Showing posts with label great books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label great books. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 24, 2022

Book Review: Losing Mum and Pup: A Memoir, by Christopher Buckley (2009)

 

My well-worn paperback copy of Losing Mum and Pup, by Christopher Buckley, 2009. (Photo by Mark C. Taylor)

Christopher Buckley had resolved not to write about his famous parents, Patricia Taylor Buckley, and William F. Buckley, but once they passed away within 10 months of each other, Buckley decided to write about that terrible year. The book that emerged was Losing Mum and Pup, published in 2009.

I read Losing Mum and Pup in 2012, and although it was easily one of my favorite books that I read that year, I neglected to review it at the time. Last month I listened to the audio version, read by Christopher Buckley. My own Father passed away last December, and I thought, well, why not revisit Losing Mum and Pup?

Losing Mum and Pup is a moving book, as Buckley details dealing with two aging parents as an only child. But more than that, Losing Mum and Pup is a celebration of Buckley’s parents, and they remain vibrantly alive on the pages of this fine book.

Christopher Buckley is best-known as a humorist and satirist, and he has the right temperament to see the absurdities often apparent in matters of the end of life. When WFB is taken into the hospital in June of 2007 because his kidneys aren’t functioning, Christopher informs us that reiterating to WFB for the umpteenth time that day that they aren’t able to go home just quite yet is “like being on Firing Line, on acid.” (p.99) In time, WFB’s kidneys recover and he’s able to go home.

There are moving scenes, as when WFB dictates to Christopher the final paragraphs of his book Flying High: Remembering Barry Goldwater. “He made hardly any self-corrections as he spoke. The words came out punctuated and paragraphed. And quickly…In less than ten minutes, we were on the last paragraph of the last book he would write.” (p.142) But then the chapter is lost, thanks to the vagaries of WordStar, an obsolete word-processing program that WFB remained stubbornly dedicated to. “Pup redictated the chapter, practically verbatim. When we went over it the next day, there was little it needed other than a comma here and a word there. I was, for the thousandth time in my life, in awe of him.” (p.143)

Losing Mum and Pup was my introduction to the personal life of William F. Buckley, Jr. I was fascinated by the books Christopher mentioned: Cruising Speed and Overdrive, which each covered a week in the life of WFB, and numerous books about sailing, such as Airborne, which chronicles a crossing of the Atlantic Ocean. Reading Overdrive in 2013 helped me recommit to my own writing, and since then I’ve become a much more productive writer. And, one can only hope, a better writer.

Losing Mum and Pup is a fantastic book. Funny and moving, it showcases the best of Christopher Buckley’s writing.

Sunday, December 30, 2018

Best Books of 2018

My favorite books that I read in 2018.

I read 22 books in 2018, most of which I reviewed on this blog. Here are my favorites that I read this year. The links will take you to the full review of the book.

Promise Me, Dad, by Joe Biden, 2017. Biden’s heartfelt memoir of losing his son Beau to cancer, and making the decision to not run for President in 2016 is an extremely powerful book. 

The Judge Hunter, by Christopher Buckley, 2018. One of our finest satirists follows 2015’s The Relic Master with another fine historical comedy, this one set in the New World in the 1600’s. 

Summer, by Edith Wharton, 1917. This novel follows eighteen-year-old Charity Royall, who lives in the stifling small town of North Dormer. Things get more exciting when a handsome young architect comes to visit. 

The House of Mirth, by Edith Wharton, 1905. The novel that put Wharton at the forefront of great American writers, it traces the fortunes of the beautiful Lily Bart as she navigates New York high society. 

Sandy Koufax: A Lefty’s Legacy, by Jane Leavy, 2002. An excellent portrait of Sandy Koufax, one of the best pitchers of the 1960’s, and the hold he continues to have on the public imagination. 

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, by Tom Wolfe, 1968. Perhaps the definitive book on the American Hippie movement, chronicled by one of greatest American writers of the second half of the 20th century. Are you on the bus or off the bus?

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1925. I re-read Gatsby this year, and the novel still has great power. Fitzgerald’s masterpiece, it’s full of beautiful sentences and vivid images.

