The Godfather (1969) by Mario Puzo

I recently found myself sucked into the limited television series, The Offer, which details the behind the scenes trials and tribulations involved with producing the motion picture adaptation of Mario Puzo’s hugely successful novel, The Godfather. I was sufficiently intrigued to re-watch all three of Francis Ford Coppola’s highly regarded and Academy Award-winning films based on the book and its characters. I have always been a huge fan of the films (especially those flawless first two) but this recent viewing, along with the knowledge of what was involved in making the first one, spurred me on to pull the original book down from my shelves and finally read it for the first time ever.

Originally published in 1969, The Godfather was a juggernaut, remaining on the New York Times bestseller list for 67 weeks and selling over nine million copies in only two years. It transpires over the course of a decade, spanning from 1945 to 1955, with a flashback to the early years of the Godfather himself, Don Vito Corleone, as a young immigrant in early 20th century America. 

It must immediately be acknowledged that Coppola’s film adaptation looms large over a modern reading of the book and makes it impossible to separate the film version from the literary version. At no time was I able to envision my own interpretation of the main characters—Vito Corleone IS Marlon Brandon, Michael Corleone IS Al Pacino, Tom Hagen IS Robert Duvall, and on and on. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But what about the book itself?

The tale that Puzo spins is sprawling and epic with a large cast of characters who genuinely breathe and inhabit the pages. It is also a cautionary morality tale that simultaneously mirrors America and the loss of its moral compass. Michael Corleone becomes our main focus as we are both exhilarated yet ultimately saddened by his descent into the underworld Mafia business of his family from which he has sought to remain separated. His eventual rise within those ranks to eventually become the Godfather himself, replacing his father at the head of the family’s crime empire is riveting.

Yet, that large cast of characters is part of Puzo’s problem; there are simply too many of them and too much time spent on uninteresting tangents that don’t really inform the main storyline. The book will simply stop its forward narrative for long stretches to detail at length some secondary character’s past and current motivation with no real reward in the larger plot whatsoever—it’s just unnecessary padding that slows down what should be a pulse-pounding momentum. Additionally, Puzo’s prose isn’t especially literary. His skill is in his complex plotting and characterization more than in his craft with language. Most of the time everything is simply described in a straightforward manner with little real style or punch. I never found myself re-reading a passage because of its effective verbal imagery.

To his credit, Puzo allowed Coppola to effectively streamline many of these problems when they co-wrote The Godfather screenplay adaptation together. As a result, we have the rare instance where a film succeeds in many areas where its literary inspiration stumbles. Virtually all of the unnecessary meanderings have been removed, allowing the primary plot to remain center stage. The movie, and its sequel (which inserts an extensive and fascinating flashback from the book that was excised from the first film) are movie masterpieces deserving of their accolades. 

The book still retains power and is highly readable. However, it does not quite achieve the heights of the movies it inspired. I don’t regret reading The Godfather, though I do think it would have greatly benefitted from the hand of a stronger editor.

Reviewed by Steve Carroll