by ELG Gray

The Town

Page turner: 6/10
Heart tugger: 6/10
Thought Provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars

I have been so very delinquent. I probably finished reading The Town about 3 months ago. Once a week I think, ‘I REALLY should write the review’ and compose a summary in my head of what I want to say. And yet, clearly, procrastination has prevailed. Not to mention the other two reviews I’m sitting on. But anyway…

The Town is the third in Conrad Richter’s ‘The Awakening Land’ trilogy, recounting the later stages in the life of Sayward Wheeler, the quintessential American Pioneer, and her flock of children. And it actually was quite a fascinating read just after The Magnificent Ambersons. In many ways, though it is the third in Richter’s series it is an entirely apt prequel to Tarkington’s work. If I had known, I would have read them that way ‘round.

In any case, The Town follows the ‘progress’ of a small frontiersman’s town to a more bustling American mid-western town of the 19th Century. Sayward’s generation represents the heartiness, the pluckiness, the determination and grit of the Original Pioneers. Her youngest child (and really the book’s protagonist), Chancey, is the youthful embodiment of technological progress, pacifism, and gentleness. Though this is not the gentility that starts off the Ambersons, by any means. It’s a big deal that the Wheeler’s town house has more than 2 rooms, to put things in context. Chancey is the youngest of many kids, and is born with some unspecified illness making him an invalid, until suddenly he isn’t any more because he finally realizes that maybe there isn’t anything physically wrong with him any more. There is pampering and babying, but also a smidge of negligence and certainly an inability for anyone in his family to understand him, or his point of view. So at first you feel for him. But slowly (and I choose to believe this is Richter’s point) you start to find him pitiable, and a bit cloying. Somehow Sayward, seen by her son as an old stick-in-the-mud is in fact the more dynamic, the more able to continue to adapt to change than the supposedly modern son. That’s sort-of the whole book. The relationships, which are probably Richter’s focus, to me were OK. Interesting but OK. It’s a slim read, though, so I suppose there isn’t a huge amount of time for more.

What makes the book a great deal more interesting, was just the history. The insight into what life was like for the American Pioneers entering, taming, and building the so-called wilderness for the first time. (Native Americans feature briefly in the book in a highly stereotyped way, so make no mistake this is the white man’s view.) In fact, those three words really characterize Richter’s three books – (entering) The Trees, (taming) The Fields, and (building) The Town. I did read ‘The Trees’, the first in the triliogy, and enjoyed it immensely, again just from the detailed look at day-to-day life in the woods and the existence that families managed to scrape together. Try as I might, getting my hands on The Fields proved to be nearly impossible (for any price I deemed reasonable), but from the reviews and articles I’ve found I believe my characterization is fair.

So read this book to discovery more of the history of the American white-man moving westward. You’ll glean a bit about human relationships and progress, but read it to learn what life was like in an age that is very, very hard grasp in the 21st century. And maybe we’ll learn a bit about what real work is like. Or that’s what Richter would have wanted!

08.18.14

by ELG Gray

The Magnificent Ambersons

Page turner: 5/10
Heart tugger: 7/10
Thought provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars

After a rather prolonged hiatus, I am pleased to return with a full report of Booth Tarkington’s The Magnificent Ambersons. Which I liked. I found it a bit unoriginal, but that may be the result of a century of hindsight. Still, I liked it.

The Magnificent Ambersons is the second book in Tarkington’s ‘growth’ trilogy. Try as I might I could not get my hands on a copy of the third and final book in the series, I couldn’t find it. Which is both a testament to me liking the second book, and perhaps a reflection on the second also being the ‘best’ of the three. Anyway, the ‘growth’ that the title refers to is the changing dynamic of the American mid west … and how settlements grew to towns and cities as the turn of the twentieth century saw the huge boom in urban populations.