Monday, July 9, 2018

Book Review: Ethan Frome, by Edith Wharton (1911)

Penguin Classics cover of Ethan Frome, by Edith Wharton, 1911.


Edith Wharton at her desk.
Poor Ethan Frome! The guy can’t catch a break! His parents’ illnesses force him to return to his family’s farm. After both of his parents die, he then has to take care of his wife Zeena, who is bedeviled by a number of non-specific ailments. Zeena’s cousin, Mattie Silver, comes to the Frome’s farm to help with the household chores and to take care of Zeena. Mattie is everything Zeena is not—vivacious, lively, and kind to Ethan. Naturally, Ethan falls in love with Mattie. 

Ethan Frome, the novella by Edith Wharton, first published in 1911, tells the tale of Ethan’s secret love for Mattie. The setting is the appropriately named Starkfield, and Ethan’s farm on the outskirts of the village itself. Starkfield is a barren place, and Wharton’s evocative descriptions of the weather and landscape are superb. Here’s just one example:

“The cold was less sharp than earlier in the day and a thick fleecy sky threatened snow for the morrow. Here and there a star pricked through, showing behind it a deep well of blue. In an hour or two the moon would push over the ridge behind the farm, burn a gold-edged rent in the clouds, and then be swallowed by them.” (p.57)

Wharton does an excellent job of getting into the mind of Ethan Frome. The book is a testament to Wharton’s skill as an author, as she is able to convincingly portray the feelings and emotions of people so different from herself. Yes, that’s what great authors do, but some do it better than others, and here Wharton does it very well indeed.

One thing that Edith Wharton did have in common with Ethan Frome was an unhappy marriage. Born Edith Newbold Jones in 1862, she married Edward “Teddy” Wharton in 1885. It was quickly evident that their marriage was to be passionless. Teddy suffered greatly from depression, and the marriage ended when Edith divorced him in 1912. Perhaps some of Edith’s own feelings of martial dissatisfaction were channeled into the character of Ethan Frome.

Ethan Frome is often compared to Wharton’s 1917 novel Summer, which I reviewed here. Both books take place in rural New England, far away from the New York Gilded Age society that Wharton is so famous for portraying. Both novels include vivid descriptions of the natural landscape, and they both highlight the limited options available to their characters. Summer is a more hopeful book than Ethan Frome, but there are definitely similarities between Charity Royall, the main character in Summer, and Mattie Silver. Both young women are essentially orphaned—Mattie’s parents are both dead, while Charity has not seen her parents for many years, although her mother is still alive. Mattie and Charity have had limited educational opportunities, and they have few options available to them in their stories. 

The edition of Ethan Frome that I read was the Collier’s paperback from 1987, which featured a ridiculous afterword by noted literary critic Alfred Kazin. First Kazin writes that the book is “an American classic.” (p.131) Then he goes on to say that the novel is actually not as good as Madame Bovary or Anna Karenina, and, well, Wharton is a good writer, but she’s not as good as her friend Henry James. Kazin writes that “If Edith Wharton was not the equal of her good friend Henry James…she was above all a consummate professional.” (p.134) You could call genre fiction writers like Sidney Sheldon and Clive Cussler consummate professionals, but to call Edith Wharton a consummate professional is just an insult masquerading as faint praise. Edith Wharton was a serious literary writer who also achieved a great deal of popular acclaim. That’s more than just “a consummate professional.” Kazin’s essay quickly becomes tiresome, and it makes you wonder why he’s writing about Wharton at all if he feels so lukewarm about her. Fortunately, Kazin’s essay doesn’t detract from the wonderful writing and compelling story in Ethan Frome.

Saturday, June 2, 2018

Book Review: A Man in Full, by Tom Wolfe (1998)

The obligatory photo of my Tom Wolfe bookshelf, with 1998's A Man in Full front and center. (Photo by Mark C. Taylor)


Tom Wolfe on the cover of Time magazine, 1998.
Atlanta! Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler! Coca-Cola! Hank Aaron! Phil Niekro! Dale Murphy! Chipper Jones! Martin Luther King! Usher! CNN! In his second novel, 1998’s A Man in Full, Tom Wolfe tell us what Atlanta at the close of the millennium was really like. And readers discover a city that the mayor fears could be shattered along racial lines. 

