On Re-reading "Slouching Towards Bethlehem," by Joan Didion

I have read much of Joan Didion’s writing over the years, and since I started this blog, have read or re-read some of her work. (See my posts of 3/23/11 and 1/17/12.). As I wrote on 12/9/12, a recent blogpost by Caroline Leavitt reminded me to re-read more of Didion’s books. I have just finished “Slouching Towards Bethlehem: Essays” (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1968, republished 1990) and was blown away by Didion’s powerful, incisive, original style. I had forgotten that Didion essentially invented a new way of writing, and although she has influenced many other writers since, her essays retain all of their thrilling vividness still. She writes mostly about California, where she has lived most of her life, as well as New York, where she lived for some years, with essays about Newport and Hawaii also included. But the California essays are the most compelling. She writes about her hometown, Sacramento, and about Los Angeles, where she lived for so long. She writes about the landscapes and the characters. A specialty is focusing on a particular person or incident, and letting that portrait illuminate much about California, especially during the 1960s. The most fascinating and devastating writing is perhaps that in the long title essay, “Slouching Towards Bethlehem,” which tells of Haight Street and surroundings in the San Francisco of 1965, during the famous and notorious “summer of love.” Didion stayed In San Francisco for some time, meeting many of the young people on Haight Street, in nearby Golden Gate Park, and around the city who had been drawn there by the music, clothing, drugs, “free love,” and vaunted freedom and (in some cases) idealism offered by the counterculture. Didion’s portrayal of the people and the times is up close and unnervingly, sometimes devastatingly, perceptive. As someone who was young during that time period, and although living far away in the Midwest at the time, who was cautiously somewhat caught up in some of the ethos of the time a few years later (I have occasionally -- and with full acknowledgement of how lame it sounds -- characterized myself during the late 60s and early 70s as a “weekend hippie”), I felt recognition, pleasure, and sadness at the memories of that time period churned up by reading this essay.

"One for the Books," by Joe Queenan

When I read Joe Queenan’s book “Queenan Country: A Reluctant Anglophile’s Pilgrimage to the Mother Country” a couple of years ago, I enjoyed it thoroughly despite -- or maybe partly because of -- its flipness and snarkiness. I have just finished his most recent book, “One for the Books” (Viking, 2012) which I again thoroughly enjoyed despite -- or maybe partly because of -- its flipness and snarkiness. Queenan’s mode of writing seems to be exploring topics that are serious and very important to him, but through a lens of humor. I laughed out loud and was not surprised to find, long after I had used the word myself about his writing, that Queenan used the word “snarky” about himself late in this book. But the thing is, and an endearing thing it is, that Queenan loves, loves, loves books. He loves their variety and their content, and he loves their physicality. He collects books; his house is overrun with books. He makes resolutions about reading them, and tells us why he keeps the books he will never read. Among other topics, he writes of bookstores, of libraries, of favorite authors and genres, of reading several books at once, of book reviewers, of friends who recommend books to him and/or give him books, of ill-fated visits to long-dead authors’ homes, of reading when he should be doing other things, and of his blissful time in Paris, where he bought and read book after book. His overwhelming passion for books shines through. In fact, he tells us that he believes books saved his life: “Decades after my bitter housing project days were over, I continued to read feverishly, almost desperately, at all hours of the day and night, because reality – even my new, vastly improved reality – was never as sublime as the reality to be found in books” (p. 236). He concludes with a statement that I strongly echo, as will many of you: “The presence of books in my hands, my home, my pockets, my life will never cease to be essential to my happiness” (p. 240).

"Because You Have To: A Writing Life," by Joan Frank

In her new book, “Because You Have To: A Writing Life” (University of Notre Dame Press, 2012), Joan Frank gives readers a sense of what it is really like to be a serious writer. This is not a “how-to” book, but rather one that speaks candidly, even painfully, about trying to wrest enough time free to write, dealing with rejection, reading and learning from the work of other writers (she quotes the great writer William Maxwell as saying “All I ask of life is the privilege of being able to read”), dealing with envy, being a reviewer, going on writer’s retreats at writing colonies, trying to balance writing with family as well as with the work that pays the bills, and more. Frank is generous in sharing her own experiences, feelings, fears, and ups and downs over the course of her long writing life. She is particularly eloquent on how important it is for writers to have stretches of uninterrupted time, and on how hard it is for many – perhaps most – writers to find this time. She also writes about the joy of writing when things are going well. And, as the title says, she advises that if you feel you have to write, then you must find a way. Because I have read, liked, and posted on all five of Frank’s books of fiction (see my posts of 7/6/10, 7/11/10, 12/31/10, and 4/9/12); because she lives in, and sets much of her fiction in, Northern California, settings very close and familiar to me; and because she sometimes reviews books for my local paper, the San Francisco Chronicle, I feel quite connected to her work. This new nonfiction book gives me more insight into her writing and the writing life. It is a slim book (just 200 pages), and an absorbing one. Anyone who is a writer or who wants to be one, as well as anyone who loves reading, will enjoy and learn from this book.

