The Things That Matter by Edward Mendelson

This book illustrates perfectly, the virtues of independently owned bookstores! I bought this last November at one of my favorite indie bookstores – The Blue Bicycle in Charleston, SC. On our annual visit to this wonderful city, we always make plans to spend a couple of hours there. Jonathan and Lauren Sanchez are everything book lovers want in a book store. Their knowledge of their stacks is encyclopedic, and when they recommend a book, I know I can rely on them. The next time you are in Charleston, make this a must stop on your tour. They are on King Street a couple blocks down from the Francis Marion Hotel. Every time I pass a large chain store, I ask if they have this title – so far those stores are 0-6. How else could I have come across this book so easily? Now, back to the stacks!

Two things struck me when I picked up the book – the dust jacket has a photo of six of my favorite novels, and a seventh I had never read. Then there was the subtitle: “What Seven Classic Novels Have to Say About the Stages of Life.” How could I NOT buy this book?

Well, I was only a tiny bit disappointed. The chapters took me back to my grad school days, when this sort of reading was 90% of my book fare. Here are the seven novels and the topic Mendelson discusses in each chapter: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley (birth); Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (childhood); Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (growth); Middlemarch by George Eliot (marriage); Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (love); To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf (parenthood); and Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf (the future). Does anyone need any more convincing?

Okay, just a few more words. Completely unfamiliar with Between the Acts, I was at sea in the last chapter, which reminds me to warn anyone interested in this book, that the author assumes at least a passing familiarity with these novels. Of course, no serious reader would not have read most of these books. I plan on hunting down a copy of Between the Acts, and then re-reading that final chapter.

As far as Wuthering Heights is concerned, I have loved this story for a very long time, yet Mendelson has given me an entirely new perspective on this monument of 19th century literature. I won’t spoil by revealing any of Mendelson’s ideas, but if you love these novels as much as I do, this book is a must read.

Most of the Chapter/Essays were incisive and clear, except for To the Lighthouse, but then again, the novel can also be confusing to first time readers. I have only read Lighthouse once, and perhaps a better grasp of the story might have solved this problem. 4-1/2 stars.

--Chiron, 1/30/10

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

Now for some fun. Once upon a time, I was an assistant manager of a book store. Our manager assigned each employee a section of the store to keep straight, order replacements, and be able to make recommendations. To help us with the last, we had to read one book from the assigned section each week. He rotated sections monthly. Nobody liked the children’s section, because it was always a mess. I, however, really
looked forward to my stint there (I even traded romance novels for it once), because I got to re-experience many of the books from my childhood as well as discover new ones. Shel Silverstein was probably my best discovery from those days. I could write a dozem but just two short ones. “Drats” first,

Can anyone lend me
Two-eighty-pound rats?
I want to rid my house of cats. (72)

And, “The Bloath,”

In the undergrowth
There dwells a Bloath
Who feeds upon poets and tea
Luckily, I know this about him
While he knows almost nothing of me! (108)

Fun! Simple, smile-inducing, belly-laughing, tear-bringing fun. I love fun poetry.

--Chiron, 1/25/10

Three Tales by Gustave Flaubert

Flaubert’s Madame Bovary is, arguably, the best 19th century novel, and I am a big fan. I teach it nearly every semester so I can read it again and again. This volume contains a most interesting Foreword by Margaret Drabble, another of my favorite novelists.

The three stories are set in reverse chronological order: the early 19th century, the Middle Ages, and during the height of the Roman Empire. The first two represent spectacular examples of Flaubert at his best as a realist writing a story with not the minutest detail omitted. The Introduction, written by Howard Curtis, advises the reader to “think of each sentence less as an element of a smooth narrative sequence than as a description of a separate image in a shooting script” (xvi). Excellent advice for the reader unfamiliar with this master of 19th century realism and naturalism.