A Man in Full was a huge best-seller when it was published in 1998. It had been 11 years since the smashing success of The Bonfire of the Vanities, and the public was hungry for another dose of Wolfe’s writing. In the run up to publication, Wolfe was featured on the cover of Time magazine. A Man in Full was number one on the New York Times hardcover fiction best-seller list for 10 straight weeks. 

The main character of A Man in Full is real estate developer Charlie Croker, who is 60 years old, newly married to a much younger second wife, and deeply in debt. Tom Wolfe once said in a 1976 interview, “This country really is made up of half failed athletes and half women.” (Conversations with Tom Wolfe, p.99) Charlie Croker certainly falls into the former category, as he is constantly reminded of his college glory on the gridiron for Georgia Tech. Croker was known as “the Sixty Minute Man,” as he played both offense and defense. 

Much like Sherman McCoy, the main character in The Bonfire of the Vanities, Croker gets pushed to the brink of ruin during the course of the novel. He has to endure a grueling and humiliating “workout session” with the bank that financed his loans, as the bank threatens to start seizing assets. 

Roger White II, a successful African American attorney in Atlanta, is one of the other main characters. Because of his tendency to fit in with white people, his nickname is “Roger Too White.” 

The third main character is Conrad Hensley. Conrad works outside of Oakland in a freezer warehouse of Croker Global Foods, a part of Charlie Croker’s business empire. Because Conrad isn’t in Atlanta with the other main characters, you just keep waiting for the time when he will start interacting with the rest of the cast. As far as I was concerned, it took way too long for Conrad’s story to get to that point. 

Conrad’s storyline just feels shoehorned into the book—it doesn’t feel natural or organic. So then there’s less tension in it, even though he goes through the most dramatic events of any of the main characters. He goes to prison! He miraculously escapes from prison after an earthquake! But I started to resent Conrad, because his chapters took me away from Atlanta and Roger Too White and Charlie Croker.

However, for all of my complaining about Conrad, the chapter when he has the day from hell, Chapter 11, is wonderfully written. Wolfe fully immerses you in Conrad’s troubles, as his car gets towed, one thing leads to another, and he eventually assaults a worker at the car impound lot. Wolfe is able to make you care about both Charlie Croker and Conrad Hensley, and that’s a real achievement. Wolfe has the imagination and creativity to put you into Conrad’s shoes. But he’s also done enough of the reporting work to make it all feel real. It feels real emotionally AND factually—and this is really what Wolfe is getting at in all of his writings about fiction—it’s not enough to just be emotionally real, fiction should also tell you something about the lives of the people it describes. If fiction isn’t connected to the real world that people inhabit, it’s not going to produce an emotional response in your readers. The accumulation of details gives Wolfe’s writing more weight. Sure, maybe he totally made up the geography around Oakland as he describes Conrad’s cross-town travels as he attempts to get his car back. But I doubt it. As Wolfe describes Conrad’s travels in depth, it builds your sympathy and interest in the character’s problems. 

While he’s in prison, Conrad, through a shipping error by a bookstore, comes across the writings of the Stoic philosophers—Seneca, Epictetus, and all the rest. This totally changes Conrad’s attitude towards prison, and life in general. I’m not sure what Wolfe’s point in focusing so much on the Stoic philosophers is. Was he an adherent of Stoicism? Did he think that Stoicism would be a useful philosophy for most Americans to follow? Or did he just re-read the Stoics in 1996 and think, “I think I’ll put this in the novel.” Without giving too much away, Stoicism plays a significant role in the ending of the novel, which is pretty anticlimactic. 

The main plot of the book feels quite contemporary, as it concerns an alleged sexual assault. The victim is the white daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Atlanta, while the alleged perpetrator is the star running back at Georgia Tech. And he’s black, from one of the poorest neighborhoods in Atlanta. Wes Jordan, the black mayor of Atlanta, is up for re-election, and he naturally wants to prevent the situation from escalating into a race riot. So he enlists his old friend Roger White to talk to Charlie Croker and see if Croker will make a statement supporting the running back, thinking that having a prominent white citizen on his side will prevent the issue from splitting along racial lines.

