A lifetime of voracious reading has taught me that examples of mediocrity far outnumber examples of high excellence, even among popular and/or critically celebrated books. Those few books which seem to me to be of lasting value generally come in two categories -- those which tell great stories and those which are superbly written. A very, very few fit both categories. Those are the classics, or are destined to be so.
Denis Johnson is not the best of storytellers. In fact, the five selections in this volume are not exactly stories at all, but more like reminiscences, with overriding themes. I doubt that his will ever be a name remembered by everyone, but he is an extraordinary writer, and these "stories" are all a joy to read. His prose is not flashy or florid, but sentences after sentence and phrase after phrase are so spot-on that you are filled with wonder. His characters are often broken and sometimes desperate: some are drug addicts, some are convicts, some are dying or caring for those dying. Johnson often interjects gallows humor. Yet each short story offers a glimpse of daylight at the end of the tunnel. The title of one of the stories would seem to carry the theme of the collection. Johnson himself was dying of cancer as he completed this volume, and at the end of "Triumph Over the Grave" he writes, "The world keeps turning. It's plain to you that at the time I write this, I'm not dead. But maybe by the time you read it." The last story in the collection, "Doppelganger, Poltergeist," hints that consciousness after death or even reincarnation are possibilities. Taken all together, the stories seem to reflect Johnson's attempts to come to terms with his impending death.
I am not generally fond of the short story format, much preferring the character development and more intricate plotting of the novel form. These, however, are so well done and so evocative that I soon found myself in Johnson's worlds. I highly recommend this book. It was named one of the best of 2018 by multiple sources, including the New York Times, the Washington Post, and Kirkus Reviews.
Thursday, February 28, 2019
Sunday, February 24, 2019
CIRCE by MADELINE MILLER (2018)
Perhaps you remember the name Circe from back when you read parts or all of Homer's The Odyssey in high school or college. She's the one who turned Odysseus's men into swine. Madeline Miller has re-imagined Circe's story and given it a decided feminist twist. Although Circe begins her life almost literally grovelling at the feet of Helios, her sun-god father, and of the other Titan gods, she ends this story in control of her own destiny. Her ages-long journey includes humiliation at the hands of a lover, loneliness, the development of a skill for magic, aiding in the birth of the Minotaur, life as a single mother with a cranky baby, a face-off with the most vengeful of the Olympians, and a final choice to be made based on her hard-won maturity.
Miller includes many of the high points of Greek myth and legend, even bits not connected directly to Circe and what we know of her. We meet Daedalus and his high-flying son Icarus, the murderous Medea, Prometheus the Fire-Bringer, the monster Scylla, and, of course, crafty Odysseus. It seems to me that a reader would need to be somewhat familiar with Greek myth to find much of this detail interesting. For someone such as myself, familiar with the subject from having taught six-week units on the subject, it was a fascinating to see how Miller slipped it all in, along with her base story.
I will have to say that this fictional memoir has a distinctly Young Adult flavor, especially in the beginning, but the book improves as it goes along and becomes more a character study than an adventure story.
Circe was named one of the best books of 2018 by many publications, including The Washington Post and Kirkus Reviews. I recommend it especially to those who remember their Greek mythology.
Miller includes many of the high points of Greek myth and legend, even bits not connected directly to Circe and what we know of her. We meet Daedalus and his high-flying son Icarus, the murderous Medea, Prometheus the Fire-Bringer, the monster Scylla, and, of course, crafty Odysseus. It seems to me that a reader would need to be somewhat familiar with Greek myth to find much of this detail interesting. For someone such as myself, familiar with the subject from having taught six-week units on the subject, it was a fascinating to see how Miller slipped it all in, along with her base story.
I will have to say that this fictional memoir has a distinctly Young Adult flavor, especially in the beginning, but the book improves as it goes along and becomes more a character study than an adventure story.