I thoroughly and completely enjoyed the first two stories. “A Simple Heart” tells an enchanting story of Félicité who spends her life in service to others. Acting as a nurse to her employer’s young daughter, she has developed a close relationship with the child when she is whisked away to a convent for her education. “In the mornings, out of habit, Félicité would go into Virginie’s room and look at the walls. She missed combing her hair, lacing her ankle boots, tucking her up in bed, seeing her lovely face at all times, holding her hand when they went out together. In her idleness, she tried to take up lace-making, but she broke the threads with her heavy fingers. She could not put her mind to anything. She had not been sleeping well, and she felt ‘drained,’ as she put it” (16). Curtis could have had this sentence in mind when he wrote the Introduction.

The second story was an interesting hagiography of Julian the Hospitaller. I thought Flaubert represented the Middle Ages well. The last story I found confusing and difficult to follow. It seemed written in a different voice than the other two, as if Flaubert tried to imitate writers from that period. I much preferred the voices of the first two stories.

Nevertheless excellent examples of Flaubert in his last years – still at the height of his powers. 4 stars.

--Chiron, 1/18/10

A Gate at the Stairs by Lorrie Moore

I am always wary of a book that receives a lot of hype, especially if we are talking about an author with whom I have only a slight familiarity. Such is the case with Lorrie Moore. I know some of her short stories and a few essays, but A Gate at the Stairs is the first of her novels I have read. The cover of the “advanced reader’s edition” claims this is “a book of stunning power.” Hardly.

Tassie Keltjin is a twenty-something college student who responds to an ad for child care, and winds up in tangled webs between her job and her boyfriend. Okay, everybody has a secret – some darker than others – but that has been done to death.

While I will not deny the book was well-written – the prose is lyrical and many nice and even wonderful images abound – I think this cover praise is a bit excessive. I will also admit the characters are a bit interesting, but one, at least, remains dangling at the end of the story. The ending contains quite a surprise, but I cannot figure, with any certainty, how it fits into this coming of age novel. Tassie seems remarkably insightful and mature for someone who goes from a potato farm run by her father to a large university, yet she is still “coming of age,” as the cover also tells us.

This is not a book I will buy in hardcover. If you have never read her, I would wait for the paperback or try some of the short stories first. 3 stars.

--Chiron, 1/17/10

My Best Reads of 2009

I simply could not limit myself to ten books. I tried, I really did! My original "long list" had 25. Then I got my short list down to 15. I could not go any lower. This was a great year for reading! Lots of new books -- and a few oldies thrown in for good measure.

My Best Reads of 2009

1. Brooklyn: A Novel by Colm Tóibín
1. Cheever: A Life by Blake Bailey
1. Year of Cats and Dogs by Margaret Hawkins
2. Chester Chronicles by Kermit Moyer
3. Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted by Elizabeth Berg
4. Endpoint by John Updike
5. Fly Away Peter by David Malouf
6. Homer & Langley by E.L. Doctorow
7. People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks
7. Radetzky March by Joseph Roth
7. Shroud by John Banville
8. That Old Cape Magic by Richard Russo
9. Strangers by Anita Brookner
9. Goldengrove by Francine Prose
10. Defining Moment by Jonathan Alter

The Appointment by Herta Müller

As my faithful readers know, I always read the major prize-winners when announced. As is the case with most recent Nobel Prize awardees, I had never heard of Herta Müller. At first I thought, well yes, Eastern Europe before the collapse of the Soviet Union – secret police, long lines and empty shelves, spying neighbors, frequent and seemingly pointless interrogations to root out dissatisfied citizens – I had heard, seen, and read this plot many times.

The difference with Müller’s take on this story involves, lyrical, graceful, simple prose that lulls the reader into a false sense of “been-there, done-that.” I nearly gave up several times and even had to struggle to get through the last 40 pages as the descriptions became more detailed, more bizarre, and the mind of the un-named narrator becomes more and more disjointed. Then I read the last line: “The trick is not to go mad.”

