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“Crossing to Safety” - Wallace Stenger

Slowly over the past semester I have read “Crossing to Safety”, the book selected for my book club meeting in May.  “Safety” is Stenger’s last novel and was originally published in 1987.  It is a work that has echoes from multiple time periods.  Most obviously, the story centers around two couples who meet in post-depression, pre-WWII America.  Thus, the characters themselves are of distant time.  But there are other aspects of the book that seemed to hint at the end of an era.  It is the kind of novel that English professors used to write (Stenger was an English professor and the book is about academics in that discipline).  The writing is steeped in literary history, Christian archetypes, and a gentleness that was probably already foreign to the wider world by the time it arrived in bookstores.  I may just be seeing my own historical perceptions in the work, but there is evidence that Stenger believed things were changing as well.  The fact that he added disclaimers to explain to the readers that the simpatico between two characters was not homosexual, suggests that he was already aware that the literary audience was a different than it had once been.  To me, the era that Stenger is writing about is as distant from the author as his forms are from the audience.  This distance permeates the melancholy subject matter with an over-arching sense of loss.

The basic skeleton of “Safety” is a study of the seemingly self-contradictory nature of humanity. The main characters are two couples who become friends when the men are colleagues for a year at the University of Wisconsin. Sid and Charity are from the eastern US. They have Ivy League educations, money and good looks and are also genuinely kind and generous people. Larry and Sally are ‘upwardly mobile’ folks from the west. They have nothing but ambition and are grateful to be taken in by their new compatriots.

The story follows the couples through their lives allowing the reader to absorb the complex personalities.  Just as Stenger sets up the couples to be economic opposites, so he sets up each couple as antipodal pairs.  Larry is a motivated workhorse and traditional man.  When his wife, Sally, is crippled by polio, she becomes dependent on him for nearly everything.  For Sid and Charity, the dependence is emotional and in the opposite gendered direction.  Charity is the motivated one.  So motivated that she tries to control nearly every aspect of others lives.  None, of course, more than her husband’s.  Sid might rather be writing poetry then pursuing tenure, but he is so dependent on Charity for direction that he always bows to her wishes.

Finally, each character is contraction unto his- or herself.  Sally is crippled, but is the most emotionally strong and competent person in the group.  Larry is successful, but seems to both resent and pity his friends who were born to status and wealth.  Charity is constantly forcing her will onto others and is often insensitive to their feelings. However, her motivations are — at least in her own mind — selfless and generous.  She only wants what is “best” and “rational” for people.  Finally, Sid is independently wealthy and extremely attractive, but he is also a dreamer who seems unmotivated to do anything but be ‘managed’ by his wife.

For me the most striking characters were Sid and Charity.  I found my levels of empathy with the former and frustration with the latter were quite high.  These sensations were elevated further after discussing the novel with my book club members. I realized that many thought the way that Charity ran rough-shod over Sid throughout the book was a failing on Sid’s part.  The implication was that if he was only more of a “man” he would have stood up to his wife and not lived this life of uncomfortable servitude.  For me, I could only see how Charity never even tried to understand her husband — only to tell him what was best for him and to try to avoid his emotions.  I couldn’t help but think that if the roles were reversed — that is, if Charity was a man — that my discussants could have seen her for the abusive, emotionally closed, and cruel person she was.  (Obviously, that would still have been cold comfort because in both situations the man would have been to blame.)  But that led me to wonder: were the characters set up to beg the question of gender roles?  I cannot say, but it was the most striking element of the story for me.

In the end, this is not a story about greatness. It is about meekness. Small successes and small failures. It is about the depth of friendship and the impossibility of truly understanding one another. I really enjoyed it, though I found the implications about humanity disturbing.  Stenger seems to express the sentiment that life is frail and short and that even the best of intentions are so often misguided, misconceived, and misunderstood

Rating: 7.5 of 10

“The Blank Wall” - Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

If you are ever teaching a class in which you would like your students to discuss the way gender roles and class divisions can affect moral and ethical decisions: this is the book they should read. It seems like a funny thing to say about a ‘pocket book’. Particularly one with the tag line: “Playing with jail bait earned him a date with death!” But I mean it in all seriousness. If I was an English major looking for a Masters or Doctoral thesis, I would be reading everything Elisabeth Sanxay Holding ever wrote and betting on the best thesis in 20 years!

