"Maybe You Should Talk to Someone," by Lori Gottlieb

“Maybe You Should Talk to Someone” (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2019), the title suggests, just as so many people (including, to her credit, Dear Abby and other advice givers) have suggested to those struggling with various issues. The author, Lori Gottlieb, writes from the perspective of the therapist she is, as well as the perspective of a person in therapy herself. This book gives readers fascinating close-up insights of what really happens in therapy sessions. Gottlieb is a wonderful storyteller and writer, and her vividly told stories draw us in. Of course she protects the confidentiality of therapy; she disguises the identities of, and some details about, her patients. Her own visits to a therapist are not the usual ones required during the training of psychiatrists and psychologists, but are in response to a crisis in Gottlieb’s own life that she can’t seem to process in healthy ways. The stories of her patients and of her own therapy are interwoven in this book, and Gottlieb writes so well that we look forward to hearing each new installment of all the stories. There are also some unexpected twists in the stories and at times in the overlaps that occur. Equally important as the “what happened” aspect of each story are the people, the characters. Gradually, during the course of the accumulating fifty-minute sessions, we get to know each of them better, and sometimes we change our initial opinions about them, just as Gottlieb herself does. We find ourselves pulling for them, wanting them to figure out how to manage or transcend their issues, and to find peace despite problems, some rooted deeply in their pasts. This book is revealing, compassionate, deeply human, with many welcome touches of humor. And -- on a personal note -- I am reminded of my late father, a psychiatrist, and of all the good he did; some of his patients spoke at his memorial service, and in correspondence to my family, of how much he helped them.

"Educated," by Tara Westover

I am embarrassed to admit the reason that I did not read Tara Westover’s memoir, “Educated” (Random House, 2018), which has been a huge critical and popular success, sooner. The reason: I heard an extensive interview of the author by Terry Gross on Fresh Air, and I felt that I had already heard the whole story. I often hear authors interviewed, and don’t have this response, so I don’t know what it was about this particular interview that made me feel that way. OK, there was another reason I didn't read this memoir earlier: I really didn’t feel like reading about a religious fanatic/survivalist, especially one who dragged his whole family into his fanaticism, as Westover’s father did. I don’t know what changed my mind; it was probably the recommendations from several good friends whose judgment I trust. Now that I have read it, I am very glad that I did. It is an absolutely fascinating and unusual story, giving readers insight into a world we rarely read about. Westover and her six siblings grew up very isolated in the mountains of Idaho, working hard for their parents, not attending school, not seeing doctors even for severe injuries, cut off from most other people, and always preparing for the worst. Somehow, despite much hardship and resistance, she (like two of her older brothers) almost miraculously made her way to college, and then to graduate school at Harvard and Cambridge. She did this with pure grit and determination. Along the way, she mostly felt like an outsider, as there was so much she did not know about “normal” American life. Gradually she learned more, made friends, had romances. But the cost was that her parents and some of her siblings cut off relationships and communication with her. Fortunately, three of her siblings did not do so. Still, it was a huge sacrifice for this young woman, and she struggled and suffered greatly as she came to terms with the situation. Westover is a compelling teller of her own story. Despite everything that happened with her family (including a disturbed and violent brother), she tells her story with remarkable restraint; this is not a “tell-all” in the sense of payback, nor a rant, but rather a genuine attempt to be fair, to understand, and to acknowledge that she still loves her family but needed very badly to leave and build a better, saner, more fulfilling life for herself. The story is psychologically and sociologically of great interest, as well as being well-written in an almost novelistic style.

