Showing posts with label altamont. Show all posts
Showing posts with label altamont. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 26, 2025

Book Review: Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe (1929)

The beautiful first edition cover of Look Homeward, Angel, by Thomas Wolfe, 1929.

A stone, a leaf, a door. In Thomas Wolfe’s remarkable first novel, Look Homeward, Angel, these three images appear again and again. Wolfe was a prose writer, but his writing was also intensely poetic, as he repeatedly circled back to thoughts and images and sentences. A stone, a leaf, a door became a sort of Holy Trinity, an incantation for Wolfe to return to throughout this novel. A stone, a leaf, a door: something heavy, something light, and a way out, an escape.  

I first started reading Look Homeward, Angel more than a year ago, as I was preparing to travel to Thomas Wolfe’s hometown of Asheville, North Carolina. It was slow going at first. Wolfe’s writing style can be dense and thick, like rich chocolate cake being shoved in your mouth, and it was hard to get through more than a few pages at a time. I had hoped to finish reading the novel before I went to Asheville, but I realized I should have started it sooner. Visiting Asheville gave me a better understanding of Wolfe and his family, and seeing the places he was describing gave the novel a lift. That being said, I still put the novel down for several months, after reading about 150 pages. About three weeks ago, I decided to pick it up again, reading it in big gulps, 50 pages on an airplane flight, inhaling the last 40 pages at a coffee shop.  

Look Homeward, Angel is a beautiful, messy, sprawling novel, bursting with life on every page. The characters are vivid, the prose is rich with energy and vitality. I have to give the book 5 stars, not because it is perfect, but because it is such a wonderful showcase for Wolfe’s talents. I would suspect that Thomas Wolfe’s writing inspires “love it or hate it” feelings in most readers—much like (no relation) Tom Wolfe’s writing. Both Thomas and Tom Wolfe were maximalists: put it all in there! Give me every detail, for I’ve got to know it all! There was so much throbbing, fast-moving, undulating world for them to see, they simply had to pour it all out and set it down quick on that page!  

The main character in Look Homeward, Angel is Eugene Gant, the youngest child of W.O. and Eliza Gant. Eugene’s parents in the novel have the same occupations as Wolfe’s parents: W.O. is a stone mason who specializes in tombstones, and Eliza runs a boardinghouse. Eliza’s boardinghouse is called “Dixieland” in the novel, in real life Julia Wolfe’s boardinghouse was called “The Old Kentucky Home.” The house is now the Thomas Wolfe Memorial, and an essential site for anyone interested in Wolfe. When I visited the house, I was puzzled that the site director hadn't pointed out Tom’s bedroom to me. As we were about to leave the second floor I asked, “Which bedroom was Tom’s?” She said “Tom didn’t have one. He moved around from room to room depending on which rooms weren’t being rented.” It struck me immediately that this was a key fact about Thomas Wolfe.   

Wolfe’s writing is a master class in detail. The mention of smells sets him off on a page and a half list of perhaps one hundred different smells: “of wood smoke and burnt leaves in October...of peaches stuck with cloves and pickled in brandy...of butter and cinnamon melting on hot candied yams...the exquisite smell of the South, clean but funky, like a big woman; of soaking trees and the earth after heavy rain.” (p.69) The list is marvelous, sure it’s too much, too long, but it’s also in the accumulation of all these sense memory details that the passage gains its hypnotic, rhythmic power.  

Here’s just one paragraph, chosen roughly at random, that displays Wolfe’s skill: “Or, returning from some country walk in late autumn, he would come back from Cove or Valley with dewy nose, clotted boots, the smell of a mashed persimmon on his knee, and the odor of wet earth and grass on the palms of his hands, and with a stubborn dislike and suspicion of the scene he had visited, and fear of the people who lived there.” (p.168)  

Eugene longs for escape from the town of Altamont, as Asheville is known in the novel. He has to deal with a father who is a dramatic narcissist, and a mother who is obsessed with making money and owning property. Some critics have said that Eugene is not a fully drawn character, but I’d argue that’s partly the point. Eugene has two overbearing parents; he is struggling throughout the novel to find his own identity.  

