Red Hook Road

Red Hook Road
By Ayelet Waldman (343 pages)
Published by Doubleday
Bookish rating: 4.25

Red Hook Road has a horrifying yet catchy premise: A bride and groom are killed in an accident during the limo ride from their wedding to the reception.

What follows is four years of both families--the well-to-do bride's family and the working-class groom's family--coping with their losses.

Waldman takes a big risk with the novel's "inciting incident," which could have easily been reduced to a gimick or overdramatic, sentimental poo. Fortunately, Waldman steers clear of everything threatening to tank a novel about loss and premature death. In doing so, she illustrates the complexity and gravity the topic deserves.

That's not to say the novel is heartless. Waldman drops little bombs that are utterly overwhelming to anyone with a shred of maternal instinct. For example, Iris, the bride's mother, arrives on the accident scene and sees a body bag--and tiny strands of blond hair stick ever so slightly out of the bag's zipper. Hair she had brushed, blonde curls she delighted in, and on and on. Yeah, I had nightmares the night I read that scene.

The writing is very good, and the characters, particularly Iris, are well-drawn. Waldman, perhaps unintentionally, approaches the gruff character of Jane, the groom's mother, with some condescension. Jane is working-class, uneducated, small town, and Protestant, while Iris is well off, a literature professor at Columbia, living in New York City, and Jewish. Truthfully, the character of Jane seems to be written by Iris--and, well, Iris and the author are quite similar. Just saying.

That said, Iris's access to literature and music (her dad is a retired world-class violinist) takes the novel up yet another notch by deeply revering literature and music. Totally neccessary to the novel? Not really. But it's a nice perk.

Some back story gets a little long-winded, and the dialogue isn't always quite right, particularly that of a young girl in the novel. Another minor quibble? Waldman gives lovely descriptions of the lavender wedding colors and the decor inside the historical hall in Coastal Maine where the reception was supposed to occur, but the cover shows an outdoor wedding reception with peach tableclothes. I mean, really?

Overall, Waldman gives us a non-gimicky, non-cheesy, and non-sentimental novel that explores the deepest kind of grief. Recommended.

The Lonely Polygamist

The Lonely Polygamist
By Brady Udall (624 pages)
Published by W. W. Norton & Company
Bookish rating: 4

Obviously, the irony of The Lonely Polygamist is right there in the title. How can a dude with four wives and close to thirty children be lonely?

But lonely our male polygamist lead, Golden, is. In this rather long novel, Udall examines the dynamics and weirdness of polygamy. Although I do think that Udall glosses over some extremely problematic aspects of polygamy (e.g., sexual exploitation of young girls, its community's often cult-like isolation), his nonjudgmental approach allows characters to be more fully developed. Overall, I Udall's overall portrayal of polygamy is too freaking rosy, but that rosiness also differentiates the novel from other literature and tell-alls dealing with the topic (e.g., The Chosen One [which I highly recommend], The 19th Wife, Escape).

With a cast as large as Golden's huge family, Udall neccessarily focuses only a select few: Golden, the husband; Trish, the discontented and bored fourth wife; and Rusty, the neglected and somewhat wacky child. Through these three main characters, Udall manages to effectively illustrate the power struggles and competition among wives; the kids' yearning for attention, the chaos of almost 30 kids; the preciousness of each child's life, even in the midst of SO MANY of them; the pressure to PROVIDE for everyone; and so on.

The novel has no overarching plot; instead, it moves forward with a simmering pressure, and eventually all hell breaks loose at the climax. It works. That said, Udall's writing can get a tad long-winded, and at over 600 pages, it's really not neccessary. He also does a LOT of jumping back and forth, depending heavily on flashbacks. For the most part, jumping backward timewise works just fine, but it can get distracting.

Overall, The Lonely Polygamist is a must-read for anyone interested in the bizarre world of polygamy. The characters are incredibly drawn, the writing is simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious (especially when we have Rusty's point of view), and the nuances of the family life are extremely believable. Recommended.

Bicycle Days

Bicycle Days
By John Burnham Schwartz (253 pages)
Published by Summit Books
Bookish Rating: 3.5

Schwartz does a lot of things right in this coming-of-age story of a young American college grad working a stint in Japan. Initially published in 1989 as Japan--and the rest of the world, I suppose--was starting to capitalize on high-tech, the novel is definitely dated--but in a sort of historical way (when is the last time you heard the phrase "word-processing terminal"?).

