The love interest of the protagonist in this 2013 novel is an artist, whose artistic creations are described in this way: "...large aluminum boxes, open on top, empty inside, so bright and gleaming their angles melted together....objects that shone like liquid silver." That description summarizes the impact of this novel, in my mind.
The writing is bright and gleaming and shines, with numerous striking descriptions and similes (although sometimes self consciously clever and strained) and a whole series of fascinating little set pieces. It is structured like a classic bildungsroman, or coming-of-age story, yet, contrary to expectations, the young protagonist does not seem to mature or change despite all her unusual experiences. Throughout, she reacts rather than acts, letting others determine for her. She seems anonymous (her real name is never given) and empty inside, making the whole novel seem pointless and empty, although polished and well written (for the most part).
The plot goes something like this: the young lady protagonist heads to New York City in the '70s, following her graduation from college in Nevada, where she falls in with the progressive art crowd who are all hip and cool and smart talking. She takes a lover, who happens to be the disengaged son of an Italian industrialist who manufactures motorcycles; she races one of the cycles manufactured by her lover's family on the salt flats of Utah; she rather accidentally becomes the holder of the world land speed record in a race car; she journeys with her lover to Italy, where she meets his snotty family; she becomes accidentally involved in the radical movement in Italy; she returns to New York, where she seems to have learned nothing at all about herself or the world.
Author Kushner cleverly provides several motifs and symbols throughout, but in the end we are left with characters who show no change and elicit no sympathy and a narrative with interesting parts which lead nowhere. It's just....empty.
This novel was a finalist for the 2013 National Book Award and is considered a contender for the 2014 Pulitzer Prize. Most reviews have been positive. So I am out of line with the crowd on this one. Take that into consideration.
You know, now that I think about it, maybe the pointlessness was the point. Is that possible?
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
The Good Lord Bird by James McBride
The raid on Harpers Ferry by abolitionist John Brown is widely credited as being the catalyst for the beginning of the Civil War. Even in his own time, he was viewed differently by various groups--as a murderer, as a religious crusader for the right and holy, as a madman, as a savior of the slaves. According to the narrator of this novel, he was all of the above, and more.
The narrator is a boy slave, age 9 when the story begins, who is mistaken to be a girl when he is "liberated" by Brown during the strife in Kansas between pro-slavers and free staters. He quickly realizes that the mistake is to his advantage and continues the masquerade, becoming Henrietta instead of Henry. He comes to be something of a good luck charm for the old man, so that he is present at all the important events in Brown's crusade, through the hanging which ends the old man's life.
The issue of slavery is serious business, to be sure, but McBride makes his novel humorous, much in the tradition of Mark Twain in Huckleberry Finn. It is written entirely in the vernacular of the boy, as Twain wrote in Huckleberry. (Sometimes McBride falters a bit here, as some of the expressions seem to be more modern than the time period.)
Through Henry/Henrietta's eyes, John Brown comes alive as an admirable, though flawed, crusader for the right. Another historical character, Frederick Douglas, does not fare so well, being portrayed as a self-involved and lust-filled pretender as a champion of justice.
While McBride's method of narration is similar to Twain's in many respects, he does not rise to an equal status. (Who does?) But this novel does reveal a believable picture of the times, while providing implications about being true to yourself and rising above self interest in dealing with moral dilemmas.
This is a very readable and enjoyable novel, which won the 2013 National Book Award. It is a strong contender for the Pulitzer Prize for 2013 books.
For another novelistic look at John Brown, I recommend Cloudsplitter by Russell Banks.
The narrator is a boy slave, age 9 when the story begins, who is mistaken to be a girl when he is "liberated" by Brown during the strife in Kansas between pro-slavers and free staters. He quickly realizes that the mistake is to his advantage and continues the masquerade, becoming Henrietta instead of Henry. He comes to be something of a good luck charm for the old man, so that he is present at all the important events in Brown's crusade, through the hanging which ends the old man's life.
The issue of slavery is serious business, to be sure, but McBride makes his novel humorous, much in the tradition of Mark Twain in Huckleberry Finn. It is written entirely in the vernacular of the boy, as Twain wrote in Huckleberry. (Sometimes McBride falters a bit here, as some of the expressions seem to be more modern than the time period.)
Through Henry/Henrietta's eyes, John Brown comes alive as an admirable, though flawed, crusader for the right. Another historical character, Frederick Douglas, does not fare so well, being portrayed as a self-involved and lust-filled pretender as a champion of justice.
