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A review by spenkevich
Cannonball by Joseph McElroy
4.0
Troubled or still, water is always water… the sameness of the Ocean suffers no change. - McElroy, Annals of Plagiary
The recent war between the United States and Iraq took much criticism both internationally, and from within the US. Growing up during these times of turmoil, with any side of the political opinions firmly entrenched in their beliefs, it was often difficult to separate the truth from the fabrications and elaborations. McElroy exquisitely harnesses these feelings in his 2013 novel Cannonball, graphing the life of narrator Zach through his time spend under the obdurate rule of his swimming coach father while befriending the enigmatic Umo (who crossed borders freely despite his lack of citizenship papers) and across his youthful career as an army photographer during the Iraq war. Across an engaging story riddled with conspiracy and ‘known unknowns’. Cannonball addresses both plot and sentence structure like a divers arc of motion, circling on all axis through a forward progression where you are barely sure which direction is up or down, who you can trust, and what you really know about the world moving in a blur around you.
Joseph McElroy’s mastery over language is simply staggering and the precision and excellence that pours forth from him is overwhelmingly incredible. Instead of describing his personal ‘style’, it is best said that McElroy IS style. He does not adhere to the rules, but wields his mighty pen with such awe-inspiring finesse that the rules bow down and adhere to him, creating an impressive fluidity to his prose where each line is expressed in the exact way necessary to do justice to the weighty load of meaning that he desires to extract from the depths of literature. While it may seem like a friendly caution to interested readers to label his writing as ‘difficult’ or ‘obfuscating’, such words come bearing a negatively connotative weight that is in grave disservice to the book; McElroy is an author that writes at the top of his abilities, enjoying the art of the novel as best as he can, and wishes for the reader to join him in his joy. This may require stepping out of usual comfort zones and taking his hand as you leap into the abyss, but McElroy is the hand you should be holding for this sort of leap, a hand that you can trust will see you through and that together you will witness the glorious sights along the way. It is fitting that Cannonball spends a great deal of time discussing competitive sports, as the closest metaphor I can find to relate the act of reading him to myself is high school cross country; while it might not be comfortable to push yourself beyond your limits, doing so, and realizing you can do so, allows you to achieve a wholly uplifting and personal glory that nobody can take from you as you shatter your preconceived notions about yourself and your present activity. In all honesty, the most difficult part about reading McElroy is not setting the book down to pick up a pen and try to see if you too can write—he is that inspiring.
I should cease gushing and get back to the book at hand. Cannonball is a masterpiece of spiraling language each sentence, like a diver, leaps and twists towards it’s conclusive splash; it is the act of getting to a conclusion that truly matters. This also offers an effect that the narrator is circling away from the hard truths that sum up each sentence or conclusion, as if the horrors he has witnessed and had to endure, or his own personal probing, are too painful to approach directly. The same is true of the plot progression, with McElroy circling around like a diver, twisting, doubling back, and cascading down in an artfully amazing display of talent that keeps the reader wondering where they are headed and which end is up, yet always trusting that McElroy will guide them as they strive to play along and be the best reader they can be.
If you will allow me a brief pause and digression, it should be stated that a real charm of McElroy’s is his ability to compound multiple meanings into his themes. Each multifaceted idea can be seen and examined from multiple points of view and understanding, granting a very true-to-life nature to the novel (the narration is also a fantastically executed method of showing how consciousness works while trying to use language as a metaphoric expression of human experience). The execution of plot, for example, is a perfect expression of many different themes in the novel, from the diver and calculus, as previously addressed, but also as the underground channels of water that are pivotal to the novel. These channels are like humanity as a whole, one flowing stream of activity that is often examined by accessing life in the singular (such as examining life through the POV of our Zach) much like the way these channels are accessed through the many wells across the landscape. The plot is also accessed similarly, being a flowing body that is viewed as points on a graph, viewed by looking down through each separate well and using the knowledge gained from each individual point, and plotting a continuous arc of the unknown through the points of the known. Interestingly enough, Zach is employed in the army (through a complex web of potential conspiracy) as a photographer—he is a amateur photographer that may not be living up to his duty of capturing patriotic images and is instead producing evidence that the war is the horrorshow that the army does not wish people to believe it is—capturing moving reality into still pinpoints through which we can analyze and make assumptions about the greater flow of life. There is also the idea of doubling, both doubling back and taking one idea and making it into two. This novel features the best investigation of the Biblical Lazarus story since Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, then doubling this idea into the doubled dives of Umo himself.