Thomas Wolfe would be highly amused to know how much Asheville has accepted the moniker of Altamont—when I was there, I visited the Altamont Vintage antique store, and drank Altamont bottled water. I did not have need of the services of Altamont Auto Specialists, however.  

Chapter 24 features a bravura performance, as Wolfe walks us through the streets of Altamont, describing many townspeople along the way. It’s a masterpiece of many portraits drawn in miniature, with a cameo from William Jennings Bryan.  

There are many wonderful passages and lines from Look Homeward, Angel, and one of my favorites is this one: “It is the union of the ordinary and the miraculous that makes wonder.” (p.397) How beautiful.  

The United States entered World War I in April of 1917, when Eugene was 16 years old—the same age as Wolfe. Wolfe vividly describes America at that time: “War is not death to young men; war is life. The earth had never worn raiment of such color as it did that year. The war seemed to unearth pockets of ore that had never been known in the nation: there was a vast unfolding and exposure of wealth and power. And somehow—this imperial wealth, this display of power in men and money, was blended into a lyrical music. In Eugene’s mind, wealth and love and glory melted into a symphonic noise: the age of myth and miracle had come upon the world again. All things were possible.” (p.424-5)  

In the words of Wolfe’s biographer David Herbert Donald, “Wolfe’s manuscript had such difficulty finding a publisher because it was startingly idiosyncratic.” (Look Homeward: A Life of Thomas Wolfe, p.179) In late 1928, Wolfe was in Europe when he heard from his literary agent that the publisher Charles Scribner’s Sons was interested in his novel. Wolfe excitedly wrote of this prospect to his lover Aline Bernstein “However many millions {of} things and books and people there may be in the world, no one has exactly the same picture of life as I have, no one can make the same kind of picture as I can—whether it be bad or good.” (Look Homeward: A Life of Thomas Wolfe, p.195)  

At Scribner’s, Wolfe found a sympathetic editor in Maxwell Perkins. Perkins’ acceptance of Look Homeward, Angel mirrored his support a decade earlier on behalf of another young author’s bildungsroman first novel: This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Just as This Side of Paradise launched Fitzgerald’s career as one of the most promising young American authors, Look Homeward, Angel launched Thomas Wolfe’s career in a similar way. Look Homeward, Angel was published on October 18, 1929—two weeks after Wolfe’s 29th birthday, and just before the stock market crash that heralded the beginning of the Great Depression.  

In May of 1938, Wolfe gave a speech at Purdue University, which proved to be his last public appearance before his tragic death that September. Wolfe’s speech was later published under the title “Writing and Living.” Wolfe said of Look Homeward, Angel: “It is what is called an autobiographical novel—a definition with which I have never agreed, simply because it seems to me every novel, every piece of creative writing that anyone can do, is autobiographical.” (The Autobiography of an American Novelist, p.120) In his 1936 book The Story of a Novel, Wolfe wrote: “It is literally impossible for a man who has the stuff of creation in him to make a literal transcription of his own experience. Everything in a work of art is changed and transfigured by the personality of the artist.” (The Autobiography of an American Novelist, p.20) 

I like these two ideas of Wolfe’s: that creative writing may draw its spark or inspiration from real life, but that it is inevitably changed and altered by the artist through the creative process. The process of selection, of choosing what to write about, what to include and what to exclude, changes and transforms reality. And whatever you choose to write about is in some way autobiographical because it inevitably reveals something about your personality. Your choice of material reveals what is important to you.  

Look Homeward, Angel is a striking and original debut novel, and it retains its power today, almost 100 years after it was first published.  

Saturday, March 16, 2024

Book Review: Thomas Wolfe: A Writer's Life, by Ted Mitchell (1999)

The cover of the paperback edition of Thomas Wolfe: A Writer's Life, by Ted Mitchell, 1999. (Photo by Mark C. Taylor)

Thomas Wolfe and his mother Julia on the steps of the house where he grew up, which is now the Thomas Wolfe Memorial.

