"The Innocents," by Francesca Segal

I am both attracted to and skeptical of novels based on other novels, especially those by great authors. Sometimes these new versions are wonderfully reimagined tributes to the original; sometimes they are just a botch, making one feel they are either cynically or cluelessly riding on the coattails of far better novels and writers. Fortunately, “The Innocents” (Voice/Hyperion, 2012), by Francesca Segal, is a worthy contemporary version of Edith Wharton’s “The Age of Innocence.” Of course it is not at the same level as Wharton's work, but it is an excellent novel in its own right. Although set in the present, it retains a whiff of the late 19th century of Wharton’s work, because the characters all live in a tightly connected group of family and friends, in this case all Jewish, in an affluent suburb of London called Temple Fortune. This community is as close as the high society of Wharton’s New York. The reversal of the two cities in the two novels is interesting, and the Ellen/Ellie character also reverses directions in her going away and returning. Speaking of the characters: the names of several characters in “The Innocents” have echoes of Wharton’s characters; for example, Newland Archer becomes Adam Newman, and Ellen Olenska becomes Ellie Schneider. Several other characters are clearly modeled after specific characters in the original novel; part of the pleasure of reading this new novel is making those connections with the original. The main story replicates Wharton's story quite closely, at least in its bones; there are of course minor adjustments for a different time period, and other small changes. This novel, to its credit, is enjoyable both for its reconstruction of the original and for its own self. One would not need to have read “The Age of Innocence” to admire and enjoy this new novel, although having done so certainly adds to the pleasure of the experience. As a quick summary and/or reminder of the plot: Newland/Adam is part of a close traditional and prosperous society, and is engaged to the very suitable May/Rachel. But then May/Rachel’s cousin Ellen/Ellie returns from a long time abroad, beautiful and trailing scandal behind her. As a (future) family member and a lawyer, Newland/Adam wants to help, but before he knows it, is deeply in love with Ellen/Ellie. They admit their mutual attraction, but Ellen/Ellie, out of loyalty to her cousin May/Rachel, refuses to allow Newland/Adam to leave May/Rachel. There is much tension, several side-but-related plot lines, and finally a bittersweet resolution. In the course of reading each novel, one also is given fascinating and detailed insights into these two close-knit, affluent societies, societies which have much in common despite being divided by a century or so, and by the Atlantic Ocean. Despite my initial skepticism, I was very much won over by this beautifully written novel, full of realistic characters, evocative of a specific community and way of living, and providing the tension of a classic love triangle in which there is a fourth side: a family/community/commitment that is as real and compelling as any character.

"Tapestry of Fortunes," by Elizabeth Berg

I have posted about the writer Elizabeth Berg before. On 2/8/10, I gave her as one of several examples of “middlebrow” writers, not of the very top literary quality, but the writer of solid, well-crafted, satisfying novels. On 12/21/11, I said that I had read and enjoyed many of her novels over the years, wrote about one of her novels, “Range of Motion,” and praised its insights into women characters and their lives, and praised the occasionally lovely writing in that novel. I have just finished “Tapestry of Fortunes” (Random House, 2013), and it is, as I have come to rely on, an enjoyable, satisfying, and entertaining book. It could be labeled, as some of her other work could be labeled, “feel good” writing; there is much about positive thinking, much advice about how best to live. The main character, Cece, is in fact a motivational speaker, but in the way of such books, isn’t always sure how best to live her own life. Cece has recently lost her best friend to cancer, and is considering retiring from writing and lecturing, as well as moving out of her house. She suddenly receives a letter from an old boyfriend, one she has not seen since she was a young woman, saying he is thinking of her. These factors come together in a move to a house shared with other women, a pause in her career, renewed communication with the old boyfriend, and a road trip. I won’t tell you how it all turns out, but you can perhaps imagine. This novel is a bit too self-help oriented, and a bit too predictable, for my tastes, yet I must say it was enjoyable in a not too demanding, “good read” way. I love Berg’s focus on relationships, especially those between women friends. I also appreciate her demonstrating that romance is still possible in late middle age and beyond (Cece’s widowed mother begins a romantic relationship during the course of the story as well). Not exactly a “beach read” (see my post of 7/1/13), but close. One postscript: I see from the book cover's back flap that Berg lives part of the year here in San Francisco, which (irrationally, I know!) increases my favorable view of, and feeling of connection to, her fiction.

