Dec 222013
 

Read in October 2013

The Burgess Boys, by Elizabeth Strout

Three stars

After winning the Pulitzer for her novel-in-stories Olive Kittridge, Elizabeth Strout takes a more conventional approach in her latest novel. The story is told through the intercutting viewpoints of a half dozen or more characters, some major and several minor, and features a traditional plot spinning off several current issues in contemporary American life, including anti-Muslim hate crimes and sexual harassment in the workplace. The central characters are the Burgess siblings — Jim, an attorney who parlayed his victory in a nationally-riveting criminal case into a job with a white shoe Manhattan law firm and a wealthy wife; Bob, a legal-aid attorney who left his Maine hometown to follow his brother to the big city; and his twin, Susan, who stayed in Shirley Falls and wound up a divorced single mother raising her teenager alone. These siblings were a huge turnoff for the first half of the book, with Jim an arrogant bully contemptuous of Bob and Susan, Bob an ineffectual hangdog who submits without protest to the scornful treatment of him by his siblings, and Susan and her son enduring a nightmarish existence of disconnection and depression — a dreary dysfunctional family which utterly failed to arouse my sympathy. Strout is one of the few writers who I would keep reading after such an inauspicious beginning, and she delivers a believable redemption to each sibling by the end of the book. In Olive Kittridge, Strout gave us something fresh and unexpected, but The Burgess Boys is just another well-written commercial novel. According to the author bio, Strout now lives some of the time in New York City, which is where this novel is largely set, and I can’t help thinking that her relocation hasn’t helped her fiction. A tsunami of American fiction by women takes place in and around New York, and there is a sameness to the plots and characters of much of that fiction, which may in part be due to the parochialism of authors, agents, and editors socializing in the small pond of NYC publishing. Here’s hoping Strout gets back to Maine ASAP.

The View From Penthouse B, by Elinor Lipman

Two stars

Another disappointment from Elinor Lipman. She lost interest in this story, and so did I. How else to explain the appearance on pg. 248 of “Acknowledgements,” wherein the climax and denouement of the novel are short-circuited by the POV character basically telling the reader how it all ends up for everyone in the story. Not that it’s surprising Lipman lost interest because she picked the wrong character to tell her story. Here are her choices: Sister A, who lost all her money in the Madoff Ponzi scheme after divorcing her obgyn husband following his imprisonment for fraud after personally inseminating women looking for fertility at his Manhattan clinic, or Sister B, whose husband died in his sleep, leaving her comfortably well-off but lonely. Lipman chose Gwen — the lonely sister — but clearly the more interesting story belongs to Margo, especially when her paroled husband moves into a studio apartment in the same building and begins a campaign to get her back. While Margo is off protesting with Occupy Wall Street and blogging about her misfortune, Gwen’s main character story consists of the ins and outs of three blind dates over the course of 39 chapters. No wonder she got bored. When a writer close to finishing a manuscript comes to the unhappy conclusion that she has written a bad and boring book, there is ONLY one honorable solution: Start over. When a publisher receives a bad and boring book from a contracted author — whether brand name or obscure — there is ONLY one honorable solution: Reject the manuscript and request a rewrite. When a reader finds that two of the three most recent novels by a once-favored author were bad and boring, there is ONLY one solution: Don’t waste any more time on her fiction.

Dec 222013
 

Read in September 2013

The Master, by Colm Toibin

Three stars

The Master is Henry James, the expatriate 19th century American author revered by many for his analysis of the art of fiction. The book opens when James is in his 50s and experiencing problems in his work — a play in London doesn’t go well and his fiction isn’t earning adequate praise or money. In eleven chapters that unfold over five years, Colm Toibin weaves a now story with a series of flashbacks to the past to draw a portrait of the artist as a middle-aged man. Toibin’s prose is more straightforward than the prose of James, but some things are left unspoken. Clearly, the author believes James was a closeted homosexual, a theme threaded throughout this novel without being tackled head on. Made much more clear are the other ways James holds himself apart — from his country, from his family, from his friends — and the price he pays for that distancing. Although Toibin’s last image of James — standing alone looking through a window — captures his essential complaint that James’ never really lived, the author also manages to provide the explanation for the Master’s choice: to succeed with his art, James needed to hold himself apart. I quite enjoyed this novel, as will most students of James’ fiction, but I don’t think it will appeal to most contemporary readers. Long on introspection and missing a conventional plot, The Master, like the fiction of James himself, is not for everyone

Mission to Paris, by Alan Furst

Three Stars

Alan Furst’s Mission to Paris is set in pre-war 1938 Paris, where a Hollywood actor born in Austria but now an American citizen is making a movie at the request of his studio head. As soon as Frederic Stahl arrives, the courtship begins — an invitation from a countess to her soiree, a plea to get-together from an acquaintance of long ago — as Nazi agents and Frenchmen sympathetic to the Nazi cause try to enlist Stahl in their campaign for “peace.” But French cinema, no less than American movies, is home to many refugees from Hitler’s regime, and everywhere he turns, Stahl sees the effects of the Nazi’s hot and cold wars on Jews, intellectuals, and opponents. Before long, he finds himself informally enlisting for undercover operations with the other side. I found a lot to like in this novel, especially Furst’s depiction of the how-to of relentless psyops pressure against private citizens. However, somehow the characters themselves left me pretty cold, including Stahl. Furst never managed to hook me into his characters emotionally. The story definitely engaged my mind, but the people failed to engage my heart.

Our Kind of Traitor, by John LeCarre

Four stars

This novel is a return to great form by a master after a few outings where his politics sank his storytelling. An Oxford don and his barrister girlfriend on a tennis vacation in the Caribbean get friendly with a Russian mobster and his odd extended family, including two little girls whose parents were just rubbed out execution-style back home a la Bonnie and Clyde. When the mobster asks the English couple to help him contact MI6 to discuss defecting, they are drawn into the world of espionage. But this is not Cold War spycraft, with boomtime budgets and the threat of nuclear annihilation overarching all else. In the straightened circumstances of post-crash Britain, few of the old rules apply and it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys.