There’s a nicely varied bunch of paperbacks in the offing for October. I’ll start off with a book that’s been popular in my neck of the Twitter woods for quite some months. ‘What if I don’t want to hold your baby? – Can I date you without ever hearing about your divorce? – What can I demand of my mother now that I am an adult? – Is therapy pointless? – At what point does drinking a lot become a drinking problem? – Why does everyone keep asking me why I am not married?’ are some of the questions posed by Jami Attenberg’s All Grown Up, about twenty-first century womanhood narrated by a thirty-nine-year-old childless woman battling through society’s expectations and her own desires. I haven’t enjoyed everything Attenberg’s written but her last novel, Saint Mazie, was excellent and that blurb reminds me a little of Claire Messud’s take on the same subject, The Woman Upstairs, which immediately piques my interest.
My next choice also met with a good deal of tweeted enthusiasm when it was published in hardback although I’ve haven’t see much about it lately. Yaa Gyasi’s debut, Homegoing, follows the fortunes of two sisters – one sold into slavery, the other a slave-trader’s wife – taking her readers across three continents and seven generations. Homegoing tells ‘the very story of America’ according to the publishers, a somewhat ambitious claim but it does sound well worth a read.
I’m not sure I can say that about Paul Auster’s Man Booker shortlisted chunkster, 4321 which weighs in at over 850 pages. It’s the story of Archibald Isaac Ferguson, born on March 3rd 1947, just a month after Auster’s own birth – make of that what you will. The novel tells four parallel stories of Ferguson’s life. ‘Each version of Ferguson’s story rushes across the fractured terrain of mid-twentieth century America, in this sweeping story of birthright and possibility, of love and the fullness of life itself’ say the publishers which is all very enticing and I’m a fan of much of Auster’s writing but the size of this one is intimidating to say the least. Perhaps Annabel’s review over at Annabookbel will help you to make up your mind about this one.
Per Petterson’s Echoland explores childhood through twelve-year-old Arvid, on holiday with his family at his grandparents’ in Denmark. About to make the leap from childhood to adolescence, Arvid takes himself off exploring on his bike, escaping the household’s intergenerational tensions and glorying in his new-found freedom. ‘Echoland is an extraordinarily subtle and truthful snapshot of growing up, with an emotional depth that lingers long after its final pages’ say the publishers which sounds very much in Petterson territory to me. He writes the kind of beautifully clipped yet often lyrical prose of which I’m very fond.
Pulitzer Prize-winning author Robert Olen Butler’s Perfume River looks at the fallout of the Vietnam War through the lens of one family, also beset by divisions. Although his father is close to death, Robert’s estranged brother refuses to come home. Instead a homeless stranger appears who will rock the entire family’s foundations. ‘Profound and poignant, Perfume River is an examination of relationships, personal choice, and how war resonates down the generations’ say the publishers.
My final choice, Gerard Reve’s The Evenings, is set in one of my favourite European cities which is one of its draws for me. It’s the story of ten evenings in the life of Frits van Egters as he walks the streets of post-war Amsterdam. That may seem a tad dull but it’s been voted one of the greatest novels of all time by the highly literary Dutch. Described by the publishers as ‘edgy, mesmerising, darkly ironical’ it sounds quite intriguing.
That’s it for October’s paperbacks. A click on a title will take you to a fuller synopsis should you want to know more and If you’d like to catch up with October’s new titles they’re here.
This entry was posted in Random thoughts, Reviews and tagged 4321, All Grown Up, Don Bartlett, Echoland, Gerard Reve, Homegoing, Jami Attenberg, Paperbacks published in October 2017, Paul Auster, Per Petterson, Perfume River, Robert Olen Butler, Saint Mazie, Sam Garrett, The Evenings, Yaa Gyasi on 18 September 2017 by Susan Osborne.
I wasn’t particularly keen on Jami Attenberg’s The Middlesteins so you may wonder why Saint Mazie caught my attention: Mazie was the subject of a short essay by Joseph Mitchell first published in The New Yorker and included in his excellent collection Up in the Old Hotel. Like many of Mitchell’s subjects Mazie’s story is a fascinating one – an ordinary working-class New York woman who did something extraordinary. Attenberg has taken Mitchell’s essay and re-imagined Mazie’s life using fictionalised interviews and autobiography extracts with her diary as the novel’s backbone.
Mazie and Jeanie come to live in New York with their sister Rosie and her husband Louis when Mazie is ten. She’s a girl who likes a bit of excitement, wandering off whenever she can, staying out late into the small hours as soon as she’s old enough. Jeanie loves to dance and sets her sights on a career on the stage. All this is a source of terrible anxiety to Rosie, desperate for a child and consumed by obsessive cleaning. At Rosie’s behest, Louis sets Mazie up in the ticket booth of his movie theatre, safely tucked away from trouble. Mazie calls it her cage but it’s where she will spend her working life, sating her lust for adventure by walking the streets at night, visiting the local speakeasy in the Prohibition years and enjoying passionate encounters. She’s always noticed the down-and-outs, moved to lend a hand when children are involved, but as the Depression bites, her nightly wanders gain more purpose. Handing out change and soap, Mazie listens to the stories of the men on the street. Thoroughly acquainted with the humanity and inhumanity, she’s not a woman to be conned but she’s deeply compassionate and sees no difference between many of these men and herself.
Attenberg’s re-imagining brings Mazie vividly to life. She’s a passionate woman who’s seen enough of her parents’ dysfunctional marriage not to want it for herself. She’s bright, clear-eyed and sharp but she won’t turn her back on anyone in need. In the words of one of the interviewees she ‘led a very big life for someone who barely left a twenty-block radius’. By interspersing interviews with the diary entries Attenberg fleshes out a picture of Mazie’s family and neighbourhood, careful to have her characters tell us that their memories are unreliable or that they’re reporting rumours and suppositions. Fictionalisations can often seem clunky, weighed down by meticulous research, but Attenberg’s is executed with a light touch. It made me reach for my copy of Up in the Old Hotel, and I’m pleased to report that she’s remained true to the spirit of her source although, despite her interest in Catholicism, I’m not sure Mazie would have liked being dubbed a saint. No doubt she’d have had something sassy to say about that: ‘Queen of the Bowery’ would have been much more up her street.
Mitchell’s own story is an interesting one. He had a talent for seeking out eccentric characters and getting them to tell him about themselves but, sadly, he was struck by writer’s block. Hired by The New Yorker in 1938 he remained employed by them until his death in 1996 but never wrote anything of note after 1964. His last book was Joe Gould’s Secret about the eponymous author’s own writer’s block. He continued to attend The New Yorker office where they kept a desk for him until his death. Almost worthy of inclusion in his own book, which is highly recommended.
This entry was posted in Reviews and tagged American fiction, Jami Attenberg, Joe Gould's Secret, Joseph Mitchell, Mazie P. Gordon, New York fiction, Saint Mazie, Serpent's Tail, Up in the Old Hotel on 26 June 2015 by Susan Osborne.