"By the Book" Column in The New York Times Sunday Book Review

I always thoroughly peruse The New York Times (Sunday) Book Review, and jot down titles that are reviewed there that I want to read, or at least to further investigate. One feature of the NYTBR that is always fun to read, and sometimes surprising, even provocative, is the column “By the Book,” in which an author or other prominent person (scientist, politician, actor, etc.) is interviewed about what she/he reads. Questions usually include, for example, “What books are on your nightstand?”, “What’s your favorite book no one else has heard of?”, “Which writers…working today do you admire most?” “How do you organize your books?”, and “Disappointing, overrated, just not good: What book did you feel as if you were supposed to like, and didn’t?” Naturally I tend to especially like reading the answers of authors that I like and whose work I have read. But I also enjoy pushing my own literary boundaries by reading the replies of authors whose work I have not read, or have read and not particularly liked. I also note the tone of the answers, which is sometimes enthusiastic, sometimes humorous, sometimes charming, sometimes self-deprecating, and sometimes critical and even a little cranky. No matter the tone or content, “By the Book” is consistently rewarding and entertaining.

"What About the Baby?: Some Thoughts on the Art of Fiction," by Alice McDermott

Sometimes I am so struck by a book, so thoroughly impressed, and so enchanted, that I put off writing about it here, for fear of not doing it justice. Such is the case with Alice McDermott’s terrific book “What About the Baby? Some Thoughts on the Art of Fiction” (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2021). I have thoroughly enjoyed several of McDermott’s novels (e.g., “That Night,” “After This”), so I was drawn to this current book, read it a couple of months ago, and basically fell in love with it. Today I realized that if I put off posting about it any longer, I might just not do it. So although I have lost the immediacy of writing about this book just after I read it, and the clear memory of the specifics therein, now I simply urge any writer or reader of fiction to read this book. It is wise, helpful, entertaining, and full of wonderful advice, personal stories, and beautiful writing. McDermott tells of her own writing experiences, her teaching of writing, her feelings about writing and reading, and much more. Specific authors whom she discusses include (in no particular order) Welty, Faulkner, Woolf, Roth, Cheever, Naylor, James, Olsen, Tolstoy, Melville, Morrison, Nabokov, Porter, Joyce, Hellman, Robinson, Forster, Flaubert, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, O’Connor, Cisneros, and so many more. She is generous with passages from the novels of these and other authors, and her analysis of the passages is precise, insightful, and revelatory. “What About the Baby?” is utterly engaging, and although I know I am not doing it justice here, I again beseech anyone interested in the world of fiction to seek out this book.

"Fiona and Jane," "The Last Bookshop in London, "The Mission House," and "Oh William!"

I have gotten behind with posting here, so today I will briefly describe four of the books I have read lately. The novel “Fiona and Jane” (Viking, 2022 – the first 2022 title of the year mentioned in this blog!), by Jean Chen Ho, is an engaging story of two close friends, both Taiwanese American, growing up together in Los Angeles, and then living disparate but still connected lives in other places. The portrayals of female friendship, of family interactions, and of what it is like to grow up Asian American, are all compelling. “The Last Bookshop in London” (Hanover Square Press, 2021), by Madeline Martin, is an absorbing, very close-up story of what it was like to live in London during World War II. It is also about a young woman who starts working in a bookstore there, and gradually becomes drawn into the world of books and people who love books. You can see why I loved this novel! “The Mission House” (Scribner, 2020), by Carys Davies, was recommended to me by my fellow MK, Mary L., and I am so glad she drew it to my attention. It is the story of a rather emotionally broken-down man who has come to India almost on a whim, after he lost his job as a librarian in England. He ends up at a formerly British hill station in South India, one which is based on a real hill station called Ootacamund, popularly known as “Ooty,” and is very happy there. Indian hill stations are refuges in the cool hills from the intense heat of the plains during the summer months. It happens that when I lived in India as a child, my family spent some time in Ooty, and although I was very young then, I have fond memories of the place. I later went to boarding school in another hill station in India, Kodaikanal, an important and wonderful part of my life. But in addition to that connection, I was bowled over by the writer’s perceptive character portraits, the interactions among the characters, the cultural issues revealed, the descriptions of Ooty, the remnants of British presence still apparent there, and the crisp, precise, and evocative writing. Finally, I am a real fan of Elizabeth Strout’s novels, which include “Olive Kitteridge,” “Olive, Again,” and “My Name is Lucy Barton,” so of course I read her most recent novel, “Oh William!” (Random House, 2021), and I was not disappointed. As in most of Strout’s fiction, the emphasis is on characters rather than plot. The main character and main narrator, Lucy Barton (yes, the same one), tells of her first, now ex-, husband William and her ongoing (platonic, complicated, exasperating but loving) relationship with him. The main events of the book have to do with Lucy’s accompanying William on a trip to find out more about a mysterious family secret. But the book is really about their relationship, and their relationships with other characters, and their history, and the small and large matters of daily life that add up over years of common history. I strongly recommend all four of these varied, terrific novels.