Especially in the second half of the novel where things approach Pynchoneque conspiracy territory, McElroy gleefully guides the reader through the stressful feeling of grasping for meanings and rationality, for confirmation of suspicions that you know are true yet can’t prove, and the true beauty of the novel begins to shimmer. There is a sneaking suspicion that everything is an elaborate conspiracy with important hands positioning each character like pieces on a chess board, as if their actions were things they were ‘forced to do and had even been set up to play a not very creditable part’. There is enough evidence to lead the reader to certain lines of thinking and plausible rationality, yet McElroy deftly conceals the heart of matters just enough to keep the reader away from conclusiveness. It makes for an extraordinary commentary on the infamous ‘known unknowns’ statement by Donald Rumsfeld (Secretary of Defense at the time of the Iraq conflict during which this novel takes place), and furthers the theme of the US’ justifications of entering into the war in the first place. The ancient Scrolls ‘discovered’ by the army offers a new perspective on Jesus as robust capitalist that preaches hard-line Republican ideals, validating the religious Right’s support of the war and (if the conspiracy holds true) was created to bolster the war effort. Zach’s potential disclaimer on the Scrolls are then ‘an attack on them, and on Why We Are Here’ and the many break-ins and threats on his sister (with whom he showers with affection beyond just a ‘brotherly love’), may or may not be the army protecting their basis of validation. Perhaps he is beset with strife because ‘certain Family Values sat not well with the national community that had gotten behind the war, the Scrolls, this Christian President’ (note that national community is the only noun not capitalized, with McElroy presenting an American nation that places Christian values before the good of a community).
Having myself been in the middle of a American History exam at the moment the towers fell (ironically, when they came over the loudspeakers instructing all teachers to turn on the news, my teachers said ‘Whatever is happening right now will not affect your life as much as this grade will’. One of my close friends was in that class with me, he served in Iraq just a few short years later), I was enthralled and moved to read a book featuring a character about my age undergoing his own coming-of-age during the same time period as my own juvenile floundering. The scene at the enlistment center particularly hit home, as I was once a signature away from an army career myself, fidgeting in a chair as I was told how glorious the decision would be to join now (I've always been someone to do exactly the opposite of what someone says, so I chose to go to college instead and left). I found the music aspects of the book amusing, as the documentary Umo was filming in Iraq featured soldiers listening to classic rock hits like the Rolling Stones or Jimi Hendrix. While this was the type of music I was tuned into in the mid 2000’s, it seems a bit of a stretch to assume the US Armed Forces all had good tastes, unlocking the theme of propaganda McElroy presents throughout the novel. These songs were hit songs during the Vietnam era, and filming modern day soldiers riding the sound waves of these tracks as an escape from the horrors of war does an incredible job of emotionally and aesthetically binding the two conflicts together. Reading this novel brought me back to the days in early college where I’d stay up until near morning to talk to my friends serving over in the desert over email or instant messenger, their commentary and obvious exhaustion and stress resonating in me much deeper than the news stories ever could. Also, there were many allusions to Keruac’s On the Road (not to mention the many allusions and homages to Emily Dickenson found throughout), which particularly charmed me as I was enamoured with that novel during this time period.
Cannonball is a brilliant labyrinth of language and conspiracy that explores the recent war between the United States and Iraq, while further examining all of humanity in the same breath. McElroy is a first-class magician using a linguistic sleight of hand to keep us from ever seeing the whole truth even when it is right in front of our noses, only revealing what he wants us to see and doing so only when it is absolutely necessary. He gives us the equation, lets us plot the points, then, like a the best of teachers that have nothing but hope and confidence for their students, stands back to watch us trace the arc connecting the dots. His games are not to trip us up, but to watch us achieve what he knows we can, to create a beautiful relationship between author and reader where both benefit from one another’s presence and perseverance. Exploring the ‘known unknowns’ and getting in some jabs at the American religious Right along the way, McElroy examines how we often must act only on assumptions, never knowing the whole truth, and often acting out only what we have been positioned ever so carefully to act out as if it were our own decisions. This may have not been the ideal time to read the book, current life tragedies making for slow going and interrupted attention, yet still the joy and sheer genius of McElroy’s writing kept this novel forefront in my mind at all times. While it may be best to have a bit of previous interaction with the great author (having read [b:Night Soul and Other Stories|8967259|Night Soul and Other Stories|Joseph McElroy|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1348442065s/8967259.jpg|13844224] recently, which deals with many similar themes, made me feel better equipped to navigate this one), I would strongly urge anyone to introduce themselves to McElroy through any text possible, and soon. Inspiring and humbling, Cannonball is the sort of novel I wish would come about more often.
4/5
‘Umo, that series of instants I had hoped to grasp, was each one lessening but not truly interrupting the distance to entry, calculus of friend to friend?’