Schwartz effectively evokes the out-of-placeness of Alec, Tokyo city life, and Japanese culture. However, the novel seems overwritten. Schwartz simply tries too hard. Alec has all sorts of flashbacks to his parents arguing and their eventual divorce, which I guess he decides to emotionally work through while in Japan. Why? I don't know. I'm not sure Schwartz does either. I guess he needed some sort of Deep Mental Conflict or something. I dunno.

Alec wants to view himself as deeply pensive and troubled, which eventually climaxes in a seaside town when he's feeling particularly deep one morning and goes into an inexplicable funk. I didn't buy it.

Other things just didn't fit. For example, Alec goes to visit the grandparents of the girl he's screwing in a remote village. He stays there for a few days, having more Deep Thoughts. Again, readers are left clueless as to why he went there. It just seemed weird.

Finally, the women, who are Japanese, are portrayed in what I think tends to be a typical way for American men: docile geisha girls. Schwartz tries to sidestep what is essentially a sexist and racist portrayal by making one girl smart, kind, and--to prove how progressive he is, I guess--an old lady in her early 30s. And she is, of course, exotically beautiful, with a "swan neck, and, despite charming deference during the day, she's wild in bed at night. Of course.

Lust interest #2 is essentially a hooker, whom Alec meets in a set-up catering to businessmen.

Overall, the book is good enough. Though significantly flawed, it's not bad, and it has some good things going for it. I admit that while reading it, I craved hot sake and sushi, neither of which are particularly recommended for pregnant women such as myself. As a temporary escapist trip to the Japan of 20+ years ago, the novel is fine but not really recommended.

The Thin Man

The Thin Man
By Dashiell Hammett (201 pages)
Published by Vintage
Bookish rating: 4

I'm about 80 years late to the party on this one, but the fact that Hammett's mystery novel is still in print speaks to its awesomeness.

In this super sexy mystery, which takes place in the early thirties (when--duh--it was written), a former private detective, Nick Charles, gets sucked into a murder mystery. Not only do we get to enter the atmospheric world of New York City speakeasies and morning cocktails, but we also get a witty comedy of manners to boot. The dialogue, Nick's narration and wry observations, and characters such as his wife, Nora (based on Hammett's real-life main squeeze Lillian Hellman) are in addition to a complex, clever mystery. Or perhaps vice versa.

The amount of alcohol consumed by Nick and his peeps makes the guys of Mad Men seem like lightweights. I could argue--and if I had more time, I would--that alcohol itself is a main character. The writing and language is 1930s perfection--I mean, when is the last time you read the phrase, "What a dame!"?

Finally, the character of Nora fascinated me. I'm extremely familiar with Lillian Hellman (fun fact: there's yet another new biography out on her, which I haven't read and thus can't vouch for, but I CAN vouch for this Lillian Hellman biography, which came out in paperback last summer), but to see her mannerisms and character via Nick (meaning, via Hammett) has always been somewhat of a missing piece for me.

I plan to read the rest of Hammett's work, including the lesser known novels. In the meantime, read this one. Preferably with a scotch. And if you're not a scotch drinker, well, just make a very strong cocktail, sit back with some jazz playing in the background, and try to integrate the word dame into your next conversation (in a nonsexist way, please).

Love in a Cold Climate

Love in a Cold Climate
By Nancy Mitford (254 pages)
Published by Vintage Books
Bookish rating: 4

I selected Love in a Cold Climate for the Reader's Ink book club for the month of April, seeing as how it was my month to choose and all. I wanted something quasi-obscure, a little historical, funny, not terribly long, and likely to be in most library systems. This book fit the bill.

First published in 1949, Love in a Cold Climate is told from the perspective of Fanny, who is distantly related to the Hampton family, an old, rich, titled group of dysfunctional and self-absorbed aristocrats. As Fanny spends time at Hampton, hanging out with her cousin Polly, she gets somewhat tangled in the drama of Polly's oh so shocking scandal: engagement to a creepy older man, who just happens to be here uncle. (But hey, it's the British aristocracy. Incest is charming, no?)

