Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry
Under the Volcano is the best depiction of an end-stage alcoholic you’ll ever read, but supposedly there’s more to it than that. It’s supposed to be more universal, and the drunkard (the Consul) is supposed to have impressed me with what a great man he is (if only he weren’t so drunk, I suppose).
For my part, the book had too many British schoolboy and classical mythology references–I got almost none of them–and too many sentences in foreign languages: Spanish, French, even German. Thank God I can read a decent amount of Spanish since that was the most heavily used. Although he does translate the most critical passages (obliquely), you’d feel left out.
Strange how he refers to his characters so formally, even when he’s in their heads. The Consul thought he’d have another drink. Monsieur Laurelle remembered his childhood. Odd.
Very poetic and lyrical in places. Good stream of consciousness, excellently realistic relationships. It’s just that it lost me a lot of the time. The essayist at the end of my edition says he’s read it like thirty times. You’d have to.
I was also disappointed in the ending which seemed too deus ex machina for me. I’m always wanting the ending to come from the story. This one was appropriately tragic but not specifically tragic.