"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.