The Man Who Fell to Earth - Walter Tevis
This book seems to have fallen by good fortune into my hands. I pulled it from the library shelf because I recognized the title – a movie had been made of it (one I hadn’t seen and knew nothing about). I read the opening paragraph and admired its unadorned precision, so I took it home. I suppose it belongs in the category of science fiction (a genre I have little patience with), and its message has to do with the now overly-familiar threat of annihilation by nuclear war. But the book is about people, and Tevis’s major accomplishment is to make the main character – an alien – understandable. I was engrossed in T. J. Newton’s story, his actions, and, most of all, his feelings. At the end I felt great respect for this Anthean who left his planet on a desperate mission, and who carried it out for so long with such skill and bravery. That he winds up disillusioned and lonelier than one can imagine is a tragedy, and I was moved. I was moved by an alien! – when so many human characters in fiction fail to elicit that emotion in me. Tevis writes with authority and intelligence; he’s able to explore complex matters with admirable clarity. But it’s the bright, crackling freshness of the novel that impressed me the most. This is something truly unique. *

The Earthly Paradise - Robert Thom
From beginning to end, without respite, this novel’s intensity level is set too high. Thoughts and feelings aren’t only expressed through extravagant actions and dialogue; the author uses descriptive prose to add to the intensity (“The words cut into him. He felt it at the base of his skull and in his spine.”). People become caricatures displaying the particular emotion they’re feeling. Yet these emotions become suspect because of huge and unsupported about-faces that take place; I didn’t believe in any character (the saintly and wise deaf mute was preposterous). Still, despite its strident, garish and silly aspects, the novel has momentum. The author could probably do good work if he gave up his pretensions. Thom tries to delve deep into the tortured human heart, but he needs to simply portray people as they really are.

A Summons to Memphis - Peter Taylor
The book’s premise, which emerged early on, intrigued me: a father prevents all three of his children from marrying the people they love, and in doing so derails their lives. I was interested in finding out what made this tyrannical figure tick. I can tell you now that nothing is revealed. One example: the narrator, Phillip, tells about the great love in his life. The girl he wants to marry seems satisfactory in every way, but Phillip’s father travels to Chattanooga to talk to the parents; after his visit the girl is shipped off to South America. What did he say to the parents? And why? We never find out. Questions I wanted to be answered are left unresolved; this was especially irritating since reading this book was a slog. Phillip doesn’t have a clue as to how to tell a story. He uses stilted language, he’s repetitive, he’s circuitous, he goes into long digressions on clothes and society and manners. He’s as dry as a stick; even his purported grande passion can’t soar on the wings of young love. He’s a bore, an anal retentive type who gets hold of an insignificant detail and won’t let it go. The book is filled with five page stretches where nothing of substance happens. My exasperation turned into an intense dislike for this character. He’s spineless, a coward; he insulates himself from any responsibility and hardly any contact with his family. When he’s summoned to Memphis by his sisters – who stayed and dealt with their father – he describes the one day experience as “hellish.” Poor Phillip. He flees back to New York. He depicts his sisters as grotesques, but how did they get this way? They deserve compassion and insight; instead they’re ridiculed. Phillip winds up being a cheerleader for the old man, promoting him as a figure to be respected. What an inane book. And it’s Peter Taylor, not his narrator, who’s entirely responsible for it.