figura di Memo Paris, la donna-emblema della infelicità, senza nessuna consistenza di carattere, legata alle apparenze e al successo sociale eppure capace di esercitare un’attrazione rovinosa: una sorta di trappola vivente. Più che in altri romanzi poi, forse complessivamente migliori di questo, colpisce come anche nei momenti in cui le cose sembrano girare al meglio, in cui meriti, talento e fortuna sembrano finalmente allinearsi su una traiettoria di ascesa, di successo, riesca a far affiorare nel personaggio con un aggettivo, una divagazione descrittiva, una banale annotazione il marchio inconfondibile con cui riconosci tutti gli infelici. E cioè la certezza che quella fortuna, ogni fortuna, è un illusione e nasconde un inganno; che quella precaria felicità verrà pagata a caro prezzo; e quel prezzo riporterà le cose nella normalità riposante, perché in equilibrio col corso naturale delle cose, nell’alveo della sofferenza. Se c’è un motto che potrebbe essere messo sotto la foto di tutti gli infelici e anche del Migliore è questo: “la felicità si paga a caro prezzo”.

Eppure, nonostante tutto questo, la conclusione del romanzo mi ha sorpreso. Non perché non mi aspettassi qualcosa del genere: conosco (e amo) Malamud. Oltre che sorpreso infatti sono ammirato dalla perfezione desolante del ghirigoro di trama che imbastisce nel finale, da grandissimo raccontatore di storie appunto, fino a farti perdere la bussola. E con quell’arabesco che potrebbe portare dappertutto, raggiunge alla fine il punto esatto di esito possibile più profondamente nero, oscuro, in cui nulla si salva e nulla si impara. In cui ci si arrende e basta.

Non conosco le regole del baseball e non sono appassionata di sport. Ammetto di aver deciso di leggere questo romanzo solo perché affascinata dal suo autore, la cui maestria avevo già amato ne Il commesso.

Il migliore narra la parabola sportiva di Roy Hobbs, un ragazzo molto dotato, scoperto a 19 anni da un talent scout alcolizzato e in declino di nome Sam "Bub" Simpson.
La carriera del giovane, che sembrava avviata ad una escalation di successi, si interrompe bruscamente a Chicago per il fortuito intervento di una ragazza, Harriet Bird. Roy accantona il suo sogno di diventare il più grande campione di tutti i tempi e di battere i record dei suoi predecessori.

Un lungo salto temporale, che nasconde al nostro sguardo quanto successo al protagonista negli ultimi quindici anni, quasi a decretare che le sue fatiche non avessero alcun valore al di fuori del campo da baseball, ci porta al momento in cui Roy ha una seconda possibilità di compiere il suo destino e viene accolto nella formazione dei New York Knights. Dovrà ora dimostrare il proprio valore, così da entrare nella leggenda.

Il migliore non è, tuttavia, un romanzo che parla di riscatto, e il finale non porta pace, così come accade di solito nelle storie esemplari dei grandi vincitori. Malamud sceglie di raccontare la storia personale di un uomo che avrebbe potuto essere il migliore, che avrebbe voluto essere il migliore, e che pure è tormentato dalla percezione di essere predestinato a soccombere. Sembra quasi che Roy attiri a sé la sventura: la prima volta invaghendosi di una ragazza folle, la seconda volta appassionandosi ad una donna avida.
Tre sono le donne che compaiono in questo romanzo: Harriet, Memo ed Iris. Il loro ruolo è puramente simbolico, poiché rappresentano le diverse pulsioni del protagonista, il vizio e l'aspirazione, e quando riesce ad avvicinarsi a ciò cui anela, Roy si trova immancabilmente attratto da ciò che lo può distruggere.

Malamud ci parla della vittoria, ma soprattutto della sconfitta. Roy Hobbs si convince della ineluttabilità del suo destino e le sue decisioni, le battute della sua mazza, Wonderboy, i suoi incontri, tutto appare già definito e in alcun modo modificabile. È proprio lui a decretare il proprio fallimento e, quando si accorge dell'errore, ormai non può più aggiustare le cose.

Leggendo Il migliore mi è sembrato quasi impossibile comprenderne il significato, come se l'autore avesse tentato di spiegare che la vita che viviamo è del tutto arbitraria e sono le nostre convinzioni a orientarla. Come una palla che, colpita dalla mazza, prende una direzione piuttosto che un'altra.

Se ti piace la mia recensione, passa a leggerla sul mio blog: https://bulimialetteraria.wordpress.c...

I loved the story and the characters, but was not a fan of the writing style. I'm not sure if the author used the "voice" and style he did to give the book a homey feeling, or if his command of the grammar wasn't what I had imagined it would be. In any case, an engaging story. A solid three star read.

Roy Hobbs wanted to be remembered as the best ever known, in a time when baseball was king, the people came for the fanfare, and for the men on the field. His desire to be the best is not said until much later when Roy is much older, considered past his prime for the game, and yet here he walks, a rookie once again. The boy with a blistering fast ball found just out of high school is still there inside of him, because the desire for the game can never be truly lost. Instead of that long ago dream of Cub's field, he steps into the Knights dugout to sit at the end of the bench until his name is called. When it is, Roy will pick up a bat named Wonderboy, and for a time he just might be the best to cross that patch of grass.

Frankly, give me a good story about sports and I'll read it. Fiction, or non-fiction. It doesn't matter, especially if it involves an underdog. In some ways, Roy is that. Instead of this immediately being the story of an underdog, Roy is the man who lost a promising career too soon, only to then make an improbable come back. Amazingly, it is based, although loosely, on a real person (I learned this after completing the book). Malamud took liberties, never intending for this to be biographical. The plot itself is never fluid, and becomes hampered by Roy's fixation on the woman in his life, who is not in his life. But, by the end I could see Malamud's purpose. Overall, the book is fair. This was his first novel, and in it I came across moments of that brilliant writing I remember finding in The Fixer, and that is more than fair for reading.

n  n    ”The ball appeared to the batter to be a slow moving planet looming toward earth. For a long light-year he waited for this globe to whirl into the orbit of his swing so he could bust it to smithereens that would settle with dust and dead leaves into some distant cosmos.”n  n

Read with Korryn for school. Why can’t they choose better books......