The Ambersons were the relative nobility of the small Midwestern town as it was originally settled. They owned vast swathes of land, the great house, and had the most beautiful and elaborate items brought over from the East. Georgie Amberson is the protagonist of the novel, and is the grandson of the founding father who amassed the fortune. And Georgie is a spoiled brat of the most spoiled type. His really only redeeming feature as a child is that he uses the term ‘riff raff’ which always made me chuckle. The story (predictably, to modern eyes) progresses as the town grows, the Ambersons’ wealth diminishes and new money comes to take their place. It is the story of the transition of a town to a city, and the way that young Georgie is forced to reconcile with changing circumstances. Tarkington does a good job of succinctly and believably narrating both parallels in the story. I won’t say whether or not Georgie shows himself of being of strong moral fiber in the end.

The trouble is – I feel I have read it all before. Perhaps it was one of the first of its kind to talk about that boom in Midwestern America, but it is awfully reminiscent of stories of the Industrial Revolution and the rise of New Money vs. aristocracy in Europe as well as on the East Coast of the U.S. Published in 1918 was The Magnificent Amberson’s a trailblazer? Or a very good example of this ‘genre’ of story? I don’t think my literary history is good enough to know the answer, but I do wonder. This shortcoming, however, is what made it a three for me, and not a higher rating.

Still, Tarkington’s book is a slim read, and definitely fulfilling. It’s about growth – both physical and personal, and as such is quite rewarding to follow along with!

06.30.14

by ELG Gray

The Luminaries

Page turner: 7/10
Heart tugger: 4/10
Thought provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars

The Luminaries, by Eleanor Catton, gets off to a pretty strong start. It has quite a gripping middle. But I was massively underwhelmed by the ending.

The trouble I had, I suspect, is in it’s re-readability. In my ignorance, this wasn’t really a category I had considered before, but I have learned (courtesy of my friend, Dan – fount of all knowledge) how critical it is in an award-winning book. And all the moreso here. Let me explain:

I read The Luminaries once, and mostly, I read it for the plot. It is (seemingly) a murder-mystery set during the New Zealand gold rush. It features a whore and a missing person and at least one ghost. So pretty action packed, and full of twists and turns. All along the reader notes that the chapters open with signs of the zodiac, and there are some overtures to other astrological symbolism. But, frankly, I pretty much ignored it. A bit too airy fairy for me. Besides, there was just too much going on! There are well over a dozen ‘main’ characters in the book.

The trouble is, the ending really quite clearly ISN’T about the plot. It’s a pretty big anticlimax. It is MUCH more about the astrology, and the paths the characters lives take. So I was massively disappointed. But upon reflection, if I read the book again and had the time/patience/inclination to take more note of the star signs throughout, I think it would be a much subtler, cleverer book. And, returning to my original point, a book only wins an award after the people reading it have read it a good many times. I suppose it makes sense that the panels of people giving the prize have to read and re-read countless books in order to give them all a ‘fair’ comparison. I suppose.

Whilst I can understand that a Great book could/should have multiple layers, I think that only really being ABLE to access them through multiple reads feels a bit inappropriate. I mean, I loved watching the Sixth Sense, and watching it a second time was pretty awesome, but I didn’t NEED to do so in order to get a lot of out of it. Also, the Sixth Sense’s running time is 107 minutes and the Luminaries weighs in at an incredibly hefty 832 pages. The prospect of reading it again makes my shoulder hurt.

All that said, it is a good book. And shout out to the only-28-year-old Ms. Catton. What a hugely impressive accomplishment pre-30. The very nice thing is that if The Luminaries is any indication of future work, I look forward to reading more by her again in the future!

03.23.14

by ELG Gray

Rabbit at Rest

Page turner: 5/10
Heart tugger: 7/10
Though provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars

Returning after a holiday hiatus: Rabbit at Rest. Once again, I feel that I have a missing category for ‘language’ or ‘vividness’ as John Updike is a master at both. I was sucked into Harry ‘Rabbit’ Angstrom’s semi-retired world utterly. It just didn’t ‘wow’ me. But maybe I’m being harsh after a fun-in-the-sun vacation.