The recent war between the United States and Iraq took much criticism both internationally, and from within the US. Growing up during these times of turmoil, with any side of the political opinions firmly entrenched in their beliefs, it was often difficult to separate the truth from the fabrications and elaborations. McElroy exquisitely harnesses these feelings in his 2013 novel Cannonball, graphing the life of narrator Zach through his time spend under the obdurate rule of his swimming coach father while befriending the enigmatic Umo (who crossed borders freely despite his lack of citizenship papers) and across his youthful career as an army photographer during the Iraq war. Across an engaging story riddled with conspiracy and ‘known unknowns’. Cannonball addresses both plot and sentence structure like a divers arc of motion, circling on all axis through a forward progression where you are barely sure which direction is up or down, who you can trust, and what you really know about the world moving in a blur around you.
Joseph McElroy’s mastery over language is simply staggering and the precision and excellence that pours forth from him is overwhelmingly incredible. Instead of describing his personal ‘style’, it is best said that McElroy IS style. He does not adhere to the rules, but wields his mighty pen with such awe-inspiring finesse that the rules bow down and adhere to him, creating an impressive fluidity to his prose where each line is expressed in the exact way necessary to do justice to the weighty load of meaning that he desires to extract from the depths of literature. While it may seem like a friendly caution to interested readers to label his writing as ‘difficult’ or ‘obfuscating’, such words come bearing a negatively connotative weight that is in grave disservice to the book; McElroy is an author that writes at the top of his abilities, enjoying the art of the novel as best as he can, and wishes for the reader to join him in his joy. This may require stepping out of usual comfort zones and taking his hand as you leap into the abyss, but McElroy is the hand you should be holding for this sort of leap, a hand that you can trust will see you through and that together you will witness the glorious sights along the way. It is fitting that Cannonball spends a great deal of time discussing competitive sports, as the closest metaphor I can find to relate the act of reading him to myself is high school cross country; while it might not be comfortable to push yourself beyond your limits, doing so, and realizing you can do so, allows you to achieve a wholly uplifting and personal glory that nobody can take from you as you shatter your preconceived notions about yourself and your present activity. In all honesty, the most difficult part about reading McElroy is not setting the book down to pick up a pen and try to see if you too can write—he is that inspiring.
I should cease gushing and get back to the book at hand. Cannonball is a masterpiece of spiraling language each sentence, like a diver, leaps and twists towards it’s conclusive splash; it is the act of getting to a conclusion that truly matters. This also offers an effect that the narrator is circling away from the hard truths that sum up each sentence or conclusion, as if the horrors he has witnessed and had to endure, or his own personal probing, are too painful to approach directly. The same is true of the plot progression, with McElroy circling around like a diver, twisting, doubling back, and cascading down in an artfully amazing display of talent that keeps the reader wondering where they are headed and which end is up, yet always trusting that McElroy will guide them as they strive to play along and be the best reader they can be.
The dive, its execution some say an infinite series of instants each bringing you somewhere as if you were stopped.Each scene, appearing as a card pulled from a constantly shuffled deck, always moving out yet always circling back, examines a moment from the plotline like a point on a graph (calculus, and the narrator’s high school math teacher, being a frequent theme in the novel).
If you will allow me a brief pause and digression, it should be stated that a real charm of McElroy’s is his ability to compound multiple meanings into his themes. Each multifaceted idea can be seen and examined from multiple points of view and understanding, granting a very true-to-life nature to the novel (the narration is also a fantastically executed method of showing how consciousness works while trying to use language as a metaphoric expression of human experience). The execution of plot, for example, is a perfect expression of many different themes in the novel, from the diver and calculus, as previously addressed, but also as the underground channels of water that are pivotal to the novel. These channels are like humanity as a whole, one flowing stream of activity that is often examined by accessing life in the singular (such as examining life through the POV of our Zach) much like the way these channels are accessed through the many wells across the landscape. The plot is also accessed similarly, being a flowing body that is viewed as points on a graph, viewed by looking down through each separate well and using the knowledge gained from each individual point, and plotting a continuous arc of the unknown through the points of the known. Interestingly enough, Zach is employed in the army (through a complex web of potential conspiracy) as a photographer—he is a amateur photographer that may not be living up to his duty of capturing patriotic images and is instead producing evidence that the war is the horrorshow that the army does not wish people to believe it is—capturing moving reality into still pinpoints through which we can analyze and make assumptions about the greater flow of life. There is also the idea of doubling, both doubling back and taking one idea and making it into two. This novel features the best investigation of the Biblical Lazarus story since Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, then doubling this idea into the doubled dives of Umo himself.