Frankly, this book is awesome.  It was the novel at the end of Alfred Hitchcock’s “My Favorites in Suspense” which I started reading without any idea of how good it would turn out to be.  Fundamentally, the novel is a pulp suspense piece.  It fills this role brilliantly.  The author puts the reader right inside the anxieties and decisions of the main character (Lucia), and keeps the emotional gas pedal to the floor the whole time.  It’s the best executed melodrama you’ll likely ever read.  Positively nail-biting.  But the way the novel really shines is psychological and sociological.  That is, the best part of the story is really its characters and the way the author portrays their actions, reasoning, and broader social contexts.

Lucia is more than a character.  She is every middle-class housewife with a family to look after and a social reputation to uphold.  But the author doesn’t paint such a life as inherently good or bad.  Instead, she demonstrates it’s frustrating restrictions as well as it’s (sometimes ethically questionable) advantages.  Moreover, she shows how the struggle of women from a feminist perspective (this book was written in 1947) parallels the overall class struggles in society.  And, I would argue, she shows that a failure to stand up against either of these is a willful submission to oppression.  However, she also clearly demonstrates why a person might choose to submit to oppression rather than fight against it.  And just what the advantages may be.

All this in a dime-store novel?  Absolutely.  This book is my favorite kind of work.  Thoroughly entertaining,  but deeply thoughtful and penetrating.  Read it on either level and discuss it with everyone around you.

Rating:  10 of 10

“The Alienist” - Caleb Carr

I discovered Caleb Carr through his excellent treatment of Sherlock Holmes in “The Italian Secretary”. Since that time I’ve hoped to come upon more of his work. I was therefore quite excited to find slightly battered first editions of “The Alienist” and “The Angel of Darkness” at Et al.’s while I was visiting my parents over the holidays. Unfortunately, time permitted me to only read one.

“The Alienist” takes place in New York City at the end of the 19th century. The author’s interest in history is apparent in the way he skillfully builds the elements of the city into the structure of the novel and uses actual historical figures as characters. Although this technique is occasionally cartoonish, it works quite well overall. A major role is occupied by Theodore Roosevelt – in his capacity as police commissioner before he became the vice-presidential candidate under William McKinley – but William James and J. P. Morgan are both minor characters, as is Paul Kelly (an important figure in the New York criminal world at the turn of the 20th century).

The story is primarily a murder mystery and a psychological thriller. Carr creates a Sherlock Holmes style character by the name of Dr. Kreizler, a psychologist with a penchant for the importance of “context”. Kreizler is tall and hawkish with an otherworldly intelligence and a tendency toward eclecticism. The story’s narrator is a New York Times reporter and society gentleman by the name of John Moore (Kreizler’s Dr. Watson). In this case, Kreizler and Moore are recruited by Roosevelt to help solve a series of murders that are being committed against young male prostitutes in the city. Their strategy for solving the crime is to locate the criminal by piecing together the clues to his unique psychology – which was formed by his horrific personal history. However, it isn’t just the killer they are up against as Kreizler’s views on personality are not popular with the established power structure.

This book is a genuine success. I was completely enthralled by the end and really torn between disgust and empathy for the antagonist – which is precisely what I believe the author was attempting to achieve. I give Carr particular kudos for his pacing. Reading a good novel is the most fun when the best parts don’t move by too quickly. Carr brings the reader along with the perfect level of revelation and expectation. The biggest drawback to this novel for me was that I have no actual experience with New York City. Some of the descriptions, therefore, fell a little flat, particularly early on when the setting is being created. But in total this novel is excellent – though, frankly, not for the proverbial ‘faint of heart’.

Rating: 8 of 10

“Uncle Vanya” - Anton Chekov

What a concept! One can read a play! Obviously this is possible, but somehow I’d never done it before. Maybe that was because these days the chances are good that a film version is available. In the case of Chekov’s “Uncle Vanya” I could only find the ink and paper edition.

I was inspired to see — or read — this play on account of the new Paul Giamatti movie that is coming out — “Cold Souls”. In the movie Giamatti plays an actor who is trying, unsuccessfully, to fulfill a role in Chekov’s “Uncle Vanya”. When he finds he is unable to execute it properly, he decides to have a procedure done by a vanity company. The company removes souls for people who are troubled by them. Since I definitely want to see the movie, I thought it was probably worth reading the play first.

“Uncle Vanya” is about a professor who, upon retirement, decides to live on the estate he inherited from his deceased first wife. However, the estate is still run by a group of relatives and servants who are used to a simpler life than the professor. Moreover, some among this group resent the professor for all the work they did for him. In his waning years, he is far from the success they believed he would be.