While McBride's method of narration is similar to Twain's in many respects, he does not rise to an equal status. (Who does?) But this novel does reveal a believable picture of the times, while providing implications about being true to yourself and rising above self interest in dealing with moral dilemmas.
This is a very readable and enjoyable novel, which won the 2013 National Book Award. It is a strong contender for the Pulitzer Prize for 2013 books.
For another novelistic look at John Brown, I recommend Cloudsplitter by Russell Banks.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Edgar Huntly by Charles Brockden Brown
Most literature scholars name Charles Brockden Brown as America's first professional novelist. In this 1799 novel, he brings the Gothic to the new country, following the tradition established by England's Horace Walpole (The Castle of Otranto) and Ann Radcliffe (The Mysteries of Udolpho). He intentionally separates himself from the elements of England's Gothic (crumbling castles, underground tunnels leading to crypts, spirits of dead ancestors, etc.), substituting instead America's wild and unexplored landscapes, dark caverns, and INDIANS! Always inventive as to plot devices, Brown hinges the plot of this one on sleepwalking.
Edgar Huntly, in a l-o-n-g letter to his sweetheart, recounts his experiences which begin when he starts investigating the unsolved murder of his best friend, his sweetheart's brother. Spying a man digging at the scene of the crime (who appears to be sleepwalking), Edgar begins an odyssey which reaches obsession to learn the truth, passing through perils galore along the way. Edgar summarizes some of his adventures by saying, "I had emerged from abhorred darkness in the heart of the earth, only to endure the extremities of famine and encounter the fangs of a wild beast. From these I was delivered only to be thrown in the midst of savages, to wage an endless and hopeless war with adepts in killing, with appetites that longed to feast upon my bowels and to quaff my heart's blood. From these likewise was I rescued, but merely to perish in the gulfs of the river, to welter on unvisited shores, or to be washed far away from curiosity or pity." All these incidents, and more, are recounted in overwhelming detail.
What makes this novel at all interesting and more than just one sensational event after another is the psychological picture it gives us of the narrator. In telling his story he reveals more about himself than he intends. This aspect is more modern and makes Brown a bit ahead of his time.
The language of the novel is less than readable, with Brown never using a one-syllable word when a three-syllable synonym is available. It is formal, stilted, and borders on the pretentious.
I recommend this mainly for its historic value in the development of American fiction. Brown's Wieland, with its plot hinging on ventriloquism, will offer more enjoyment to the modern reader.
Edgar Huntly, in a l-o-n-g letter to his sweetheart, recounts his experiences which begin when he starts investigating the unsolved murder of his best friend, his sweetheart's brother. Spying a man digging at the scene of the crime (who appears to be sleepwalking), Edgar begins an odyssey which reaches obsession to learn the truth, passing through perils galore along the way. Edgar summarizes some of his adventures by saying, "I had emerged from abhorred darkness in the heart of the earth, only to endure the extremities of famine and encounter the fangs of a wild beast. From these I was delivered only to be thrown in the midst of savages, to wage an endless and hopeless war with adepts in killing, with appetites that longed to feast upon my bowels and to quaff my heart's blood. From these likewise was I rescued, but merely to perish in the gulfs of the river, to welter on unvisited shores, or to be washed far away from curiosity or pity." All these incidents, and more, are recounted in overwhelming detail.
What makes this novel at all interesting and more than just one sensational event after another is the psychological picture it gives us of the narrator. In telling his story he reveals more about himself than he intends. This aspect is more modern and makes Brown a bit ahead of his time.
The language of the novel is less than readable, with Brown never using a one-syllable word when a three-syllable synonym is available. It is formal, stilted, and borders on the pretentious.
I recommend this mainly for its historic value in the development of American fiction. Brown's Wieland, with its plot hinging on ventriloquism, will offer more enjoyment to the modern reader.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
Nothing is more satisfying to a reader than a big, thick book with a suspenseful plot and a multitude of interesting characters, all of whom come alive on the page. It's an added plus when the dialogue is natural and sounds distinctive for each character, and when the setting is so clearly described that a reader can visualize and feel the surroundings. Dickens could come up with such novels, and so, it turns out, can Donna Tartt.
The story begins in Amsterdam, with 27-year-old Theo Decker, terrified and ill, hiding out in a hotel room after an unnamed violent event. Through his narration, we are taken back to the thirteen-year-old Theo, who survives the terrorist bombing of an art museum which takes the life of his mother. Clearly suffering from survivor's guilt and PTSD, young Theo is taken in by the wealthy family of a friend, his alcoholic father having recently departed for parts unknown. We follow Theo from his life in New York as a private school student to the desolate outskirts of Las Vegas when his father reappears. Then it's back to New York as a partner in an antique business, before Amsterdam and a reluctant involvement with the criminal underworld. Binding the plot together from start to finish is a small painting, The Goldfinch, the reason Theo and his mother visited the museum.
