A Siren Call

Ron Rash is one of my favorite Southern writers.  Alongside One Foot in Eden and Serena, The Risen does not disappoint.  It's a siren call - the appeal of something alluring but potentially dangerous. Two brothers, Bill and Eugene befriend an intriguing, free spirited young woman, Ligeia, who is visiting relatives, all within the backdrop of small town North Carolina.  The book is set in current day, but flashes back to when the characters first met in 1969, and follows the very different trajectories of the brothers since that fateful summer.  As the truth surrounding a longstanding mystery bubble to the surface, so do the tensions between Bill and Eugene.  It's captivating, atmospheric, poetic.  Ron Rash is at his best with The Risen.

Onions in the Stew

Betty MacDonald's Onions in the Stew drew me in, as I related in an earlier post, when I stumbled upon the 818 section at the public library.  The title alone seemed intriguing.  This is a memoir published in 1954 that focuses on MacDonald's decision to move to Vashon Island with her husband and two daughters.  During the time she lived on the island, she was both a writer and housewife, and describes day to day life on the island in a witty (and sometimes even hilarious) tone.  Some of my favorite quotes/expressions:

One bleak morning toward the end of the siege, I was shuffling around the kitchen contemplating a salad of noodles, Puss'n Boots and candle stubs, when Don announced, "My God, we have run out of whisky!" and offered to mush up to Vashon and get some supplies.

Rather defiantly I ate all the mushrooms, even flouncing up and getting a second helping...I was drinking my second cup of coffee when suddenly without any warning everything went black.

Glackity adolescents

Tiger, the boxer, looks very large and powerful but he spent one evening sitting on my lap eating gumdrops, watching Mr. Peepers on television and proving that appearances are deceiving.

It was uncomfortable, like trying to play bridge while an old aunt is choking to death on a fishbone in the same room.

Dakota Dreamin'

I once heard someone say that when they go to the library, they will pick the book to the left or right of the book they were originally looking for, and just see what happens.  I found myself in the 900s section of the library the other day searching for a guide book for the Dakotas.  I noticed a book, aptly called, Dakota, a memoir by Kathleen Norris.  It's rare for me to start reading a book that I've heard nothing about, but there is something liberating about a literary whim!  

Being very fond of wide open plains, big sky, and rural landscapes, I've been dreaming of going to the Dakotas this year.  Norris had been living in New York City with her husband when they learned of the opportunity to live in the house built by her grandparents in an isolated town on the border of North and South Dakota, and decided to pursue small town life on the great plains.   She describes the push and pull of living in a small town, though she says, "I make no attempt in this book to resolve the tensions and contradictions I find in the Dakotas between hospitality and insularity, change and inertia, stability and instability, possibility and limitation, between hope and despair, between open hearts and closed minds."  While I felt the book lacked a clear structure and seemed thematically repetitive, there were many beautiful descriptions and passages that were illuminating for me as someone with little experience with small town rural life.  Here are some of my favorite passages:

"Magnificent old words like farrow, common English five hundred years ago, are still in use on the Plains."

"Plains speech, while nearly devoid of "-isms" and "ologies" tends toward the concrete and the personal"  the weather, the land, other people."

"Because it can't look outward, the town begins to turn in on itself, and a schismatic ultimately self-defeating dynamic takes hold."

 "Such outsiders can unwittingly pose a threat to the existing social order, and if their newcomers' enthusiasm doesn't wear off, if their standards don't fall to meet the town's, and especially if they keep on trying to share what they know, they have to be discouraged, put down, even cast out."

"Interlibrary loan is an unwelcome link to a larger world, forcing us to recognize that we're not as self-sufficient as we imagine ourselves to be."

"Hanging up wet clothes gives me time alone under the sky to think, to grieve, and gathering the clean clothes in, smelling the sunlight on them, is victory. "

"It seems a wonder to me that in our dull little town we can gather together to sing some great hymns, reflect on our lives, hear some astonishing scriptures (and maybe a boring sermon; you take your chances), offer some prayers and receive a blessing." 

Come On Eileen

Eileen, Ottessa Moshfegh's debut novel, was the first book I read in 2016.  It's a sinister, dark, intriguing story of a young woman who lives with her alcoholic father and works at a boys' prison in a wintry New England town.  With an aura of Hitchcock, Poe, and Highsmith, but in a voice all her own, Moshfegh weaves an unforgettably twisted bildungsroman, as Eileen discovers her own strengths and vulnerabilities, and also unearths the lengths she will go to escape the grit and claustrophobia of her life. It's unnerving and compelling, even cringe worthy, and I couldn't put it down.  Plus, I'll never think of icicles in the same way again (luckily I'm not often contemplating them given my California life)!