In classic Russian literature style “Uncle Vanya” is incredibly passionate and fraught with conflict. The charters are extreme, but are all too human. The main theme of the play seems to be the conflict between classes. Those on the estate would rather just get up early and work while the professor wants to be up all night reading and drinking. When the professor is finally ‘departs’ at the end of the tale, the servants are looking forward to just getting back to work.

I found this a fun play to read. I was fortunate to find a very modern translation as well. I’m guessing that Chekov’s plays are not always this easy to get through. Thanks to David Mamet for that. I’m looking forward to seeing how this play fits into “Cold Souls”.

Rating: 7 of 10

“Soul On Ice” - Eldridge Cleaver

After reading the “Invisible Man” I wanted to know what came next. Luckily I had a yellowing copy of “Soul On Ice” perched on my bookshelf. Eldridge Cleaver was the Black Panthers’ Minister of Information in the mid-1960’s and is well-known for his revolutionary stance on civil rights issues in the United States. Cleaver was incarcerated in his 20’s for violent offenses and serial rape, to which he freely admits his guilt. Many of the essays in “Soul On Ice” were written while he was serving time in Folsom Prison. The work is not always pleasant to read, but it is consistently thought provoking.

From a contextual perspective Cleaver’s world is very different than Ralph Ellison’s; though technically the two men were contemporaries. Where Ellison takes issue with Booker T. Washington’s separate but equal philosophy, Cleaver assumes men like Ellison (who he refers to as a ‘noisy’ writer) and Martin Luther King, Jr. are the Booker T’s of his day. The leaders he emulates are Malcolm X or Mohammad Ali. ‘Self-determined’ black men who are not afraid to speak their mind, even if others believe them to be angry, scary, or racist. The volume of race relations in the 1960’s is turned up and Cleaver is clearly listening.

Like Ellison, however, Cleaver is moving the conversation forward.  He is opening doors to rooms that the public believes walled-off. Particularly of interest to him is the conflict he perceives between races and genders. Relationships between black men and white women and/or black women and white men are fraught with the tensions ever present in American society. His ideas, although based somewhat in Marxist philosophy of class divisions, are less empirical and more poetic in nature. He writes like a preacher, creating characters from archetypes and positioning them on a stage to make love or war. What this philosophy lacks in academic rigor, however, it makes up for in self-expression. Cleaver is clearly articulating his view of the world and doing so with creativity and expertise.

I would classify “Soul On Ice” as an important, if sometimes difficult, book. It is a harbringer of rap music and an obvious influence on the philosophies of modern cultural icons such as Ice-T and Chuck D. The biggest downside of the book is Cleaver’s misogyny, however, that is part of the power of it as well — the bitterness and sadness that he feels for the ‘castration’ of the black man in America’s history. This frustration culminates in the final essay, “To All Black Women, From All Black Men”, which is a bitter-sweet snapshot of real psychic pain.

Rating: 7.5 of 10

“Invisible Man” - Ralph Ellison

I loved “Invisible Man” when I read the first chapter for my introductory English class in college. I bought a used copy and started in with fervor. After four chapters, however, I gave up. The deeper I got, the more the style seemed to alternate between difficult abstractions and almost cartoonish violence. Unaware of the layers I was missing I turned to more accessible things.  I always meant to go back to it. It stared at me from the shelf every time I went home. It’s sad brown jacket begging me to finish what I started. Finally I took the plunge.

This time the style was not confusing, but fascinating. Ellison’s use of language is like a crystal made from a millions of mirrored shards. He takes small ideas and repeats them subtly, but relentlessly, until they form a dazzling composite. Through his juxtaposition of black and white, sight and blindness, self and society; he illustrates the shades of gray that make up the world. Not always the world we see or want to see, but the ambiguous buzzing world that is.

A product of a Freudian landscape, “Invisible Man” could be faulted for being too symbolic. The Christ imagery and mother references, for example, are quite prevalent. Even the main antagonist is a red-haired ‘Judas’. But, personally, I’m a sucker for symbolism and appreciate the depth it adds to the novel. It places the author’s struggle in historical and philosophical contexts and provides a deeper way to interact with the language. With this added dimension, the words and phrases jump from the page in an almost symphonic manner.

Much has been written about this novel and I could go on ad nauseum describing the plot or taking issue with other’s assumptions about the themes of the book. But instead I will just state what I got from it. I believe the author illustrates how people are fundamentally blind to their own biases and assumptions. This causes all of us make others invisible. Ellison emphasizes that people should not be used as means to an end, but recognized as ends unto themselves.

