English novelist Wilfred Barclay, who has known fame, success, and fortune, is in crisis. He faces a drinking problem slipping over the borderline into alcoholism, a dead marriage, and the incurable itch of middle age lust. But the final, unbearable irritation is American Professor of English Literature Rick L. Tucker, who is implacable in his determinition to become The Barclay Man: authorized biographer, editor of the posthumous papers and the recognized authority.
Sir William Gerald Golding was a British novelist, playwright, and poet. Best known for his debut novel Lord of the Flies (1954), he published another twelve volumes of fiction in his lifetime. In 1980, he was awarded the Booker Prize for Rites of Passage, the first novel in what became his sea trilogy, To the Ends of the Earth. He was awarded the 1983 Nobel Prize in Literature. As a result of his contributions to literature, Golding was knighted in 1988. He was a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. In 2008, The Times ranked Golding third on its list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945".
This is the eighth book by William Golding I've read and probably my least favourite, so it's unfortunate that this is the first work by him that I have reviewed. None the less, this is not a bad book. In it, celebrated writer Wilfred Barclay (suspiciously similar to Golding himself, with all his complicated hang-ups), an alcoholic author past his best, is chased around the world by young, up-and-coming Professor of Literature, Rick Tucker. Tucker has spotted a gap in the academic market and wants to be the world authority on Barclay. He longs, therefore, to gain permission to trawl through his old papers and diaries. But Barclay has secrets he does not want revealed and a catalogue of shame that runs into reams.
Both men become obsessed with each other. Barclay sees his young nemesis everywhere he goes and when, finally, they meet again, it turns out Tucker has seen phantoms of the writer around the world. Caught in the throes of this unbreakable paranoia, power is wrestled with and fought over and authority is given and lost.
Written in first person narrative from the writer Barclay’s POV it is not without humour and is readable but the voice reminds me of the narrator of Golding’s ‘To the Ends of the Earth’ trilogy but without the powerful story of ‘Rites of Passage’ (the first book in the series) or ‘Fire Down Below’ (the third). I’d recommend these books, ‘Pincher Martin’ and (of course) ‘Lord of the Flies’ over this middling, late-career work.
3,5/5 Στο έργο αυτό ο Γκόλντινγκ, πραγματεύεται τη ζωή ενός χωρισμένου, αλκοολικού, μεσήλικα συγγραφέα (alter ego του;;;), και την εμμονική ιδέα ενός καθηγητή Πανεπιστημίου να γράψει τη βιογραφία του. Αρχικά φάνταζε ασυνάρτητο, όπως η αλκοολική ζωή του πρωταγωνιστή. Σταδιακά αποκτά αρκετό ενδιαφέρον, ενώ το χαρακτηρίζει μια εμμονή που φτάνει τη τρέλα, την παράνοια, και από τις δύο πλευρές. Συγγραφέας και καθηγητής εξαρτώνται τόσο έντονα ο ένας από τον άλλο, που φτάνουν στο σημείο αλληλοκαταστροφής. Από όλο το μυθιστόρημα, η καταληκτική φράση, αποδίδει το πνεύμα του. Στα αρνητικά, η κορεσμένη ιστορία ενός πνευματικού ανθρώπου που βιώνει τη μοναξιά, που ψάχνει τον εαυτό του μπλα, μπλα, μπλα...
This book is worth reading just to make it to the last line.
Although at times the story dragged with Wilf's narration and introspection (and occasional vague descriptions that required rereading a paragraph), and although during the last two chapters I simply wanted the book to conclude already, the final line made me legitimately LOL — I could not suppress laughing at the simple brilliance of how William Golding concluded the destructive spiral between Wilf Barclay and Rick Tucker.
This is a quick read, sliding in at less than 200 pages. The action is stop-and-go, but the characters make the novel worth the time invested simply because they are memorable, obsessive and destructive.
