"Miss Kansas City"

Joan Frank, a San Francisco Bay Area resident, has written four works of fiction. (She has also written at least one book of nonfiction.) I wrote about three of them on 7/6/10 and 7/11/10. Now I have read the fourth one (the second one to be published), “Miss Kansas City” (University of Michigan Press, 2006); this novel won a literary prize from the University of Michigan. (I also feel a slight connection to the book through its publisher, which is the publisher of my most recent book as well, although my book is academic rather than fiction.) This novel shares some characteristics with Frank’s other three books of fiction (one novel and two short story collections): much of it takes place in the San Francisco area (of which Frank writes wonderful descriptions, including a lovely one of the swirling fog patterns just north of the Golden Gate Bridge, something which I see almost every day on my way to work); the main characters are mostly female; the characters tend to be damaged or at least bruised by life, as well as lonely; and the characters are often aimless and unsure of what to do next, and often don’t live up to their potential. In “Miss Kansas City,” a woman in her late twenties, Alex, has moved to the SF Bay Area and taken a respectable but dull job editing software manuals. She makes no friends, but gets involved with a successful married man, and in classic fashion, wants and dreams of much more from the relationship than he ever considers giving; this is obviously a situation with no happy ending possible. Other characters include Skip, the excessively good-looking receptionist at the company where Alex works, and Mort, Alex's nervous and repressed boss there. Both of these men are gay but closeted, at least at the company. Then there is Alex’s sister Maddie, who lives back east and is both supportive of and worried about Alex; she has her own problems at home with her husband. The sisters are forever affected by and bonded by their sad childhood experiences. An important theme in this novel is the tension between the human need for solitude and the equally human need for connection with others. Despite much sadness and depression all around, the ending of “Miss Kansas City” is, mercifully, cautiously positive.

In Memory of My Father, a Great Reader

My wonderful father, Dr. John Vandrick, died seven years ago today, December 30th. During this holiday season, at Thanksgiving and again just a few days ago on Christmas Day, I was very happy to be with my family: my husband, daughter, mother, two of my three brothers (the third lives too far away to join us every year) and their wives and children. But as we sat around the dinner table for these holidays, we all missed my beloved father, who used to sit at the head of the table and carve and serve the turkey, and who used to be “Santa” handing out gifts around the Christmas tree. He was a very good man and a very good father, and I remember and miss him for so many reasons, but here I will focus on our shared love of reading. My dad read a lot. I remember him sitting at his desk in his study, reading medical books. I remember him sitting in various armchairs in various living rooms over the years, reading a wide variety of fiction and nonfiction. I remember how he ordered many books through book clubs and catalogues, and I remember the multiple bookcases, large and small, full of books on many topics, in almost every room in every house he lived in. I remember our conversations about books. I remember that when I recommended a book, he would actually find and read it. I remember exchanging books at Christmas and for birthdays. I remember how he would carefully read and comment on my own published articles and books. I know that if he were still alive, he would read this blog and give me interested and encouraging responses. Most of all, I remember how he enjoyed reading, and was always so interested in what he learned from what he read. In reading, as in so many other areas, he was a great role model.

Family History: My Daughter Interviews Judith Viorst

When my daughter M. was ten years old (she is now in her 20s), she was asked by the local children’s newspaper to interview the author Judith Viorst. Viorst is the author of many children’s books, the most famous of which is “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,” as well as of nonfiction, poetry, and journalism for adults. I took M. to the hotel in downtown San Francisco where Viorst was staying, and sat in a corner of the room during the interview. I noted that Viorst was crisp and matter-of-fact with adults (the newspaper staff), but was warm, gracious, and encouraging with my daughter. She even gave M. her phone number to call in case she had further questions; M. never took her up on the offer, but it was a kind gesture. The interview went well, with Viorst giving thoughtful, generous answers to M.’s questions. It was published the following month. Naturally, as a doting mom, I kept a copy of the interview, and have just now dug it out from my files and enjoyed re-reading it. Meeting and interviewing Viorst, and then seeing her interview in print, was an exciting experience for M. It was also good for her, as it is for all children, to see that an actual, real person wrote the books she had been reading and had had read to her. Thank you, Judith Viorst, for providing this experience for my daughter! And I am glad to see, on checking online, that Viorst is still writing and publishing; her most recent book, one on turning eighty years old, was published this year.

