A dark read, but I better understand what some PTSD sufferers may experience. I cannot say that I liked the book. There was no hope at the end for the reader to cling. If anything, an expectation of a further descent awaits Walker. Another life wasted due to the inhumanity of war. However, I appreciate Robertson's great skill as a writer.

Walker's memories of graphic violence caused me to spend read through these brief descriptions in the hope that the images would not have time to germinate in my mind. I hope that I was successful. In the end, Walker was partially the source of his own misfortune. The violence that he saw, turned him once and only once, into the monster that he abhorred. Once turned, he could never escape. He was captive to it.

I was reminded of Ali Smith's season series while reading the Long Take. The references to Senator Joseph McCarthy and his Un-American Activities Committee brought to mind Smith's contemporary concerns around the forces of Brexit and the current US President. Similarly, Robertson's film references reminded me of Smith's references to various art forms including photography and sculpture in her most recent novels.

PTSD + Noir = sign me up! Wow, it did not disappoint. Excellent.🖤

Honestly, when I first started this I thought meh. Doing the world wars from a western perspective every year in school, then a slap of American Civil Rights as part of A Level history to dash any hope for humanity means that I couldn't imagine what I would really get out of this book. Not that generally I don't have sympathy for veterans, especially those with PTSD, but at first I just sort of saw it as another generic moody noir with a cis, straight white bloke doing the rounds. While the concept of long narrative poetry intrigued, inherently I didn't really see how this would be a particularly interesting or nuanced read.

Hoo boy, was I wrong.

If you get nothing else out of this, this is a master class in writing only what you need. The language, the cadence, the turns of phrase. The sprinkling of dots for the reader to draw together without being abstract or vague. It was in a basic sense just enjoyable to read, but it also led to some stomach flipping but borderline humourous turns of phrase to describe the gore of war.

By the end I had such a firm impression of place, time, the various characters, all within relatively few words. Really lovely work and very glad I've read it.

Confusing. Scenes with multiple people are like 'He did... He said...He was..." WHO HE??? WHICH HE???

Rude. p.213 out of nowhere came the most off-putting fatshaming.

The cover tells me the Guardian called it "exciting, colourful, fast-paced..... almost unbearably moving." I found it not exciting, not colourful, not fast-paced, and sometimes slightly moving. Weird.

Hmm. I seem to be in the minority in not being completely enamored with this novel in verse, though in a lot of ways it's certainly an impressive feat. Robin Robertson's writing is elegant and immersive, the tone is achingly sad, and he uses the form to explore a myriad of subjects - PTSD, the development of post-war America, the advent of cinema... There's a lot of content packed into this little book, but while I found myself impressed by many aspects of it, there was also something a bit empty about the whole thing.

So much of this endeavor is just very on the nose. The protagonist, Walker, is suffering from PTSD, so how do we show that? By interrupting the narrative with snippets of his flashbacks to the war. One of the central themes is the downside of the extreme modernization of Los Angeles that occurred in the 1950s, so how do we show that? By the characters narrating the ways in which the modernization of Los Angeles is negatively affecting their community. I think I just wanted this to be longer and more nuanced. There's so much going on in this book, but it's all there for you to see right on the surface.

This is ordinarily the sort of book I'd want to reflect on for a day or two before writing a review, but with the Booker announcement tomorrow I'm racing against time, so I will admit up front here that my thoughts on this may evolve over time, for better or worse. I also want to admit that I read this in very punctuated bursts over the span of a week which is just about the worst possible way to read a book like this - if you can, I'd implore you to try to finish it in one or two sittings - so that may have clouded my experience with it. And I did really enjoy it, for the most part; I just didn't quite feel the magic.

There is so much going on in this book, and all of it is good. The Long Take is so deserving of its place on the 2018 Man Booker Shortlist. I was hesitant about reading this- I’m always wary of extended narratives written in verse. I often find it gimmicky; that either the form or narrative suffers. This is not the case with The Long Take.
This book is about many things: post-war America, the veteran experience, isolation, poverty, and most interestingly to me, the life of cities. As an unapologetic, dedicated city girl, this part of the narrative really spoke to me. I love how the protagonist Walker sees cities as living entities, with stories, and hearts, and life cycles. A place is more than just a setting or a framework, it’s a character. Robertson is nuanced and insightful in discussion of all his major themes, but it was the analysis of the cities which spoke to me most.
How does Robertson tie all these big ideas together? For me, this was a story about crumbling and failure. But in spite of this, in the end I was reminded that all success is born of failure, and that it is in being broken and failing the we truly know ourselves.

4,5

Before actually reviewing the book it is worth examining the cover.

It’s a black and white photo of a double tunnel, located in Los Angeles. There’s fog. Also there’s a lone figure. If one looks behind the tunnel, one side is rural, while the other consists of a more urbane setting with parked cars. There’s a noirish feel to the picture, it looks like a film still from an early Hitchcock movie or maybe Joseph Lewis , even Howard Hawks (incidentally films by all three of these directors are namechecked)

This cover is a great summary of The Long Take, for it is a book about cities, mainly Manhattan and Los Angeles. In Robertson’s world these post war cities are vulgar, vibrant and, yet have a dark underbelly. They are also populated by two types of people: those you want to embrace the city and those who are suffering as a consequence of living in the city.

The main protagonist, Walker falls into the latter category. Like the lone coyotes he sees in his ramblings, Canadian soldier Walker just wanders into Manhattan. It is 1946 and he has finished fighting in the second world war and is suffering from PTSD. His flashbacks are merged with city life, which increases the sense of isolation he is experiencing. Later he moves to Los Angeles and becomes a journalist, his main ‘project’ being to report the poverty that is found in cities and expose that filthy underbelly hidden among the lights, glamour and glitz. There’s one quote which I think sums up this main plot, this is when Walker tell s his future boss that he is interested in cities:

What about American cities?

How they fail?

The other theme is the futility of war. Billy understands the after effects of war. At one point in the novel he understands the irony of being a hero and then in the context of a city he is nothing and the other ‘heroes’ of WWII are now unemployed and homeless. In Walker’s travels he sees the madness that war brings, and his flashbacks do not help him cope, no matter how hard he tries. Somehow Walker has to adapt to city in order to survive but can he?

Although it has been said quite a few times, this novel is told entirely in verse and it is fantastic. There are description which bring out emotions, references to films, having knowledge of film noir helps as Walker walks in on directors and actors in the midst of crucial scenes in their movies. Jazz musicians are name dropped, plus some small nuggets of Los Angeles’ history. Not to mention symbolism such as the aforementioned coyote and the famous Pike, who may represent the younger generation.

Like the previous novels I have read on the Booker Longlist, we readers are getting a portrayal of the ugly side of America. In the Long Take there’s a shiny city with gaudy carnivals and bright lights but as The Mars Room, Sabrina and The Overstory all display, there is something rotten. In the case of The Long Take, we are seeing an America that is evolving towards decadence, whilst in the other novels all the problems in the US’ have reached maturation (or saturation) point.

The title of the book refers to a shot that has the appearance of a continuous take but really is the result of good editing, one such example and is mentioned in the book is Hitchcock’s Rope or Orson Welles’ A Touch of Evil. The Long Take is similar in style as the verses are broken up but the themes segue into each other deftly.

The Long Take is such a book where a mere review like this cannot do it complete justice. This a book to experience, pick apart and allow time for reflection. In a year where most of the Booker nominees are left field choices, The Long Take is a novel that takes an interesting left turn and the end result is a thought provoking read.