Race is one of the main issues in both The Bonfire of the Vanities and A Man in Full, and I admire Tom Wolfe’s willingness to engage with the issue. Wolfe wasn’t afraid to write about African American characters. You can judge for yourself how successful he was at creating and writing about these characters. But I think it’s to his credit that he was willing to explore the difficult issue of race in America. 

Wolfe’s sense of humor is on display in his naming of companies. There’s Maws and Gullet, (p.77) a food service corporation. The law firm that Roger White works for is Wringer, Fleasom, and Tick. (p.191) Other law firms mentioned are Fogg, Nackers, Rendering, and Lean, (p.237) Clockett, Paddet, Skynnham, and Glote, (p.251)and Tripp, Snayer, and Billings. (p.346) 

Attentive Wolfe readers will see pet phrases of his come up time and again. “Shank to flank” makes several appearances, as does the phrase “season of the rising sap.” Wolfe’s favorite fake product Streptolon, which appears in nearly all of his books, is mentioned. (There’s even a form of it called Streptofoam, mentioned on page 168.) And only Tom Wolfe could have written a fictitious hip-hop song with the lyrics “shanks akimbo.” (p.120) 

Wolfe’s usual keen eye for details is evident throughout A Man in Full. One of my favorite terms that Wolfe uses is “pizza grenade necktie.” “It was the sort of tie that looked as if a pepperoni-and-olive pizza had just exploded on your shirtfront.” (p.98) Those ties were ubiquitous in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, and I might have a few pizza grenade neckties left over from that era, but I don’t wear them anymore.

Sartorially, it seems that Roger White is a stand-in for Wolfe’s own style. One of the funnier moments in the novel is when White tries to dress down: “Hence the suede shoes and the tennis collar and the knit necktie and the twill pants and the tweed hacking jacket. Casual. Inconspicuous. Sure. What planet had he been beamed down from?” (p.404) One can imagine Tom Wolfe dressing down in a similar manner. 

Anyone else who remembers the late 1990’s can understand Charlie Croker’s thoughts about the word paradigm: “But this word paradigm absolutely drove him up the wall, so much so that he had complained to the Wiz about it. The damned word meant nothing at all, near as he could make out, and yet it was always ‘shifting,’ whatever it was. In fact, that was the only thing the ‘paradigm’ ever seemed to do. It only shifted.” (p.71) 

A critique I had as I read A Man in Full is that there are parts of the book that are overwritten, which might be inevitable in a 780-page paperback. Too many times Wolfe describes a gesture one of the characters makes, and then tells us what it means, which just seems unnecessary. Here’s just one example: “Roger looked at Wes with wide eyes, as if to say, ‘What does this mean?’” (p.540) 

Reviews for A Man in Full were generally positive, but two of the most famous novelists in America both disliked the book. John Updike and Norman Mailer both wrote scathing reviews of A Man in Full. Updike’s review of A Man in Full dismissed the book as falling short of literature, even “literature in a modest aspirant form.” Mailer’s review took a similar tack, as it was full of questions like: “Is one encountering a major novel or a major best seller?” There’s a bit of the pot calling the kettle black here, as Mailer writes as though he had never hankered after having best-sellers of his own. 

Mailer does have words of praise for the book, but in the best Midwestern, passive-aggressive style, there are always reservations: “Extraordinarily good writing forces one to contemplate the uncomfortable possibility that Tom Wolfe might yet be seen as our best writer. How grateful one can feel then for his failures and his final inability to be great—his absence of truly large compass.” Mailer is still thinking that American writing is like a heavyweight boxing match! Thank God Wolfe didn’t have the stamina! He broke down in the fifth round! He was busy looking at the referee’s shoes, trying to figure out what brand they were, and then WHOMP! Norman finally landed that right hook!