"The Gardens of Kyoto," by Kate Walbert

When I wrote (6/13/12) about Kate Walbert’s 2009 novel “A Short History of Women,” I noted that despite the title, I was not initially drawn to the book, but once I read it, I liked it very much. I have just had essentially the same experience with her 2001 novel, “The Gardens of Kyoto” (Scribner). But once I started reading it, I liked it even more than the other novel. It is,in fact, a wonderful, very original novel. The main character, Ellen, looks back on her life forty years earlier, during and after the WWII years; because the narrative moves back and forth in time, it is (as clearly intended by the author) at first a bit difficult to keep track of the varying characters, plot lines, and perspectives. So there is a sense of mystery, even foreboding at times. The novel begins with the line “I had a cousin, Randall, killed on Iwo Jima.” Ellen and Randall had a very special relationship from childhood, being two very bright and nonconforming children and adolescents. That he died at age 17 is the tragedy of the book. But there are other tragedies, other deaths, and other terrible results of the war, not only for those who fought, but for those who loved them. The main characters are Ellen’s and Randall’s family, but there are other important characters, such as another soldier Ellen fell in love with after Randall’s death, one who is charming but damaged. There are also secrets about Randall’s family and parentage, which involve bringing in another character, Ruby, and her plot line. Various other topical issues arise, including domestic violence and slavery (Randall’s house had been a place for slaves on the underground railway to the north to stay). But these never feel didactic; they are organic parts of the story. The reason for the title, “The Gardens of Kyoto,” is too complicated to explain here, but suffice it to say that it is related to the war and to what is truly important in life, but has only a peripheral place in the novel's sites and plot lines. Ellen and Randall especially are compelling characters, and readers are drawn into their stories. Reading this novel provides an intense sense of being immersed in the drama of life. Most of all, it is beautifully written. I highly recommend this novel.

"The Suitors," by Cecile David-Weill

“The Suitors” (Other Press, 2012, originally published in French in 2009), by Cecile David-Weill, is so much fun! It is as light as a French meringue; it could practically float away. The reader needs to do nothing but sit back and enjoy it. This novel, translated from the French, is well written and delicious. It tells of two sisters who are dismayed that their parents plan to sell their beautiful summer house in the south of France. The sisters decide to invite various men to the house who may be candidates for a rich husband for one or the other of them, a husband who could then buy the house and preserve it in the family. But this flimsy, even half-hearted plot is merely an excuse for an extended paean to the house and to the very proper and very upper-class life and entertainment that the two daughters value and sentimentalize. The descriptions of the house, L’Agapanthe, and its surroundings and rituals are organized into chapters describing three consecutive weekends. For each weekend, there is a list of the characters (family, visitors, staff), the rooms where guests stay, the elaborate menus for each meal, the schedule for the weekend, and other relevant information. These beautifully ornate lists (just one feature of the aesthetically pleasing format and production of this book) are useful, but also serve to make concrete the extensive planning and traditions that accompany these weekends, invitations to which are most prized. As I said, this novel is mostly frou-frou; one doesn’t get the sense that the stakes are very high for anyone, and that makes the novel untaxing and enjoyable to read. The one serious note, one that I could relate to (on an entirely different scale!), was the attachment of the family to a summer home and all it symbolizes for them. There is something so family-oriented, so memory-making, about vacation places where it seems that all is right with the world. In my family’s case, the place was a humble summer cottage (probably a twentieth the size of L’Agapanthe!) on a beautiful lake in northern Michigan, one where the family gathered every summer in various combinations, and one where I went for a couple of weeks almost every summer even long after I moved to California, as did most of the family. My parents themselves had moved to California, but they kept the cottage for many years afterward. I loved that my daughter spent idyllic time there with her grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins, as well as the neighbors’ grandkids, every summer. Both kids and adults swam, went out on the boat, took excursions, ate the wonderful summer fruits and vegetables (and fudge!) of Northern Michigan, played, read, talked, lay in the sun, took day trips, and generally had a lovely time. I thank my parents for having this cottage and for welcoming us there every summer.

