"Starting Over: Stories," by Elizabeth Spencer

Elizabeth Spencer, at the age of 92, has just -- a decade after the last book she published -- published a new collection of short stories, "Starting Over" (Liveright/Norton, 2014). I am in awe of this great Southern writer, and her producing these wonderful stories at this stage in her life is impressive and inspiring. Her stories are as good as ever, both down-to-earth and haunting. She writes of marriages, love affairs, small towns, mysteries, secrets, and misunderstandings. But most of all she writes about the tangled relationships within families. Spencer understands both the frailties and the resilience of her characters. Her stories are set in the South, and are evocative of that geography and ethos, but they resonate far beyond as well.

"Friday Nights," by Joanna Trollope

I have written about English writer Joanna Trollope as one of the “middlebrow” writers whose work is not literarily significant, but is definitely a level or two above bestseller-type books written purely for entertainment. I have read several of her novels and enjoyed them. But reading her “Friday Nights” (Bloomsbury, 2008) reminded me of the gap between a book one enjoys and a book that satisfies. This story about six women friends of different ages and in different situations who meet regularly on, yes, Friday nights, and their intertwining and changing lives and relationships, is a kind of story I am quite fond of. And it has its moments. Characters grow, change, and learn about themselves. There are moments of female friendship, moments of romance, moments of marital problems and then reconciliation, moments of worries about children as well as total dedication to those children. There is the man one of the women starts dating, a man who gets too involved in the lives of the friends and spreads some dissension in the process; there is some heavy symbolism representing him as a seemingly amiable but in fact disruptive serpent-in-the-garden type. But the depictions of the characters don’t run very deep and are not very nuanced. The jacket copy calls Trollope’s novels “sparklingly readable,” and that is true, but it turns out not to be enough. “Friday Nights” is a quick read, and mildly enjoyable, but finally it left me unsatisfied, as empty calories do.

On Writing Negative Reviews of Books

Writers Francine Prose and Zoe Heller, in yesterday's New York Times Book Review (2/16/14, p. 31), discuss an important topic about book criticism/reviews: should negative book reviews be published? Prose writes that when she was a young reviewer, she sometimes gleefully skewered books she was reviewing; she then resolved not to review books she considered bad, and continued that policy for 30 years. Recently she has rethought that stance; she has decided that if a book is bad, “life is too short not to say so.” She goes on to say that “It depresses me to see talented writers figuring out they can just phone it in, and that no one will know the difference.” (Note that an example of Prose’s new practice is her recent takedown of Donna Tartt’s new novel, “Goldfinch”; I wrote on 2/7/14 about that review, and how I felt vindicated by it because of my similar reservations about the book.) Heller concurs with Prose’s stance on negative reviews, stating that although negative reviews can be distressing, writers need and even want to receive rigorous criticism. They are, after all, “not kindergartners bringing home their first potato prints for the admiration of their parents, but grown-ups who have chosen to present their work in the public arena.” I agree with these two writers. And although I do not claim to be a “critic” or even a “reviewer,” even in my much humbler role as a reader sharing her reading experiences and her responses to what she reads, I soon came to realize that I should not write only about the books I thought were excellent, but about the others I read that were perhaps good in some ways but lacking in others, and about the occasional truly bad book. (Here I want to give credit to my friend Mary V., who soon after I began the blog, encouraged me to write about the bad as well as the good.)

"The Whore's Child, and Other Stories," by Richard Russo

Readers may remember that I am a big fan of Richard Russo, one of my favorite living authors. His novels, such as “Empire Falls,” “Bridge of Sighs,” "Straight Man," and “That Old Cape Magic” are so real, human and humane; so beautifully written; and so enjoyable to read. I read all of these novels and more before starting this blog in 2010; since starting it I have reviewed Russo’s moving memoir, “Elsewhere” (11/10/12) and a boxed collection of booklets of stories and novellas titled “Interventions” (2/24/13). I have just picked up and read one of Russo’s earlier works, “The Whore’s Child, and Other Stories” (Knopf, 2002), and it did not disappoint. There are seven satisfying stories. The stories often focus on childhood, family, and relationships. The title story is about a nun who was, as indicated, the daughter of a whore, and was given over to a convent as a very young girl; this story is unusual, sad, and yet life-affirming. In fact, all of Russo’s work, although often describing characters who grow up in unpromising settings and deal with serious problems, is ultimately life-affirming, but not in a corny or smarmy way. This book, like the others I have read by Russo, is immensely readable; I devoured it quickly. As with all his work, I highly recommend it.