I adored Wilf. I’m not sure i was supposed to, but there we have it. He isn’t perfect, by any means, but he is unapologetically himself, and hurts almost no one but himself. Almost, except those closest to him (though whether he is close to them is debatable), and of course Rick L. Tucker. Wilf travels the world on no whim but his own, drinking, sleeping and writing. He makes no demands on people, letting the wind take him wherever it decides to blow. Rick L. Tucker, on the other hand, goes exactly where Wilf does. His obsessive, stalker, relentless behaviour really, really bothered me. He just wouldn’t give up chasing Wilf around, trying to convince him to let him be his official biographer. How many times can Wilf say, “No,” and disappear to another country before Rick gets the message? Never enough, apparently. Sorry, but harassment is not an endearing quality, and for all Wilf’s faults, i’ll take him over Tucker any day.
That covers the plot, really. The rest of the interest of the book is more Wilf’s mind and thoughts, so i supposed having a soft spot for Wilf makes me more inclined to enjoy his words and the book itself. He is very much a writer, often comparing the world to how things would be done in one of his novels, and offering insight into the mind of a writer. He tos and fros between thought processes, opinions on himself, and choices and reasons. He’s an intellectual and literary man, and he’s also one of the most unreliable narrators i have ever read. His words were a joy, his drinking problem worrisome but occasionally controlled, his paranoia palpable but relatively harmless. He was, ultimately, fascinating.
A longer review can be read at my book blog, Marvel at Words
Beautifully crafted, with striking descriptions of alcoholism, paranoia, writing, and the farce that is life in general. I'm hunting down more Golding immediately.
Common advice is to write what you know, which means that a fair parody of serious literature as a genre is a story about an aging male author with some kind of driftless personal life being prompted to go on a transformative adventure, usually in the erotic company of a younger woman. Taken as a member of that genre, The Paper Men is an awful novel. Taken as a parody, it rises to occasional flashes of brilliance.
Wilfred Barclay is a certified titan of English literature, coasting on the reputation of his first novel, and also a miserable and curmudgeonly alcoholic. He crosses paths with the ambitious American academic Richard Tucker, who seeks to become the authorized biographer of Wilf Barclay. And over the course of several years, the two men grind each other to pieces.
Barclay's disdain and hatred of Tucker is the animating spirit of this book, a vile gut level enmity that propels him across Europe in an alcoholic fugue. Barclay's misogyny is also a major character trait, he doesn't much care for his ex-wife, daughter, or any of the other women he encounters, except his lust for Tucker's younger wife, but compared to how he treats Tucker himself, the misogyny is small change.
Three scenes illuminate the book: The opening, where Barclay mistakes Tucker for a badger rummaging in his trash bin and shoots him with an air gun, an extended encounter at a Swiss mountain lodge where Tucker attempts to bargain his wife's body for Barclay's assent, and then saves Barclay's life in a mountaineering accident, and the conclusion, which is worth not spoiling. A fantastically savage and ironic spirit of farce animates these scenes.
Unfortunately, they're connected by about 150 pages of nothing much in particular, a venting of bile and delirium tremens that is neither entertaining not informative.
The Goodreads star-rating system is just so problematic. On the one hand, this is William Golding - so when it's good, the writing is on another plane to that found in 'middle grade dark urban fantasy' and all the other stuff churned out by the barrow load. On such a basis, it merits more than three stars. On the other hand, it's the author at his least inspired and believable. Thus to reflect its weakness vis a vis The Inheritors, say, or The Spire, three stars it has to be.
Golding didn't think his novel was very good. Even the publishers didn't care much about this book, apparently. I had read in John Carey's superb biography of the novelist that the anti-hero, Rick, had been called Jake in the first draft and that somehow three references to Jake rather than Rick had survived into the first edition. It's worse than that; those errors survived into the mass market Book Club Associates edition that I read. A minor gripe in itself, it encapsulates a rather slipshod approach on behalf of both author and publisher that permeates this novel. For example, at one point, four characters are conversing and it's really hard to work out which of them is speaking. The American professor-biographer's dialogue is pastiche at best, an embarrassment at worst. And the endless descriptions of the narrator's drunkenness are just plain tedious.