Novelist John Irving joined in the complaining as well, and the whole mess was chronicled in Wolfe’s essay “My Three Stooges,” collected in Wolfe’s 2000 essay collection, Hooking Up. (I reviewed Hooking Up here, with more details about Wolfe’s feuds with Mailer and Updike.) My own thought is that Irving, Updike, and Mailer were all jealous of the huge sales and media attention Wolfe was garnering. Plus, in the cases of Mailer and Updike, there was simmering resentment of Wolfe that was left over from what he had written about them in the 1960’s. 

In some ways, A Man in Full might be a more impressive novel than The Bonfire of the Vanities. It’s more virtuosic, as Wolfe takes you through all of these different strata of society. Wolfe captures the voices of so many different people throughout the book. Even the minor characters are very fully drawn.

However, I don’t think that A Man in Full captured the zeitgeist in the same way that Bonfire did. I think Bonfire has become cultural shorthand for “1980’s capitalism run amok” whereas I don’t know what the shorthand takeaway of A Man in Full would be. There’s certainly a lot of capitalism run amok on view in A Man in Full. 

Wolfe’s view of fiction was that it should try to capture the spirit of the time and place in which it was written, and he strongly urged novelists to go out and observe things the way a journalist would. In his 1989 essay, “Stalking the Billion-Footed Beast,” Wolfe wrote: “At this weak, pale, tabescent moment in the history of American literature, we need a battalion, a brigade of Zolas to head out into this wild, bizarre, unpredictable, Hog-stomping Baroque country of ours and reclaim it as literary property.” That’s exactly what Wolfe did with A Man in Full. 

A Man in Full has its flaws, but, taken in full, it has much to say about America in the late 1990’s, and is a superb example of Tom Wolfe’s writing at its best.

Saturday, March 3, 2018

Book Review: Promise Me, Dad: A Year of Hope, Hardship, and Purpose, by Joe Biden (2017)


Book cover of Promise Me, Dad, by Joe Biden, 2017.


Joe Biden, Vice President from 2009-2017.
In December, I heard former Vice President Joe Biden speak at the Orpheum Theatre about his new book, Promise Me, Dad: A Year of Hope, Hardship, and Purpose. It was an emotional evening, as Biden spoke about his son Beau’s death from brain cancer. That’s the main subject of Promise Me, Dad, but readers also get glimpses into Biden’s duties as Vice President, and Biden’s thinking as he ultimately decided not to pursue the Democratic nomination for President in 2016.

Promise Me, Dad is that very rare thing—an amazingly honest book written by a national politician. But then I think Joe Biden is an amazingly honest person. What you see is what you get with him. Promise Me, Dad is also a very moving book. Biden clearly had a very close relationship with Beau, and I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to watch Beau slowly be weakened by an awful disease. Even though there was little hope, Beau Biden signed up for every experimental treatment that was out there, hoping for a miracle. 

The book also sheds light on Biden’s relationship with Barack Obama, and it becomes clear that they developed a very close friendship. As Biden said about the memes that celebrate his friendship with Obama, “They’re basically all true.” However, Biden originally told Obama no when Obama wanted to vet him for Vice President. When Biden was very close to saying yes to the Vice Presidency, he said to Obama, “I want to be the last guy in the room on every major decision. You’re President. I’m not. I get it. But if it’s my experience you’re looking for, I want to be the last guy to make the case.” (p.64) 

One of the best anecdotes in the book is Biden’s meeting with Vladimir Putin. This was during the period when Putin was Prime Minister, rather than President, due to term limits. As they were meeting in Putin’s office, Biden turned around and was suddenly face to face with Putin. He said, “Mr. Prime Minister, I’m looking into your eyes. I don’t think you have a soul.” Putin replied, “We understand each other.” (p.95) 

A key passage in Promise Me, Dad, is when Biden describes his own political philosophy: “I believe all politics is personal, because at bottom, politics depends on trust, and unless you can establish a personal relationship, it’s awfully hard to build trust.” (p.129) Biden demonstrates that again and again in the book, as he details his relationships with foreign leaders, and his attempts to build trust with them. 

Will Joe Biden run for President in 2020? He’ll be 77 years old in 2020, and 78 years old on January 20, 2021—that’s older than Ronald Reagan was when he left office in 1989. But you never know, and as Promise Me, Dad shows, Joe Biden is a man who just keeps going when he’s facing adversity.