Tartt is particularly successful in the depictions of the many characters, through both indirect personal descriptions and accounts of their actions and an abundance of distinctive dialogue. The alcohol and gambling addicted father, the antique restorer Hobie who becomes a father figure, the amoral Russian boy Boris who befriends Theo in Las Vegas--all seem so real I can see and hear them in my mind.
I have never been to New York. I have never been to Las Vegas. I have never been to Amsterdam. But I feel that I know them, through Donna Tartt, just as I know Victorian England, through Charles Dickens.
This seems like an old-fashioned novel in many respects, in that it tells an extended story in detail. That seems to be rather out of fashion these days. But it is a modern novel in other respects, in that it addresses both current and universal human predicaments. The realistic ending is not "happily ever after," but then whose life ever is?
Onward through the fog.
Highly recommended.
The story begins in Amsterdam, with 27-year-old Theo Decker, terrified and ill, hiding out in a hotel room after an unnamed violent event. Through his narration, we are taken back to the thirteen-year-old Theo, who survives the terrorist bombing of an art museum which takes the life of his mother. Clearly suffering from survivor's guilt and PTSD, young Theo is taken in by the wealthy family of a friend, his alcoholic father having recently departed for parts unknown. We follow Theo from his life in New York as a private school student to the desolate outskirts of Las Vegas when his father reappears. Then it's back to New York as a partner in an antique business, before Amsterdam and a reluctant involvement with the criminal underworld. Binding the plot together from start to finish is a small painting, The Goldfinch, the reason Theo and his mother visited the museum.
Tartt is particularly successful in the depictions of the many characters, through both indirect personal descriptions and accounts of their actions and an abundance of distinctive dialogue. The alcohol and gambling addicted father, the antique restorer Hobie who becomes a father figure, the amoral Russian boy Boris who befriends Theo in Las Vegas--all seem so real I can see and hear them in my mind.
I have never been to New York. I have never been to Las Vegas. I have never been to Amsterdam. But I feel that I know them, through Donna Tartt, just as I know Victorian England, through Charles Dickens.
This seems like an old-fashioned novel in many respects, in that it tells an extended story in detail. That seems to be rather out of fashion these days. But it is a modern novel in other respects, in that it addresses both current and universal human predicaments. The realistic ending is not "happily ever after," but then whose life ever is?
Onward through the fog.
Highly recommended.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
A Deadly Shade of Gold by John D. MacDonald
I finished reading this detective novel five or six days ago, and I had to look back over it before I could review it because I could scarcely remember the plot, much less the details. That's how less-than-memorable it is.
It all begins when Sam, one of Travis McGee's old friends, comes back to town after a three-year absence, hoping to reunite with his abandoned fiance', Nora, who is also Trav's friend. He brings along a small and ancient solid gold statue (supposedly one of 27) which he says he plans to sell. Always a romantic at heart, Travis wants to help reunite the two, so he picks up the abandoned love to take her back to the friend's motel room. There they find the man murdered in a brutal and bloody fashion. And the statue is missing.
Thus begins an especially blood-soaked adventure that takes Travis and Nora to a remote village in Mexico as they attempt to find Sam's killer and recover the gold statues. Eventually, Travis ends up alone in Los Angeles, where he finally unravels the whole twisted mystery of who killed who and why and how and so on. Along the way he is severely wounded once and bedded four times by different sexy women. He even falls in love with one of them. He also recovers the gold statues, but ends up alone and gives most of the profits from the statues away, like the good guy he is.
I think the Travis McGee mystery series must be male fantasy novels, with the reader picturing himself in the place of the hero. (After all, women enjoy romance novels that allow them to picture themselves in an idealistic way.) Trav is big and rugged and can handle himself in any fight. He can kill a Doberman with his bare hands. He is smart and has sophisticated tastes. He is an independent loner who refuses to be tied down to a boring 9 to 5 job. He lives on a houseboat. Most of all, he attracts women like honey attracts flies. Every woman he meets comes on to him, but he is picky about the ones he accepts. He is such a great lover that he can heal grief and all manner of other feminine maladies through his sensitive and compassionate lovemaking. What guy wouldn't want to be him?
This is #5 in the series; it is not as good as #1, but much better than #2, #3, and #4. I think fans of this genre would really like it, but I see that it is not the genre for me.
