Ellis Island, and other Stories

AUTHOR: Mark Helprin
TITLE: Ellis Island, and other Stories

Mark Helprin is all lyricism and description, like a less talented Fitzgerald (which is unfair – we are all less talented Fitzgeralds). He’s the author of one of my favorite novels, the epic, winding and fantastical A Winter’s Tale, and revisiting Ellis Island, one can see the saplings of what would become his masterpiece.

Helprin is like the exact opposite of Cormac McCarthy. He can render beautiful description, and he does, incessantly, but sometimes at the expense of the emotional core of the story. It’s as if he’s never seen a valley or a mountain or a person’s nose that he didn’t want to describe, and though his command of language is impressive, it occasionally distracts. That being said, he describes things beautifully, with a grasping synesthesia that frequently borders on brilliance. He may not be able to describe the layout of a room, but he can do an old radio like it’s nobody’s business.

Each of the 11 short stories in Ellis Island are about a slice of life, but most involve momentous events. Death of wife/child, suicide, baboonicide, war, immigration, etc, etc. Most short stories, or most short stories that I’ve read anyway, tread smaller moments for bigger truths, like on a Tuesday afternoon, after talking to your mother on the phone and before taking a shower, you see a dead rabbit in the road and realize that life is banality chased by death.

The great short story writers can make something like that sound not stupid.

Helprin is not great, but he’s good. He has a weakness for bizarre coincidences and nice, neat little endings, but two of this stories – “Letters from the Samantha” and “North Light” – resonate deeply… and two stories of 11 is not bad. It’s an interesting study of modern lyricism and war (he served in the Israeli army), but I’d more strongly recommend reading A Winters Tale, and coming to these stories if you want more.

That, and don’t read any of his contemporary political commentaries. It’ll just piss you off.

Essential Manners for Men

TITLE: Essential Manners for Men

AUTHOR: Peter Post

This may seem like a one-sided recommendation - one for men and men alone. Don't be fooled ladies. Peter Post does extensive research into the minds and hearts of women with the hopes that he can teach the average male how not to make an ass out of himself in a host of situations. You can't fault the man for taking on a seemingly impossible task.

The book is reference tool, like a dictionary or Wikipedia for etiquette. It's broken down into three major sections: daily life, social life, and business etiquette. It addresses simple personal habits ("When you swear, the listener doesn't focus on what you are but rather on how you are saying it."), flirting ("Steer clear of...immediate turnoffs. Religion and politics top the list."), issues in work life ("Negative Behavior #2: A Superior Attitude"), and parenting ("Sharing the Load: This sometimes involves serious sacrifice."). Most of this may seem like common sense, but I find my generation treading a slippery slope, and more and more we're losing out footing.

Am I implying that those of you who occasionally visit this site are vile hooligans? Not entirely. Am I over dramatizing the state of affairs of modern human interaction? Maybe. But find me a person - a person of any sex, age or creed - who doesn't need a subtle reminder or two about how to hit on women during a workout (never, never do it) or the five simple rules of a job interview. I'm certainly not a candidate.

Fortunately, Post has condensed it nicely. I'm looking to make myself a better I can find a good deal of the answers here.

Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters -and- Seymour, an Introduction

TITLE: Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour, an Introduction

AUTHOR: J.D. Salinger

Like every other American child in the last 40 years, I was forced to read The Catcher in the Rye in High School. And though I enjoyed it (it was, in fact, one of the only books set upon me in High School that I enjoyed), the book does its part to distort the perception of Salinger’s work. His other three books are starkly different, but too many people have read nothing but that, and it is worth saying that of the few dozen fans of his published works that I’ve known or spoken to in my life, I can’t think of anyone who puts Catcher in the Rye in the top two.

I say all that to say this: if all you know about J.D. Salinger is the obligatory Holden Caufield in late-adolescence – whether you liked the book or not – there is so much more, and I’ll say better, to read.

Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters: Salinger has this inimitable gift for writing beautiful prose conversationally. It’s as if he’s recounting to you, an old friend, the details of an event for which he was actually present. Just telling you a story. It’s seemingly effortless without being pedestrian, and while you can read it ten times and get something new out of it each time, you’ll frequently look down to find, with surprise, you’ve already read 50 pages.

This story is told in first person from Buddy Glass of the Glass family, Salinger’s favorite characters. He writes about them with such frequency (this, Franny and Zooey, and several of the Nine Stories are all about the same characters, and the narrative voice is always of the second oldest, Buddy), and with such palpable affection, such detail, that it still offers me a small surprise to reflect that they are imaginary.

