"Like a Rolling Stone," by Jann S. Wenner

I feel as if I have just surfaced from a long journey back into my teens and twenties and beyond. I inhaled (no pun intended, given the times and topic of the book!) Jann S. Wenner’s 556-page memoir, “Like a Rolling Stone” (Little, Brown, 2022) in four days. Wenner was the founder/publisher/editor of the magazine Rolling Stone for 50 years, just recently selling the publication and retiring. The magazine was cutting edge, very high quality, and very popular, a source of great journalism and reviews and photography related to music (most of all), culture, and politics. What drew me in to the magazine, back in my youth, and to the memoir (now) was the intimate and detailed portraits of the musicians, writers, photographers, politicians, and other big players of the past five decades, especially during the earlier years (the years of my own youth). Writers and photographers who worked at Rolling Stone included Ralph J. Gleason, Cameron Crowe, Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, Ben Fong-Torres, and Annie Leibovitz, and so many more. (And yes, it is unfortunately -- but typical of the times -- true that there were far more men than women on the staff, especially in the star positions.) And it seemed that Wenner knew and knows all the musicians and writers and politicians, and was close friends with many, many of them, including Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, John Lennon, Yoko Ono, Bono, Boz Scaggs, Bruce Springsteen, Jackie Onassis and her son John Kennedy, Al Gore, Michael Douglas, Bette Midler, John Belushi, and many more. One might be tempted to think that Wenner is exaggerating his closeness to these super-famous people, but his stories of time spent with each of these over the years ring true. Wenner has also had a complicated family life, which he describes (seemingly, at least) candidly. He was married for years to Jane, and they had/have three children together. At some point he realized he was gay, but wanted to preserve his close connection to Jane and to their children, and felt that occasional brief affairs with men did not threaten his marriage. But then he met Matt Nye and fell in love with him. They became partners and eventually married and had three children of their own. Although Jane was unhappy, remarkably they were able to all get along well, and the children of the two families became close as well. I imagine some difficult times were somewhat glossed over in this memoir, but still, one has to admire the maturity and caring involved in everyone in the family getting along and supporting each other. I never had strong feelings about Wenner, although I did read and enjoy Rolling Stone during my college years and for a while afterward. But he manages to make this book about much more than himself (aside from occasional self-aggrandizement – but after all, it is his memoir!) This book just grabbed me, with its sweeping story of the times, the times in which I grew up as well. I was particularly swept up in remembering the music of the early days of my youth – the 1960s and the 1970s - with all the dramatic changes that took place during those years, when we felt that youth would make the world a better place. It made me remember the personal and communal power of music, especially in one’s teens and twenties: the way the music insistently and intensely intertwined with our lives, our loves, our longings, our politics, our dreams.

"Stay True," by Hua Hsu

I have recently accumulated a small pile of books about grief and loss, wanting to have the books but mostly unable to actually read them yet, almost a year after the death of my beloved husband. When I read about New Yorker writer Hua Hsu’s memoir about the sudden, violent death of his best friend in college, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to read it, because it would be too painful. But although I was torn, I did read “Stay True” (Doubleday, 2022), partly because I had read some of Hsu’s New Yorker articles and been impressed and drawn in by them, and partly because I was intrigued by his focusing on the death of a friend, a less common focus than the many (important and valuable) books about deaths of parents, spouses, children, siblings, and other family members. Hsu went to Berkeley, and since the campus is just across a bridge from where I live, the setting was also an attraction. But the main feature that drew me in was that Hsu captures so well the lives of college students, with their intense friendships and interests and emotions. Even though I teach at a university, I sometimes forget what an exciting but also fraught time one’s college years are. This book made me remember, including remembering my own college days, long ago as they were. Hsu's friend Ken was an important part of Hsu's college experience, and the author honors Ken by portraying him in such detail, and portraying their friendship so vividly. "Stay True" is powerful, authentic, emotional, full of telling details, and very well written. Highly recommended.