So, like Kafka, and Lu Hsun’s “Diary of a Madman,” Müller’s novel relates the descent into madness as a result of paranoia of a dictatorship run wild with maintaining absolute power and control over its citizens. How close we came to that precipice! The novel is a warning. Unbridled police powers will inevitably lead to abuse and oppression.

With that last line – almost a Joycean epiphany – the novel made sense. It became harrowing, exasperating, and I understood completely how madness did result. 5 stars.

--Chiron, 12/31/09

The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted by Elizabeth Berg

Around 1986, I took off for The New England Writer’s Conference in Boston. The conference was held at Simmons College near Fenway Park. John Updike was the keynote speaker, and his son David led a class in the short story. Those early days of my first attempts at writing drew me there for a chance to see and hear and meet John Updike and attend his son’s class.

Little did I know that another person I would meet would also have a lasting effect on my reading and writing life. One of the students in the class was a young woman who wrote tips for mothers of toddlers who read Parent’s Magazine. I believe she had just been appointed an associate editor, and was then writing a monthly column. Since then, I have avidly followed the career of Elizabeth Berg. She has written nearly 20 novels, a book of non-fiction, and adapted one of her novels for the stage.

While some might characterize her fiction as oriented toward women readers, I thoroughly enjoy the humor, the psychological insights, and the finely drawn characters in every one of her books.

I first received a copy of this work as an audio book through the early reviewer’s program of LibraryThing.com. Incidentally, this website is a great resource for readers and collectors. On a long drive, we listened to Elizabeth Berg read this collection. The strong women characters and their relationships, enthralled me from beginning to end. As soon as I could, I purchased a copy of the book, and re-read the stories, to savor them again. As you might expect, again I could hear Elizabeth’s voice. The actual reading allowed me to spend more time pouring over the finer pieces of prose Berg has written.

Most of the stories revolve around food and eating. In the title story, Berg wrote, “Here is my favorite recipe: Buy two boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Make one box of macaroni but use both cheeses. Telling you this, I just remembered this woman I really liked a lot who died and she loved egg salad more than anything and didn’t eat it for years because it was bad for her and then when she was on her deathbed and could have anything she wanted, she was given an egg salad sandwich and she couldn’t eat it anymore” (11). This mixture of reflection and clever prose can be found on any page of this collection. I think I'll have another piece of chocolate.

The most poignant story, however, is “Rain.” This story tells about a platonic relationship between the un-named narrator and Michael, an old friend. Michael has invited her to see a house he has built himself in rural Massachusetts. With a certain amount of reluctance, her husband urges her to visit him. She remembers how she and Michael together when they were younger and reflects on why they never developed a close relationship. Berg writes, “I told myself it was because we were never between relationships at the same time, but I also sensed that, if I moved too close to Michael, I’d lose him” (77).

This remote cabin happened after Michael threw off the shackles that tied him to corporate America, and he opted for a Thoreauesque existence in the woods, replacing a pay check with odd jobs, making his own furniture, and growing his own food. The narrator thinks, “Seeing Michael’s place filled me with conflicting emotions. I was happy for him, glad he’d stood in the middle of his kitchen one random day and pulled the veil from his heart’s desire” (80). Lovely, lovely prose. All these stories are priceless nuggets of gold to polish over and over with slow re-reading.

During the class, I took a picture of all the students, and I promised Elizabeth – and the other students – I would not share those photos. I have kept my promise, and now I have a wonderful collection of her work, her voice, and her image from that class.

--Chiron, 12/28/09

Black Dogs by Ian McEwan

The normally reliable Ian McEwan has disappointed me in this peculiar and oddly constructed fifth novel published in 1992. I found the prose nearly as powerful as his later work, such as Atonement, Saturday, and Amsterdam, for which he won the Booker Prize, but Black Dogs left me unsatisfied at the end.