My edition of Rabbit at Rest

Rabbit at Rest is, I learned, the fourth novel in a series of books following the life of Harry Angstrom, a decade at a time. In ‘at Rest’ Rabbit is in his fifties, has heart troubles, and is facing mortality for the first time in his life. To be honest, Rabbit is a bit of an ass: a womanizer, an attention seeker. A not-so-hot father. But then, the people around him aren’t exactly ‘winners’ either, and so it is easy to empathize. And very easy to feel like Brewer, Pennsylvania is a real place.

Much of this book is an indulgence in nostalgia. Full of poignant memories of past affairs (both sexual and innocent), triggered by simply driving down the street. Rabbit faces them to the extent his character is able – his moral code is willowy at best. And, as the nickname perhaps belies, he does have something of a tendency to flee. And to hump – almost indeterminately. But he bends rather than breaks. And he does love, in his own way.

At some point I will read one of the earlier Rabbit books (I think Updike won more than one award for the series) at which point I will be clued in a bit more on the nickname. But apart from that, I can confirm that the novel stands on its own. In fact, I think I’m rather pleased I read it first.

What I like about Updike’s work (which I had never read before) is a rawness that feels so real. It does what it does SO well … but somehow I am left wanting a little bit more from him. From Rabbit. And *certainly* from his son, Nelson, and his wife, Janice, neither of whom win family-member-of-the-year awards.

Rabbit at Rest is an excellently constructed novel. I liked it. And I liked the window in the world of Harry Angstrom. For all his flaws, I liked him too. I LOVED the way Updike wrote the book. So if nothing else, I’m going to go in search of some more Updike work and see how I get on.

02.05.14

by ELG Gray

True History of the Kelly Gang

Page turner: 5/10
Heart tugger: 6/10
Thought provoker: 6/10
Overall: 3 stars

The trouble with the True History of the Kelly Gang was that I got bored. I didn’t mean to get bored, but I did. I still Liked it, but I just felt like I sort-of-got-the-point-and-you-know-how-it-ends-anyway so, why bother? Perhaps I would have been more gripped if I knew the core elements of his real life in advance (I didn’t) and thus wasn’t spending so much energy trying to keep track of the characters comings-and-goings. There are a lot of them. But even then, I’m not sure.

As I have since discovered in my historical research – Ned Kelly and the Kelly Gang were Australian outlaws primarily active in the 1870s outback. The book is about Ned, his childhood, and (surprisingly briefly) his gang and its exploits as an adult. The book actually really picks back up in the ending chapter where accounts of his gang’s daring dos really get told.

Ned Kelly in 1880

It’s a clever idea, and the structure of the book is quite nice. As a reader, chapters are bunched into manuscripts, that are clearly Ned’s own scribblings of his life on whatever paper he has to hand. In the end, it becomes clear how these documents have been gathered, grouped, and published for the sake of posterity. Neat. I liked it.

Peter Carey does a wonderful job of making Ned a consistent, likeable, pleasant Outback murderer/Robin Hood type character. I liked Ned.

And yet, somehow, after whizzing through the first half of the book or so, I really did get bored. I felt I ‘got’ Ned – what made him tick – and somehow that early revelation made me much less interested in following him and what happened next. The ‘traps’ (police) are all corrupt. You want your own land. You are oppressed. Pride and honor are of the utmost importance to you. As are horses. Check check check check check. Now get on to your exciting burglaries, get-aways, tell us about your suits of armour! Explain to me more about your ending! Tell me what I always wanted to know!

There is very much a good story in the ‘untold truths’ of the Kelly Gang as clearly the man, myth, legend has a great deal going for it. And I did like this attempt. I suppose the trouble is that I keep having to remind myself of that. It was something a bit different, and certainly worthwhile.

Maybe some Aussies can open my eyes, more, to questions that WERE answered in this book that had I been less ignorant of the principle stories of the Kelly Gang before I started I would have found more exciting and compelling?