Reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is like going on a wine tour. You have to be a certain age to even drink wine and you have to be subtle/intellectual enough to care about the differences. Also, you have to resist the urge to slowly become a douchebag. That’s how I felt about Kavalier and Clay: mostly because I’ve heard the hype and I know it’s going to be a great gosh-golly punch in the face story- but in a good way- type of book. And it was. There’s no denying that.
Michael Chabon, as everyone probably knows, is a master of storytelling. His sentences are so cozy and elaborate, they “just pick you up and tuck you in bed” as one critic put it. I would have to agree. His book was dense to the point that I felt like I was eating a 5by5 burger at in-n-out. Like damn, talk about hindering the story. I suppose people like the elaborate descriptions that gives every object in the room some kind of personal attitude, but I thought there was too much of that.
I tend to shy away from things that everyone just adores. It gets old. But Kavalier and Clay is definitely a “classic” that will last for generations. The story encompasses the magic of youth and puppy love, but also draws in comic-book fanatics: the long lost fantasy of every true American boy. It’s also a commentary on the American Dream - for all its sleazy business men and riches beyond any poor Jewish boy’s imagination. It’s also written amazingly well by a writer who is indeed fluent in the language of sentence construction.
Perhaps when I am older, old enough to taste wine and appreciate the value of Michael Chabon’s hand, and less cynical to the fanatics that surrounded me at his book reading, I can let his sentences “tuck me into bed”.But right now, when I’m young and impatient, I’m going to end up swallowing delicacies whole.
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