Jeremy lost his parents when he was a child, and began to have an inordinate amount of interest in the parents of friends, adopting them for his own. When he married, he continued this practice and became close to his in-laws. He takes on the task of writing a memoir of June, his dying mother-in-law. She recounts a pivotal event in her life involving three large, black dogs that threatened her when she was on her honeymoon in France shortly after World War II. Jeremy compares her account with that of his father-in-law, Bernard, and resolves the differences in a philosophical manner. He uses the incident to explain the world view of both, and the memoir becomes a meditation on the conflict between good and evil, rationalism and spirituality, thinking and action.

The novel is short – only 149 pages -- and that may be its principle flaw. McEwan tumbles over the waterfall in the barrel of his version and explanation of the event. I wish there was more meat on these bones to give me a better understanding of how he arrived at his conclusions.

I am glad I read this after his later work, so it has little effect on my opinion of this excellent writer, and I will work my way through his first four novels. 4 stars for the prose.

--Chiron, 12/24/09

Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier

My desert island shelf contains all my favorite books which I have encountered since I began reading decades ago. I would want these books if I could have no others.

Cold Mountain has a prominent place in this collection, since it is one of the most beautifully written novels I have read from the 20th century. Everyone who reads it has a favorite passage or line. My list of favorite lines includes dozens, but here are two examples of this wonderful author’s talent:

"All Inman remembered of another days march was the white sky and that sometime during it a crow had died in flight, falling with a puff of dust into the road before him, its black beak open and its grey tongue out as if to taste the dirt." (115).

Then, while Ada and Ruby, a local farm girl who comes to help Ada run the farm, take a walk on the property, Ruby points out animals and plants Ada never noticed.

"Off in the river stood a great blue heron. It was a tall bird to begin with, but something about the angle from which they viewed it and the cast of low sun made it seem even taller. It looked high as a man in the slant light with its long shadow blown out across the water. Its legs and the tips of its wings were as black as the river. The beak of it was black on top and yellow underneath, and the light shone off it with muted sheen as from satin or chipped flint. The heron stared down into the water with fierce concentration. At wide intervals it took delicate slow steps, lifting a foot from out the water and pausing, as if waiting for it to quit dripping, and then placing it back on the river bottom in a new spot apparently chosen only after deep reflection." (149-150)

On a long drive for the holidays, we listened to the author read Cold Mountain. This actually represented my third read of this lovely, intense, entrancing story. Ada Monroe, and her father, a preacher from Charleston, SC, move to Black Cove, near Cold Mountain, just west of Asheville in the days before the Civil War. This tiny, remote town is the opposite of Charleston with its mansions and society. Ada meets Inman, a local farmer, and the attraction is immediate and complete. Then the war breaks out. Inman gives Ada a tintype and promises to come back to her. We learn all this through numerous flashbacks, because the novel actually begins with Inman recovering from a almost fatal wound at the battle of Petersburg in Virginia. He is given up for dead, but he lingers on, and when nearly recovered – fearing a return to the front lines – walks away from the hospital. He heads back to Cold Mountain.

The chapters alternate between Inman’s difficult and epic journey home, and Ada’s attempt to survive alone after the death of her father. If you have never read this novel, you have missed a wonderful, enthralling treat, which you will return to again and again. 10 stars!

--Chiron, 12/31/09

The Chester Chronicles by Kermit Moyer

Only rarely does a book come along that allows me to instantly connect with its main character. I could probably name a half a dozen with chapters that rang true, but I cannot think of another novel which convinced me that my life – with all its foibles and peculiarities -- fit into the mainstream of 20th century America. In Kermit Moyer’s first novel, The Chester Chronicles, only the epilogue stands outside my experience. However, I know that experience lay all before me.

Chester Patterson’s birth occurred only a few years before mine. So we grew up during the 50s, attended college in the 60s, experienced the tragedy of November 22, 1963, learned to drive, dealt with the obsession for girls, and tiptoed through first experiments with our earliest heart throbs.

