Flowering Judas - Katherine Anne Porter

This, Porter’s first collection, is by far her weakest. Many of the stories have Mexico as their setting; she doesn’t belong there and doesn’t write about the people convincingly. “The Cracked Looking-Glass” (locale: the Connecticut countryside) shows the author at her best; it’s about a woman married to a much older man. What might be expected from this timeworn premise never materializes. Porter probes into the psychology of her two characters; the results are ambiguous and surprising. The next story, the long (so very long) “Hacienda,” takes place south of the border and is about nothing much; people come and go and talk, all to no purpose. Without a subject that she knew intimately, Porter was merely a writer with good technique.

The Jungle - Upton Sinclair

A social protest novel that had to be written, had to be read. Sinclair hammers home his points with power and drive. His anger is not directed solely at the unsanitary conditions in meat packing houses. He was angry about man’s inhumanity to man. Angry about greed being the motivating force in society. Not just those at the top are indicted; Sinclair shows how the inhumanity filters down so that the little man is gouging the man littler than he is. Unfortunately, at the end Sinclair turns to proselytizing. Previously he had embedded his message in real people and their situations; even when the writing was crude and strident, the novel had authenticity. I think the most effective ending would be to have Jarvis, once a decent, compassionate man, become a heartless brute (Sinclair goes there, but he backs away). Instead we get long speeches espousing Socialism, and Jarvis is reduced to a passive shell. Still, this is a novel that changed society. People who read it demanded government inspection of food; they were worried about what was on their plates. As for the inhumane, greed-driven capitalistic system – that was not an issue of concern.

Summer’s Lease - John Mortimer

This fails as a whodunit, yet there’s another side to Summer’s Lease: it’s an appealing story of a family who rent a villa in Italy. I found them to be entertaining (especially the irreverent grandfather). The happy ending (physical passion revived) seems tacked-on, and the author glosses over a solution to the mystery; it doesn’t matter to the narrator, because she’s now happy with her husband and children. It didn’t matter to me either. Nor, I think, to the author.

The Leaning Tower - Katherine Anne Porter
Porter engages the reader by always focusing on what’s interesting; she has the ability to see deeply and clearly, be it into a personality or an issue; she combines intelligence with honesty; her prose is smooth and engrossing. Quite an array of virtues are on display in this collection. Some of the stories are about former slaves; they should be required reading for those interested in the “race issue.” Her story about Germany in the early thirties is an examination of a society primed to exlode. My favorites? “The Grave” and “The Downward Path to Wisdom.” In “Path” we see, through a child’s eyes, the ugliness and chaos of the life he is heir to. “The Grave” presents a small incident that grows large and ends in an image, a memory, held still and outside time. All these stories are excellent and incisive works of art. *

Everything To Live For - Paul Horgan
The narrator is looking back at something that occurred when he was seventeen. We get an adult’s perspective, not a boy’s. This creates a problem. I didn’t see or experience what a boy would see and experience. Also, the prose is so smooth and unruffled that the true feel of life is missing. All is pristine. There are dangers in something too crafted, too wise; it becomes “precious.” In Things As They Are Horgan also had a man looking back at the boy he was, but he presented events from the boy’s perspective. That made all the difference.

Swimming to Cambodia - Spalding Gray
Originally done by the author as an on-stage monologue, the book retains a conversational tone. It’s engaging, a swift, lively read. Gray is a humorist, though he’s not superficial – this book is about something (of a political nature). But a glaring problem is that he often goes too far with the smuttiness – to the point of being truly disgusting.

The Red and the Black - Stendhal (French)
I enjoyed the parts where the author looked at society and the church with unbridled contempt. Stendhal can dissect people with ruthless efficiency. I put up with the excesses of feelings – fainting, weeping, etc. – attributing it to a different culture, a different time. But, for a psychological study, what failed was the character of Jean Sorel. Stendhal was so cynical about motivations, so scathing toward hypocrisy, but at the close of the book he seems unable to see what a phony Sorel was. The ending is a series of unlikely, unmotivated, grossly overblown events.

The Hair of Harold Roux - Thomas Williams
I skimmed the last hundred pages. In the beginning I read with high hopes: a novel about a writer, concerned with the creative process, done by a real craftsman. The problem was preciousness. Williams can’t avoid Deep Thoughts. His protagonist is him, Williams, and he treats himself with hushed regard. Even faults are self-congratulatory ones (so dangerous to the ladies!). Don’t write an autobiographical novel if you think too highly of yourself; you’ll wind up looking ridiculous.

Excellent Women - Barbara Pym
It’s pleasant to enter Pym’s world. Her characters are engaging; there’s an ease in her unobtrusive prose; her plots are calm and sensible. She’s a master of understatement. The third person narrator, a plain spinster lady who is involved with the Church, has a penetrating and humorous eye. Pym mixes in worldly characters with ease. There are no hates being bandied about (although some characters suffer from Pym’s careful scrutiny). There’s a gentle acceptance of human foibles.

Ship of Fools - Katherine Anne Porter
A long novel, in very short sections separated by a skipped space. Porter includes a ship’s roster to help the reader keep the many characters straight. The individuals are varied, and I found them all to be complex, interesting and real. I’ve read criticism saying that most of the people are the same at the end of the voyage as they were at the beginning. This didn’t bother me one bit, for Porter’s view of humanity includes just such a static picture: miserable souls will never be freed from their particular forms of misery. Porter is very good with evil; Rick and Rack are frightening in their innate amorality. She also examines prejudice (the novel takes place just before WWII). Another thing critics objected to was her unflattering portrayal of the one Jew on the ship; yet should he be pure when so many others aren’t? Her prose is worthy of study; it combines the best of the elaborate and the simple. Also, the dog, Bebe, is wonderful. *