"Yokohama Threeway, and Other Small Shames," by Beth Lisick

Beth Lisick is a writer/spoken-word performer/actor/co-founder of the Porchlight Storytelling Series and a figure in the edgier locales of the world of literature. I often heard about her, and occasionally read her shorter works, when she lived here in San Francisco; I understand she has now moved to Brooklyn. Her new book, “Yokohama Threeway, and Other Small Shames” (City Lights, 2013) is a compact collection of humorous and sometimes painful vignettes, a plateful of tidbits and tapas. Lisick is amazingly candid, sharing some pretty embarrassing stories. Because of her self-aware and comic persona, we readers are always on her side, even when we cringe at some of the stories. She is able to wring humor out of the most pedestrian experiences. Titles of the approximately 50 short chapters include (and I am leaving out the most risqué) “Elvis,” “Office Holiday Party,” “It Girl,” “Carole-Induced Zit,” “Crime Scene,” “My Afternoon Date with My Stalker,” “This is Thirty,” and “Retirement Fund.” Yes, she tells us about “small shames,” but in such a human way that we laugh with her and we sympathize.

Another Book Goes Back to the Library

I read a mention of Zoe Heller’s 2003 novel, “What Was She Thinking?” and didn’t notice the subtitle in brackets: “Notes on a Scandal.” I thought it was time to read something by Zoe Heller, whose name kept coming up, so I picked the book up at the library. When I brought it home, I looked at the book jacket’s descriptive blurb and realized the story sounded familiar. And then it clicked: I had seen the 2006 movie made from this novel, but titled by the novel’s subtitle, “Notes on a Scandal.” It all came back to me. This was a wonderful film, starring the terrific actors Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett. But now the question was whether I wanted to read the novel. I often see a movie after I have read the novel it is based on, but very rarely the other way around. I re-read some favorite books, but rarely re-see a movie. And reading this book after seeing the movie felt redundant, especially since the best thing about the movie was the great acting. So, with a bit of ambivalence, but not too much, I decided to take the book back to the library unread.

Love in the New York Times Book Review

Today’s New York Times Book Review, in a delightful special Valentine’s Day issue, focuses on the topic of love. There are several reviews of books about, or highlighting, love, romance, sex, marriage and related topics. Special features include a “roundup” in which “writers share the books that taught them about love”; contributors to this roundup include Hilary Mantel, Colm Toibin, Ann Patchett, Khaled Hosseini, Charles Baxter, and Ruth Ozeki. Then there are two brief “Bookends” essays, by Francine Prose and Dana Stevens, on the question “How does literature’s classic marriage plot stand up in 2014?” All in all, this issue is a treat.

“Alice Walker: Beauty in Truth”: A Film

Last night I watched Pratibha Parmar’s wonderful documentary film, “Alice Walker: Beauty in Truth” (American Masters, PBS, 2/7/14), shown in honor of her approaching 70th birthday (February 9, 2014). As I wrote here on 5/26/10, I have gone through various phases in my reading, or non-reading, of Walker’s work, but I always acknowledge the greatness of at least some of her writing, and further the fearless dedication and power of her activism for many causes, including women’s rights and civil rights for many populations around the world. Parmar’s film highlights this close connection between Walker’s writing and activism, and the way she has always spoken out even when she has been pilloried for it. I found the film informational and inspiring, and – although this may sound frivolous – delightful. Walker, at the age of 70 seems to have arrived at a mostly very good (despite sadnesses such as the estrangement from her daughter Rebecca) place in her life. She continues to be passionate about her writing and the causes she cares about, as well as about gardening and painting and living a peaceful life in her home in a rural area of Northern California. As she says, she has people around her when she wants to, and solitude when she wants and needs that. Although I don’t necessarily agree with all of her opinions and actions, I have tremendous admiration for this strong, brave writer and fighter for justice.