This novel is a Künstlerroman of the first order. Except for the clearly 20th century American idioms, it compares favorably with James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. From the first pages, the reader recognizes this is a tale of Chester’s growth into an artist – a writer. Literary references abound in Chet’s college classes, his interactions and discussions with friends, and his attempt to make sense of the world.

His relationship with his father remained close until the final pages of the novel in most respects, but with a healthy dash of distance so common in those days. I especially appreciated the scenes of Chet’s father giving driving lessons, although, I must admit, my Dad yelled a bit more than his. Chet’s transgressions also paralleled mine – frightening while in the midst, but laughable even days later.

This novel should arrive in bookstores in February, 2010. Make a note. Pre-order a copy, camp out if you have to, but make sure you get this novel, and savor it as much as I did. 5 stars

--Chiron, 12/15/09

Brooklyn: A Novel by Colm Tóibín

I have a number of sources for discovering new writers. One fertile source is the Booker Prize, given annually to the best novel of the year. I have come to know many fine authors – Anne Enright, John Banville, and Ian McEwan to name a few. These prize-winning authors have given me many hours of pleasure, but the “also-rans” should not be neglected. One such author frequently short-listed for the prize is Colm Tóibín. Blackwater Lightship became my first experience with this wonderful Irish writer, who is currently a visiting professor at Princeton University. I have read three of his books, and Brooklyn represents a 180 degree shift from the tone and story-line of his previous works.

Eilis Lacey has just finished vocational school, and she has a knack for figures. She helps out in a small shop in Enniscorthy, Ireland. Eilis lives with her mother and older sister Rose. Unfortunately, she cannot find a permanent job in her town, so when a priest visits the Laceys, Rose tells him about Eilis’ plight. He offers to get her emigration papers for America, with a promise of a job and a room in a respectable boarding house. Eilis seems unsure, but she knows her options are limited, so she decides to take the plunge and leave the Olde Sod for the new world.

“New” is quite an understatement for Eilis. She finds herself on her own for the first time in a strange and wonderful land. She adapts well to her land lady, Mrs. Kehoe, and her roommates, who take her dancing. She makes new friends, and gets along well in her position as a counter girl at a department store. Set in the early 50s, she has all the innocence and sense of peace and happiness of that decade. A short bout of homesickness hardly slows her down at all.

Unlike some of his other work, Tóibín does not delve into the dark underside of life and its difficulties here. Rather, his warm prose weaves a serene tale of life in rural Ireland and Brooklyn, NY. Eilis matures quickly, and develops a relationship with young man she meets at a dance.

Tony is a gentleman in every sense of the word. On page 148 the first negative thing happens to Eilis. While walking Eilis home from her night classes, he spins a tale of American Baseball and his love for a particular team. Tóibín writes, “’You know what I really want ?’ he asked. ‘I want our kids to be Dodger fans.’ He was so pleased and excited at the idea, she thought, that he did not notice her face freezing.” Eilis is shocked at the speed Tony had pushed the relationship. As she does throughout the novel, Eilis turns the situation over and over in her mind, figuring from every angle how she should respond. When she does confront Tony, she does so perfectly. He understands, and he backs off.

The best thing about Tóibín’s novels, however, is what can only be described as lovely prose. Eilis returns to Ireland for a visit, leaving a distraught Tony behind. Eilis thinks of him often, but doesn't tell anyone. Tóibín writes, “not telling her mother or her friends made every day she had spent in America a sort of fantasy, something she could not match with the time she was spending at home. It made her feel strangely as though she were two people, one who had battled against two cold winters and many hard days in Brooklyn and fallen in love there, and the other who was her mother’s daughter, the Eilis whom everyone knew, or thought they knew” (226).

Don’t mistake this novel for a romance. It is a sensitive and detailed portrait of a young woman coming of age and dealing with many changes in her life. Will she go back to Tony? Or stay with Jim Farrell in Enniscorthy? I won’t tell. You will have to float through this beautiful novel to find out. 5 stars.