But in any event, this is a first person account of the eldest brother, Seymour’s, wedding. Seymour is the poet of the family, and Salinger saves all his best thoughts and musings for him. Seymour never shows up, stands up his bride-to-be, and the story is much about the aftermath. There’s so much I want to say about this and I won’t, not that the plot is all so important, but still. It's good enough that you deserve what minor suspense is available to you. I will say that it’s a wonderful story, and contains moments of stunning, pan-human empathy like I’ve never read in my life. While Franny and Zooey, taken together, is my favorite, this one is a close second.

Seymour, an Introduction: I can’t broadly dismiss this story. Some people like it. I do, however, feel confident in saying that if there wasn’t such a paucity of Salinger material, I would never read this story again. It’s the author, again as Buddy Glass, talking at great length about his brother Seymour. No plot, no real point, just a character description, with about 20,000 asides, parentheticals, tangents, and other onanistic indulgences. That conversational style that I so emphatically praised above? This is the one and only time in his writing where he takes it much too far.

It’s still worth reading, I suppose, but I’d save it for when there is no more of him to read. It’s got a few great quotes, very clever stuff, which, unlike above, I have no conscience whatsoever about replaying:

• He mentions getting older: “whoever we are, no matter how like a blast furnace the heat from the candles on our latest birthday cake…”
• He reprints his Seymour's opinions on one of his past stories: “I feel your censure on all [the character's]‘God-damns.’ That seems off to me. What is it but a low form of prayer when he or Les or anybody else God-damns everything. I can’t believe God recognizes any form of blasphemy. It’s a prissy word invented by the clergy.”

He’s very clever, and very smart, and knows how to write. This story just gets too post-modern, too many asides to the reader, too many references to himself writing the story. Too much for me, anyway. One needs to have a good deal of interest in this made-up Seymour Glass to muscle through it, but even with an interest (which I have), it’s still laborious.

If you’ve read everything else, then read this. If you haven’t, goto Step 1, and come back when you have. You’ll want to, by then.

Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem

The story of Lionel Essrog, a detective suffering from Tourette's syndrome, as he tracks down the killer of his boss, Frank Minna. Minna enlisted Lionel and his friends when they were teenagers living at Saint Vincent's Home for Boys, ostensibly to perform odd jobs (we're talking very odd) and over the years trained them to become a team of investigators. The Minna men face their most daunting case when they find their mentor in a Dumpster bleeding from stab wounds delivered by an assailant whose identity he refuses to reveal--even while he's dying on the way to the hospital. As a mystery this is a big departure from Lethem's other books, but his brilliance with writing convincing dialogues and plots remains the same. Just don't "fuggetabout" this one!

The Glass Palace by Amitov Ghosh

Set primarily in Burma, Malaya, and India, this work spans from 1885, when the British sent the King of Burma into exile, to the present. While it does offer brief glimpses into the history of the region, it is more the tale of a family and how historical events influenced real lives. As a young boy, Rajkumar, an Indian temporarily stranded in Mandalay, finds himself caught up in the British invasion that led to the exile of Burma's last king. In the chaos, he spies Dolly, a household maid in the royal palace, for whom he develops a consuming passion and whom years later he tracks down in India and marries. As their family grows and their lives intersect with others, the tangled web of local and international politics is brought to bear, changing lives as well as nations. Ghosh ranges from the condescension of the British colonialists to the repression of the current Myanmar (Burmese) regime. A compelling look into a region of the world long hidden and little known.

Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer

The study of religious fanaticism told through the story of Ron and Dan Laferty, Mormon fundamentalist brothers who in 1984 murdered the wife and infant daughter of their youngest brother Allen. Claiming that they were instructed by God to carry out this horrific act, the brothers' interviews with the author are chilling and unremorseful. The book is a scary look into the minds of fundamentalists of all religions who believe that their actions-no matter how heinous-are indeed divine instructions.

Isaac's Storm by Erik Larson

Torqued by drama and taut with suspense, this absorbing narrative of the 1900 hurricane that inundated Galveston, Tex., conveys the sudden, cruel power of the deadliest natural disaster in American history. Told largely from the perspective of Isaac Cline, the senior U.S. Weather Bureau official in Galveston at the time, the story considers an era when "the hubris of men led them to believe they could disregard even nature itself."