My favorite book from January

My plan to read slim books in the month of January so as to start off the year by making a good dent in my "to read" list backfired to a certain extent, as I didn't find that many books that I'll remember or that had a great impact on me.  My favorite book from this past month was Larry Watson's Montana 1948, a short but great read that reminded me both of Ivan Doig and Richard Ford's writing. Told from the perspective of David Hayden, a boy coming of age in fictional Bentrock, Montana, the book explores themes of loyalty - to one's values, one's family, and one's job, and how these can create conflict within a nuclear family and a town.  I'm officially a Larry Watson fan now!

Irish Anguish

I've wanted to read John McGahern's The Barracks for quite some time now - glad I finally got around to it.   The story centers around the life of Elizabeth Reegan, a woman who has lived a varied life but ends up back in the Irish village in which she grew up.  Married to her husband, a widower and a police officer who hates his job and wishes to be his own boss someday, she tends the home and takes care of his three children.  It's a bleak tale in which Ms. Reegan must fight for her life against breast cancer, and addresses the futility and fleeting freedoms of life.  This is an insular, unsparing book, and beautifully written.  Some compelling passages:

"He brought a wonderful ease with him sometimes into the house, the black hands of the clock would take wings."

"She was shackled, a thieving animal held at last in this one field."

"There never had been even any real discussion, not to speak of understanding, and while each of them alone was nothing there might be no knowing what both of them might find together." 

"Always easy to love something or somebody when you know you don't have to endure them anymore, when the goodbyes are being waved, and you can have your dream and choice of them instead of their solid, individual and demanding presence."

A Breath of Fresh Texas Air

William Goyen's The House of Breath (published in 1950, and Goyen's first work) was recently listed as a recommended book in Texas Monthly magazine, of which I am a subscriber. I also finally figured out how to use "LINK +" with the Oakland Public Library system, so was able to get this book on loan from another library system.  It was a book like none I have ever read before - the narrative structure and writing style is wholly unique to Goyen.  It is poetic and evocative, and brims with memories of small town life in Charity, Texas.  The style reminded me a bit of Faulkner and a bit of Garcia Marquez.   These days I'm more drawn to realistic fiction, so I didn't love the unconventional style but I appreciated some of the beautiful phrases in the book.  Here are some of my favorite passages (with spelling as it appears in the book):

"Everything then, working with and upon everything - with accompanying resistance and damage and error but turning out something changed, finished, prepared to receive something more, to take in and take on something more:  pain, wisdom, love.  This great, mysterious chemistry going on - praise it."

"Aunty just got up from her chair on the gallery and said in at the front door, "Seven years bad luck little feist," for the broken mirror.  (Oh, she had it, seven and more.)"

"I'd lie there in my bed and want to die, and think - is this what parents have to come to, a creepin at night through room and room with a shotgun after the ghosts of their children who've gone away and left them lonely and sleepless and chokin in the night?"

"O what's the meanin of it all?  There must be some meanin somewhere - it cain't all be just this rabblement and helter-skelter."

"We ought to see it that we make good memry for ourselves, like a slow and perfect stitchin, as we go along, and embroidry a good and lovely memry out of all the tread we one day have to set, alone, and unravel, stitch by stitch."

"You didn't want to flicker around East Texas, you wanted to blaze in the world, to sparkle, to shine, to glisten in the great evil world."

A Poe to Know

For many years now, I've had the opportunity to read Poe Ballantine's work in The Sun magazine, a publication known for its raw, honest, gut wrenching writing.  I recently read Ballantine's Fear and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere, and Things I Like About America, and I very highly recommend both of them. Both of them capture Ballantine's humor, grit, resolve, and fabulous writing, as he writes of his life as a drifter with blue collar jobs, to his eventually getting married and settling down in Chadron, Nebraska, with his wife and son.  I've never met him (though I would love to go to a reading of his someday!), but I feel like I know Ballantine very well after these two books.  He's that great, "undiscovered" writer that you haven't heard of, but beware - he's going to get big someday.  In fact, Cheryl Strayed (of Wild and tiny beautiful things), wrote the intro to Fear and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere, and really sums it up best when she says, "Wow.  Yes.  Jesus. Poe."  His books probably aren't available at your local library, but why not support a local independent press, and purchase some of Poe's books?  You won't regret it!

Two Great First Novels

Ron Rash is one of my favorite contemporary Southern writers.  His novel Serena and his short stories Burning Bright, are very memorable and readable.  One Foot in Eden, Rash's first novel, is an atmospheric tale of love, loyalty, and family ties that takes place in rural Appalachia in the 1950s.  It was totally riveting - couldn't put it down!  Billy and Amy Holcombe, a young married couple, try to get pregnant, but after failing to do so, Amy makes a decision that yields her a son, Isaac, but ultimately costs her more than she could have imagined.  