--Chiron, 12/7/09

A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition by Ernest Hemingway

Part One: The Original

I love Paris in the summer, in the spring, and in the winter. Before each and every trip there, I re-read Hemingway’s great work on his years in Paris between the wars. When I heard about the restored edition, I could not wait to compare it to the version I know and love. First, I re-read the original.

This memoir never grows old. Someday I want to spend a long period of time in Paris, and wander through the streets and visit the cafes Hemingway mentions. Some of them I have sat in and watched the boulevardiers pass along with strolling musicians, magicians, and mimes. I always made time to have a drink at Aux du Magots – a favorite hangout of writers, artists, and philosophers. Montmartre, the artist’s quarter, also played a role in his story. I still love this book.

Part Two: The Restored Edition

Two chapters have been moved another two deleted and replaced with another two. Other than that not many changes to the book. A casual reader might barely notice the differences. The additional chapter on F. Scott Fitzgerald added another incident to that tragic life. The chapter entitled “The Education of Mr. Brumby,” Hemingway and Hadley’s son, was interesting, because it revealed something of Hemingway as the doting father.

The best part of the revisions, however, came in a collection of fragments not included in the earlier version. One involved Hemingway’s assignment to follow a young Canadian boxer fighting for the first time in France. Another involved numerous fragments of a preface, which he never finished. The stops and starts and restarts of these show an interesting insight into the process of writing. The introduction provides a history of the manuscript. Apparently, Hemingway worked on this while he was in Paris between the wars, then lost track of it until the late 50s. He was still revising the manuscript when he died in 1961.

As I said, one of my all-time favorites, and the new material hasn’t changed my mind about that. If you plan on visiting Paris, read it on the plane to France. Make some notes and visit some of the places which are still there, visit some new spots, and you can create your own “Moveable Feast.” 5 stars

--Chiron, 11/29/09

Be Happy by Monica Sheehan

My World Lit class gave me this little book the last day of class along with a thank you card. This is quite unusual, but the sign of good chemistry among dedicated students.

Happily, most of the sixty, simple line drawings and words of inspiration confirm my life style and things I do on a routine basis.

One of the pages says, "Read." Five stars

-Chiron, 11/20/09

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

Another book I have often read, but this time I have a clearer purpose: I am reading it to a group of senior citizens as the entertainment portion of their annual Christmas banquet.

This book embodies what Annie Dillard meant in the paragraph I quoted from The Writing Life. This is literature, and the characters come to life – each time a bit different – but more than wonderful every time. It never grows old. It always has something I want and need – it exemplifies and justifies my reasons for reading.

Maybe I need a new shelf in my library. I will call it “Evergreens.”

--Chiron, 11/25/09 (Reading aloud 12/5/09)

The Writing Life by Annie Dillard

I read this book ages ago, and its quiet simplicity makes it one I return to again and again. If you like reading and writing, this slim volume will surprise and please you to no end.

Here is an example of Dillard’s delightful style: “Why would anyone read a book instead of watching big people move on a screen? Because a book can be literature. It is a subtle thing – a poor thing, but our own. In my view, the more literary the book -- the more purely verbal, crafted sentence by sentence, the more imaginative, reasoned, and deep – the more likely people are to read it. The people who read are the people who like literature, after all, whatever that might be. They like, or require, what books alone have” (19).

You need this book. You need to sit down some quiet afternoon and read it. Then, keep it close by and read it again when the fancy strikes you! 5 stars

--Chiron, 11/24/09

Windflower by Nick Bantock

Nick Bantock has a mysterious originality in his work. His series beginning with Griffin and Sabine, allowed the reader to peek into the private correspondence of a designer of stamps who lives in the South Pacific and an artist who lives in London. By “peek,” I mean that literally – some pages have envelopes pasted to the page, and the reader must lift the flap, remove the sheet and read the letter. Fascinating, thrilling, mysterious, and completely absorbing.

