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The Fury of the title refers both to the mid-life rage of the protagonist, who finds himself standing over his sleeping wife and son armed with a kitchen knife, and the mythological furies who tore to pieces those men whom the gods had judged. As in his previous novel The Ground Beneath Her Feet, he explores the relationship of the artist to his creation and to his audience. Solanka--Cambridge philosopher, doll-maker and possible serial killer--is the unlikely and unwilling creator of a pop-culture phenomenon that comes to represent everything he despises about modern cultural malaise. He is a part-creator of a culture he hardly understands--an anachronism. The novelist's prose reflects this alienation, but unfortunately with few insights or pleasures for the reader used to his contemporary mythological lyricism. Rushdie's pop references check-list the late 20th-century US from Clinton to OJ to the World Wide Web, and this, combined with their built-in obsolescence, renders Solanka/Rushdie's narrative strained. The urban culture of New York and Webspeak provide rich seams of traditional and new vocabularies and grammar for this most magpie-like of playful language lovers to line his literary nest with. However, in so doing, he cuts himself off from the emotional intensity and drive, combined with layered cultural complexity, that has distinguished his work, the most celebrated being Midnight's Children. Rushdie at his best is an intriguing writer; ultimately, it may be easier to extract him from the media circus that surrounds him than from the comparisons with his own compelling body of work. --Fiona Buckland --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
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Lots of passages read like bad impersonations of great American writers. Rushdie is not Philip Roth so why try to borrow his bilious cynical style? He cannot get under the skin of New York so why try to be Paul Auster or Don Delillo? All the way through you wish for those writers to be writing this book, not Rushdie. This is a shame because he is normally such a mercurial writer. In "Fury" however he seems to top even Bret Easton Ellis for vapid contemporary references. What makes this even worse is the smug tone to it all. It seems to think that it is very clever when it sounds more like a man bragging in a bar.
For me, one particular passage sums up this messy novel. A back story about one of the characters (Eric [?] the jock boyfriend) is written in the pared down style of Raymond Carver and Richard Ford. The story is very reminiscent of both writers and the characters surnames are Ford and Carver. I think you are supposed to think this is clever and ironic but it sounds like showing off.
Rushdie is so much better than this,so much so that "Fury" feels like a bit of a cheat. Maybe this book was a way of getting something off his chest before embarking on a major work. I hope so
I must admit my initial impression was that the novel was pretentious and inaccessible. Read more
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