"Chances Are...." by Richard Russo

What more can I say about Richard Russo and his wonderful novels (as well as his short stories, memoir, essays, and other writings)? I read most of his novels published before I started this blog, and have written here about his work (novels, short story collections, a memoir, and essay collections) since then. I have always been deeply impressed with his work, and with his profound understanding of life, families, relationships, and so much more. The word I have often used about his writing and his understanding of his characters and of life is “humane.” So of course I had to read his new novel, “Chances Are…” (Knopf, 2019). It tells the story of three men who were friends in college in the late 1960s, and now, decades later, after not keeping much in touch in the meanwhile, have met for a sort of mini-reunion on Martha’s Vineyard. They are happy to see each other, despite feeling they both know and don’t know each other any more. They are now 66 years old, and much has happened in each of their very different lives. A central focus during this reunion is trying to figure out what happened to the fourth in their college friendship group, a young woman named Jacy who mysteriously disappeared from Martha’s Vineyard shortly after they all graduated from college. Each of the three men was at least a little in love with Jacy at the time. There are many revelations in the novel, most especially toward the end, where there is a very big reveal. Russo’s brilliant ability to portray characters in depth, and to portray their relationships and interactions with each other, is -- as always -- impressive. He is an author who reminds me that sometimes I just don’t have enough words, or the right words, to convey how good a writer he is, and what a rich experience it is to read his novels. I am reduced to wanting to say “Just read this novel! And all his novels! You won’t be sorry!”

"Sixth Man," by Andre Iguodala

Readers of The New York Times (Sunday) Book Review will know the weekly feature “By the Book,” which consists of interviews with famous writers, and will recognize one of the questions almost always asked: “What book would we be surprised to see on your bookshelves?” Readers of this blog -- knowing that I write almost exclusively about the (mostly literary) novels and memoirs that I predominantly read -- may be surprised to learn that I read -- and loved -- “Sixth Man,” by Andre Iguodala, one of the preeminent players on our local (and very famous all over the world) championship professional basketball team, the Golden State Warriors. Of course I am not comparing myself to the famous writers being interviewed in the NYTBR, but if I were asked the question, I would reveal that I am a big fan of the Warriors, especially the past few years when they have been winning, and love to read about them. (My interest in them even led me to become a regular reader of the San Francisco Chronicle sports section, a section I used to skip in the past.) The team not only wins, but also is a particularly functional team with admirable players and coaches who respect and support each other. Thus I was very happy to hear that Iguodala, who is known not only for his playing but for his leadership on the team, his intelligence, his thoughtfulness, his wide range of interests, his business and technology acumen, and his philanthropy, had written a memoir (with some help from the writer Carvell Wallace). This memoir is fascinating, well-paced, and well-written. The author writes of his sometimes difficult childhood, which however was always anchored by his remarkable mother. He writes of, and gives credit to, all the coaches and mentors he had along the way, throughout school, various leagues, college, and the NBA. Iguodala is now 35 years old, and he predicts that he might not play much longer, because of the various aches and pains and injuries he has suffered, despite taking extremely good care of his body. While completely appreciative of all he has been able to do because of his career as a professional basketball player, he is clear about the cost to his body, as well as the emotional cost at times. He writes not only about how this affects him, but about how it is a larger issue for professional athletes. He writes insightfully about such social issues as ever-present racism. He writes of the way black men who form the majority of players are often exploited and mistreated. I admire that he writes about these difficult issues. I also like that he takes every opportunity to praise and support his teammates and other players he has known during his professional career. A bonus for this reader: He is also a great reader, and writes about what he reads. You can see that I respect and admire Iguodala not only as a great player, but as a person. “Sixth Man” is of special interest to those of us who support the Warriors (and who will continue to support and admire Iguodala in the future, even as he has very recently been traded to another team), and who have watched Iguodala’s career for some years, but I think it would be of interest to anyone who is interested in sports as well as social issues.

"The Most Fun We Ever Had," by Claire Lombardo

Family, family, family, family, and more family! Claire Lombardo’s debut novel, “The Most Fun We Ever Had” (Doubleday, 2019) consists of 544 pages focused on one family over about four decades. As readers of this blog may remember, I truly appreciate and enjoy novels focused on family, as I do this one. I just note – not as a criticism – that the focus is closer up and more exclusive than most such fictional portrayals. Sure, we see various family members’ interactions with the outside world, and the novel engages with issues of gender and class, but mostly we see, very specifically, how this family (and their spouses, partners, and children) engage with each other. This does not mean the family members are always cozily happy with each other. Not at all. But despite all the difficulties they go through, individually, collectively, and in various combinations, the family is always the true subject. The parents, Marilyn and David, meet in 1975, soon marry, and have four daughters: Wendy, Violet, Liza, and Grace. Each character has her or his own combination of gifts and troubles. The story is anchored in the present, when a big secret in one daughter’s life is revealed, and we see how everyone in the family responds. But the whole story goes back and forth in time (occasionally a little confusingly), with stops at various points between the 1970s and the present. Some of the issues that arise are alcoholism, pregnancy (both wanted and unwanted, both difficult and relatively easy), infidelity, work pressures, sibling rivalry, and eating disorders. One particularly interesting, and quite central, aspect of the story is that Marilyn and David (the parents) have a very, very close marriage, and everyone around them believes it is a perfect marriage. As it turns out, they have their own issues, but overall it is in fact a remarkable marriage. The daughters (and their partners, and even their children – the third generation) derive much strength and comfort from their parents’ marriage, but it is also daunting, seemingly impossible, for them to try to achieve the same kind of marriage. This is a novel that shows a high level of sensitivity to, and understanding of, family dynamics. There are times when the points being made are a little too obvious, a little too close to psychological or sociological “lessons.” But the interweaving individual stories, like branches impossible to separate from the sturdy tree trunk of the original nuclear family, are satisfying and compelling. I loved all 544 pages of this novel.