Clearly inspired by the author's own mixed feelings about his notoriety, the basic premise behind the novel is a fairly weak one. An unwilling novelist is pursued by a persistent biographer. This is taken to absurd extremes. Both characters are so unlikeable it's impossible to care what happens to them. There's a great deal of misanthropy and foul behaviour on display. For all that, some of the interior monologues are brilliantly conveyed and, as always, there is some unique imagery.
Auto-fiction clearly wasn't Golding's metier. The Paper Men competes with The Pyramid for the title of the great writer's worst novel. If it hadn't been written around the same time as the sublime Rites of Passage, one would have concluded that the author was past his sell-by date. Recommended for Golding completists only.
This is an extraordinarily representative novel revolving on Barclay, a celebrated novelist, and Tucker, a professor researching his life. They are the paper men of the title. As the foundations of their lives were paper, their existences were self-doubting. As Barclay felt himself pursued by Tucker, his mental distress manifested itself in pain in his hands and feet, which became so heightened that he felt that he was experiencing the stagnate. He linked this experience with the stigmata of Padre Pio, but experienced four of the five wounds of his stigmata and never the fifth wound in his side, which he came to believe would kill him.
At his wife’s funeral, he revealed his torments to Reverend Douglas, who intelligently pointed out that there had been three crosses. Barclay was very much relieved that he was no longer faced with the prospect of being consecrated or the accountability of potential goodness. He was happy to accept that he bore the pain, though not the mark, of the wounds of one of the thieves crucified with Christ—for he was a thief: he had robbed Liz of a happy marriage, Emmy of the chance of knowing and loving her father, Emmy of her childhood, Tucker of his livelihood, his sanity, the contract and therefore the occasion of writing his biography.
Having accepted this and experienced gratification through the relief that his self-knowledge brought him, the figurative fifth wound of the stigmata, (although not explicitly explained in the text), provides a neat and not wholly unexpected conclusion.
Tucker’s shotgun brought the fifth wound of the stigmata to Barclay providing the equilibrium for Barclay’s shot in the opening chapter of the novel.
In the interim, the two paper men have destroyed each other. As Barclay is shot, representatively, their world of paper is hastily destroyed, not merely mid-paragraph, or mid-sentence, but mid-word; the, symbolic brunt made even greater, because it is a monosyllabic word.
“How the devil did Rick L. Tucker manage to get hold of a gun?”
Thus, Tucker’s shot obliterates the discourse of the novel, symbolizing the destruction of the paper belonging to all paper men.
Golding faced the harshest criticism with the publication of this novel. Some reviewers called ‘The Paper Men’ unworthy of a Nobel Prize winner. Incidentally, Golding had received the award just months prior to the publication of the novel.
I loved it, William Golding is a great writer, here is what I think happening behind the text.
The Paper men is a love-and-hate relationship between a Critic and an Author. Rick L. Tucker who desperately wants to get academic recognition seeks Wilfred Barclay who is an acclaimed author. Wilfred despises the role of academics in the modern world and his hatred is implied in his relationship with Tucker. Critics , who are Paparazzis, constantly discomfort the authors for what they are ,in the worst case, they forage their dustbins or offer their wives. However, what motivates the critics to scavenge to survive is capitalism as all the institutions are operating with money, for example Tucker does everything to become a full-professor or subsidized by Mr. Halliday. In order to fulfill his job, Tucker wants to write Wilfred's Biography. Despite his consent to give Tucker that authority to write his biography he changes his mind and hates him more.
The philosophical idea behind the novel is about finding the real voice of who gives the meaning to the text.Foucault in an Essay, What's an author, states that the connection between author and his writing is a new connection, in early ages many works had no author instead a bard would recite them, however we gave a legal role to authors or a legal connection otherwise one can't find meaning of a text from the author. What Foucault, and other postmodernists say, influenced the way we look at writers and divided the power between the author and the reader. Author and the critics both are Paper men and both have equal power. Tucker controls the authors life and has an eye on his life, for example he brings a paper from Wilfred's past to the surface and ruins Wilfred's life. Wilfred has the power of denouncing the critic and making a fool out of him in his novel and not giving him the power to authorize his biography.