Tobias Wolff is one of those authors where each of his works must be savored, as he is spare in words and not as prolific as some of his contemporaries.  His first novel, The Barracks Thief, explores the relationships between three young paratroopers before being sent off to the Vietnam War.  While narrow in breadth and short in length, Wolff shows off his ability to create flawed characters that we root for and with whom we sympathize.

I highly recommend Rash and Wolff!

An Oldie, A Goodie

Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It and Other Stories, is classic Americana at its best.  I enjoyed all three stories in this collection.  There is a serenity and simplicity to the stories, but also a subtle complexity to the characters and their internal worlds.  Plus, the back drop of the stories is described in beautiful but not overly flowery language.  And, Maclean is funny too.  All in all, its worth taking a few sunny afternoons and settling into these novels, in which the waters flow smoothly on the surface but rumble with depth just under the surface.

More on Marfa

Tony Cano's The Other Side of the Tracks is a book I learned of when I visited Marfa, TX for the first time last year.  Cano's book follows the coming of age of a Mexican teenage boy in the 1950s in Marfa, when he and his friends, who call themselves The Chinglers, begin to challenge the unspoken racial divide between Mexicans and whites living in small-town Marfa.  Cano writes of dynamics on school sports teams, local establishments, and young love between Mexicans and "Anglos."  While the writing isn't beautiful, the pace is good and Cano's voice is authentic and draws the reader in to day to day life at that time, and to the protagonist's thoughts about being treated as lesser by many whites in the town.  I'm fascinated with all things Marfa, so this book provided a new lens through which to see this unique place.

The Grass is Always Greener, with Capote

The Grass Harp is classic Capote - wit, quirky characters, tender moments amidst hilarious ones, and immensely fabulous storytelling.  I really don't think it gets much better than this!  Read it.  Period.

Talking about Texas

Larry McMurtry's Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen:  Reflections at Sixty and Beyond, provides insight into the things that were important to McMurtry, such as place, reading, and book selling.  Having grown up in Archer City, Texas, McMurtry was destined to become a cowboy, but once he discovered books, he went on to Rice University and his whole world opened up.  As McMurtry puts it, "In the end my father's career and my own were not as different as I had once thought.  He cattle ranched in a time he didn't like much, and I word ranched..."  One of my favorite quotes from the book is, "First I try to herd a few desirable words into a sentence, and then I corral them into small pastures called paragraphs, before spreading them across the spacious ranges of a novel."  With humility and honesty, McMurtry writes about his own work as a novelist, his life after a major surgery, and his love for the open space and light of Texas.  Finally, McMurtry pays homage to one of my favorite writes of all time - "The first fictions of any value to come out of the West were usually about the struggle of sensitive, art-minded souls to survive and assert themselves amid the discouragements of necessary practical frontier society.  Willa Cather, for example."  It seems that wide open spaces have been the inspiration for some of my favorite writers. 

Still a Mystery, To Me

Having enjoyed William Kent Krueger's most recent novel, Ordinary Grace, I decided to try his very first book, Iron Lake, which is the first of many in a series that centers around retired sheriff Cork O'Connor.  Set in the blistering cold and wind of Minnesota, Iron Lake is a tale of love, deception, and more.  Ultimately, yes, it was a page-turner, but I discovered by the end that I didn't care much about how the mystery unraveled.  I think I am learning that I am much more a fan of novels that really center around character development and dialogue, and less around plot and intrigue.  This is probably considered a good mystery among mysteries.  For me, it was enjoyable in the moment but not memorable or one I will ponder at all. 

Obscure Cather

Willa Cather's collection of three stories of the West, Obscure Destinies, was published in 1932.  The first story, "Neighbor Rosicky," tells the story of the patriarch of the farm, Rosicky, who cares for his land and his family in Nebraska.  It is a simple story, but a really warmhearted one.  My favorite scene is when old man Rosicky visits his son Rudolph and his daughter-in-law Polly. Worried about how Polly, a city girl, will take to farming life, he goes over to give them his car to borrow so they can go out to a night on the town.  Rosicky takes an apron off a hook and gently pushes Polly out of the way.  Cather writes, "That kind, reassuring grip on her elbows, the old man's funny bright eyes, made Polly want to drop her head on his shoulder for a second."  Cather finds such tenderness in the smallest moments.  The second story, "Old Mrs. Harris," follows the life of Grandma Harris, who is often stoic except when she beams with love for her grandchildren.  The neighbor, Mrs. Rosen often brings over coffee cake and tries to bring Mrs. Harris out of her shell.  As Cather writes, the house in which the Harris family lived was small and "Mrs. Harris and her 'things' were almost required to be invisible."  While Mrs. Harris may not take up very much space figuratively, she doesn't need more than her grandchildren to make her "perfectly happy."  Cather writes of Grandma Harris and her grandsons, "She and the twins were the same age; they had in common all the realest and truest things."  This sentiment really reminds me of Capote's short story, "A Christmas Memory" which follows the friendship of young Buddy and his older cousin Sook.  The final story, "Two Friends" is told from the perspective of a young boy who looks up to two older men in his small town, who "led more varied lives than the other men in our town."  These stories are classic Cather - not my favorites of hers, but still worth reading. 