Circe was named one of the best books of 2018 by many publications, including The Washington Post and Kirkus Reviews. I recommend it especially to those who remember their Greek mythology.
Saturday, February 16, 2019
THE MARS ROOM by RACHEL KUSHNER (2018)
One of the proven benefits of reading novels is that you get to experience different worlds, to better understand different times, different places, and people unlike yourself. So far, in my binge reading of 2018 novels, I have learned what it's like to be young, beautiful, rich, and depressed (My Year of Rest and Relaxation); what its like to be an eighteen-year-old girl with a stalker in strife-torn Ireland in the 1970s (Milkman); what it's like to be an urban Native American in the 21st Century (There There); and what it's like to be a gay man in 1985 when having AIDS meant a death sentence (The Great Believers). The Mars Room allowed me to learn what it's like to have a tumble-down upbringing and end up in a woman's prison. What a wealth of experiences for me, an old lady in a recliner, often in pajamas!
Romy, the narrator of most of the novel, begins her account as she is transported to Stanville Women's Correctional Facility. As the novel progresses she chronicles prison life, profiles her fellow inmates, and thinks of the past that led her to two life sentences. Beginning life with an absent father and an addicted mother, she lived a childhood of poverty and life on the streets -- raped at age eleven, drifting into the sex trade, becoming a lap dancer at The Mars Room, and surviving despite the odds. The crime of which she has been convicted is only gradually revealed and seems to be almost inevitable.
The day-to-day life in the prison proves to be the most engrossing aspect of the novel: the casual brutality, the tricks and dodges of getting by, the loneliness in the midst of thousands, the almost-laughable absurdities of the rules and regulations. According to the author, this aspect was heavily researched, and it does ring true and is fascinating even in its grimness.
Kushner inserts something of a jarring note, however, with two third-person stories. One concerns Doc, a crooked cop who is incarcerated in a men's prison. The other concerns Hauser, a civilian teacher hired to help inmates pass the GED. Both stories seem just tacked on to flesh out the book, particularly Hauser's story, which is abruptly dropped when he leaves prison employment for reasons untold. This novel has many pluses, but these intrusions are minuses, in my opinion, as is the book's ending, which is a bit too ambiguous for my tastes.
This is a much praised novel, which was a finalist for both the Booker Prize and the National Book Critics Circle Award. It is definitely a contender for the Pulitzer. I recommend it with reservations.
Romy, the narrator of most of the novel, begins her account as she is transported to Stanville Women's Correctional Facility. As the novel progresses she chronicles prison life, profiles her fellow inmates, and thinks of the past that led her to two life sentences. Beginning life with an absent father and an addicted mother, she lived a childhood of poverty and life on the streets -- raped at age eleven, drifting into the sex trade, becoming a lap dancer at The Mars Room, and surviving despite the odds. The crime of which she has been convicted is only gradually revealed and seems to be almost inevitable.
The day-to-day life in the prison proves to be the most engrossing aspect of the novel: the casual brutality, the tricks and dodges of getting by, the loneliness in the midst of thousands, the almost-laughable absurdities of the rules and regulations. According to the author, this aspect was heavily researched, and it does ring true and is fascinating even in its grimness.
Kushner inserts something of a jarring note, however, with two third-person stories. One concerns Doc, a crooked cop who is incarcerated in a men's prison. The other concerns Hauser, a civilian teacher hired to help inmates pass the GED. Both stories seem just tacked on to flesh out the book, particularly Hauser's story, which is abruptly dropped when he leaves prison employment for reasons untold. This novel has many pluses, but these intrusions are minuses, in my opinion, as is the book's ending, which is a bit too ambiguous for my tastes.
This is a much praised novel, which was a finalist for both the Booker Prize and the National Book Critics Circle Award. It is definitely a contender for the Pulitzer. I recommend it with reservations.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
THE GREAT BELIEVERS by REBECCA MAKKAI (2018)
Another of 2018's hottest novels, The Great Believers won the Andrew Carnegie Medal and was a finalist for the National Book Award. It is also being talked about as a potential winner of the Pulitzer Prize.
