Reviews from the past

The Big Money - John Dos Passos

This is the last of the USA trilogy; in all it makes up over 1200 pages. Dos Passos wrote, in a preface to the series, that America was “mostly people speaking.” He gives them a voice; the bulk of this book, and the other two, follows lives. People think, feel, act, talk; the narrative drive and authenticity is amazing. The time span covered by the trilogy – three decades – and the diversity of the characters give it enormous scope; this is as close as we’ll come to the Great American Novel. It has a strong element of protest – there was much injustice in the USA – but this isn’t a limiting factor; each book teems with human beings we can relate to. The Big Money succeeds as fully as the other two did. Dos Passos set out on a path he believed in; it was exactly the right path. * (1 other book by this author is reviewed)

Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte

Subtitled “An Autobiography,” this book has passion and intelligence. It opens when Jane is ten. We follow her through hardships, and along her rocky road in life we come to know and care for her. The bulk of the novel is taken up with her romance. Rochester is a compelling presence, mysterious and forceful. But we believe that Jane, in her quiet, unintimidated way, is his equal. As he comes to value her we believe in that too, because she’s worthy of respect. We see his good qualities slowly, grudgingly emerge under her influence. So the love story works. But the novel goes astray in the last hundred pages. Previously it had been solidly grounded. Then, in the chapter about the aborted marriage, Rochester first goes into a long explanation of how the madwoman came to be in the attic; I didn’t buy it, didn’t believe that this woman was such a total monster and he such a benevolent dupe (Jean Rhys didn’t either, and thus the idea for Wide Sargasso Sea was born). Rochester heaps adoring praise on Jane, detailing her virtues; he rhapsodizes about his love for her and his inability to live without her. And I thought: Too much. No longer are we on solid ground. What we’re getting – this is an autobiography, after all – is Bronte indulging in a fantasy about her worth. Despite his pleas, Jane decides to flee from Rochester; she’s rescued from death’s door by “fairy people.” In her life that follows we see more of Jane’s prideful and judgmental side. The character of St. John is a puzzlement. He’s a cold-hearted, iron-willed prig, but to Bronte he’s someone of great value; she even gives him (and his self-sacrificing, censorious religiosity) the last page of this long book. As for Rochester, when Jane returns to him he’s blind, maimed and broken in spirit. This once-powerful man has been emasculated – a fact that casts a shadow over Jane’s closing words: “Reader, I married him.”

Invitation to a Beheading - Vladimir Nabokov (Russian)

I believe this novel – a masterpiece that ranks up there with Lolita – is about Life, and it presents a disturbing picture. Cincinnatus is in a cell, awaiting execution for an undisclosed crime (that of being alive). He wants to know, in the beginning, the date of his execution; the answers he receives confuse or mislead him. Later a definite date is set (“You have inoperable cancer, Mr. Jones.”). If we think of the scenario Nabokov presents us with in these stark terms (mostly we avoid thinking of it) Cincinnatus is man stripped of all but the essentials of existence. In this state he yearns for three things: compassion, love and understanding. The last is the most important. For how can another person be compassionate toward you, how can they love you, if they don’t understand who and what you are? The terrible (and terribly grotesque) cruelty of the book (Cincinnatus is not harmed physically at any point) is the utter lack of understanding everyone exhibits toward him; instead he’s treated with a callousness that can take the form of ridicule or indifference. He tries to express his true self in writing, but that’s futile. No one will read his words; besides, he can’t put into words what he wants to say. So he’s emotionally alone (and is that not the human condition?). The surreal ending is intelligible if we consider that the world exists for each of us through our senses; the world ceases when we do. When Cincinnatus’s head is severed a vestige of his consciousness continues on for a moment as everything around him crumbles to nothingness. * (12)

See Lolita Revisited and The Five Star Club

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - Junot Diaz

I thought the beginning was engaging – the section about nerdy, fat young Oscar’s futile search for love (or at least some sex). But that was a short section, and gradually, page by page, Diaz destroyed all my good will. Oscar is abandoned (he makes a return appearance, but minus any vitality). Diaz fabricates one preposterous character after another; Junior is the phoniest of the lot, and midway into his chapter I called it quits. What Diaz has cobbled together is a crudely-made patchwork filled with a lot of lumpy stuffing (all those historical footnotes). He can use the language inventively, but that skill is put to no worthwhile use. The book is repetitive, gimmicky, juvenile, pretentious and vulgar; besides grating on my sensibilities, it bored me – profoundly. Lastly, regarding how Dominicans are depicted, especially the morally-challenged women: where’s the Dominican Anti-Defamation League when you need them?