Don't Pass By McMurtry

 

Larry McMurtry is a prolific writer who spins stories of the American West, many of which take place in Texas.  Having read his Pulitzer prize-winning epic novel Lonesome Dove earlier this year, I was curious to read his earliest (and much slimmer) novel, Horseman, Pass By, written in 1961.  An unsentimental, gritty, atmospheric work, Horseman, Pass By is set against the backdrop of a cattle ranch in post World War II Texas.  Lonnie Brannon is the teenage grandson of Homer Brannon, an honest and hardworking old time cattle man who has owned the ranch for many years.  Homer's stepson Hud also lives at the ranch, and Lonnie is both repulsed by and intrigued by Hud's selfish, ruthless and "mean" ways.  McMurtry brings the tale to life with his description of the ranch landscape, the open sky, and the way a small town can make a person yearn to see the wider world. 

Goodness, Grace

William Kent Krueger's stand alone novel, Ordinary Grace, was a great read.  Set in New Bremen, Minnesota in 1961, the story is told from the perspective of thirteen year-old Frank Drum.  Frank experiences a summer filled with death and tragedy, but also one in which he realizes the importance of faith and family.  Krueger peoples the novel with memorable characters, such as Frank's intuitive and quiet younger brother Jake, his thoughtful pastor father, and his talented and enigmatic mother.  His sister Ariel is Julliard-bound in the fall, and despite being filled with promise, has her own set of dark secrets.  This was a very well written and remarkably easy to read book.  It also beautifully captured the emotional landscape of a family and a small town.  There were several passages that caught me off guard and really touched me.  This book is not categorized as a mystery, but it is in essence one, as the reader doesn't learn until the final pages some of the important discoveries.  Krueger's writing was reminiscent of that of Richard Ford.  Despite the sad themes of this book, I would highly recommend it, and I plan to read more by Krueger.

A Novel of Contrasts, from Cather

Published in 1925, Willa Cather's The Professor's House is a character study of Professor Godfrey St. Peter, the book's protagonist.  St. Peter is a scholar and a family man with two married daughters, very stuck in his ways.  Even though his family moves into a new house, he continues to work in the study of his old one.  The novel is divided into three sections - the first and last focus on St. Peter and we learn through this lens about one of his most brilliant students, Tom Outland, who was also engaged to one of St. Peter's daughters before Outland's untimely death.  The second section of the novel focuses on Outland's story of discovering the remains of a cliff dwelling city in New Mexico, and for me was the most beautifully written part of the novel.  The themes of the novel are many, but the most interesting to me is the that of embracing modernity and change versus holding on to the beauty of nature's simplicity and a lost era.  While this is a departure from Cather's rural novels mainly set in Nebraska, I enjoyed the exploration of life in a small university town.  For me, this doesn't hold a candle My Antonia, which for me thus far is Cather's greatest masterpiece.  

Some of my favorite quotes:

"...the muscular, many-lined palm, the long, strong fingers with soft ends, the straight little finger, the flexible, beautifully shaped thumb that curved back from the rest of the hand as if it were its own master.  What a hand!  He could see it yet, with the blue stones lying in it."

"St. Peter was so pleased with his flowers that it hadn't occurred to him to get more; but all his life he had regretted that he didn't buy two bunches, and push their fortunes a little further."

Kent Haruf is Back, with Benediction

I remember vastly enjoying Kent Haruf's novels Plainsong and Eventide, and was thrilled to learn that Haruf recently published a new work of fiction called Benediction.  The backdrop, as is the case in several of Haruf's other novels, is a small town called Holt located in the high plains of Colorado.  This story centers around the life and approaching death of Dad Lewis who has only a short time left to live as he is dying of terminal cancer.  It is interesting how I just happened to read this book after reading A Death in the Family, which also focuses on the death of a patriarch in a small town, though nearly a century earlier.  With simple, graceful language, Haruf introduces us to a diverse cast of characters that surround the protagonist and intersect with his life in different ways, including a preacher that is new to town and his wife and son, an elderly neighbor and her daughter, and Dad's immediate family, his wife Mary, daughter Lorraine, and estranged son Frank.  This work highlights some moving small moments and gestures, as well as gives one a sense of the importance of community and neighbors in small town life.  I did not enjoy Benediction as much as Haruf's earlier works, but it is well worth reading nonetheless.