Hello to you. It is not often that I leave comments; however, I just watched your review of one of John Irving’s most celebrated novels, quite enjoyed it, and so thought I would respond. My experience with Garp began when I was eleven years old. This was around the time I became an avid reader, the reason for which began a few years earlier, with the death of my father. I was nine years old when he passed, and as one may expect, it was a seminal moment of my life-one that has now lasted decades. Bluntly put, my father’s death marked the end of my childhood. Until then, like other children, I had a rather innocent view of the world… and of parents in particular. They were these near-mythical beings who provide us shelter, food, nurturing, and love. When we , as children, are fearful, it is they who are there to protect and reassure us by telling us that we are safe. They are, in effect, our entire world, and from them we draw a sense of security that we believe to be ironclad. Then, at some point, the world intervenes. Through tragedy, it rips a hole in our more innocent perception of reality, letting us know that things are never quite as benevolent as they may seem. Enlightened by the gravity of such knowledge, I discovered that I had stepped into a new phase of my existence, one in which I could no longer view the world around me as “safe.” I remember watching my peers at play, and being struck by remorse that the reckless abandon which still informed their lives was forever gone from my own. Suddenly I found myself contemplating questions most children-those still unscathed, at least-do not. Questions of existence and mortality, pain and suffering, grief and loss, and the possibility-in some form or other-of grace. It was to books and films that I went to explore those questions. For what I discovered about art at that time was, when it’s at its best, it does not merely “entertain” us. It also informs, challenges, infuriates as well as vindicates, moves, instructs, and, finally, changes us-one hopes-for the better, inspiring us to be more compassionate, more understanding, than we might theretofore have been. Flash-forward a few years to my seventh grade year in school. By then I had discovered a number of writers (among them, Poe, King, and Updike), all of whom had provided me further and deeper contemplation on the nature of grief and on how to bear what feels to be unbearable. Enter John Irving. Or, more to the point, T. S. Garp and his wonderfully unconventional mother, Jenny Fields. I took the book with me nearly everywhere I went-including school-and immersed myself in a world populated by human beings who were, in one way or another, grappling just as I was with matters of life and death. One afternoon, having returned home from classes for the day, I was intercepted by my mother, who said she wanted to have a “talk” with me. Hearing the gravity in her tone, I headed to the kitchen table and planted myself in a chair, assuming the place and position from which most “serious” familial conversations occurred. Long story short, my new English teacher, Mrs. Casey, had espied me reading Garp in her class, and she wanted to know if my mother was aware of what her son was reading. My mother, who by that time had certainly noticed-and encouraged-my burgeoning passion for reading, said, “Yes,” adding that it was difficult not to notice given how I sat round the house with my nose buried in the book. Then she asked Mrs. Casey if there was a problem. “Well, it’s a book one is more likely to see college students or adults reading… not seventh graders.” Which was to say, she continued, that the book dealt with adult subject matter. “Well,” my mother said, “are you saying it’s ‘bad’ book?” “Oh, no, no,” Mrs. Casey concluded. “I read it last summer and really enjoyed it.” At that point, Mrs. Casey zeroed in on the crux of why she had called. She informed my mother that her students’ first assignment (it was the beginning of the school year) was to write something at least one page in length, though more if we wanted. It could be anything: a poem, a journal entry, a story, etc., her reason being that she wanted to get to know us better. The following day, she then informed my mother, her son had turned in a story: twenty pages in length, written in longhand. “Your son,” Mrs. Casey informed my mother, “is a writer.” And so I was… or at least was taking the fledgling steps which lead to such a passion and vocation. From that point on, Mrs. Casey encouraged me to write stories, which she told me she would be honored to read. This happened, then swiftly segued into either she or I reading my stories aloud to the class. Since then, there has been no looking back, and in the interim I have discovered, enjoyed, and been both instructed and informed by a plethora of writers. Still, among those who first inspired me, was John Irving. Or, I should say, Jenny Fields, T. S. Garp, & Co. (Continued…)
Thank you for the sincere reply and for sharing your own experiences. I’ll be sure to keep out for the ominous Under Toad and will get more Irving books here soon!
Very compelling review. I’ve never considered reading this one. Your analysis makes me want to give it a go. It would be nice if there was a group read available. Best to you Brock.