It all begins when Sam, one of Travis McGee's old friends, comes back to town after a three-year absence, hoping to reunite with his abandoned fiance', Nora, who is also Trav's friend. He brings along a small and ancient solid gold statue (supposedly one of 27) which he says he plans to sell. Always a romantic at heart, Travis wants to help reunite the two, so he picks up the abandoned love to take her back to the friend's motel room. There they find the man murdered in a brutal and bloody fashion. And the statue is missing.
Thus begins an especially blood-soaked adventure that takes Travis and Nora to a remote village in Mexico as they attempt to find Sam's killer and recover the gold statues. Eventually, Travis ends up alone in Los Angeles, where he finally unravels the whole twisted mystery of who killed who and why and how and so on. Along the way he is severely wounded once and bedded four times by different sexy women. He even falls in love with one of them. He also recovers the gold statues, but ends up alone and gives most of the profits from the statues away, like the good guy he is.
I think the Travis McGee mystery series must be male fantasy novels, with the reader picturing himself in the place of the hero. (After all, women enjoy romance novels that allow them to picture themselves in an idealistic way.) Trav is big and rugged and can handle himself in any fight. He can kill a Doberman with his bare hands. He is smart and has sophisticated tastes. He is an independent loner who refuses to be tied down to a boring 9 to 5 job. He lives on a houseboat. Most of all, he attracts women like honey attracts flies. Every woman he meets comes on to him, but he is picky about the ones he accepts. He is such a great lover that he can heal grief and all manner of other feminine maladies through his sensitive and compassionate lovemaking. What guy wouldn't want to be him?
This is #5 in the series; it is not as good as #1, but much better than #2, #3, and #4. I think fans of this genre would really like it, but I see that it is not the genre for me.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Going After Cacciato by Tim O'Brien
Most books have negative aspects and positive aspects, and when the positives outweigh the negatives, I consider it a good book. When the positives far outweigh the negatives, I consider it a great book. When I can spot no negatives, which is rare, I consider it a perfect book. This is one of those.
It's the war experience of Private Paul Berlin in Vietnam, both actual happenings and his imaginings about an escape from the war as he and his platoon go after Cacciato, a childlike soldier who deserts the fighting with the goal of walking to Paris. Real and unreal flow around and through each other into a surrealistic mix, with the truths about war coming from both.
I find it to be much harder to write a glowing review for a book than to write a mixed review or a negative review, because it is far easier to spot what's wrong than to pinpoint what's right. There's an ineffable quality to a perfect book, because everything comes together--the subject, the style, the structure, the rhythm, the language, the dialogue, the truths, both spoken and implied. The whole becomes greater than the parts.
So this is a short review, because I cannot tell you exactly what makes this book perfect. It just is. It won the National Book Award in 1979, and O'Brien's later novel The Things They Carried is almost as good.
It's the war experience of Private Paul Berlin in Vietnam, both actual happenings and his imaginings about an escape from the war as he and his platoon go after Cacciato, a childlike soldier who deserts the fighting with the goal of walking to Paris. Real and unreal flow around and through each other into a surrealistic mix, with the truths about war coming from both.
I find it to be much harder to write a glowing review for a book than to write a mixed review or a negative review, because it is far easier to spot what's wrong than to pinpoint what's right. There's an ineffable quality to a perfect book, because everything comes together--the subject, the style, the structure, the rhythm, the language, the dialogue, the truths, both spoken and implied. The whole becomes greater than the parts.
So this is a short review, because I cannot tell you exactly what makes this book perfect. It just is. It won the National Book Award in 1979, and O'Brien's later novel The Things They Carried is almost as good.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
State of Wonder by Ann Patchett
It is a tribute to Ann Patchett's charming style and story telling abilities that this book is highly readable despite having characters behaving in illogical ways and enough plot holes to sink most novels. While I was reading it I enjoyed the book very much, but when I finished it I was annoyed at the author for manipulating me and irritated at myself for being carried along on what turned out to be a pointless and fallacious journey.
Dr. Marina Singh, a research scientist for a pharmaceutical company, is asked by her boss (and lover) to go to the Brazilian jungle to find out the status of a research project on fertility financed by the company and to learn more about the circumstances of the death of one of her colleagues who had been sent previously. To complicate matters, the leader of the jungle team is an intimidating former teacher of Marina's who was responsible, in part, for her decision to leave obstetrics in favor of research.