There have been several biographies written about the American author Thomas Wolfe, and Ted Mitchell’s 1999 book
Thomas Wolfe: A Writer’s Life, fills an important gap by giving the reader a shorter overview of Wolfe’s life and work. Coming in at 120 pages, it’s more concise than the full-length Wolfe biographies by Andrew Turnbull, Elizabeth Nowell, and David Herbert Donald.  

Mitchell gives the reader a good sense of Wolfe’s personality and psychology. The Thomas Wolfe Memorial is the house where Wolfe grew up in Asheville, North Carolina. Tom’s mother operated it as a boarding house from the time Tom was 6 years old. When I visited the house last week, I was puzzled that the site director hadn't pointed out Tom’s bedroom to me. As we were about to leave the second floor I asked, “Which bedroom was Tom’s?” She said “Tom didn’t have one. He moved around from room to room depending on which rooms weren’t being rented.” It struck me immediately that this was a key fact about Thomas Wolfe.  

Wolfe stood 6 feet 6 inches tall, and he wrote “the world of six feet six...is the strangest and most lonely world there is.” (p.43) Wolfe was always searching for a home, for a sense of belonging. Mitchell quotes from a letter of Wolfe’s written towards the end of his brief life: “although you can’t go home again, the home of every one of us is in the future: there is no other way.” (p.80)  

Mitchell paints a portrait of Wolfe as sometimes difficult, sometimes pleasant, but always devoted to his work and craft. After going through the exhibit on Thomas Wolfe’s life in the Thomas Wolfe Memorial and seeing all of the photos of Wolfe throughout his life, I was struck by how serious Wolfe looks in almost every photo. You can tell this is a man who was thinking deeply about life and art.  

I don’t know Thomas Wolfe’s work very deeply, but I found it moving to see the Thomas Wolfe Memorial, the site where he was born (it’s now a YMCA parking lot) and his gravesite during the same afternoon. It’s hard to explain exactly why I was so moved. Part of it is the tragedy of a life being cut short, wondering what might have been. And part of it is the sense I get from Wolfe of devoting himself so fully to the creative life. I was moved when I walked through beautiful Riverside Cemetery, on top of rolling hills, on a gorgeous sunny afternoon, and came upon Thomas Wolfe’s grave. Part of the inscription reads, “A beloved American author.” As someone who puts words to paper, you can’t ask for a better tribute than that. There is a small urn in front of Wolfe’s grave. Instead of bouquets, it’s filled with pens. I was annoyed with myself for not having anything with me, no coin, no rock, nothing to deposit in homage. But as I stood at Wolfe’s grave, I saw a penny in the mud in front of the stone. I picked it up, brushed it off, and put it on his headstone. I felt much better. The next day, on a rainy afternoon, I returned to Wolfe’s grave with a pen, which I put in the urn. The gesture was now complete, homage had been properly paid.  

I learned many interesting facts about Thomas Wolfe from this book. One of them was that when Wolfe was preparing to attend college, he wanted to attend Princeton. Had he gone to Princeton, Wolfe likely would have encountered another young man with literary aspirations: F. Scott Fitzgerald. Wolfe would have overlapped with Fitzgerald at Princeton for a year, but Wolfe ended up going to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and he didn’t meet Fitzgerald until 1930, when they were both in Switzerland.  

Mitchell gives the reader an excellent overview of the illness that struck Wolfe down in his prime. What seemed at first to be a high fever and pneumonia was actually miliary tuberculosis. When doctors thought that Wolfe might be suffering from a brain tumor as well, he was sent to the finest brain surgeon in the country, Walter Dandy. Dandy soon discovered that the disease had spread to Wolfe’s brain, and during surgery, he knew it would be impossible to remove all the tubercules. Wolfe died three days later, at just 37.  

Ted Mitchell’s book Thomas Wolfe: A Writer’s Life, is an excellent overview of Wolfe’s life and art.