"The Sentence," by Louise Erdrich

When Louise Erdrich’s wonderful novels started coming out in the 1980s, I read and was impressed by those early novels: “Love Medicine,” “The Beet Queen,” and more. Erdrich was one of the first Native American writers to be widely read, thus creating a major representation of Native Americans, and a major contribution to diversity of literature in the United States and beyond. The author herself is of mixed Native American and European heritage. Many of her novels take place on or near reservations. For some reason, after reading the early novels, I stopped reading Erdrich’s work. I can’t remember exactly why. But this month, I read enough positive reviews about her new novel, “The Sentence” (Harper, 2021), that I bought and read it. One of the big draws for me is that the novel largely takes place in an independent bookstore (in Minneapolis) that focuses on Native American literature, as part of its wider variety of books. It happens that Erdrich also owns and runs a bookstore in Minnesota. I also like the idea of the wordplay around the title. The “sentence” refers to the main character’s time in prison for a strange incident that was not really her fault. It also refers to the main character's (Tookie’s) sentences – mostly from the many books that this character reads – that are meaningful to her. The main thread in the story is that there is a ghost in the bookstore whose noisy presence seems to be aimed at Tookie, and is increasingly distressing for her. (According to the author bio, Erdrich’s real life bookstore also has a ghost.) Tookie is a great character, vivid and unique, and she is surrounded by other wonderful characters: her husband, her stepdaughter, her colleagues in the bookstore, the store’s regular customers, and more. Since “The Sentence” takes place in 2019-2020, it also addresses the COVID pandemic and the demonstrations related to the George Floyd murder. Although the book deals with serious topics regarding the oppression of Native Americans through history and currently, as well as regarding the pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement, this novel has many humorous moments as well. And throughout, there are so many mentions of books that are important to the characters, and to history; books are a powerful presence. After reading this novel, I may be going back to some of Erdrich’s novels that I missed over the past three decades.

"An Onion in My Pocket: My Life with Vegetables," by Deborah Madison

Readers of this blog will not be surprised that I am writing about yet another “food and restaurant” memoir. I find these so fascinating (if they are written at least reasonably well). “An Onion in My Pocket: My Life with Vegetables” (Knopf, 2020) is about Deborah Madison’s childhood in California, years as a member of San Francisco’s Zen Center, great success as a writer of cookbooks and other food-related books, speaker, teacher, and award-winner in all these areas. But she is still best-known as the chef who worked in the famous Chez Panisse restaurant in Berkeley, and then opened San Francisco’s Zen vegetable-centered restaurant, Greens, over four decades ago. At the time it was truly groundbreaking, as vegetarianism was generally considered very fringy and not particularly appealing back then. Although Madison was only there for a few years, her influence is still felt, as Greens continues to this day, with its delicious food, its stunning location on the Bay, and its gorgeous views. Although I am not a vegetarian (and many diners there are not), I have had the pleasure of eating there many times, and it is always a special experience. Madison also writes candidly but with appropriate reserve about her family, her travels, her high and low points, her challenges, and her times of doubt. But throughout she comes across as a very centered person (probably influenced by her twenty years as a Zen student), and one who has always taken great pleasure and pride in her work in the world of food. I like, too, the way she gives generous credit to the people she has worked for and with, and others she has interacted with over the years. As I have said about other San Francisco-based narratives, I take particular interest in, and pleasure in, the scenes related to the city and surroundings, but her descriptions of her times in Europe and other parts of the world, and her current home in New Mexico, are of great interest as well. An admirable and enjoyable memoir and life.

"The Archer," by Shruti Swamy

What a deep pleasure it is to “discover” a “new” (to me) author and her beautiful, lyrical novel! “The Archer” (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2021), by Shruti Swamy, is painful and exalting in equal measure. It tells the story of Vidya, a child and then young woman in Bombay in the 1960s and 1970s. There is a deep sadness in her life: her mother’s mental illness that keeps her away for years at a time. Vidya’s life is hard, but her discovery of Kathak dancing allows her a way to transcend the sadness and difficulties in her life. This is one of the better depictions I have recently read of the power of art in a person’s life. During college, Vidya also discovers the power of love. The way the story is told, always through Vidya’s consciousness, is effective although at times almost claustrophobic. This is a powerful, expressive, insightful, and just plain gorgeous novel.

"Crossing to Safety," by Wallace Stegner

Although I was of course well aware of the towering reputation of Wallace Stegner, I hadn’t been successful in really engaging with any of his novels. Some years ago, I tried hard with “Angle of Repose,” his most famous book, but somehow – although admiring it on one level – couldn’t get drawn into it, and finally abandoned it. But a few months ago, I read a mention of Stegner’s last novel, “Crossing to Safety” (Modern Library, 2002; original publication Random House, 1987) that convinced me to read it. I admit it sat on my “to-read” pile for a while before I finally did read it. But I am so glad I did. It is a novel that is so rich, so humane, so wise, that I was immersed in it; I know it sounds strange to say, but I feel that the novel seeped into my pores. What it is “about” sounds simple. Two young male professors meet in 1937, and they and their wives become close friends and continue the friendship for about 40 years, until one of the four dies, and beyond. Various events happen in their lives, of course: different jobs, success in the world of literature, the birth and growth of children, regular stays at a summer place in Vermont (which represents the heart of their connection), and more. Each of the characters has her or his faults, yes; in other words, they are very human. Their friendship transcends those faults. The book is about true friendship and true love. Yes, many novels are about those topics, but this one is suffused with a sense of what those words can mean. The writing is quiet, even “simple,” and extraordinary. What a wonderful experience to read a novel one is only curious about, with not particularly high expectations (not because I was not aware of Stegner’s reputation, but because I somehow felt his work was not “my kind” of fiction)…and to find out how wrong I was!