Rating: 9 of 10

“Some Women Won’t Wait” - A. A. Fair (Earl Stanley Gardner)

“Some Women Won’t Wait” is my first Earl Stanley Gardner mystery.  I’ve discovered since reading it that the author was responsible for the entire Perry Mason series as well as numerous other works.  He’s apparently one of those writers that everyone knows, except me.  Considering my penchant for campy ‘hard-boiled’ detective novels, it’s a little surprising that I’d missed him.  I’m pleased, however, to uncover what looks like a wine-cellar of vintage pulp fiction.

This particular story centers on a gold-digger, her wedding, the untimely death of her husband, the inheritance, and a scheming blackmailer.  Classic detective novel material.  Gardner’s style panders to the male ego by telling the story through the eyes of a private investigator, Donald Lam, who knows nearly everything and is somehow irresistible to women — even though he’s barely average height and a build.  Though the lore of his dangerous lifestyle makes the ladies swoon, by today’s standards any ‘action’ Lam gets undeniably tame.  The author depends on atmosphere and innuendo to raise the reader’s temperature.  It’s more Jimmy Stewart than Brad Pitt.

This book is genuine escapist literature.  There is little here of substance and that is the point.  After a few twists and turns and a couple of sultry evenings, the good guys win and the bad guys go off to jail.  It’s a brief, cartoonish Hawaiian fantasy and a fun read.

Rating:  6 of 10

“The Italian Secretary” - Caleb Carr

“The Italian Secretary” was truly a nice surprise.  I found it at the Bethesda Thrift Store in Wausau for $0.75.  How could I resist a book billed as “a further adventure of Sherlock Holmes”?  Frankly, I couldn’t.  I had my doubts, though.  First of all, I knew nothing of the author, Caleb Carr, and was slightly disturbed by the picture of him on the dust jacket carrying a shotgun and looking a little like a Michigan Militia member.  Secondly, I know that when people try to make an extra dollar from some tried-and-true franchise it tends to smell like fish in an elevator.*  Still, the price was right and I was pleasantly surprised.

Carr sets up Holmes and Watson to help out the queen of England herself — Victoria.  Attempts have been made on the Queen’s life and the politicos are using this opportunity to jockey for the creation of new ’secret’ military forces to protect ‘her majesty’.  Holmes’ brother, Mycroft, calls on the Baker Street boys to help him solve the mystery and keep the the realm safe from those who would use their positions for personal gain.  Watson and Holmes find themselves at Holyroodhouse — home of the infamous Queen Mary of Scots and scene of an ancient bloody nationalistic murder — trying to decide if they are up against a man or a ghost.

The number of ways in which Carr executes this novel perfectly are myriad.  First and foremost is his use of Watson.  No Sherlock Holmes novel is complete without the character of Watson to filter all of the events.  But this seems to me a difficult task.  Not only because of the language choices, but also because Watson is not impartial.  He is a little puffed-up, prideful, sexist, and often daft.  Watson is the spirit of the times and the comic relief.  The author caught that and made great use of it.  Secondly, Carr works well with something I believe few authors (even Sir Arthur Cannon Doyle himself) pay enough attention to:  mood.  The author builds all the necessary mental sets that make mysteries so much fun.  The mist on the moors, the moth-eaten curtains, and the one-eyed butler all bring the reader into the novel in the precise way one wants.  This is the reason we read these stories — to get those chills.

Finally, Carr creates an interesting mystery and a lively cast of characters.  He doesn’t belabor details to try and set a time period — he sets it automatically as if this was an original Holmes story.  In fact the only thing that ever smudges the perception that this book dropped right out of 1895 is that the author tends to bring a little more psychology — albeit very subtly — into the narrative than would have likely existed at the turn of the 20th century.  However, this issue, and the author’s obsession with minute details of weaponry, are forgivable in the grand scheme.  I thoroughly enjoyed this book and I applaud Caleb Carr for not trying to make updates, but instead working within the form.  It is not easy to write something in the style of its time, but it is rewarding for the readers and the fans of that genera.

Rating: 8 of 10

*”Do you know what happens when you leave a fish too long in an elevator?  I’ll give you a hint:  fish is biodegradable”.

