The Doloriad

A book with truly world-class prose that can disturb as easily as entrance.This is a dense, literary novel thick with symbolism and themes. I don't suggest it for readers who aren't already fond of the more challenging end of the literary fiction spectrum. It's not as obscure as Ulysses, but it's in that ballpark. It's a heavy read but one that rewards intellectual curiosity.The force of the author's intellect can be felt behind every line, and if you turn your back on it then prepare to be bludgeoned.The story is variously violent, disturbing, mysterious, and intriguing. There are even moments of humour lurking.I'm not sufficiently immersed in literary fiction and intellectualism of this sort to claim that I fully understood the various subtexts. I'm sure many allusions were lost on me. I did, however, feel that my time reading the novel was well spent and I probably added an IQ point for trying.It feels like the sort of book that will either win all the literary prizes or drown amid the indifference of the wrong sort of audience.

Deeply misanthropic and relentlessly miserable. It is certainly unforgettable. Think early Ian McEwan meets a depraved Margaret Atwood, with the body horror of Lynch. The atmosphere is of a listless, end-of-the-world encampment where the heat and light are suffocating and the desire to survive drags these bodies through the dirt. For me there was far too much circularity and repetition. Yes, we get it: she's a huge white lumpy slack-mouthed inbred. That doesn't need to be reiterated every time she is described. One of the reviews claimed it was a moving book, but there is no emotion here despite the beautiful and accomplished prose. I didn't care for any of them or their survival and by the end was hoping a flood would come and wipe them out. Probably that's the point. Four stars because of the intelligent and beguiling prose; without that I'm not sure it would be three. These animalistic and yet somehow profoundly philosophical beings writhing around in their maggotty adjectives become tiresome in the end.

Intrigue, suspense, horror depicting a dystopian world that is "to come" if climate change, nuclear war dangers are not considered. This book is very challenging to the imagination and nightmare phantasies of the darker side of human nature, and paradoxically offers hope to survive at all costs. It is not an easy read with complicated yet beautiful prose. One has to try to enter the mind of the author to have an experience of this story. All in all an exceptional first book from this author . It is not pulp fiction; a book that you have to keep track of in order to appreciate it's subtlety and beauty. I got the earlier version which came out in the US a month earlier..

It started as an interesting story, but the paragraphs in this 'novel' are incredibly long and consist of many very long [overlong?] sentences and it makes it a chore to read. I wouldn't recommend it for this reason. Having myself proof read and editing many dozens of novels I have to say I'm surprised this has got through in this state.

It’s hard to know where to begin with Missouri Williams’ debut novel, which is simultaneously shocking, beautiful, and intense. The story follows a large incestuous family that has survived an unspecified climate catastrophe. In the wake of losing everything, they have clung to existence through brute force and misguided hope. As you might already be sensing, the Doloriad is certainly not going to be for everyone, especially due to its intense violence and general feel of pessimism and gloom. But this is not a novel of drudgery, and the language is anything but maudlin. Instead the prose has a dizzying energy, with writing that is intricate, controlled, and at times overwhelming. Williams’ long, winding, accretive sentences are balanced by short and surprising statements that carry an uncanny profundity. The bizarre density often brings to mind the accumulative despair of Krasznahorkai only combined with Calvino’s sense of humour, though other references span as far as Kafka and Pynchon.Despite the disgust we may feel for the sorry crew of inbred survivors and the awful things they do, the Doloriad is often very moving. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself coming to care for them, pitying their inability to grasp the world that surrounds them. Other unconnected characters appear in interludes that break up the dense narrative of the family, though these also provide an oblique comment on their experiences. St Thomas Aquinas stars in his own absurdist sitcom in which he is called upon to help people in extremely painful (but often hilarious) situations. These sections are stylistically varied, and give the sense of multiple, fragmented narratives that elaborate (in a very abstract and metaphorical way) on the novel’s central problem, which is how we make meaning in the face of a meaningless and hostile world.But meaningless might be the wrong word to describe the world of The Doloriad, mind you. Although the family insists their world is empty, it is in fact incredibly alive and diverse; it’s just that this world is inaccessible to the broken minds of our characters. The strange prose of the book – at times it feels as if it has been translated from another language – allows things that aren’t human to come into our attention; objects and animals vie with the family for life. Chickens, books, sunlight, ruined cars and plants all become common allies in how they evade any understanding that tries to exhaust their being, and Williams frequently hints at the dangers of a human mind that is convinced of its complete grasp of the external world. Although it is never explicitly stated, it seems that the illusion of control over the world and its future is what has brought down the human species– a subtext that gives this book a very timely presence in our age of climate breakdown. Throughout the book we are reminded of the richness and apparent glory of the ‘old world’, with tales of abundance that have since taken on the status of myths. But the younger characters, particularly Dolores, push against this kind of nostalgia. In the end, the Doloriad is frightening precisely because the despair and isolation it foresees is not far-flung science fiction, but a possible consequence of the deathly drives that are pushing humans into catastrophe today (and taking the rest of the world with them).I don’t doubt that The Doloriad will require multiple readings for all of its many meanings to sink in. (I am making my way through for a second time as I write). Where much contemporary fiction is dominated by stories about middle class white people struggling with the ennui of living in London or New York, the Doloriad is nothing less than a shock to the system, and one that will continue to resonate with me for a long time.

215 pages of plotless obfuscation. Infuriatingly bad! I’ve wasted enough time on this book that had so much promise but failed to deliver on all accounts. I bought it from another well known bookseller, but cannot recommend anyone buys it.