Marina's eventual journey into the jungle initiates the most riveting part of the book, as she confronts a frightening alien landscape. She gradually learns that female fertility is not the only focus of the research, that her colleague's death might not have occurred exactly as reported, that she is more competent than she had believed, that she can fight and defeat a giant anaconda, and that she craves the bark of a certain tree. Really.
It becomes apparent that Marina's journey is somewhat symbolic of a journey of self discovery and self realization, but for the reader the trip becomes secondary to the realization that the background does not make that much sense.
(SPOILERS INCLUDED HERE.) Here's a brief summary of some of the major suspicious plot turns:
*The jungle scientists have been with the Amazonian tribe for five years, and the professor who leads them has been there, off-and-on, for more than twenty years, and yet not one can speak the language of the tribe. And yet they have persuaded the women to give frequent blood samples and cervical swabs. How likely is that?
*The professor submits no reports and refuses to have a phone and nobody back at the pharmaceutical company knows exactly where she is, and yet the company continues to finance her and she has unlimited charge accounts back in the nearest Brazilian city. For five years. How likely is that?
*Although she has been a teacher in the fields of obstetrics and gynecology, the professor evidently does not realize that her 73-year-old body is incapable of carrying a baby to term, even if she can become pregnant. How likely is that?
*And that's not a complete list.
Other complaints:
*The native Indian tribe is treated dismissively, as almost childlike in comparison to the researchers. The women apparently spend most of their time grooming each other and going every five days to chew the bark off of specific trees (giving them life-long fertility). No mention is made of how the bodies of elderly natives handle the gestation of babies. As a side effect, none of the women contract malaria. The men do, and they don't chew the bark. Are they so childlike that they don't ever realize the connection?
*Marina forms a connection with a deaf mute native child, and sleeps curled up with him in a small bed. The only problem for the reader is that the boy is identified as being 12 years old. Does an educated woman not realize that even a pre-pubescent boy should not be sleeping curled up with a grown woman? Shouldn't Ann Patchett have realized that?
Suffice it to say, that even though I found this book enjoyable, I was extremely disappointed when I finished it; especially so so since Patchett's Bel Canto was completely enchanting for me.
Dr. Marina Singh, a research scientist for a pharmaceutical company, is asked by her boss (and lover) to go to the Brazilian jungle to find out the status of a research project on fertility financed by the company and to learn more about the circumstances of the death of one of her colleagues who had been sent previously. To complicate matters, the leader of the jungle team is an intimidating former teacher of Marina's who was responsible, in part, for her decision to leave obstetrics in favor of research.
Marina's eventual journey into the jungle initiates the most riveting part of the book, as she confronts a frightening alien landscape. She gradually learns that female fertility is not the only focus of the research, that her colleague's death might not have occurred exactly as reported, that she is more competent than she had believed, that she can fight and defeat a giant anaconda, and that she craves the bark of a certain tree. Really.
It becomes apparent that Marina's journey is somewhat symbolic of a journey of self discovery and self realization, but for the reader the trip becomes secondary to the realization that the background does not make that much sense.
(SPOILERS INCLUDED HERE.) Here's a brief summary of some of the major suspicious plot turns:
*The jungle scientists have been with the Amazonian tribe for five years, and the professor who leads them has been there, off-and-on, for more than twenty years, and yet not one can speak the language of the tribe. And yet they have persuaded the women to give frequent blood samples and cervical swabs. How likely is that?
*The professor submits no reports and refuses to have a phone and nobody back at the pharmaceutical company knows exactly where she is, and yet the company continues to finance her and she has unlimited charge accounts back in the nearest Brazilian city. For five years. How likely is that?
*Although she has been a teacher in the fields of obstetrics and gynecology, the professor evidently does not realize that her 73-year-old body is incapable of carrying a baby to term, even if she can become pregnant. How likely is that?
*And that's not a complete list.
Other complaints:
*The native Indian tribe is treated dismissively, as almost childlike in comparison to the researchers. The women apparently spend most of their time grooming each other and going every five days to chew the bark off of specific trees (giving them life-long fertility). No mention is made of how the bodies of elderly natives handle the gestation of babies. As a side effect, none of the women contract malaria. The men do, and they don't chew the bark. Are they so childlike that they don't ever realize the connection?
*Marina forms a connection with a deaf mute native child, and sleeps curled up with him in a small bed. The only problem for the reader is that the boy is identified as being 12 years old. Does an educated woman not realize that even a pre-pubescent boy should not be sleeping curled up with a grown woman? Shouldn't Ann Patchett have realized that?
Suffice it to say, that even though I found this book enjoyable, I was extremely disappointed when I finished it; especially so so since Patchett's Bel Canto was completely enchanting for me.
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