"Get up and go!" A prayer for Owen Meany

The Modern Novel worries me, as I think I’ve mentioned before. Creative writing courses and modern criticism have come together in an unholy alliance to produce unreadable novels we are told are brilliant. However, to be fair, I now think this only applies to a small number of books. Many modern novelists are still holding to E M Forster’s dictum: “Yes – oh dear yes – the novel tells a story.” Not that a novel has to be easy reading. Great writing, like any great art, needs the audience to take the time and the concentration to appreciate it. The novelist didn’t toss off the book while watching TV and eating dinner at the same time. The least you can do is afford the reading a commensurate level of focus.

My own theory of the difference between a popular novel and a literary novel is the quality of the subsequent reading. Many people like to re-read their favourite books, like they like to re-watch their favourite films. But on the revisits, it is the quality books and films that reveal new facets, provoke new ideas where as the popular type let us revel in the comfort of the familiar. To take a film as an example, Where Eagles Dare is a piece of tosh but I love it. If I come across it on TV, I watch it through to the end. I have the same reaction to Citizen Kane but I keep questioning Citizen Kane, the characters, their motivations, and what they do, whereas Richard Burton and Clint Eastwood can keep shooting the Germans till the cows come home and I don’t care. I engage with Citizen Kane, I watch Where Eagles Dare; and enjoy the heck out of both.

I’ve just reread, for the first time, John Irving’s 1987 book, A prayer for Owen Meany. This book knocked me out of my socks the first time I read it, and it did the same again. Even though I could remember the ending (I defy anyone to forget it) this in no way detracted from the journey. If anything, it enhanced it – another mark of a great novel. (No-one goes to Macbeth to see how it ends, someone once remarked to me. On the other hand, friends of mine had never read or seen Hamlet till they saw Brannagh’s version. I was somewhat envious.) It’s been a long time between reads. I suspect I was worried it wouldn’t be as good as I remembered it. A baseless worry as it turned out.

Irving is one of my favourite writers and this of his my favourite work. His books are wonderfully readable, his characters vivid, and his stories are strong. One thing that struck me in this reading was how angry he can be. A prayer for Owen Meany is the story of the friendship between John Wheelwright, the narrator, and Owen Meany, a boy of short stature whose voicebox is stuck in a permanent scream, through the 1950s to 60s, culminating in the Vietnam War. Owen is an extraordinary character.  A tragic accident that marks both their lives convinces Owen he is the hand of God, on earth for a special purpose, a purpose that makes his height and voice necessary. This leads to an exploration of religion, spirituality, fate and belief, not light subjects. Owen’s belief sometimes seems ludicrous, at other time wondrous. While he tells this story, Wheelwright, who now lives in Canada, keeps turning to the contemporary Iran-Contra scandal. This is where the author’s anger is palpable. Yet amid the anger and the seriousness, this is a funny novel, a wonderful achievement. Too often both politics and religion can make people so angry and so serious they are off-putting. Irving avoids that trap with joy and verve.

Irving is openly influenced by Dickens, who shares this gift of turning anger to humour without losing its power. Irving also creates outlandish yet believable characters and byzantine plots.  (I’ve also read this book is influenced by Gunther Grass’ The Tin Drum, but I’ll have to take their word for it. The Tin Drum has long been on my to-read list. Perhaps it’s time.) Nor is he afraid to take on big issues. Here’s a few I can think of just looking at the novel titles: abortion, family, feminism, incest, sexuality, and paedophilia. Sudden violent death is a common trope. And yet, all his books are richly comic. And full of life; funny, bizarre, sad, rich, and wonderful.

A prayer for Owen Meany is now over twenty years old and is still a fresh, entertaining and provoking read. The Iran-Contra scandal may fade in our memory, which is part of the point of the novel, but other government scandals will arise to take its place. What abides, what remains, what endures is what is important. I think that’s also part of the idea of this book. I try to think of why I write about the books I do (not every book gets an entry) so as to attempt to give each entry some sort of theme or spine. I love this book. That’s all.