Feeling Vindicated by Francine Prose on "The Goldfinch"

Occasionally I write here about books I DIDN’T read, or didn't finish. One of these books not finished, which I wrote about here on 11/10/13, was Donna Tartt’s new novel, “The Goldfinch.” It has gotten very good reviews; it is also a bestseller. As I said in that earlier post, I just don’t think Tartt is a particularly good writer, I just couldn’t get interested in this novel, and the thought of reading all 700-plus pages was too much for me. But I wondered if it was “just me” who felt this way. So I was pleased to read the respected author and critic Francine Prose’s scathing review of “The Goldfinch” in the New York Review (1/9/14); at last, someone who wasn’t raving about the novel! Prose decries the frequent labeling of this sprawling novel as “Dickensian,” pointing out that it lacks Dickens’ “originality, his intelligence, his witty and precise descriptions, the depth and breadth of his powers of observation, his cadenced, graceful language…” Later in the review, Prose says that “The Goldfinch” contains many passages that are “bombastic, overwritten, marred by baffling turns of phrase, metaphor and similes that falter…” She also says that the novel is full of clichés and “careless and pedestrian language.” I feel somewhat vindicated in my opinion about Tartt’s writing, not only in this novel but in the two earlier ones. Prose wonders why so many people she knew or met were so enthusiastic about "The Goldfinch"; I appreciate her saying in print what I have been thinking.

"The Tortilla Curtain," by T. Coraghessan Boyle

There is something special about an author’s reading her or his own work on audio. I just listened to T. Coraghessan Boyle (also known as T. C. Boyle) read his novel “The Tortilla Curtain” on CD (Blackstone Audio 2006; originally published 1995). It tells the stories of two couples in a hilly, woodsy suburban area of Los Angeles. One couple is Delaney and Kyra, a well-off, liberal, comfortable, somewhat self-congratulatory couple with a nice house in a gated area. The other is an undocumented couple from Mexico, Candido and his very young, pregnant wife America, who live in various lean-tos in a wooded area near the community where the other couple lives. The novel alternates between their two stories, and their lives intersect a couple of times, always problematically. The larger story is one of how communities deal with change, especially, in this case, the rising number of undocumented Mexican workers (or, often, would-be workers desperate for jobs). The workers suffer from poverty, prejudice, fear, the weather, and more. The wealthier families think of themselves as liberal, but gradually become more intolerant and angrier about the “invasion” of “their” territory. It is sad and even horrifying to see the increasing clashes, the increasing siege mentality, and the increasing willingness by the wealthier group to do anything to drive the outsiders out. This is of course not just a story of this particular community, but of many communities in the United States, and of the latest bumpy stage in the story of migration to the U.S. Boyle shows us the humanity of, and the weaknesses of, all the characters, and shows us all sides of the issue. The telling of the story is perhaps a bit schematic, but very powerful, as well as moving and frightening. Mercifully, there is a note of grace in the midst of crisis at the end of the novel, and readers will be grateful for it. But this moment of grace cannot cancel out the pain, suffering, confusion, and strife we have seen throughout the novel.

"The Boy Detective: A New York Childhood," by Roger Rosenblatt

I first started reading Roger Rosenblatt’s essays, commentaries, and reviews many, many years ago when I still read The New Republic, before it became too conservative for me. When he left that magazine, I wrote him a note of thanks and appreciation for his wonderful writing over the years, and he was kind enough to write a friendly note thanking me for mine. I treasured that note for many years, although I must admit I no longer know where it is, or even if I still have it. After that, I only saw his work occasionally, although I understand he has been a commentator on TV. Fast forward to a few years ago, when I read “Making Toast,” his painful but beautifully written memoir about his adult daughter’s death and about how the family pulled together to cope. He and his wife moved in with his son-in-law to help take care of their young grandchildren. Now fast forward again, to December 2013, when I was Christmas shopping in one of my favorite independent bookstores, Books, Inc., in San Francisco. One of the people working there noticed I was buying a couple of books about New York, and recommended Rosenblatt’s new book, “The Boy Detective: A New York Childhood” (Ecco/HarperCollins, 2013), which she raved about. We started talking about Rosenblatt, and I told her my story about the note; such conversations are one of the pleasures of shopping in independent bookstores. So I bought the book and read it. The premise of the book is that the author takes a walk around today’s New York, remembering his childhood there, and in particular how he used to imagine himself a detective back then. This organizing principle allows Rosenblatt to observe various buildings and areas in present-day New York, meanwhile remembering the past and reflecting on the history and changes. The result is sometimes endearing, often informative, and, truth be told, sometimes a bit confusing and even tedious as he jumps from topic to topic. He includes references to history, philosophy, literature, his own life events, and more. This book will appeal to those who have appreciated Rosenblatt’s work through the years, as well as to dedicated long time New Yorkers. For others, it will perhaps be less engaging. I have to note, though, that despite this last remark, I found plenty to like in the book, and continue in admiration of this thinker/writer/critic.