THE GODFATHER

• by Mario Puzo
• [rated by pbs readers as #53]
• 448 pages

Oh man. That Godfather theme music will never stop in my head for the length that I read this!

Nor should it. Possibly the most elegant and soaring line in movie music history.

I’ve wanted to read this for the last six books or so, but it just hasn’t been completely the right time. Now that I’ve read my quota of ten of these books this year (and three of them the really big variety – Crime & Punishment, The Stand and A Prayer for Owen Meany), when this came up, I grabbed it.

Part of not reading this when it came out is, of course, the fact that it was made into a movie that seasoned and discerning film minds would no doubt pick as film’s greatest masterpiece, or one of them. So it is impossible to read a pulpy scene, for instance, and not see it in the elegiac way it was upgraded by Francis Ford Coppola.

But I’ll tell you this. If you don’t feel involved with this story almost immediately, you should get your pulse checked. The mythical quality of the characters is so firmly etched in your mind from the first moment that you actually see them, that you are standing next to them, watching things unfold. And thanks be to God, Coppola cast each actor perfectly, so that you aren’t distracted.

Starting with the wedding, each character walks in and stamps themselves into your brain, always quickly and without you seeing the wheels turning. The fact that every character could prosper or meet with brutality in any given second forms the insistent, mythical drumbeat under every scene.

The most exciting thing to me was that, from 40 pages in, The Godfather was already in my thoughts and waking moments. Like a little kid, I would see it when I took five minutes from my work and I would long to know what happens next! An old-fashioned great read.

Like the Godfather himself, if you proceeded, as PBS did, to discover the greatest reads, he would have to be there. He would simply not be denied.

One little note that tickles me pink! Coppola wrote the introduction for this 50^th anniversary edition. Can you believe it has been 50 years? And in it, he mentioned Puzo’s mother, who was quietly loving and autocratic. Puzo told Coppola that every one of the Don’s lines were things he had heard his mother say! When Puzo was on set and Brando was doing these lines, he only heard his mother! Isn’t that great? Talk about I am woman, hear me roar!!!

200 PAGES IN.

God, am I ever having fun reading this book! My life is full and full of complication and this book just takes me away!

You know, it’s funny. Usually, with a book and a movie, one format wins for your affections. I think it is usually the one you experienced first.

But I’ve seen The Godfather countless times and I find that it isn’t discouraging my read in the least. Wow – so unique. It is certainly a book that Copolla raised to an elegiac, Shakespearean masterpiece. There isn’t a minute of it that anyone even doubts could have been done better.

But guess what? The bones are all there in the writing. So while I admire greatly what Francis did with it, on the other hand he completed the hardest part for any filmmaker who is adapting a great book. He just didn’t fuck it up.

I felt similarly with The Last Picture Show. I went for years saying it was one of my favorite movies and I would still say that, though I haven’t seen it for years. But then, I read Larry McMurtry’s book and realized that Bogdonovich just thoroughly embraced the bones and didn’t fuck it up.

I just read where Michael kills the two thugs and gets

carted off to Italy. And it is as exciting, or more exciting!, to visualize it while reading it.

This is pure reading fun and I’m lapping it up!

DONE.

I know that I have saved, for my personal library, about half of these books and given the rest to others. So when

I do this, it is with the plan that I will read the kept ones again, at some point.

The Godfather, however, is the first one I wanted to read again immediately upon finishing it!

I didn’t rush through it. But every page was entertaining.

Again, an amazing experience to read the book of one of the greatest movies of all time and to see, on every page, how Puzo had realized the majesty of the story and simply passed it on to Coppola to work his genius visual magic on.

Nothing in this book fails to work. Nothing drags. No character is half written – in fact, often times, you can feel Puzo insisting that you get this guy in your head before he moves on. Even the clear take off of Sinatra didn’t detract. Everyone with a brain in their head knows that Johnny Fontane is Frank Sinatra, but then again, Puzo insists that you make the comparisons and then points out the differences. In the end, he is Frank and he isn’t Frank. Isn’t that a writing hat trick?

I ain’t gonna lie. After reading 700 pages of Owen Meany, this has heaven on a stick. Huge fun. If you haven’t read it, you might love it. I can’t imagine anyone just liking it.

And if you loved these movies, then take it from me. This is still a real treat of a read! Whew!

Bring on the talking heads or neurotic intellects. I’ve just had one fun ride!