The Ferrari in the Bedroom - Jean Shepherd

As a young man alone in New York, I considered Jean Shepherd to be my friend. This friendship was carried on via the radio, with me listening to his nightly monologues. The man meant a lot to me; he brought good cheer to my life. In these essays I often caught a sense of that voice from long ago. He was a better talker than he is a writer – I don’t believe he had the patience to put a lot of work into his writing. His monologues had a fluidity and freedom that’s missing from his prose. I also found a more cynical person than the one I heard over the radio. Six of the pieces are very good, and seven others are good. There are a number that don’t come off, and some are duds. But who cares! Jean Shepherd gets a pass. It was a pleasure to spend some more time with my friend. *

The Enemy in the Blanket - Anthony Burgess

This second volume of the Malayan Trilogy: The Long Day Wanes has the virtues of the first, though a bit watered-down. The problem I cited in my previous review has become more serious. My inability to understand Victor Crabbe has progressed to the point where I don’t believe in him. And I dislike the person Burgess has concocted. Victor isn’t a good (nor a faithful) husband to Fenella; this has to do, supposedly, with his love for his previous wife, who drowned in a submerged car while Victor escaped. A tragic scenario explaining Victor’s errant behavior – but really? Why couldn’t Burgess, with all his skills, make this story more convincing? Anyway, Fenella leaves Victor (despite his vows that he has changed and truly loves her), and I applauded her decision. As for the watered-down aspect, the exotic world of Malaya and its gaudy characters are not so vivid as in the first novel. Still, I’ll read volume three.

The Custom of the Country - Edith Wharton

Edith was adept at applying the thumbscrews. In this character study she uses them on Undeen, a woman who values empty showiness – jewels, parties, dresses. She has no regard for things of enduring worth. A diamond bracelet means more to her than her son or her long-suffering parents. To get what she wants (and wanting is her only passion) she uses her beauty to climb the social ladder in New York and Paris. Undeen is willful, selfish, cold, calculating, but she’s also real. At times I felt sympathy for her; she is, in her way, a cripple, lacking in something essential. There are problems with the novel that bring it down a few pegs. Ralph’s suicide seems unsupported, simply convenient to the plot, and there were too many coincidental meetings between Undeen and Moffett (another strong character, though I didn’t believe in his rapid rise to power). Also, Wharton pretty much ignores Undeen’s son; this could be interpreted as a reflection of how Undeen ignored him. But when Wharton gives Paul center stage in the last chapter it’s an oddly flat scene; I don’t know if the author herself had feeling for the boy. The ending – with Undeen, who now has almost everything, left wanting that which she cannot get – doesn’t carry enough weight. Her story should close on a more emphatic note than discontent. Still – a novel that has a lot to say.

Beds in the East - Anthony Burgess

In this final installment of The Long Day Wanes Victor Crabbe is still the weak link; and, since he’s the main character, this proves fatal to the trilogy as a whole. I believe Burgess and Victor are one and the same, and Burgess couldn’t be honest about himself. As a consequence, Victor never rang true. When he was married to Fenella – in the first two volumes – he was constantly having sex with other women. In this book, when she’s left him, he’s chaste. In both cases, his behavior is incomprehensible. Burgess set up a long-ago love that haunts Victor; in the last pages of Beds it’s revealed to Victor that the woman never loved him. This revelation is presented by means of a flimsy coincidence. Shortly thereafter Victor (who has degenerated to the point of grotesqueness) falls in the river and drowns. Though we’ve been in his mind for nearly 500 pages, this episode is seen from someone else’s perspective; the person observing his death doesn’t care about him. Burgess’s callous, offhand destruction of Victor may reflect his own self-loathing and self-pity. At the end one woman briefly mourns him: “Poor Victor,” she thinks, “poor, poor Victor.” And then she’s off to dance.

Abel Sanchez and Other Stories - Miguel de Unamuno (Spanish)

In the title novella Unamuno concentrates on two emotions: Envy and Hate. Terrible emotions, diseases of the mind. Unamuno varies the action and the ways in which he approaches Joaquin’s mania, so the book never becomes stagnant. He also makes Abel, the object of Joaquin’s lifelong hatred, a complex and ambiguous figure (not merely a pure, innocent victim). This is a psychological novel, and a wonderful one. The ending, when a dying Joaquin tells his wife that he never loved her – that he could have been saved if he had – is a wrenching perception. As for the two stories, “The Madness of Doctor Montarco” didn’t amount to much, but “San Manuel Bueno, Martyr” was quite interesting. It too is distilled to its essentials. It’s about religious faith, about believe in God and an afterlife. Manuel, a priest, doesn’t have faith. But he knows the desolation and despair of non-believing, so he does all he can to make the villagers believe with all their hearts. He also teaches them, mostly by example, to work hard, to be kind and generous, to avoid gossip. Thus, he is a saint. Unamuno was one of those rare philosophers who can express their ideas in fiction; he goes deep into a subject, gets his point across, and he does so with clarity and simplicity. *

The Late Mattia Pascal - Luigi Pirandello (Italian)

Another philosopher full of ideas but unable to integrate them into an effective narrative. I liked the book initially – the premise was interesting (a man being granted, out of the blue, his freedom from a depressing everyday existence) and the voice was good – but a long swath in the middle is weak. To keep matters moving along (though sluggishly) Pirandello introduces a host of implausible story elements. All the while the hero is having existential fits (the book is filled with exclamation marks). Things pick up again at the end, when Mattia returns to a world that the reader can relate to. Though Pirandello had something to say about freedom and its perils, the enterprise as a whole was inconclusive and a bit silly.

Time for a Tiger - Anthony Burgess

Tiger is a brand of beer, and beer (or booze of any kind) is what Nabby Adams single-mindedly craves. As a portrayal of an alcoholic, Nabby seems overdone, though he’s a lovable hoot (and never has anybody been blessed – or cursed – by a more adoring dog). The main character of the book, Victor Crabbe, is lacking in some vague way; I say “vague” because I can’t put my finger on what Burgess is withholding. Others fare better. His wife, Fenella, is appealing; there’s a core of sadness in her that I responded to. Alladad Khan is a wonderful comic figure. These four, and many other well-drawn minor characters, carry on in Malaya, which is depicted as an exotic and fascinating potpourri of nationalities and languages and views of life, all in conflict. The mood Burgess creates is teeming, threatening, colorful, oppressive. It’s a pleasure to be in the hands of an intelligent writer who’s trying to entertain. I don’t believe in magic potions, but the effects of one on Victor and Fenella is done so well that I gladly accepted it. I liked the ending and was happy that it wasn’t the ending. This is the first volume of a trilogy. I’ll take another visit to Malaya. And maybe I’ll wind up understanding Victor.