There are many other ideas like his sexuality, his hangover, etc... but the predominant Idea is the Post-structuralist death of the author by the hand of critics.
Writing review of books I hate is so much fun, I might have to do more of it (see my review of The Alchemist). I only made it through half of this book, and that was giving it more of a chance than it deserved. This guy is really a Nobel Laureate in literature? Really? This is one of his later works, and I know he wrote Lord of the Flies, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was in decline at this point--although he did write a Booker Prize winning trilogy after this, apparently. Still, some sort of decline is the only explanation for why Golding thinks an aging writer obsessed with a younger woman (who happens to be his biographer's wife) is the least bit interesting, instead of just pathetic and creepy. And not pathetic and creepy in an entertaining way.
I'm not usually much taken with novels about novelists, but I can thoroughly recommend this one (1984). Not that there are any appealing characters in the book, but this is William Golding, isn't it? OK, maybe the old lady doing embroidery outside the deserted church, but she's just a walk-on. It's the novel before the famous trilogy, but nothing to do with it. Much of it is amusing and then suddenly.... The tone and approach reminded me most of Darkness Visible (1979). I say no more, except many thanks to the Scottish-Texan literature freak who brought it up on the ABE Community Forum.
I was kinda confused a few times while reading this book. I’ve read better books but it was ok. The last line of this book is what changed it from 2 stars to 3 😂
„Byłem trzeźwy i szczęśliwy, a szczęście na dłuższą metę okazało się nudne, ale nie wolno narzekać na chleb powszedni; trzeba go jeść i czekać na ciastko.”
من عادتي ألا أحكم على الكتاب إلا بعد الصفحة الخمسين .. وفي هذا الكتاب وجدتني أجر نفسي جرا لأصل إليها ولكن دون طائل.. خيبة أمل كبيرة تملتكني مع كل صفحة تجاوزتها خيية أمل من رجل مسن(شخصية الراوي) لم يسعه منحي أية استفادة رجوتها منه ومن سنوات خبرته وتجربته.. من مجتمع غربي يعرفني عليه وكلما فعل دلك احسست بالمقت والاشمئزاز،مجتمع المصالح والغاية تبرر الوسيلة، انعدام القيم انحدار وتفاهة ..فلم يجدر بي أن أتمه؟ ألأنه حاصل حائزة نوبل؟ أوليس علينا أن نتوقق عن القراءة متى ما بات الكتاب مملا وأن نتخطى الفقرات التي تضجرنا وألا نقرأ لأننا ملزمون بذلك لأن الكتاب موضة أو سائد كما تنصحنا دوريس ليسينج الحائزة بدورها على جائزة نوبل؟ إذا فلتذهب نوبل للجحيم وليعش إحساسي للأبد
I didn't even finish this garbage. There are already too many books about old white men complaining about how their lives are empty. I'm sure the end resolves in him either having an epiphany or continuing to be a dick. Either way, I can't bring myself to give a shit about this sorry old piteous sod of a character.
An author with a drinking problem and a failed marriage is stalked by a writer who wants to become his biographer. In spite of Goldings magnificent writing I really didn't enjoy the book. It just seemed a little boring to me.
SUMMARY - A thin book about a great author struggling with the creative process, and pursued by a biography-craving public. This is possibly less fictional than the recently en-Nobelled Golding might have wished. ----------------------------
The main virtue of 'The Paper Man' is that not too much paper is wasted. This is a short and reasonably diverting book, about famed writer 'Wilf' and his flight from his persistent would-be biographer, Rick. I enjoyed the ending, which has shades of Muriel Spark, but I wasn't unhappy that it was over.
It is hard not to read this as at least semi-autobiographical, given what we know of Golding's own struggles with alcoholism, the creative process, view of himself as clownish, and cynical views on his fellow humans. It is slightly surprising then that Wilf doesn't really jump from the page. By the book's own internal logic, this could be excused because Wilf claims that few novelists cast reality onto the page, but rather work in narrow literary archetypes. In Wilf's (Golding's?) view as a renowned author, very few fictional characters bear much resemblance to living people. If true, it still doesn't account for comparative weakness of this book relative to authors who have managed to entertain by drawing on their sense of own experience. Whether or not Golding was trying to account for himself on the page, here he failed to interest me as much as other novelists.
