The American novel is dying, and Conroy’s South of Broad enacts its agony. Conroy is one of those Southern writers who know how to write magnificently. The problem, however, is that there doesn’t seem to be anything for American writers – even those as gifted as Conroy – to write about.
Conroy’s characters (just like Franzen’s, Roth’s, or anybody else’s in American letters) are dying of boredom amidst the wealth they inhabit. All that Conroy can do to lend some interest to their sated lives is visit all kinds of sexual abuses on them. As a result, the novel reads as a list of sexual perversions that are rattled off in a perfunctory and often mechanical manner. The writer tries too hard to awaken the jaded sensibilities of his readers with tales of sexual outrage, and in the end the sheer number of sexual violations in the novel makes them mundane and boring.
This is not a bad book. I quite enjoyed reading it. I’m very glad, however, that I don’t specialize in contemporary American novel. I don’t want to be like one of those people who used to be told, “You specialize in Soviet satire? Wow, it must be fascinating to study something that doesn’t exist.”
Clarissa's Blog 
Timing is everything. You know that Conroy passed away yesterday, right? Obit in New York Times.
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As Gore Vidal remarked when informed of Truman Capote’s demise, “Good career move.”
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“The writer tries too hard to awaken the jaded sensibilities of his readers …”
With this you have neatly summarised why I don’t bother writing for American readers, at least when it comes to prose fiction …
Conroy pokes you in the guts with sexual shock value, while McCarthy pokes you in the guts with visceral and unsubtle violent shock value, and all of it reminds me of some freeze-dried comic from a forgotten North of New York resort town verbally jabbing you in the ribs as if you’re the last one who’s going to get his well-past-expiry-date jokes.
I can’t say that my portrayal of American characters places them toward the exemplary — if anything, they neatly mirror your sentiment and extend the concept toward a representation of people who are faux nice, fundamentally broken, and ultimately waiting for the opportunity for the knives (or guns, and aren’t there a lot of them) to come out.
My biggest hope is that while I’ve temporarily acquired residence once again in the States that this sort of thing doesn’t rub off onto me, and that I am greatly looking forward to making progress on writing projects in the hopes that it won’t.
[… and for what it’s worth, I am even more greatly looking forward to when I can think about going home, which is nowhere near like having a mere residence …]
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You have moved to the US? ?
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Yes, I know, it’s quite shocking …
But this solves a rather lengthy list of problems, including whether I’m deemed fit to drive a motor vehicle.
How else do you think I knew so much about public transport, mini cabs, and that sort of thing? 🙂
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Is Conroy actually considered a good or serious writer? I thought he was in the lite/vapid category. ?
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We actually have a professor in the English lit department who specializes in him. Apparently, he’s a very big deal. For lack of anything better, I’d say.
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My God. I think there are quite a few alternatives, actually. Shocking!
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