(Continued…) One of the best things about “Garp” was that it came into my life at exactly the right time for a boy who was not just attempting to come to terms with death, but was also experiencing the nascent hormonal pangs of puberty. I mean, talk about synchronicity, right? What I admire about your review is that you hit upon so many elements of what makes Mr. Irving’s book so singular and original, the principal one of which is that, in the midst of life also is death, and that though we may all be terminal cases, that shouldn’t stop us from having ourselves a real adventure. Because of this, “Garp” impresses me as being more humanistic than it is anything else. Live, love, laugh, and cry: such is are the textures of existence… with a number of them occurring simultaneously! The important thing is to keep your eyes open and your chin up. And, of course, to look out for the Undertoad (wink wink). Warm regards, John Zulovitz P. S.- Twho more things. 1) The reason, I think, that John Irving referred to “molestation” when dealing with the babysitter, might have something to do with having himself been molested by ‘his’ babysitter. 2) As for more books written by John Irving that are worth reading, I highly recommend “The Cider House Rules,” “A Prayer for Owen Meany,” and “The Hotel New Hampshire.” J.
I'm so glad you enjoyed this book. I recently picked up a few more John Irving novels: Son of the Circus and Setting Free the Bears. Other than those, I highly recommend the book Standing on Zanzibar by John Brunner. Starting read Infinite Jest, though. We'll see where that goes.
I read Garp in 1980 when I was a naive 17 year old high school senior. I thought it was the best thing ever. I tried to read it again in the late 1990s and couldn't get into it. This taught me that our tastes change. You might have liked something at some point, then not liked it later. This can apply to books, movies, food, even people. I'm going to reread Garp and see how I feel about it now as a 61 year old. The only other John Irving books I've read are The Cider House Rules and The Hotel New Hampshire. I liked them both. If you're going to read one, read Cider House.
Thanks for this review. I'm glad you enjoyed and got something out of Garp. My recommendations for your next John Irving read would be The Cider House Rules and A Prayer for Owen Meaney. I also liked the Hotel New Hampshire very much, but it's difficult to recommend whole heartedly; it's an extremely flawed story, in my opinion. However, I did still like it very much. It might just be that I read it at the wrong time in my life and need to give it a re-read (I do still have my copy). Actually, I want to re-read the whole Irving catalog - see if I find it as Dickensian as I did originally.
HELP!! i’m writing a research paper about garp, and i cannot for the life of me find the part where jenny says that “between men and women we all die equally” what chapter is this in? thank you for helping me😭🙏
Hello to you. It is not often that I leave comments; however, I just watched your review of one of John Irving’s most celebrated novels, quite enjoyed it, and so thought I would respond.
My experience with Garp began when I was eleven years old. This was around the time I became an avid reader, the reason for which began a few years earlier, with the death of my father. I was nine years old when he passed, and as one may expect, it was a seminal moment of my life-one that has now lasted decades. Bluntly put, my father’s death marked the end of my childhood. Until then, like other children, I had a rather innocent view of the world… and of parents in particular. They were these near-mythical beings who provide us shelter, food, nurturing, and love. When we , as children, are fearful, it is they who are there to protect and reassure us by telling us that we are safe. They are, in effect, our entire world, and from them we draw a sense of security that we believe to be ironclad.
Then, at some point, the world intervenes. Through tragedy, it rips a hole in our more innocent perception of reality, letting us know that things are never quite as benevolent as they may seem.
Enlightened by the gravity of such knowledge, I discovered that I had stepped into a new phase of my existence, one in which I could no longer view the world around me as “safe.” I remember watching my peers at play, and being struck by remorse that the reckless abandon which still informed their lives was forever gone from my own. Suddenly I found myself contemplating questions most children-those still unscathed, at least-do not. Questions of existence and mortality, pain and suffering, grief and loss, and the possibility-in some form or other-of grace.
It was to books and films that I went to explore those questions. For what I discovered about art at that time was, when it’s at its best, it does not merely “entertain” us. It also informs, challenges, infuriates as well as vindicates, moves, instructs, and, finally, changes us-one hopes-for the better, inspiring us to be more compassionate, more understanding, than we might theretofore have been.
Flash-forward a few years to my seventh grade year in school. By then I had discovered a number of writers (among them, Poe, King, and Updike), all of whom had provided me further and deeper contemplation on the nature of grief and on how to bear what feels to be unbearable.
Enter John Irving. Or, more to the point, T. S. Garp and his wonderfully unconventional mother, Jenny Fields.
I took the book with me nearly everywhere I went-including school-and immersed myself in a world populated by human beings who were, in one way or another, grappling just as I was with matters of life and death.
One afternoon, having returned home from classes for the day, I was intercepted by my mother, who said she wanted to have a “talk” with me. Hearing the gravity in her tone, I headed to the kitchen table and planted myself in a chair, assuming the place and position from which most “serious” familial conversations occurred.
