I came to this book not expecting much, because we all know how *amazing* sequels are. But I did have hopes. I really loved Marathon Man, and I wanted to hear more about Scylla, I wanted to maybe get some backstory on Janey's betrayal, and I wanted to see how Babe readjusts to normal life after how much trauma he went through in the first book. I got almost none of those things. Instead, the book only brought me pain, horror, and disappointment.
I truly don't know why or how anyone would review this highly. Artistically and structurally, this book has so many problems. The plot makes no sense, there are so many characters coming in and out of the story so fast that it's hard to know what's happening, and generally characterization and emotion take a backseat to pointless violence.
What made Marathon Man so good was the rich, complicated characterization of Babe and Scylla/Doc. We really get a sense of Babe's pain from his father's suicide, the gap between who he wants to be and who he is, and then intimately experience his transformation from naive, cowardly child to confident, skilled killer. And Scylla. I really loved Scylla, because he was written just magically. In Marathon Man we get a charismatic, sympathetic, dynamic, likable portrayal of his talent, his fear of death, his internal conflict and dissatisfaction with the double life he's living, and his love for the people close to him. He was my favorite character and I was really hoping that Brothers would enrich him even further. Particularly, I was invested in the Scylla/Janey relationship - that betrayal was a real gut punch - and I hoped that Brothers would answer some of the lingering questions I had about their dynamic. How did a relationship that Scylla seems completely trusting of fall apart so brutally? In Marathon Man, I was really pleasantly surprised by Goldman's complex, respectful, human portrayal of a queer major character (Scylla) and interesting, if less complex, supporting characters. I hoped, apparently in vain, that Brothers would be more of the same. I was bitterly let down and I feel just as confused and betrayed by William Goldman as Babe felt when Janey betrayed him. If you come to Brothers expecting it to respectfully portray queer characters, you will be disappointed.
Brothers completely straightwashes Scylla, not only erasing the character Janey, but inventing a random ex-wife for Scylla to reconcile with (an event which came out of nowhere and had no impact on the plot at all), and another random woman for him to have a one-night-stand with. This is never mentioned again. Just... WHY?? What did that scene add to his character or the story in general? NOTHING! It's totally out of character for Scylla to just randomly hook up with someone and risk them finding out his secret identity - particularly because this book kills so many secondary characters on the basis of protecting government secrets. Scylla does have a sex drive, as evidenced by his flirty phone call with Janey in Marathon Man, but A) he has NEVER been attracted to any women, and B) he's too smart and skilled to do something that impulsive and stupid to compromise his mission! At least without some kind of really really good reason or emotional investment, which he does not have. These scenes just end up feeling like an author's wish-fulfillment fantasy.
But Scylla's sexuality isn't the only character trait of his that gets erased - pretty much all of that wonderful complexity and charisma from Marathon Man is gone. There's like one or two decent scenes about his brotherly love for Babe, and his friendship with Perkins did bring surprising depth to both of their characters, but scenes like this are the exception, not the rule, and overall this Scylla is a feeble echo of the character I loved and mourned for. He's basically been turned into a non-entity, only there to look cool and beat up on people. The narrative moves so fast, covers so much ground, and devotes so much time to mindless action, that it sacrifices all of its characters' personalities. You'll find yourself thinking, many times, "Oh no, they're fighting again. Why are they fighting? Which one do I want to win? Why should I care about this fight?" and be unable to come up with a satisfactory answer. This is a stark and sad contrast to Marathon Man, where the action sequences hit as hard as they do because they're not just violence for violence's sake - they show the emotional core of the narrative in interesting and thrilling ways. Pain, betrayal, vengeance, mind over matter, power or helplessness - the action scenes REVEAL THEMES OF THE STORY. In Brothers, this narrative skill is completely thrown away, and the action just overpowers everything else. Almost none of the characters in this book were well developed enough to be likable, or even to invest me in what happened to them - except for Perkins, who I actually cared about, and then he got brutally murdered to usher in another wave of stupid violence.