Brief “Reviews” (Really brief!) of “The Family Chao,” Why Didn’t You Tell Me?,” and “Lucy by the Sea”

Here I very briefly review three excellent books I have recently read. First is “The Family Chao” (W. W. Norton, 2022), by Lan Samantha Chang, a crowded, dense novel overflowing with family matters, intrigue, and even a possible murder. It is both serious and funny. Its focus on the family Chinese restaurant brings in cultural issues, but most of all, its focus is how families do or don’t work, and the complexities of that question. The next book, “Why Didn’t You Tell Me?” (Crown, 2022) is also much concerned with cultural issues, but in this case the book is a memoir. The author, Carmen Rita Wong, writes of her family of black and Latina women, as well as her immigrant father, “Papi” Wong, and her white American stepfather. There are complicated blended families, and underneath it all, family secrets which the author sensed, but didn’t find out until much later, thus the source of the title. This is a rich, compelling, moving narrative. The third book is Elizabeth Strout’s latest, “Lucy by the Sea” (Random House, 2022). I am a great admirer of her fiction, and was so happy to read this novel, especially as it features one of her earlier characters from her other novels, Lucy Barton. In this novel, which takes place during the COVID pandemic, Lucy’s ex-husband William takes her (whose second husband has recently died) away from Manhattan (which, as we remember, in the early months of the pandemic was overwhelmed with illness and death) to a small town in Maine to protect her from the virus as much as possible. The two – Lucy and William – are still friends and still care deeply about each other, despite the pain they suffered during the time of their separation and divorce. Other characters in the story are the couple’s children, neighbors, and friends. The story is both set in the large frame of a significant and traumatic time, and focuses on the close-up intimacies of family, connections, day-to-day living, and reflections on what is really important in the characters’ lives. I personally love this kind of close-up, quiet detailing of “ordinary” (although in the midst of extraordinary) life. A beautifully written novel. I will always read everything that Elizabeth Strout writes.

"Fellowship Point," by Alice Elliott Dark

I have just stumbled, half-dazed (in a good way!), out of the complicated, layered world of the novel “Fellowship Point” (Scribner, 2022), by Alice Elliott Dark. This is a truly original, striking novel that powerfully draws the reader in. The Fellowship Point of the title is an idyllic space in Maine where the main characters go during the summers. The homeowners there have formed – legally and socially – a unique community, one which is now threatened with development that would spoil the unique character of the area, along with its history and natural environment. The story also encompasses so much more – 80 years of history, family and other connections, concern for the environment and for the Native American original inhabitants of the area, two writers, one of whom writes two iconic book series, reflections on the roles of women in society, portrayals of childhood, issues of money and social class, and much more. The most compelling features of this 576-page novel are, for me, the main characters and the world they have created at Fellowship Point. The central character is Agnes, the author of the children’s book series, “Nan When,” and the secret author of an adult series, the “Franklin Square” novels, which is about the social world in Philadelphia, where she lives when not at Fellowship Point. She is active, thoughtful, feminist, strong-willed, opinionated, judgmental but empathetic (sometimes!). Her voice is distinctive. Her best and dearest friend since childhood, Polly, is more traditional, in her roles of wife and mother, but is much more of an individual thinker than others realize. One of my favorite things about the novel is its focus on two older women (in their early eighties), a focus that is not very common in fiction. There are also other compelling characters, including children. The story is mainly situated in the 1960s and the 2000s (jumping back and forth). Themes include family, love, duty, freedom, independence, interconnection, nature, varying definitions of “home,” trauma, mental health, and so much more. This is a unique, engrossing, and thought-provoking novel, and I recommend it highly.

RIP Camen Callil, Founder of Virago Press

Carmen Callil, the founder of Virago Press, died October 17, 2022, at the age of 84, of leukemia. This is sad news indeed. But I write to celebrate the groundbreaking, earthshaking press she started in 1973, which focused on reviving literary works by women authors. Its imprint “Virago Modern Classics” reissued the work of such “forgotten” writers as Rebecca West and Antonia White. Virago’s distinctive green covers alerted readers to the hundreds of women writers it published. I personally read many of these. The Guardian states that with Virago, Callil “transformed the canon of English literature.” (Thanks too to the New York Times’ obituary for some of the information above.) I and many, many other readers are deeply grateful to Callil and to Virago. RIP, Carmen Callil, and thank you!

