How Good is "The Good House"?

Ann Leary’s novel “The Good House” (St. Martin’s, 2012) is about a small community on Boston’s North Shore; about living in a community where everyone thinks she or he knows everyone else’s business, but sometimes is very wrong; about affairs old and new, some of which go very, very awry; most of all, it is about alcoholism. The life of the main character, Hilda Good, a realtor, is – despite her love of her business and town – dominated by her love of drinking. As the story opens, she has just come back from rehab, but makes an exception for herself by secretly drinking increasing quantities of wine in the evenings at home, with the classic self-deluding excuse that drinking wine isn’t the same as “real” drinking. There is much in this novel about the eccentricity of some of the characters, the interactions between the oldtimers in town and the new arrivals, and the deceptiveness of appearances, but Hilda’s alcoholism is the thread throughout, the dominant story. Hilda thinks she manages fine, but her blackouts, forgotten phone calls, dangerous drunken drives through the countryside and town, and epic hangovers say otherwise. Alcoholism and its consequences is of course an important topic, and the author describes the condition of alcoholism well, but it overshadows everything else in a novel that is also meant to be, I believe, a mystery, a story of small town life, and a story of obsessive love. Whether this is a good thing or not I leave to the reader.

"News from Heaven," by Jennifer Haigh

Jennifer Haigh writes about places and people that are less commonly found in mainstream American novels. Instead of taking place in New York or San Francisco or Los Angeles, or in college towns, much of Haigh’s fiction is set in places such as Bakerton, Pennsylvania, a coal town that is past its prime and where most residents are struggling financially and otherwise. “News from Heaven” (Harper, 2013), Haigh’s new collection of interlinked short stories, tells us about the lives of various of those Bakerton residents. The author writes without condescension or pity; she simply draws us into the very realistic world she has created. The stories range back and forth through the 20th century, mostly toward the mid-to-later part of that century, and the same characters, or their relatives, turn up in more than one story; the reader has to pay attention to make the connections. The stories are beautifully written and the characters are compelling. The author describes those characters in an empathetic yet matter-of-fact manner. And perhaps partly because of the economic troubles in the U.S. today, these stories ring very true as “American” stories, steeped in American concerns, travails, values, and truths.

"The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D," by Nichole Bernier

Nichole Bernier’s “The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D” (Crown, 2012) is her first novel. I must admit that when I read that she is “a writer for magazines, including Elle, Self, Health, Men’s Journal, and Boston magazine,” I wondered how “literary” her novel would be. I fully acknowledge that this is an unfair reaction, as many good and great writers have written for magazines, and as I myself very much appreciate the wonderful writing to be found in many magazines. But then the premise – a woman (Kate) reading the journals of her friend (Elizabeth) after her sudden death (as authorized in Elizabeth’s will) – and the setting on an island famed for its summer season, where Kate is on vacation, led me to feel the novel might be typical “chick lit” and/or “beach reading” (both of which I have been known to enjoy at times, despite my dislike of the terms, especially the first one). Again, this was unfair, and the quality of the novel and the writing turned out to be much better than those expectations predicted. The novel is a sort of meditation on how we don’t really know some of our closest friends, and how a placid exterior may conceal many depths and much unrevealed experience. As Kate works her way through the journals, she struggles with a sense of disorientation and even hurt feelings at Elizabeth’s concealing so much of her self and her life. Kate also has to deal with Elizabeth’s widower Dave’s concern about what the journals might reveal, and his resentment (although he tries to stay upbeat and polite) about Elizabeth’s leaving the journals to Kate rather than to him. Overall, this book engages the reader’s attention and provokes thought about friendship, marriage, the unknown qualities in our closest friends and family members, and our legacies. I was particularly interested in the idea of journals left behind, and what they say about us, and was reminded of a (far less interesting!) journal story of my own. A few years ago, I read through and then destroyed my journals from my teenaged and college years, not because there were any surprising or significant revelations written there, but because I was embarrassed about the self-involvement and angst (typical of the age) they displayed, and didn’t see any good reason for anyone else to read them. At the time, they served a good purpose: they allowed me to express my feelings, and thus were therapeutic, but they definitely did not have literary value that outlasted those purposes. I have not kept journals since that time. So now all my writing energy goes into my academic writing (which includes some personal narrative) and into this blog!

"The Edge of Marriage," by Hester Kaplan

The stories in Hester Kaplan’s collection, “The Edge of Marriage" (University of Georgia Press, 1999; winner of the Flannery O’Connor Award for Short Fiction) provide clear-eyed, unflinching looks at families with deep divisions amidst terrible, mostly unfixable problems. I seldom employ the overused word “heartbreaking,” but these stories are indeed heartbreaking; they force readers to face the awful pain of family tragedies. Family members love each other (at least part of the time) but something stands between them that is impossible to surmount: some intolerable condition or behavior, whether it be a damaged child or an unfaithful spouse. The man with one hand and his wife’s response; the couple with the son who is incorrigibly broken; the couple whose own marriage is at risk because of the husband’s and wife’s differing responses to their daughter’s disintegrating marriage; the son who is at odds with his elderly father’s caregiver; the marriage that is threatened by the wife’s grief over her best friend’s death; the couple who become enchanted with the wife’s ex-lover who reappears in their lives when he is gravely ill and needs them to be his family – each of these characters and situations is sharply and unforgettably etched on the reader’s consciousness. The powerful effectiveness of these stories comes from the devastating situations that visit these characters in the midst of their everyday lives, and the way they must go on, must deal with these afflictions even as they feel it is impossible to do so. Readers cannot help but be reminded that these situations could happen to any of us at any time, and we too would be forced to deal with what we think we could not possibly deal with. What makes reading these stories an enriching experience, despite the sadness of the situations depicted, is the humanity of the characters and the truth of the writing. Kaplan has a new book just out, "The Tell," and I will definitely read it as well.