In Windflower, he has written a more conventional tale about Ana, a young woman forced into marriage for economic reasons by her parents. As the ceremony is about to reach its conclusion, a violent wind sweeps in, and Ana takes the opportunity to run away. Her grandfather has told Ana her destiny lies in another direction.

This adult fantasy has the feel of something placed in the middle ages, but a few times we are reminded it is firmly in the present, or at least the near past. Ana suddenly has a “torch” or flashlight, and she sees then flies in an airplane. His characters are as interesting and mysterious as the story itself.

Along with the wonderful mesmerizing prose, Bantock’s illustrations have a warmth and beauty all their own. His illustrations alone make his books collectible.

Except for some instances hokey, clichéd dialogue, an almost perfect piece of literature. 4-1/2 stars.

--Chiron, 11/22/09

The Humbling by Philip Roth

No one dissects, probes, and analyses a character’s angst, fears, hopes, and dreams like Philip Roth. This “three-act play” involves three stages in the life of Simon Axler, a well-known, well-respected actor of stage and screen.

This novella might compare well to an epic tale in the mold of Joseph Campbell’s theory of a hero’s journey. In Act One, Axler separates from his talent; in Act Two, a helper tries to smooth the path to the climax of the tale; and Act Three is the “return,” the denouement of his life. Roth has skillfully taken the reader on a close examination of the later stages of Simon’s life when all seems lost.

This work of fiction contains graphic scenes of sexually activity – in one case, the scene disturbed me a great deal. In another, only the most tender words and images found their way onto the page. Another scene perplexed me, but, at the same time, titillated me just a bit. These scenes are definitely rated NC-17. Roth always has some sexual activity in his novels, but these are more intense than most others he has written. I won’t offer a sample, but take my word for it – Philip Roth is a master of description, and his skills are nearly at the top in this tight, brief story. Four stars

--Chiron, 11/09/09

The Interrogation by J.M.G. Le Clézio

My second read by the 2008 winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature has as many peculiarities as Onitsha, which I read last year. I have little interest in detective novels or murder mysteries, but that does not mean I do not enjoy a good puzzler.

Le Clézio has provided me with a mysterious story of a young man in the form of experimental fiction with alternating narrators and viewpoints, gaps in the narrative with only brackets to mark the beginning and the end – sometimes a paragraph, and in one instance, more than a page. The 18 chapters are lettered from A through P, then R. A news paper, inserted after 17, fills in some of the details of the main character’s story, but bears no letter. Why did Le Clézio skip the letter Q? My first thought led me to think he wanted to write a novel without using the letter Q, but several words in “R” had that letter.

Adam Pollo, by his own admission, has either escaped from an insane asylum or deserted from the army – he is not sure. Adam lives alone in an empty house on the shore of the Mediterranean near Marseille. He spends a lot of time scrounging for discarded newspapers and magazines. Adam also writes letters in a notebook to a woman named Michelle. He seems to have some sort of relationship with her, but the details are as murky as the rest of Adam’s life, and as difficult as his relationship with his parents. He may have amnesia, he may be hallucinating, he may be depressed, he may be hypochondriac, he may be obsessive-compulsive, he may be a pack rat at best, or a disposaphobe at worst, and he may be schizophrenic. The eponymous interrogation in Chapter “R” may or may not eliminate some, or any, or all of these possibilities.

I can only describe Le Clézio’s prose as “hypermicrocosmic.” He doesn’t only mention Adam seeing his reflection in a store window, he sees “two eyes, one nose, one mouth, ears, a trunk, four limbs, shoulders and hips” (185). His descriptions verge on the hypnotic. At one point, Adam sees a young woman, and he notices her beauty: “she had the soft cheeks of a little girl in quite good health, nut-brown hair, and her best feature was a pair of full lips, not made up but very red, which were now parting silently so that a pearly drop sparkled in the middle of the warm cavity of her mouth; her voice would certainly flow from deep down in her throat and, with four vibrations in the upper vocal chords, put an end to that faint quivering at the corners of her mouth, complete the most recent of human apotheoses, half desire, half habit” (102).