"The Gifted School," by Bruce Holsinger

If there was ever a fictional indictment of overly-invested, status-conscious, out-of-control middle-to-upper-middle-class parents, it is “The Gifted School” (Riverhead, 2019), by Bruce Holsinger. This novel tells the story of the fierce competition for spots at a newly-opening public magnet school for “gifted” children, and the lengths to which ambitious parents go to make their children stand out among the thousands of applicants for places in the school. The setting is an affluent suburb of Denver. The main characters are members of five families. Four of the families are connected by close friendships among the four mothers; the fifth family is from Mexico and does housecleaning for some of the other families. The novel, indirectly and sometimes directly, addresses themes of class, race, gender and privilege. The parents’ hopes and struggles for their children’s achievements and “leg up” in the world are evident even outside of the school competition. One family’s twin sons, for example, are soccer players, and due to their father’s ambitions, they are pushed into competing in ever bigger and more prestigious soccer leagues, no matter what the cost -- financial, physical, and otherwise. There are many twists and turns to this novel’s plot, and it is hard to look away. The characters are drawn well, whether they be female or male, children or teenagers or adults. Holsinger is sharply observant, and makes good use of telling details. A compelling aspect of the novel is the four-way friendship among the main characters, the moms. The author shows how important the friendships are to each woman, and the many ways in which they support each other; he also shows the complexities of the friendships and even betrayals among the friends. “The Gifted School” is horrifying in some ways, taking a hard look at human weaknesses and at issues of privilege, yet very believable, and at its heart, humane in its recognition that we are all complicated, with both problematic and redeeming qualities.

RIP Toni Morrison

Toni Morrison died on August 5, at the age of 88. It feels shocking to type that sentence. Several commentators have stated that they thought that somehow she would be immortal. This eminent African-American writer, winner of the 1993 Nobel Prize for Literature and many other literary prizes, wrote so originally, imaginatively, and powerfully, and her work was so deeply influential, that it is hard to find words adequate to describe her work. Let me borrow some words from black writers who were influenced by her. Tracy K. Smith, in The Guardian (8/11/19), says that Morrison’s novels “chose black lives as their central subjects, enthralling readers with her commitment to the inner lives of black characters.” Jason Reynolds, in the same Guardian article, praises Morrison for her “audacity,” and states that she “up-ended” all the things that black writers had been told; she told black writers that they were “free – free to write however and whatever they wanted to write.” Morrison herself said she wanted "black people writing for black people." Many writers and critics agree that it is impossible to fully express how much Morrison influenced African-American writers and writing. Even before she started publishing her own work, Morrison influenced the literary world during her approximately 20 years as an editor for Random House, when she nurtured and promoted the work of many African and African-American writers. She published her own first novel, “The Bluest Eye,” in 1970, followed by “Sula,” “The Song of Solomon,” and her most well-known and critically-acclaimed novel, “Beloved” (1987). She received the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction in 1988, only after a letter signed by well over 40 notable black writers urged the awarding of that prize. Morrison went on to publish several more novels, as well as essays and children’s books; she also taught for years at Princeton University. In 2012, she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Obama. Through her writing (and editing and teaching), this towering American figure deeply influenced writers and readers of all backgrounds. I was one of her millions of readers, was deeply affected by her novels, and taught some of her work as well. Toni Morrison’s legacy will always live on.