The Winds of Morning – H. L. Davis
This is the third novel I’ve read by Davis, and his strengths are consistent. When his characters talk (and do they talk!), their voices have an earthy vigor. His descriptions of the Northwest of the 1920s, and of the tools men use in their daily work, have an indisputable authenticity. One of those tools are horses, and this book can serve as a primer on equine psychology. Two men are moving a herd to a new location, and there’s a murder mystery hanging over the affair. Amos is the first person narrator, but we learn little of what makes this reticent man act and feel as he does. He’s an observer, and it’s his companion on the trip – an old man named Hendricks – that he observes most closely. Hendricks has made mistakes in his past (undisclosed ones), and as a result has adopted a strict code of conduct; he always sees a choice, even in minor matters, as to what’s the right thing to do. Both men sense that there’s something awry in the world – their personal worlds and the larger one – and they’re trying to find ways to deal with it. Nature, though largely conquered and defiled by man, can still inflict suffering, but a more formidable problem is presented by people. Amos and Hendricks instinctively respond to others with suspicion: most likely they’re deceptive and possibly dangerous. As for women, Amos is deeply cynical, and the love story involving a girl named Calanthe moves in fits and starts. The same can be said for the plot in general. Davis is at ease describing a river crossing, or an incidental conversation, or a landscape, but when it comes to the entanglements of human emotions he becomes grudgingly obscure. Regarding the murder, its never made clear who did what to whom, and why. And though Hendrick’s source of guilt is revealed, it’s handled in an offhand way. As for Amos and Calanthe, Davis can’t, at the end, bring himself to settle for us, in simple terms, if there’s just a possibility of happiness for them.

Under the Net – Iris Murdock
This was included in the Modern Library’s list of the 100 best novels written in the English language in the 20th Century. I struggled to the halfway point (page 127) just so I could ask, in this review, “Why?” Murdock tries for a lively lark (and the effort is evident) by having the main character run here and there in frantic pursuit of this and that, with a host of eccentric people crowding their way into the loose-ended plot. Even the prose strains for animation: “At that very moment the telephone rang. My heart sprang within me and fell like a bird striking a window pane. I started to my feet. I had not the slightest doubt that the caller was Hugo. I looked at the phone as if it had been a rattlesnake.” (Two animal similes?) Or Jake’s reactions while eavesdropping: “I must hear more, I thought, with my eyes popping out.” “I was seized forthwith by a convulsive desire to laugh, and had to prevent myself by covering my mouth violently.” This book was a mistake – rollicking comedy was not Murdock’s thing. But it’s an amateurish mistake. And can’t mistakes show talent? The main character is no more than a prop; I never for a minute believed in Jake, his actions, his feelings. This book doesn’t belong on any “best” list. So why is it there?

The Revolt of the Angels - Anatole France (French)
Guardian angels, each assigned to a human, abide on earth and are privy to modern (early 20th Century) learning. Through their reading of scientific texts, they conclude that the bible is a conglomeration of falsehoods, and that God is a tyrannical fraud. The author doesn’t seem to be troubled by the contradiction in his premise. He has his rebellious angels express atheistic views, but their very existence – and that of the God they want to overthrow – is confirmation that a spiritual world exists. When they begin plans to wage war on heaven (with the help of a mysterious arsenal of bombs), I felt I was reading a book for kids, and I quit. The points France makes – that the dominance of Christianity brought on much suffering, that it’s rampant with hypocrisy, etc. – were surely not groundbreaking even in 1914. He seems to believe that the pre-Christian pagan worshipers – the Greeks especially – were on the right track; if humans are to worship anything, why not Bacchus and Venus? The aspect of the novel that deals with humans has interesting moments, but the angels are duds, every one of them. Despite how misconceived this undertaking was, I got the impression that the seventy-year-old author was having a fine time expounding his views.

Asymmetry – Lisa Halliday
Under the photo of the young woman on the back cover we’re informed that this debut novel won the Whiting Award, and that Lisa Halliday was born in Medfield, Massachusetts and currently lives in Milan, Italy. The book came to my attention when, in a radio interview, Ms. Halliday talked of her real-life affair with Philip Roth; it took place some sixteen years ago, when she was in her twenties and he was in his seventies. In the first part of Asymmetry, entitled “Folly,” a young woman (Alice) recounts her affair with a much older Famous Author (Ezra Blazer). In the interview Halliday denied that this section was autobiographical. Really? I read the book in order to get the inside scoop on Roth, and surely Halliday (and Simon and Schuster) were aware that others will do the same. The second section, “Madness,” veers off into an entirely different sphere: it deals with the problems in the Middle East and the first person narrator is a Muslim man. This novel (or, rather, two novellas) is a polished, intelligent work, but I constantly found myself questioning what was behind the author’s decisions. This led me to try to sort out, in simple terms, exactly what Halliday did and what she didn’t do. You can find my conclusions at “Lisa Halliday’s Asymmetry” at my Tapping on the Wall blog.

The Bell - Iris Murdoch
Murdoch was preoccupied with serious matters, and this gives the novel weight. But she was a careless keeper of her literary house; there’s a lot of clutter for the reader to maneuver around. I don’t think prose or structure were of much concern to her; psychological and philosophical matters were. Though she gives her characters a human dimension, they do double service as props through which she can present her ideas. Murdoch’s mind was unique: dark, dramatic (sometimes melodramatic) and a bit childlike. She ends the book with an artful flourish - the last sentence suddenly opens up an intriguing new vista.

Time Will Darken It - William Maxwell
Maxwell can create a mood so palpable it seems to rise from the page. At its core is love for the sensuous world around us; he shows commonplace things with fresh eyes. He’s a moral humanist – people do not act without right and wrong being an issue, and he treats them with compassion. The beginning, which involves a visit by relatives, is a rich display of his gifts. But Maxwell’s problem is plotting, and the second part, in which the premise set up in the beginning is worked out, is weak. The final resolution is unconvincing and hurried, as if Maxwell decided to wrap things up – somehow.

Shuffle - Leonard Michaels
The book is composed of diverse parts, a lot of it a journal that gave me a too-intimate look at Michaels’ life; I stopped reading it with relief. But the long story “Sylvia” was very good, a study of a relationship that is intense and destructive. Though Sylvia is disturbed, I never felt that she did harmful things out of maliciousness; she seemed a sad victim of her emotions. Michaels portrays himself as passive, confused and almost helpless; to survive he succeeds in getting away from Sylvia. The ending, which is about the cost of his freedom, is harrowing. Part of the story’s success is the detachment with which Michaels tells it – flatly, almost clinically, like conducting an autopsy. Or maybe it’s the muted tone of one in shock.

Mason’s Retreat - Christopher Tilghman
The novel starts out nicely, with interesting characters and an engaging premise. But things begin to unravel when the house, depicted in a horrid state, is suddenly presented to the reader as a pleasant place, without the author showing us how it got this way. Then the father leaves the scene, depriving the book of its most complex personality. It’s as if Tilghman lacked the staying power needed to sustain a high level of writing. Loose ends and discarded characters abound. The affair the wife has is with a man too much like a romantic lead in a TV soap, so she loses credibility (and my respect). A drowning scene is very strong, again showing Tilghman’s ability when he applies the pressure, but after that the book limps along to a sketchy and uninspired ending.