"She Matters," by Susanna Sonnenberg

When Susanna Sonnenberg published her first memoir, “Her Last Death,” I read the reviews and decided not to read the book; that story of her fraught relationship with her very difficult (narcissistic, drug-addicted) mother sounded extremely depressing. (I know that should not be a reason not to read a book, but I confess that for me, sometimes that IS a reason.) But when I saw that Sonnenberg had written a new memoir, “She Matters: A Life in Friendships” (Scribner, 2013), I was drawn to the book because it was about female friendships, a favorite topic of mine. I thought that it would be about how the author’s friendships helped and healed her after the trauma and sadness of her relationship with her mother, and that it would be a love song to the wonderful friendships that women are able to create, and that so sustain us. Certainly there is some element of that in the book. The author herself states that she has been constantly looking for replacements for her mother, in one shape or another. And Sonnenberg has had many close relationships with women over the years, often very intense, full of shared confidences, mutual support, and much time spent together. But somehow most of these friendships -- from those of her youth and college years through those of her young adulthood and of mothering young children, and beyond -- end. Sometimes they end because the friends drift away, and in one case because the friend died, but very often they end more dramatically, with a sudden break, a fight, or a statement of rejection that rings with finality. These breaks often come as a complete surprise to the author, and are beyond painful for her. This happens over and over again, and the author does not seem to develop much understanding of why it happens, although she does acknowledge that she has been told that she is too intense, and demands too much of her friends. I give Sonnenberg much credit for her candor and courage in telling these stories, stories that often do not show her at her best. And I feel very sad for her, both because of her terrible mother (their relationship ended in estrangement and finally in her mother’s death) (and her relationship with her father was better but quite fraught as well, right up to his death), and because of these many failed friendships. Once again, as in so many memoirs, this memoir shows what a huge handicap it is in life not to have had during childhood (and later as well) the unconditional love and support of one's parents, that love that the more fortunate among us have had. I also admire that the author did develop more self-awareness along the way, and did work on herself and tried to teach herself how to live a more normal and fulfilled life than her mother had prepared her to do. My disappointment with the book’s not being the story of happy, fulfilling friendships is unfair, in asking the reality – and the book -- to be something it is not and could not be; it is Sonnenberg’s story, after all. I must say that the author was able to make it a compelling read that caught me up in its twists and turns, and I never considered not reading it to the end. Still, the main feeling I left the memoir with was that “She Matters” is an deeply unsettling and unhappy book.

"In Flight Entertainment," by Helen Simpson

Helen Simpson is an astute, brilliant writer of short stories. On 12/31/12, I wrote about her collection, “In the Driver’s Seat.” Today I write about her latest collection: “In Flight Entertainment” (Knopf, 2012). Simpson appears to be writing better than ever, but the tone of her writing has darkened. Several of the stories grapple with the acceleration of climate change and its devastating effects. Further, they deal despairingly with the ignorance and resistance with which many people face this global emergency. It seems that Simpson feels she has to do something about this, through her fiction, but perhaps does not have much faith than humankind will be willing to acknowledge the problem or, especially, to make the needed changes and even sacrifices to stave off further destruction. Not all of her stories focus on this issue; there are insightful views of love and marriage, age and youth, among other themes. And I don’t mean that her stories that do so are didactic, although they verge into that territory. But they feel urgent, very urgent. I fear even as I write this that readers will be discouraged from reading these stories, feeling they will be lectured at. But I urge reading this book, not just for the author’s message, but for the intensity, vividness, and flat-out good writing to be found in these stories.

"Pride and Prejudice" Again and Again

Once again, I savored every word of the novel. I laughed in recognition at favorite parts; I was eager for the story to continue; I appreciated bits that I have read and heard many times but just now suddenly focused on as if for the first time; I loved every minute of it and didn’t want it to end. Yes, readers, I have just listened yet again to the beloved novel I have read and listened to on tape or CD so many times that I have completely lost count: Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice.” I re-read all of Austen's novels many times, and never tire of any of them, but most especially I never tire of this one. I know this extreme fandom is completely unoriginal; the novel has had millions of readers and admirers over the years, from scholars to fans known as Janeites. And on the surface, it is hard to explain why this novel is so great, and why I love it so much. Yes, I am an Anglophile, and yes, I enjoy novels about women’s lives and relationships. Yes, Austen is incredibly psychologically and socially astute and aware of how people think and behave, with every little foible and self-delusion noted. And yes, her witty observations and dialogue are unmatched. But none of that explains Austen’s novels’ appeal adequately. I have tried to explain a bit on this blog – see my posts of 1/25/10, 10/31/10, 12/16/10, 2/15/11, and 2/27/12, for example – but I know my words have been most inadequate. In any case, I will keep re-reading and re-listening to "Pride and Prejudice" for the rest of my reading days, and it will always be an unfailing and thorough pleasure to do so.