Much of the novel centers on the power struggles between Polly and her larger-than-life, power-hungry mother, Lady Montdore. The plot is perfectly fine, but what makes this novel so fun to read is that it's incredibly funny. Understated wit, perfectly timed snarkiness, and very fun characters make the plot secondary. Fanny wryly watches the drama of her silly family unfold, and reports back to us readers, with some of her own commentary. It was super fun--sort of gossipy but smartly witty, all at once.

This was my first literary romp with Nancy Mitford, and I'm definitely going to read more of her work, especially The Pursuit of Love (which technically precedes Love in a Cold Climate) and Don't Tell Alfred, which is also written from Fanny's point of view.

Recommended!

Mentor: A Memoir

Mentor: A Memoir
By Tom Grimes (245 pages)
Published by Tin House Books
Bookish Rating: 4.5

In this spectacular (and no, I do not exaggerate) memoir about writing and the writing life, struggling writer-slash-waiter Tom Grimes has a chance encounter with Frank Conroy, author of the classic Stop-Time and director of the Iowa Writers Workshop (the best writing program in the country). Conroy reads a little of Grimes's work, thinks it's brilliant, and voila Grimes has a spot in next year's workshop.

Why, it's practically Dickensian, but . . . it's also true.

Grimes struggles through his writing, painstakingly selecting each word and phrase, revising and revising and revising. His classmates don't like him, especially when he develops a mentoring bond with their god, Frank Conroy.

I initially got this book from the library. Within a couple chapters, I realized I'd want to take my sweet, sweet time reading it, unencumbered by such pesky things as library due dates. I also knew that I'd want to keep a copy for my own library--and if you know me, you know I'm not someone who hangs onto books. That's a far too static dead end for them. I read them and then pass them on to friends or my mom, or I donate them to the church rummage sale that raises moolah for teens to go do some good.

But this book I'd want to keep. So, I returned my library copy and bought my own.

I let myself take eight months to read Mentor. I loved Grimes's depiction of writerly frustration, rejection, and that irritating voice in your head that tells you what you just wrote simply ain't good enough. The writing was, of course, fantastic, but particularly moving was the father-son, successful writer-struggling writer relationships depicted between Grimes and Conroy.

I ended the book with a big fat desire to read all of Conroy's work (of which I've read nada), and even Grimes's rather unsuccsessful work.

Highly, highly recommended for anyone pursuing a writing project of any kind. Sure, zero time is spent on the practical how-to of the craft of writing, but trust me. You'll be a better writer by the end of this book. You just will.

The Story of Beautiful Girl

The Story of Beautiful Girl
By Rachel Simon (368 pages)
Published by Grand Central Publishing
Bookish rating: 2.75

Eh. Perhpas my relatively low rating for this book (2.75) is due to the fact that I expected it to be so much better than it was. The novel never really delivered for me, or for most of my Reader's Ink book club folk.

The set-up is relatively decent: Lynnie, a woman who had been raped and impregnated and who, it appears, has some sort of developmental disorder, and Homan, a deaf man, escape an mental institution in the 1960s. Lynnie delivers her baby, and they show up at a retired teacher's (Martha's) house in the middle of the night. The story starts at Martha's.

The authorities catch Lynnie, but not before she begs Martha to "hide her," that is, baby. Homan escapes.

See? Decent set-up, right? Well, the book then meanders aimlessly for the next--literally--40 odd years. Why Simon focuses so heavily on particular events but not others, often jumping ahead a dozen years or killing off someone major--death mentioned merely in passing--gave the novel a jerky, uneven quality. Heavy use of flashbacks didn't help.

The character of Lynnie is the strongest, as Simon effectively captures her complexity while also making her mental disability present without taking over her character. However, as a mama, I did not buy that Lynnie spent the next couple of decades pining for Homan rather than the daughter she was forced to part with. Perhaps Simon intended to attribute the "oh well, lost my baby" to her disability, but if Lynnie can love Homan so deeply, obviously she's capable of great love. Why wouldn't she be torn up over never seeing her child again? Finally, Lynnie and especially Homan are portrayed as almost condescendingly heroic, flawless, and, of course, victimized--like it wouldn't have been politically correct for them to have had imperfections.

The ending was contrived and anticlimactic, which was disappointing after slogging through 368 pages of wandering Homan, pining Lynnie, and selfless Martha taking the baby from location to location.

Not really recommended.