This is the story of the height of the AIDS epidemic, before any treatment had been found, and of the effect on the subsequent lives of those who lost loved ones. The two revolving story lines center on Yale, a young gay professional in 1985, and on Fiona, sister of one of the victims of the disease and friend to many others, in 2015. In 1985, Yale is all too aware of risk he runs and does his best to keep himself safe, as he watches death take his friends and lovers, one by one. Fiona, who has become a friend to the gay community in support of her brother, stands by Yale throughout. In 2015, Fiona searches Paris for her estranged daughter, who has disappeared into a cult. These many years later, she is still haunted by the losses she suffered as a young adult, which seem to be continuing with the loss of her own child.
These two intertwining stories seemed at times to be only tenuously connected. Since the 1985 story line is much the most interesting, I found myself being annoyed when the switch to 2015 came. A sub-plot about an art exhibit appeared to have little to do with the main plot. Yet, everything fell into place at the end to create the theme of love and loss. This is one of those novels which should not be judged until the entirety is read.
I highly recommend this novel. Perhaps I should qualify that by saying that those who consider homosexuality a choice and a sin would probably find it objectionable. But then they probably don't read anyway. (Snide comment.)
This is the story of the height of the AIDS epidemic, before any treatment had been found, and of the effect on the subsequent lives of those who lost loved ones. The two revolving story lines center on Yale, a young gay professional in 1985, and on Fiona, sister of one of the victims of the disease and friend to many others, in 2015. In 1985, Yale is all too aware of risk he runs and does his best to keep himself safe, as he watches death take his friends and lovers, one by one. Fiona, who has become a friend to the gay community in support of her brother, stands by Yale throughout. In 2015, Fiona searches Paris for her estranged daughter, who has disappeared into a cult. These many years later, she is still haunted by the losses she suffered as a young adult, which seem to be continuing with the loss of her own child.
These two intertwining stories seemed at times to be only tenuously connected. Since the 1985 story line is much the most interesting, I found myself being annoyed when the switch to 2015 came. A sub-plot about an art exhibit appeared to have little to do with the main plot. Yet, everything fell into place at the end to create the theme of love and loss. This is one of those novels which should not be judged until the entirety is read.
I highly recommend this novel. Perhaps I should qualify that by saying that those who consider homosexuality a choice and a sin would probably find it objectionable. But then they probably don't read anyway. (Snide comment.)
Friday, February 8, 2019
THERE THERE by TOMMY ORANGE (2018)
I seldom read currently published books because I cannot afford them, but each year at Christmas I receive gift certificates from thoughtful relatives and purchase books widely adjudged to be the best of the previous year. To make my selection, I spend much time in reading book reviews and book blogs, and I pay special attention to all the end-of-year "Best of" lists from prominent publications. This debut novel by a Native American writer was featured on more of those lists, I believe, than any other for 2018. Thus I was quite eager to read it.
There There is good, even very good, but it is not as good as I had expected it to be.
Tommy Orange tells the stories of twelve characters, all of whom end up at the Big Oakland Pow-wow, where a scene of violence erupts. These are urban Native Americans, who often have only a tenuous relationship with their heritage. Many are victims or recovering victims of addictions. Often their family relationships have been shattered. And yet they still persist in striving to recover their identities and make peace with their environment. The stories are all shadowed with sadness and loss. In the end, some characters are redeemed and some are sacrificed. All will never be the same.
The stories are all mesmerizing; this is a real page turner. When the end comes, however, it seems overly contrived and unlikely. Also, one wonders that all characters are broken in one way or another. Surely some urban Native Americans exist who are not plagued with addiction, who have intact families, and who are actually fulfilled and as happy as can be normally expected. They are certainly absent here, so one suspects that Orange's portrayal of urban Native Americans may be more than a bit slanted.
I would not classify this as an A+ book (more like an A-), but it may very well win the Pulitzer, for its political relevance as much as for its literary excellence.
There There is good, even very good, but it is not as good as I had expected it to be.
Tommy Orange tells the stories of twelve characters, all of whom end up at the Big Oakland Pow-wow, where a scene of violence erupts. These are urban Native Americans, who often have only a tenuous relationship with their heritage. Many are victims or recovering victims of addictions. Often their family relationships have been shattered. And yet they still persist in striving to recover their identities and make peace with their environment. The stories are all shadowed with sadness and loss. In the end, some characters are redeemed and some are sacrificed. All will never be the same.
The stories are all mesmerizing; this is a real page turner. When the end comes, however, it seems overly contrived and unlikely. Also, one wonders that all characters are broken in one way or another. Surely some urban Native Americans exist who are not plagued with addiction, who have intact families, and who are actually fulfilled and as happy as can be normally expected. They are certainly absent here, so one suspects that Orange's portrayal of urban Native Americans may be more than a bit slanted.
I would not classify this as an A+ book (more like an A-), but it may very well win the Pulitzer, for its political relevance as much as for its literary excellence.
Monday, February 4, 2019
MILKMAN by ANNA BURNS (2018)
Eighteen-year-old middle sister has a problem -- she is being stalked by a man more than twice her age who is rumored to be a member of a violent paramilitary group. To add to her troubles, everyone in her tight-knit community is gossiping about her, assuming she is having an affair with the man, and she is ambivalent about her relationship with her maybe-boyfriend, an auto mechanic near her own age. Not even her own mother believes her when she tries to tell her the truth about the situation.
All of this takes place in the 1970s in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, during a time when car bombings and disappearances were commonplace, when "the only time you's call the police in my area would be if you were going to shoot them, and naturally, they would know this and so wouldn't come," when the people most likely to be killed were the civilians, not members of the army, the police, or either side's paramilitary organizations. It's a hard time to be growing up.
Middle sister is the narrator of this astonishingly fascinating novel, which won the 2018 Man Booker Prize. The story is told in a breathless avalanche of almost, but not quite, stream-of-consciousness prose, with a mesmerizing Irish lilt and rhythm. Although its circumstances are specific as to the unique difficulties of the time and place, the difficulties of the narrator would be universal in many situations: when a woman is being stalked by a man who hasn't really done anything unlawful --yet; when a small community's gossip and expectations limit people's lives; when the police are feared rather than looked to for help.
Despite what might be expected, Milkman is often very funny. Among the humorous bits, middle sister's attempt to separate herself from the random violence around her leads her to "walking while reading," a habit deemed as suspicious and undesirable by her neighbors. I can relate to that.
I highly recommend this novel.
All of this takes place in the 1970s in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, during a time when car bombings and disappearances were commonplace, when "the only time you's call the police in my area would be if you were going to shoot them, and naturally, they would know this and so wouldn't come," when the people most likely to be killed were the civilians, not members of the army, the police, or either side's paramilitary organizations. It's a hard time to be growing up.
Middle sister is the narrator of this astonishingly fascinating novel, which won the 2018 Man Booker Prize. The story is told in a breathless avalanche of almost, but not quite, stream-of-consciousness prose, with a mesmerizing Irish lilt and rhythm. Although its circumstances are specific as to the unique difficulties of the time and place, the difficulties of the narrator would be universal in many situations: when a woman is being stalked by a man who hasn't really done anything unlawful --yet; when a small community's gossip and expectations limit people's lives; when the police are feared rather than looked to for help.
Despite what might be expected, Milkman is often very funny. Among the humorous bits, middle sister's attempt to separate herself from the random violence around her leads her to "walking while reading," a habit deemed as suspicious and undesirable by her neighbors. I can relate to that.
I highly recommend this novel.
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