Having also read Buttercup's Baby, I'm noticing a pattern with bad William Goldman sequels. Probably because he knows on some level that he doesn't have enough material or ideas for a good sequel, Goldman instead pads out his sequels with overinflated stakes, preposterous violence, and weirdly sexual plots, so that the shock factor can distract from the fact that the sequels in question really don't need to exist.
With Brothers, this reliance on shocking debauchery is the book's most damning flaw. The book is sexually explicit and violent in a way that its predecessor wasn't, making it feel tonally distant from the original, and, as I previously discussed, stealing the focus from characters or plot. The scenes of explicit sex and sexual assault feel borderline pornographic, and there are just SO MANY of them.
And, speaking of sexual assault, that brings us to another glaring flaw of the book, and a real downgrade from Marathon Man: HOMOPHOBIA. In Marathon Man, we have three queer characters with distinct personalities and emotional depth, capable of friendship and familial and romantic love. (Except for maybe Janey, but part of the reason his betrayal hurts so much is that the narrative devoted time to fleshing out his and Scylla's relationship and getting us to care about it - in other words, the narrative RESPECTS QUEER CHARACTERS AND RELATIONSHIPS, and treats Janey as evil BECAUSE he disregarded the friendships and relationships he should have valued more than greed.) True, there are some questionable word choices, but overall Marathon Man gives the impression of viewing queer people as real people worthy of dimensional portrayals and a certain level of respect.
So that's the queer situation of Marathon Man. What about Brothers? Well, Janey is never mentioned, Scylla's queerness has been erased, and there's only one named queer character: Milo Standish, a deviant predator who basically uses mind control to force straight men and women into having sex with him or acting out his "fantasies". At one point, he even gets disturbingly close to molesting Scylla himself (who the narrative treats as heterosexual). This is so blatantly homophobic and such a downgrade from Marathon Man that it's honestly baffling. And homophobia is far from the only 'ism' that Brothers suffers from - racism runs rampant in the language used to describe black characters, with even the N-word showing up left and right (William Goldman is a white author). Racist ideologies take the spotlight in many scenes, in a way that contributes nothing to anyone's plot or characterization, and I suspect it has something to do with that 'shock factor' pattern I mentioned earlier. And sexism plagues Brothers too. Every female character is defined by her relationships with the men of the narrative, none of them have any agency in the plot, and they're all wildly oversexualized; particularly noteworthy, any time that we're in the POV of a female character, there are MAJOR 'female-character-written-by-a-man' pitfalls. (In the second opening sequence of Connie and her boyfriend getting assaulted by Milo Standish, you could practically take a shot every time Connie mentions her own nipples.)
I think I ran out of things to complain about, so let me just conclude by saying: this book is a disaster, and a disgrace to William Goldman's writing career. As a major fan of his, I'm really sad that this book exists, because I've seen his writing at its best and he can do so much better. This is the man who wrote The Princess Bride! The classic fantasy-romance-comedy-adventure, beloved in both its book and movie incarnations! The quality of The Princess Bride or Marathon Man, two examples of Goldman at his best, are so far removed from this monstrosity that it's honestly baffling how the same person could have written books so vastly different in quality. Apparently Goldman himself wasn't happy with how Brothers turned out, to which I say: then why didn't he revise it? Or simply not publish it at all? Brothers is William Goldman's last novel, and, although I haven't read everything of his by far, I wouldn't be surprised if it's the worst. We can only take this book as a cautionary tale, teaching us how sometimes great stories really are best left unsullied by sequels. Also a cautionary tale on how not to write queer men, people of color, or women.
This review is a monster but I needed to get it off my chest because the contrast between Marathon Man and Brothers is genuinely heartbreaking. If you liked Marathon Man and are considering reading Brothers, take my advice: DON'T. I suffered through it so that you don't have to.