One line particularly caught my attention. Le Clézio wrote, “He who writes is shaping a destiny for himself” (116). That line might need to be my new e-mail signature. If you enjoy a novel which requires heavy concentration, and if you enjoy deep and thorough psychological journeys in search of the self, then The Interrogation is a must read. 5 stars

--Chiron, 11/6/09

Homer & Langley by E.L. Doctorow

Twenty some years ago, my admiration for Doctorow rose to quite a high level, then, for some unknown reason, I lost touch with his work. I really enjoyed Ragtime, Welcome to Hard Times, and Lives of the Poets. While at an American Library Association Convention, I grabbed an advance reader’s edition of his latest work. Why I lost track of him is now an even a greater mystery.

Doctorow has a wonderful talent for telling interesting stories really well. Homer and Langley Collyer, real-life brothers, live alone in their childhood home on Fifth Avenue in New York City. Homer narrates the story, which takes place over the course of most of the 20th century. In this fictionalized account, Doctorow weaves numerous historical events into the lives of these fascinating characters.

Langley, a World War I veteran, suffers from the effects of a mustard gas attack in the trenches. His younger brother, Homer, suffers from blindness, which began when he was a child. Together, these two manage to survive the vagaries of big city life, including the inevitable problems with neighbors, the city, the press, and the police.

Homer, the much more perceptive of the two, provides lots of details about their life, loves, and philosophy. One particularly poignant revelation came from a discussion during World War II. Doctorow wrote, “So for a day or two I did feel as Langley felt about warmaking: your enemy brought out your dormant primal instincts, he lit up the primitive circuits of your brain” (90).

The two brothers also interact with a large cast of odd and disparate characters. One, a writer from France, who travels about America “trying to get” America so she can “understand it” (184-85) inspires the blind Homer (yes, I noticed that little detail) by urging him to write their story. She tells him, “You think a word and you can hear its sound. I am telling you what I know – words have music and if you are a musician you will write to hear them” (202).

This lyrical, interesting, engrossing novel never fails to delight. Rush out and get a copy – you won’t be disappointed! I liked this book so much, I went out and bought a hardcover copy this morning. Five stars

--Chiron, 10/23/09

Seducing the Spirits by Louise Young

I have a serious conflict regarding my opinion of this novel. Jenny, a graduate student in ornithology, travels to Panama to study eagles. She has contact with a group of native peoples known as the Kuna. The story held my interest, and I never thought of giving up, but I kept tripping over several things which lessened my enjoyment.

I saw four parts to this novel – each with strengths and weaknesses.

Jenny seemed an interesting and resourceful character, but her obsession with sex and romance did not fit the personality Young draws. Many parts of her narrative appeared frantic, as if she had to yell at the reader to get her point across.

Second, the missionary story troubled me. While I agree with the portrayal and Jenny’s attitude toward this slimy character, her response to, and fear of him puzzled me. Mysteriously, she also seriously misinterprets the reaction of the Kuna to his leaving.

Third, the jacket notes tell us Young wanted to write a “National Geographic style travelogue.” She seems to learn the customs of the Kuna haphazardly, almost accidentally, yet she becomes one of them. Her predecessor, Brian, warns her not to “piss off the natives,” and she becomes so worried about this advice, she jeopardizes her good relationship with the Kuna. She follows his advice, despite the fact she has a deep-seated skepticism about Brian.

Lastly, her job as an ornithologist and her status as a graduate student seemed the weakest part of the novel. Jenny is frequently bored and surprisingly ill-informed. Her use of language doesn’t fit a graduate student, since her speech is littered with clichés. She questions the species of the eagle she watches, and fears no one would believe her. Did she never hear of a camera?

I like realistic characters and situations in my novels, and these details bothered me. If you are not as picky as I am, and you like an interesting adventure/romance novel, I strongly recommend this first effort by Young. But for me -- Three stars

--Chiron, 10/19/09