Story Delivery to Your Door!

Imagine having a wonderful short story delivered by mail (not email, regular mail) to your home every three weeks! This is what the organization One Story does (www.one-story.com). I found out about this when a friend from school days, who reads this blog, generously gave me a subscription. I received the first issue -- a slim pamphlet-sized publication -- a few days ago: the story is “You, On a Good Day,” by Alethea Black. In this beautifully written and evocative story, a female narrator starts every sentence with “You do not…,” telling of all the ways she restrains herself from saying and doing what she feels like saying and doing about the negative things in her life. And yet, at the end of the story, there is the lovely gift of some hope, some positivity. The structure of the story is effective, even hypnotic, and the experiences narrated are deeply felt. I had heard of Alethea Black before, but hadn’t read her work; now I will seek it out.

"In the Driver's Seat," by Helen Simpson

Reviewers and blurbers have called the writing in the British writer Helen Simpson’s collection of short stories, “In the Driver’s Seat” (Knopf, 2007), “electric,” “virtuoso,” “faultless,” and “brilliant,” and although these descriptions may be over the top, the writing does deserve high praise. Many of the stories in this collection feature (mostly female) characters who are preoccupied with aging, illness, death, and grief, which makes for sad reading, yet because of Simpson’s original (and sometimes acerbic) take on these topics, I found myself completely absorbed in the stories. The last and longest story, “Constitutional,” is a bit more upbeat; as a middle-aged science teacher takes a mid-day walk, she observes the vegetation and people in the park at the same time as she ponders various events in her life, including a recent surprise that will change her life. This is a small book, and one I was intrigued and impressed by. Parenthetically, I have to thank my local library's book sale for, once again, putting in my path a book I might not have known about or read otherwise. And on a seasonal note: Happy New Year to readers everywhere!

"Mrs. Queen Takes the Train," by William Kuhn

Those who enjoyed Alan Bennett's "The Uncommon Reader" (which I wrote about on 3/12/10) will like William Kuhn's "Mrs. Queen Takes the Train" (HarperCollins, 2012), a sedately humorous and rather sweet novel about a fictional unexpected train trip Queen Elizabeth takes from London to Scotland. Although perhaps lacking the affectionately sharp wit of Bennett's novel, this novel also displays an endearing affection for the Queen. The story takes its time, and although there is a plot, it seems to be mainly an excuse for exploring the Queen's character and personality, and her loyalty to the British people. There are several other interesting characters, members of the Queen's household (an Equerry, a butler, a lady-in-waiting, a young female stable worker, etc.), and some lovely alliances -- even a couple of romances -- develop during the course of the action. This novel is ideal for Anglophiles and fans of the British royalty. But it is not at all -- or if so, very indirectly -- political, and no matter whether or not one supports the tradition of royalty, a reader can thoroughly enjoy this journey with the Queen.

"Prosperous Friends": Questioning the Flap Copy

I read one or two good reviews of "Prosperous Friends" (Grove, 2012), by Christine Schutt, and always being interested in "discovering" new (to me) writers, I read the novel. Here I want to focus on the front-flap copy, which I found misleading, and the back-flap blurbs, which I found both misleading and overwrought. I write about this because misleading flap copy is common, and perhaps I should just expect it and allow for it, but this particular verbiage seemed to me particularly disconnected from the actual book. The front flap describes the book as a contrast between two married couples: a young, doomed-to-fail Ned and Isabel, and an older Clive and Dinah "who seem to prosper in love." The description of the first marriage is correct, but that of the second is only accurate in that Dinah gives up much of herself in order to build her life around Clive and tolerate his multiple infidelities. The men in the two couples are both unfaithful and unreliable, so it is hard to celebrate even the older, sort-of-happy-at-odd-moments couple. It is true that all marriages, even the best ones, are imperfect; realistically, all couples make their own compromises and their own adjustments in order to stay together. But I dislike seeing women making most of the compromises. So, getting back to the flap copy: to present the two couples as a simple opposition between one that works and one that doesn't just glides over what Dinah has to accept to make her marriage work. As for the overwrought back-flap blurbs: It is true that many blurbs on many books are overwrought. But these -- from excellent writers, several of whom I have read and admire -- seem unusually over the top. A selection among several blurbs: Kate Walbert says that "no one writes like Christine Schutt"; Gary Lutz states that "It is no longer a secret that Chrstine Schutt is the finest writer among us, and Prosperous Friends is her finest work yet...a classic"; Sam Lipsyte claims that Schutt writes "some of the most original and rewarding prose I've ever read." The one blurb that I thought was accurate and not overstated was by Stewart O'Nan (whose own wonderful work I have written about several times here): "With her elusive, suggestive prose, Christine Schutt examines the mystery of one couple's dissolution [with] spare delicacy...." And I must say that some of the writing is beautiful, especially the last few pages.