"World and Town"

Gish Jen’s fiction is a perfect example of the increasing multiculturalization of American literature; her novels and short stories are (mostly) about immigrant families, and families of mixed ethnic and religious backgrounds. Her fiction closely observes the everyday lives, issues, problems, and tensions of such families and their members. It also explores the benefits and pleasures of discovering the differences and the similarities in those of other cultures than one’s own. Jen writes seriously about serious situations, but there is always a wryness, a sense of humor underlying and informing her fiction. In her latest novel, “World and Town” (Knopf, 2010), her wonderful and completely nonstereotyped, unpredictable main character is a sixtyish woman named Hattie, whose parents were a white missionary mother and a Chinese father; Hattie grew up both in China and in the U.S., and lived her adult life in the U.S. Both her husband and her best friend have recently died, and she has moved to the outskirts of a small town, where her neighbors are a Cambodian family of recent refugees. She becomes involved with their family problems as well as their successes. She also tries to figure out how she feels about the reappearance in her life of a lover from her youth. Jen’s multiple and various characters are entirely original, unlike those in any other novel I have read recently, yet very understandable and (mostly!) sympathetic. The issues explored in the novel are current, yet the novel never feels like an “issue” novel. The book also has much to show us about small towns and about community. “World and Town” manages to be heartwarming without at all veering into sentimentality. Highly recommended.

Short Hiatus for the Holidays

StephanieVandrickReads will go on a short hiatus (perhaps 4 days) for Christmas. I wish my readers very happy holidays! And I thank you for reading this blog and allowing me to share my book-related thoughts and experiences with you this past year.

William Trevor's "Selected Stories"

The New York Times critic Charles McGrath states that William Trevor and Alice Munro are the two greatest living short story writers, and I heartily agree with this assessment (I have written more than once here of my admiration – even love – for Alice Munro’s fiction), with only the proviso that V.S. Pritchett be included as the third in the trio. A second volume (the first was in 1992) of Trevor’s collected short stories has recently been issued: “Selected Stories” (Viking, 2009). This hefty volume is made up of 48 stories from four of his books: “After Rain,” “The Hill Bachelors,” “A Bit on the Side,” and “Cheating at Canasta.” Trevor is Irish, and has lived both in Ireland and England; his stories are set in both countries. One of the many pleasures of the stories is some of the Irish-sounding titles, such as “The Potato Dealer,” “Justina’s Priest,” and “Graillis’s Legacy.” Reading, and in many cases re-reading (as I had read some of the original volumes from which these stories are collected), these stories reminds me of the way they capture aspects of human nature in quiet, unassuming but beautiful prose. McGrath’s 11/28/10 New York Times review of the new collection emphasizes the way the essential aspects of human life as portrayed by Trevor stay the same: the stories are “not modernist, but neither are they antique. They are almost literally timeless”; I think this assessment gets at the essence of Trevor’s fiction. His settings are often small towns, and often the “events” of the story are everyday, quotidian, focusing on revealing character more than on dramatic plots. However, occasionally a sudden change comes into a character’s life, and we learn about the character, as well as about the others around her or him, from the way she or he responds to that change. The language is descriptive but in a low-key, straightforward way. Every word seems just right, but not in a fussy, precious way. The author is both very present through his voice, yet self-effacing. When I read his perfect stories, I think of him as a sort of brilliant but quiet uncle who tells the best, wisest, and most compelling stories one can imagine.

A Touching Christmas Story

I have been thinking about Christmas stories in literature, and the one that keeps coming to mind is the first two chapters in Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women." As I posted on 5/9/10, I have always loved this novel, although upon re-reading it in adulthood I was surprised by how didactic it was. Still, its classic portrayal of a family of girls -- especially the intrepid Jo -- has a certain magic attraction. The novel begins with an introduction of the four girls as they prepare for Christmas. Their family is educated but genteelly poor. Their father is away at war (the Civil War) as a chaplain and their mother does good works for charities. The girls would love Christmas treats for themselves, but choose to use their small amounts of money to buy their mother gifts. Then when their mother suggests giving their special, much anticipated Christmas breakfast to a very poor, very hungry family with six children, they hesitate a moment and then agree, cheerfully taking the breakfast over and feeding it to the little children. The girls feel happy about their sacrifice, and their mother is proud of them. They are rewarded that evening by the unexpected gift of a feast sent over by their rich neighbor, Mr. Lawrence. This story, like the whole novel, is moralistic and schematic, but readers -- at least this reader -- can't help being touched and even inspired by its old-fashioned sweetness and emphasis on doing the right thing. Christmas in this story truly is a time of giving.