Especially in the second half of the novel where things approach Pynchoneque conspiracy territory, McElroy gleefully guides the reader through the stressful feeling of grasping for meanings and rationality, for confirmation of suspicions that you know are true yet can’t prove, and the true beauty of the novel begins to shimmer. There is a sneaking suspicion that everything is an elaborate conspiracy with important hands positioning each character like pieces on a chess board, as if their actions were things they were ‘forced to do and had even been set up to play a not very creditable part’. There is enough evidence to lead the reader to certain lines of thinking and plausible rationality, yet McElroy deftly conceals the heart of matters just enough to keep the reader away from conclusiveness. It makes for an extraordinary commentary on the infamous ‘known unknowns’ statement by Donald Rumsfeld (Secretary of Defense at the time of the Iraq conflict during which this novel takes place), and furthers the theme of the US’ justifications of entering into the war in the first place. The ancient Scrolls ‘discovered’ by the army offers a new perspective on Jesus as robust capitalist that preaches hard-line Republican ideals, validating the religious Right’s support of the war and (if the conspiracy holds true) was created to bolster the war effort. Zach’s potential disclaimer on the Scrolls are then ‘an attack on them, and on Why We Are Here’ and the many break-ins and threats on his sister (with whom he showers with affection beyond just a ‘brotherly love’), may or may not be the army protecting their basis of validation. Perhaps he is beset with strife because ‘certain Family Values sat not well with the national community that had gotten behind the war, the Scrolls, this Christian President’ (note that national community is the only noun not capitalized, with McElroy presenting an American nation that places Christian values before the good of a community).
Why did I doubt the other side’s hand here, they were the terrorists. Causes of the war. Christian soldiers right flank harch.
Having myself been in the middle of a American History exam at the moment the towers fell (ironically, when they came over the loudspeakers instructing all teachers to turn on the news, my teachers said ‘Whatever is happening right now will not affect your life as much as this grade will’. One of my close friends was in that class with me, he served in Iraq just a few short years later), I was enthralled and moved to read a book featuring a character about my age undergoing his own coming-of-age during the same time period as my own juvenile floundering. The scene at the enlistment center particularly hit home, as I was once a signature away from an army career myself, fidgeting in a chair as I was told how glorious the decision would be to join now (I've always been someone to do exactly the opposite of what someone says, so I chose to go to college instead and left). I found the music aspects of the book amusing, as the documentary Umo was filming in Iraq featured soldiers listening to classic rock hits like the Rolling Stones or Jimi Hendrix. While this was the type of music I was tuned into in the mid 2000’s, it seems a bit of a stretch to assume the US Armed Forces all had good tastes, unlocking the theme of propaganda McElroy presents throughout the novel. These songs were hit songs during the Vietnam era, and filming modern day soldiers riding the sound waves of these tracks as an escape from the horrors of war does an incredible job of emotionally and aesthetically binding the two conflicts together. Reading this novel brought me back to the days in early college where I’d stay up until near morning to talk to my friends serving over in the desert over email or instant messenger, their commentary and obvious exhaustion and stress resonating in me much deeper than the news stories ever could. Also, there were many allusions to Keruac’s On the Road (not to mention the many allusions and homages to Emily Dickenson found throughout), which particularly charmed me as I was enamoured with that novel during this time period.
Cannonball is a brilliant labyrinth of language and conspiracy that explores the recent war between the United States and Iraq, while further examining all of humanity in the same breath. McElroy is a first-class magician using a linguistic sleight of hand to keep us from ever seeing the whole truth even when it is right in front of our noses, only revealing what he wants us to see and doing so only when it is absolutely necessary. He gives us the equation, lets us plot the points, then, like a the best of teachers that have nothing but hope and confidence for their students, stands back to watch us trace the arc connecting the dots. His games are not to trip us up, but to watch us achieve what he knows we can, to create a beautiful relationship between author and reader where both benefit from one another’s presence and perseverance. Exploring the ‘known unknowns’ and getting in some jabs at the American religious Right along the way, McElroy examines how we often must act only on assumptions, never knowing the whole truth, and often acting out only what we have been positioned ever so carefully to act out as if it were our own decisions. This may have not been the ideal time to read the book, current life tragedies making for slow going and interrupted attention, yet still the joy and sheer genius of McElroy’s writing kept this novel forefront in my mind at all times. While it may be best to have a bit of previous interaction with the great author (having read [b:Night Soul and Other Stories|8967259|Night Soul and Other Stories|Joseph McElroy|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1348442065s/8967259.jpg|13844224] recently, which deals with many similar themes, made me feel better equipped to navigate this one), I would strongly urge anyone to introduce themselves to McElroy through any text possible, and soon. Inspiring and humbling, Cannonball is the sort of novel I wish would come about more often.
4/5
‘Umo, that series of instants I had hoped to grasp, was each one lessening but not truly interrupting the distance to entry, calculus of friend to friend?’