Instead we get an interesting enough chase and some stagey (again slightly Sparkian) dialogue. It was Liz that interested me most, especially as she emerges in later pages, but this is fairly brief. We get rows, we get internalised laments especially on failed relationships, blocks in the creative process, and alcohol addiction. Like Russian dolls, 'The Paper Men' is perhaps most interesting as semi-autobiography (Golding's) posing as semi-autobiography (his creation, Wilf's). Perhaps truth itself lacks the subtlety of artistic manipulation to make it palatable, and 'The Paper Men' is actually a naked account of how Golding himself experienced aspects of his wandering years with the bottle?
Who knows, and fundamentally I didn't massively care by the end. Wilf at one point defends a weaker novel he has written by saying that great writers need the bad books to make the greater ones stand out. After 'Darkness Visible' and the wonderful 'Rite of Passage', I felt 'The Paper Men' was fallow ground. It didn't take long to read, but unless you are looking for a neutral palate-cleanser after the richness of successive great books, I probably wouldn't bother
The best thing I can say about Golding is that all of his books are very different from each other, either in form or subject. Paper Men did not disappoint, even if I was a little leery of the washed-up alcoholic author concept (paging Stephen King). The black comedy of this is unlike any of his early novels, and even though Free Fall, The Pyramid and The Paper Men all have male protagonists from Britain born in the early 20th century, none of them are really similar as people. They occasionally share the same anxieties, they are all more intellectual than physical, but their basic personalities are not of the same type.
As to the book itself, it is funny, disturbing and buffeting. Washed up author Wilfred Barclay and young(er) Rick Tucker prosecute a feud across Europe and decades in which Tucker tries to get official permission from Wilfred to write his official biography, and Wilfred attempts to evade, sinking into alternating paranoid delirium and lucidity. Wilfred and Rick are the only real characters, with everyone else being bit parts revolving around the interactions of the two, and they're a match made in hell. We get a deep view into Wilfred's many flaws and idiosyncrasies, but Rick comes out no better at the end of the day. They are both entirely pathological, with nothing anchoring them to anything or anybody sane, and though they hate each other (at least from Wilfred's end, Tucker is a more ambiguous case), they are the only real things in each others lives. Rick's pursuit of Wilfred is single-minded and Rick gives the only colour to Wilfred's aimless traveling and drinking. As the blurb says, the outcome is inevitable.
While I found the book funny, I honestly can't remember if it ever made me laugh, and I never felt the depth of emotion present in Golding's other novels. Wilfred is so disconnected from humanity, and him and Tucker make such a grotesque pair that it's tough to feel anything other than vague distaste for them. Not my favourite of Golding's, but I'm glad that he can keep surprising me. I'm starting to get a little sad that I'm closing in on his last few novels. I have only Darkness Visible and his boat trilogy left.
What I think about this work "the paper men" of William Golding?
Well I know that this man was Nobel Laureate, and generally I have seen that the works of Nobel laureates touch a higher benchmark. This one, although, did not. In my opinion the work was mediocre at best.
Though, William golding was awarded the Nobel prize but it was one of the most controversial Nobel prize ever given. Some of the members concerned in Nobel prize committee also expressed the opinion that the works of William Golding were not of High Standard.
When I read something, my criteria to judge the work is- "is the work compelling me to think" Or "is the work compelling me to introspect myself or to analysis the society" Or "is the work giving me a new perspective about things, social order, etc".
Unfortunately, this work of William Golding did nothing of that sort, hence I cannot consider it a great work.
One more problem which I found with the work was- the work did not have the literary flow which is sine qua non of a great literary work. There was an air of artificialness in the work. Which again makes me think that work was not of a higher standing.
On the positive side, I must admit one unique trait of Golding, which is- his characters are not expressed in black and white entirely, rather they have different shades. In real life too, generally people are not entirely good or bad, entirely chaste or characterless, or entirely humble or arrogant, rather their personality is a mix of many attributes. Generally speaking, authors commit the mistake of expressing the characters in total black or in total white, and Mr Golding is not guilty on that count.