"Waiting at Chez Panisse: Memoirs of an Exiled Maitre d': Volume 1," by Jerry Budrick

Regular readers of this blog will know that I savor reading about the world of restaurants, and I enjoy memoirs. I have written here about memoirs of various restaurateurs, chefs, servers, and critics, as well as about other food-related books; see my posts of, for example, 2/4/10 (which contains a list of such books), 4/26/11, and 5/12/12. Recently I read “Waiting at Chez Panisse: Memoirs of an Exiled Maitre d’: Volume 1,” (Service Non Compris Books, 2021) by Jerry Budrick. Budrick was one of the co-founders of the famed Berkeley, California restaurant, Chez Panisse, and was also, as the title suggests, the maître d’ there for many years. As one of the leaders of the restaurant, his duties were far more, and more diverse, than the (of course important) role of maître d’/server. He tells readers that he has been writing this book for many, many years, long after he left Chez Panisse, finally completing it last year, and with the subtitle of “Volume 1,” planning to write more about the Chez Panisse experience. Unfortunately, he died soon after this book was published – July 24, 2022, at age 78 – and so, sadly, there will be no Volume 2. The book is very frank, and full of many delicious details of great interest to anyone who loves the world of restaurants, including lots of good gossip. We definitely get the sense of being taken behind the scenes at this iconic restaurant. Since Chez Panisse is just across the Bay from where I live, and I have been fortunate enough to have several amazing meals there, I was even more interested. Of course Alice Waters is the face of the restaurant, and chef Jeremiah Tower, who was involved with the restaurant early on, is the other “big name” associated with the restaurant. But Budrick makes clear that it was a group, a community, that built and ran the restaurant, including himself. There is a streak in this book of the author’s occasional resentment against, if not Alice Waters herself (who was also at one point Budrick’s romantic partner) directly, then definitely against the idolization of and mystique around Waters at the expense of all the other people who contributed to – in fact allowed and ensured – the great success and fame of Chez Panisse, including surviving some precarious times. There is even a tincture of score-settling. But overall, the tone of the book is positive, in the sense of the author’s being proud of the restaurant and all it has achieved over the years. The restaurant also became a community, one that was important for, and treasured by, Budrick. The quality of the writing is competent but not striking, but it almost doesn’t matter, because the subject matter, and the author’s candor, are so appealing. Although I had already read several accounts of the beginnings and development of Chez Panisse, including accounts by and about Alice Waters and Jeremiah Tower, I very much enjoyed reading Budrick’s book and learning more about this amazing restaurant, as well as feeling I was getting an inside scoop about the happenings and intrigues there.

"First Love" and "My Phantoms," by Gwendoline Riley

I only very recently heard of the English writer Gwendoline Riley, probably partly because it seems that only her newest books are widely available in the United States. I just read her 2017 novel, “First Love” (New York Review Books) and her 2021 novel, “My Phantoms” (New York Review Books), and found these short (under 200 pages each) books to be rather bleak but compelling. The main characters of each, Neve of “First Love” and Bridget of “My Phantoms,” are very similar in some ways, with life circumstances perhaps somewhat similar to those of the author (based on the limited information I found about her). For Neve and Bridget, these include connections to Manchester, England; difficult childhoods with very difficult parents; enmeshed and fraught relationships between both of the two main characters as adults and their mothers; work as writers or academics. Each daughter struggles with a push-pull relationship with her mother: both enmeshed and fraught. The daughters avoid seeing their mothers much, and dread their meetings, but they feel responsible for them as well, and try to do their duty by them. In the case of “First Love,” the other major relationship portrayed is the extremely complicated and often terribly contentious relationship between Neve and her older husband Edwyn. Neve is almost always on tenterhooks with Edwyn, never knowing what will set him off. One of Riley’s strengths in this novel is her vivid (uncomfortably so) depictions of marital conversations, fights, and reconciliations. The last chapter of “First Love” is a masterpiece, albeit a painful one, describing a scene between Neve and Edwyn in which they both – but mostly Edwyn – use words as weapons, turn every remark or memory into something horrible, and cannot let the other one ever “win.” Riley is a genius at showing the particular cruelty that people who know each other well, and can use that knowledge as ammunition, can perpetrate on their partners. It is a scene that both rings true and devastates not only the characters but the reader. Both novels are depressing in their depictions of family, yet there is always a kernel of love, care, and responsibility as well, and conventions are often maintained, if barely and if with very little enthusiasm. So, yes, these books are bleak. The appeal to me, as always, is in learning from the way human relationships are rendered in these novels.