“The Bryan Ferry Story” - Rex Balfour

“The Bryan Ferry Story” is a typical rock biography. Cheaply produced to make quick money on the subject’s rise to fame, this is late 20th century disposable culture at its purest. Of the book’s 128 pages, 65 are black and white photographs while four more are discography (leaving less than half the available pages for actual text). Because the chapters average three to four pages in length, the narrative is basically a long essay with section headings. In classic trash-bio fashion, the author is an obvious Ferry fan who is writing for like-minded folks. However, the book is far from a complete loss. To his credit, Mr. Balfour refrains from attempting any psychoanalysis of Bryan Ferry or delving too deeply into his own personal views on particular songs or albums. Moreover, the author’s writing style is unusually efficient and accessible – with the exception of some awkward and unnecessary use of alliteration.

The most notable thing about this book is what it should be: the story of Bryan Ferry. Like many rock stars, Bryan had humble roots in a factory town. However, the similarity pretty much ends there. For one thing, Ferry decided to get a college education rather than, say, hitting the highway with his good friends and a healthy drinking habit. He received training in Fine Art from a school in Newcastle where he became enamored with pop music via his interest in pop art. Seeing the possibility of packaging rock music as an artistic product, Bryan set to work learning how to write songs and putting together a strange troop that became known to the world as Roxy Music. This initial band included another ‘non-musician’, Brian Eno, who went on to produce such famous rock albums as U2’s “The Joshua Tree” and “Achtung Baby”. Roxy Music became an overnight success and Bryan Ferry became a most unlikely rock star.

One of the advantages of this book is that it was written in 1976, just five years after Roxy made their debut. This infuses the work with freshness that later retrospectives lack. The revolutionary nature of Ferry’s work is very apparent to the author. Roxy Music helped to usher in the glitter of glam rock, only to abandon it just as quickly. Bryan’s consistent interest in art, fashion, and design made him a character that no one in the rock circuit knew quite how to deal with. He was a rock n’ roll star who dressed like Humphrey Bogart and made solo albums where he crooned like an alien Frank Sinatra. He was the poster child for 1980’s yuppiedom before the calendar even turned past 1979. But all of this chaos and metamorphosis only fueled Ferry’s success.  He was art, camp, glamour, rock, and pop all rolled into one and, as Rex Balfour recounts, he was well aware of it. “The Bryan Ferry Story” may only be a £1.50 of biography, but as a snapshot of a fast-moving moment in rock history it is well worth every 0.01p.

Rating: 7 of 10

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” - L. Frank Baum

A classic 1950’s hardbound edition of “The Wizard of Oz”, complete with pictures, was mine for just a few dollars at a second-hand store recently.  I couldn’t resist.  I honestly have never read the book myself, though I do remember having the ‘Oz’ series read to me as a kid.  The used copy I purchased was much nicer than the dog-eared, chocolate-stained versions I remember getting from the public library in my youth.  But the book itself was not as fascinating as my childhood memories would have had me believe.

What I found more interesting than the book itself — which is frankly not particularly well written — was the way my mind wandered to comparisons between this original story and all of the cultural icons that have since stemmed from it.  Some of these comparisons originated in basic plot and premises.  For example, contrary to what I recalled, “The Wizard of Oz” does not contain the moral that each character was already endowed with the qualities they were seeking from the Wizard.  Ironically, however, the set up is totally there.  The scarecrow is constantly “thinking” of things, the lion is consistently being courageous, the tin man (except for his propensity to murder a great number of animals) is regularly empathetic to every helpless creature — yet the author never follows through.  Either Baum was oblivious that he was creating these set ups, or he was just too lazy to tie it all together at the end of the story.  In either case, it is strange indeed.

Other interesting difference between the story and my memory include the neutrality of the winged monkeys, and the fact that Dorothy’s shoes are silver!  But what really got me wondering was just how flat and boring the book truly is.  Without W. W. Denslow’s artwork, I suspect that the story would have seemed pretty dry to readers.  The descriptions are heavy-handed and whenever I got to a page without a picture, I found myself craving a visualization of the situation that was rarely provided.  Granted, the book is aimed at school children — but isn’t that all the more reason for clairity?

The final thing that struck me as I was reading it, was a curiosity about the adoption of the ‘Oz’ concept as part of gay culture.  This, in my mind, has to be related to an obsession with Judy Garland or maybe the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, because — other than an abundant use of the words ‘queer’ and ‘gay’ (both in their traditional contexts) — the book is pretty much bereft of any deeper meaning or symbolism.  There is certainly no interesting racy subtext or subtle nuggets of anti-establishment fervor.  No.  By the end of ‘The Wizard of Oz’, I was just surprised that so much has been made of so little.

Rating: 5 of 10