The second or third or fourth time through perhaps you become aware of a shimmering, intriguing, consistent suggestiveness behind all the tales and lyrics that occupy so much of the story. Still, there is something about the story that keeps drawing you back. But never mind, the novel is, after all, that brass ring of those who ride the carousel of popular literature - “a good read.” It seems in a way unnecessary, a letdown. All that business about Punch and the piglet baby. You’ve stuck in your thumb and pulled out a plum what a good boy (or girl) you are! You have entered that elite group of those who actually “grasped” Riddley Walker. It is all about the rediscovery of the secret of gunpowder, the first step in mankind’s march to the suicidal beat of technology toward a second (or third, or fourth) “one big one” destroying “the world as we know it.” You understand now. You struggle with the mysterious myths and legends that abound but fasten inevitably upon what seems to be an answer to Riddley’s comings and goings about “Inland,” his name for the future dystopia of Kent. You struggle with the language for a time until its phonetic nature becomes clear, and you congratulate yourself for having passed a barrier that few casual readers breach. It is perfectly possible to read and enjoy Russell Hoban’s masterpiece Riddley Walker without solving or even being aware of the riddles woven into the story.
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