Long story short, my new English teacher, Mrs. Casey, had espied me reading Garp in her class, and she wanted to know if my mother was aware of what her son was reading. My mother, who by that time had certainly noticed-and encouraged-my burgeoning passion for reading, said, “Yes,” adding that it was difficult not to notice given how I sat round the house with my nose buried in the book. Then she asked Mrs. Casey if there was a problem. “Well, it’s a book one is more likely to see college students or adults reading… not seventh graders.” Which was to say, she continued, that the book dealt with adult subject matter. “Well,” my mother said, “are you saying it’s ‘bad’ book?” “Oh, no, no,” Mrs. Casey concluded. “I read it last summer and really enjoyed it.”
At that point, Mrs. Casey zeroed in on the crux of why she had called. She informed my mother that her students’ first assignment (it was the beginning of the school year) was to write something at least one page in length, though more if we wanted. It could be anything: a poem, a journal entry, a story, etc., her reason being that she wanted to get to know us better.
The following day, she then informed my mother, her son had turned in a story: twenty pages in length, written in longhand. “Your son,” Mrs. Casey informed my mother, “is a writer.”
And so I was… or at least was taking the fledgling steps which lead to such a passion and vocation. From that point on, Mrs. Casey encouraged me to write stories, which she told me she would be honored to read. This happened, then swiftly segued into either she or I reading my stories aloud to the class.
Since then, there has been no looking back, and in the interim I have discovered, enjoyed, and been both instructed and informed by a plethora of writers. Still, among those who first inspired me, was John Irving. Or, I should say, Jenny Fields, T. S. Garp, & Co.
(Continued…)
Thank you for the sincere reply and for sharing your own experiences. I’ll be sure to keep out for the ominous Under Toad and will get more Irving books here soon!
Very compelling review.
I’ve never considered reading this one. Your analysis makes me want to give it a go. It would be nice if there was a group read available.
Best to you Brock.
(Continued…)
One of the best things about “Garp” was that it came into my life at exactly the right time for a boy who was not just attempting to come to terms with death, but was also experiencing the nascent hormonal pangs of puberty. I mean, talk about synchronicity, right?
What I admire about your review is that you hit upon so many elements of what makes Mr. Irving’s book so singular and original, the principal one of which is that, in the midst of life also is death, and that though we may all be terminal cases, that shouldn’t stop us from having ourselves a real adventure. Because of this, “Garp” impresses me as being more humanistic than it is anything else. Live, love, laugh, and cry: such is are the textures of existence… with a number of them occurring simultaneously! The important thing is to keep your eyes open and your chin up. And, of course, to look out for the Undertoad (wink wink).
Warm regards,
John Zulovitz
P. S.- Twho more things.
1) The reason, I think, that John Irving referred to “molestation” when dealing with the babysitter, might have something to do with having himself been molested by ‘his’ babysitter.
2) As for more books written by John Irving that are worth reading, I highly recommend “The Cider House Rules,” “A Prayer for Owen Meany,” and “The Hotel New Hampshire.”
J.
I'm so glad you enjoyed this book. I recently picked up a few more John Irving novels: Son of the Circus and Setting Free the Bears. Other than those, I highly recommend the book Standing on Zanzibar by John Brunner. Starting read Infinite Jest, though. We'll see where that goes.
Excellent review!-Really on point with this one.
Really grateful to hear that!
@@TheActiveMind1 It's inspiring: you cover so much, so well, so smoothly. Precisely how a book review should be done.
I read Garp in 1980 when I was a naive 17 year old high school senior. I thought it was the best thing ever.
I tried to read it again in the late 1990s and couldn't get into it. This taught me that our tastes change. You might have liked something at some point, then not liked it later. This can apply to books, movies, food, even people.
I'm going to reread Garp and see how I feel about it now as a 61 year old.
The only other John Irving books I've read are The Cider House Rules and The Hotel New Hampshire. I liked them both. If you're going to read one, read Cider House.
Never stop making videos.
Thanks for this review. I'm glad you enjoyed and got something out of Garp. My recommendations for your next John Irving read would be The Cider House Rules and A Prayer for Owen Meaney. I also liked the Hotel New Hampshire very much, but it's difficult to recommend whole heartedly; it's an extremely flawed story, in my opinion. However, I did still like it very much. It might just be that I read it at the wrong time in my life and need to give it a re-read (I do still have my copy). Actually, I want to re-read the whole Irving catalog - see if I find it as Dickensian as I did originally.
HELP!! i’m writing a research paper about garp, and i cannot for the life of me find the part where jenny says that “between men and women we all die equally” what chapter is this in? thank you for helping me😭🙏
Unfortunately, I do not think I have the page number written down
@ ahh okay🤣 thank you for your help anyway!