Barbara Pym's Centenary

This post is dedicated to my friend B., who loves Barbara Pym's novels as much as I do.... I have mentioned writer Barbara Pym two or three times in this blog, but not in any detail. I am prompted to do so now by a 6/23/13 essay by Laura Shapiro in the New York Times Book Review, titled “Pride and Perseverance,” on the occasion of the centenary of Pym’s birth. This wonderful British novelist first wrote “six modestly successful novels” but in 1963, her publisher declined to publish more. Perhaps she seemed anachronistic in the 1960s; as Shapiro puts it so well: “Pym specialized in a minor-key world far from fiction’s cutting edge. Her characters tend to be unmarried women in sensible shoes, fond of musing over Anglican hymns and scraps of English poetry. They help out at the church jumble sale, offer cups of Ovaltine at moments of late-night crisis….” Pym herself, as well as her loyal readers, was shocked by this turn of events, and she was a discouraged writer for many years. It was only 1977 Times Literary Supplement statements by famed British writers Philip Larkin and Lord David Cecil that Pym was the most underrated author that brought her back to the spotlight. Then her recent books were published, her older books were reprinted, and she was interviewed and celebrated. Unfortunately she died three years later of cancer. It is terrible that she had those 12 years of obscurity, and that she died so soon after her work was published again, but it is a great thing that she lived to see her work rediscovered and celebrated. I am personally a huge fan of her novels, having read all of them, some several times. They have great titles: “Excellent Women,” “A Glass of Blessings,” “No Fond Return of Love,” “The Sweet Dove Died,” and “An Unsuitable Attachment,” to name a few; there are about a dozen in all. The low-key aspect of her topics does not indicate low-key writing. Her work is witty, in an unassuming, musing way. She draws her characters sharply, with details and conversations that reveal much in a few words. Her understanding of human motivations and self-delusions approaches that of the great Jane Austen. Her novels, like Austen’s, are often labeled “domestic” dramas, and although in a sense that is accurate, it doesn’t begin to show how whole worlds can be found in domestic scenes. Sometimes reading Pym makes me laugh out loud at her humorous perceptivity. Pym’s women characters are sometimes sad, but good at cheering themselves up, finding ways to encourage themselves, often through helping others (but not in a goody-goody way). One of the later works, "Quartet in Autumn," is definitely darker than the others, as it takes a close look at ageing. I find myself somewhat at a loss to convey the unique and compelling qualities of this writer’s fiction. I strongly urge readers to just find and read one of her novels; I suggest “Excellent Women” to start, but really any of the novels will do.

"Little Sinners," by Karen Brown

I feel happy when I think I have “discovered” a “new” writer whose work I find I like very much. I had never heard of the writer Karen Brown before, but when I saw her small collection of short stories, “Little Sinners” (University of Nebraska Press, 2012) on the “new book shelf” of my university library, something told me to pick it up and check it out. Perhaps it was the contrast between its modest, university-press appearance, its author's common name, and, on the other hand, the provocative title. This book won the Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Fiction, and I can see why. (Of course a book that has won a prize and been published cannot be said to need “discovering” by me, but the work is just new enough, and as far as I can tell, not reviewed in the major newspapers and magazines, that I will preserve the feeling of having “discovered” Brown, at least for myself!) The stories are a fascinating blend of the very concrete and the slightly mysterious. The situations seem both real and just beyond one’s understanding. They are psychologically intriguing, character-focused, yet with compelling plots. Most of the stories take place in East Coast suburbs and small towns, some of them with working class roots, some not. There are many secrets and much pain. Yet the overall feeling of the book is not all sad and depressing; there are notes of hope. Even the characters in bad situations don’t necessarily seem desperate, and in fact sometimes seem curious to see what will happen next. Some of the stories have an elegiac tone. The overriding feeling, though, is of matters strange and haunting. Throughout, I had the sense that I was in very good hands, and that Karen Brown is a writer to watch out for. I hope to read more by her.

"The True Secret of Writing," by Natalie Goldberg

Almost any writer, or would-be writer, of the past twenty-five years has read or at least knows of Natalie Goldberg’s “Writing Down the Bones.” That book is a guide for writers, but more than that, it is a guide for life. Goldberg has written many books since then; her new book, “The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life with Language” (Atria, 2013), is a kind of update of her first book. The organizing structure of her book is recounting how she runs her “True Secret of Writing” intensive workshops, which are also retreats in the tradition of Zen Buddhism as interpreted by Goldberg, a longtime Zen student who is also influenced by her Jewish heritage. These retreats are held in Taos, New Mexico, and are Goldberg’s own amalgam of meditation, walking, hiking, doing simple chores, keeping silence for big lengths of time, reading, speaking, and of course writing. Two boiled-down summaries of Goldberg’s directions are “Sit. Walk. Write” and “Shut up and write” (stop putting it off, and do it – advice that I, for one, sorely need to follow!). There are many examples of how the days go, and stories of individual attendees, some of whom have become longtime friends of Goldberg’s. Along the way we get excerpts from some of the author’s favorite books and poetry (an eclectic selection, also listed in a useful appendix), as well as from her students’ writing. Although Goldberg’s students mainly write fiction or memoir, and I mainly write academic articles and books, I found much inspiration and even useful specific suggestions in this book. But more useful than anything specific was an immersion in the life of writers, and Goldberg’s bedrock belief in the power of writing. I am not tempted to do one of her workshops or retreats (all that sitting with my legs crossed and meditating…I admire those who do it, but it is probably not for me…), but I am glad I read the book, and feel I both learned from it and was inspired and energized by it.