Wilfred Barclay is a late middle-aged author. He does OK financially, due to the success of his first book, but his later writings have not been so well received. He has an admirer in the form of American academic Rick Tucker who wants Barclay's permission to write his biography. Barclay is an alcoholic and can resist neither drink nor young women. These two faults (with the unwitting aid of Tucker) break his marriage and ultimately his life.
The gist of the story is that Barclay, who has shameful secrets he wishes to remain unknown, tries to evade Tucker. Over the following decades Barclay goes from country to country but the man always seems to find him. How much of this truly happens, I'm not sure. Much of the account seems to be the delusional and paranoid ramblings of a mind riven by drink.
The writing is inconsistent. Some parts are hilariously farcical, while others are mind-numbingly dull and hard to follow. Yet the story itself maintained my interest. I needed to see it through to the end, just to see how Barclay's life played out.
I bought this book from a charity shop for a £1, partly because it was cheap , partly because I remember very well reading Lord of the Flies at school and lastly because I mistakenly thought this book had won a major award. Of course, it was William Golding who had been awarded the Nobel prize, not the book 🙄
I felt this short book was something of an autobiography. William Golding did have a drink problem in his life, and here he writes about an English author, Wilf Barclay, doing the same.
There is some merit in the opening chapter when we meet Professor Rick Tucker, who Barclay mistakes for a badger in bad light and shoots him with an air rifle.
After this, most of the book is about Wilfs reluctance to give Rick a contract to write his biography. Rick is seemingly prepared to do anything to get the deal, including offering his wife's body for an evening!
Endless chases around Europe ensue. At times, whole sentences and paragraphs made no sense to me .That probably reflects my knowledge and education rather than the authors.
I felt the book was quite dated. There are some comical moments, but I just didn't like Wilf or Rick and felt sorry for Mary Lou.
I never understood why he didn't just burn his blessed papers or get his ex-wife Liz to do so.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
One for the literary in-crowd. There is really no way in to this if you are not outrageously talented, privileged, or rich. I mean that as understanding the mis en scene. It is about an ageing author who has more money than he can possibly spend, attending to his literary and personal legacy. He is an alcoholic, at times delusional, who may or may not be in a difficult dream all the time. Is the would be biographer Rick Tucker a figment of his imagination? At times he is, at other times he still maybe. In the end the suggestion is playfully dealt with with the author's execution. As a plot it was not resolved but that might well be the point, the author was playing with the form. Certainly a bit of a wank if you ask me, but too well written to dismiss as self indulgent, which makes it a bit of difficult one to measure.
Bought this on a whim at a discount book store as a reward for getting a new contract over a year ago. On that day I listened to a podcast about William Goldman (Princess Bride) shortly after his death and thought I was getting one of his books. I was sorely mistaken.
This felt like Golding's other book I've read, you know the one The Simpsons parodied, but without a compelling plot. Here was some farcical game of cat and mouse between an alcoholic writer and a needy academic who wants to write his biography. Golding's writing is frustrating in a similar manner to Don Delillo's in that I know it's quality but it doesn't grab me. Had a few laughs so it wasn't irredeemable.
I truly enjoyed this short novel by Golding. The textures of its narrative feel like a roman a clef, but it is spun fiction. Numerous critics described this book as 'uneven,' and I understand that criticism. What made The Paper Men especially intriguing was that I'd read Julian Barnes' Sense of an Ending as well as Kermode's namesake book of literary theory. When taken in the larger context of author as narrator versus author as agent of individual life, all three books rise, and wildly fascinating and fruitful discussions ensue.
I absolutely love the writing style of William Golding. I've loved him since "Lord of the Flies" in High School. I ran across this book in a used bookstore and was intrigued. I absolutely loved the craft of this story, BUT if you are a Christian woman (as I am) I can't recommend this to you. Apart from the cursing, which I think any open-minded person could manage, the innuendo and a few scenes are gross. With that said, the story was classic Golding and the ending... well... it was worth the read.