Monday, 27 February 2017
I’ve always been vaguely aware of Ann Patchett because of the popularity of Bel Canto (2001) with library patrons, but that remained the extent of my knowledge until now. Having just read Commonwealth for my library’s book club I researched her background and came away impressed. Patchett made Time Magazine’s list of most influential people in 2012 because she established her own independent book store in Nashville when every other book store had closed due to the impact of online book sellers such as Amazon. Superficially this doesn’t seem like much of an achievement, however Patchett took a stand against the erosion of book stores as cultural hubs that help promote a literate community, and that is particularly significant.
Anna Patchett has impeccable literary tastes, name-checking the likes of John Updike, Saul Bellow and Philip Roth as her main influences. Commonwealth does have some Updike infused into both its style and the ensemble cast of characters coping with the long term ramifications of two marriages coming to an end. Essentially Commonwealth is a minor saga involving blended families compromised by the upheaval of divorce. The novel begins in a dynamic fashion when Bert Cousins, a district attorney, gatecrashes a christening party at Fix and Beverly Keating’s house somewhere in the suburban wilds of Los Angeles. Bert’s presence at the party, the giant bottle of gin he brings and the kiss he plants on Beverley’s lips change both family’s futures; thus beginning an examination of the psychological fallout of divorce on both the children and the adults.
Patchett handles the plot arc mostly with aplomb and her writing style, which is clean and unhurried, takes the reader right into the emotional heart of the action. Despite these positives the novel's greatest undoing is that there are simply too many characters that crowd out the narrative, giving little room to explore any one character in any great depth. The closest the novel comes to a main protagonist is Franny, Fix and Beverley’s child, whom we first encounter as a baby at her christening. Franny is a likable but slightly banal character whose life has been made complex by her upbringing and the fallout from a significant tragic event that took place during one of the endless summer holidays the six children spend, mostly unsupervised, together. Commonwealth is aptly named as it doesn’t just explore the inevitable dysfunction that arises when step siblings are forced together, but also more importantly the mutual benefits of their shared circumstances, particularly when they are adults and need to lean on each-other to help them through their parents typically tragic endgames.
Franny is also at the heart of the novel’s other main thematic thrust: the moral implications of using actual real life events to furnish a novel of both characters and plot. Pratchett has some fun creating a drunken and washed out writer called Leon Posen. Posen appears around the middle of the novel and almost instantly makes a sometimes sluggish narrative much more interesting. Franny’s relationship with the aging writer brings out stories from her childhood and Posen adapts it for his comeback novel after being silent for over a decade. Through Posen Patchett explores the moralistic grey areas of novels, such as who owns a story once it is in the public domain? After all you can’t copy-write childhood memories; this is a problem that Franny’s brother Albie, one of the other stand-out characters, is faced with when he reads the novel and recognises his childhood, and in doing so discovers circumstances that he was unaware of simply because he was both the youngest and most reviled sibling.
Commonwealth left me with feelings of ambivalence because I found it to be tedious at times and bloated with characters that I found difficult to relate to, and also the last third of the novel left me cold, despite some well written scenes. Curiously however Commonwealth also impressed me just enough for me to say that I actually enjoyed it and entertain the notion that for certain readers who desire a novel to help while away the hot summer months it would be a very satisfying read indeed, and that’s not a bad thing at all.
Monday, 20 February 2017
Last week I found out that one of my most favourite ever second hand book stores was closing down. It came as no surprise because the owner, a charming and slightly eccentric English gentleman by the name of Don, is most probably somewhere in the region of 80+ year’s old. When I first visited Mostly Books (as it was called way back then...) back in the 1990’s it was a sight to behold. Book shelves were arranged in a haphazard fashion and there were all kinds of curios and antiques scatted around the shop. Don had a specific ‘head’ section, where you could find Castaneda, Kerouac, Burroughs and all kinds of weird obscurities. There were books piled up everywhere and frankly, it was heaven. The current shop is a smaller version of its earlier incarnation, with Don sat in the very middle up on the second level, surrounded by shelves of books and weird objects. Entering the shop is like finding a nook attached to the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland, and if you are not careful you’ll never find your way out again. Sadly however, it will all be over within a couple of months. All fiction is just $1 and all non fiction half price.
Most people reading this post would not live in the area (Bayswater, Western Australia), or even in the same country, but that doesn’t matter, the important point to consider is that book stores are not just businesses, they are significant cultural hubs that need supporting. Most of the chain book stores have disappeared, but at least many of the small independent shops have hung in there. Go to your local book store, don’t shop online, it’s totally soulless; ‘convenience’ and cheapness are not valid signifiers of a life well lived, or well read. Go talk to and get to know your book store staff, talk to the owner if you can, you’d be surprised what it adds to your life. I’ll never forget Don telling me stories about how during the London Blitz he and his friends would not go to the bomb shelters but instead would go up onto the tops of buildings to watch it all unfold; he said that it was a terrible beauty, but that they never felt scared. Sounds like it would make a great scene in a book...
Here’s a list of books I lugged out of the shop with me, all eighteen of them:
Japanese Short Stories - Ryunosuke Akutagawa (1961)
Masks - Fumiko Enchi (1958)
Helliconia Spring - Brian Aldiss (1982)
Helliconia Summer - Brian Aldiss (1983)
Helliconia Winter - Brian Aldiss (1985)
Imperial Bedrooms - Bret Eastern Ellis (2010)
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand (1957)
The Martians - Kim Stanley Robinson (1999)
Winsburg, Ohio - Sherwood Anderson (1919)
The Complete Short Stories - Oscar Wilde (1980)
So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish - Douglas Adams (1984)
A Spy in the House of Love - Anais Nin (1954)
The Reality Dysfunction - Peter F. Hamilton (1996)
Complete Stories - Flannery O’Connor (1971)
Extro - Alfred Bester (1974)
Thirst for Love - Yukio Mishima (1950)
Tales of Power - Carlos Castaneda (1974)
The Heart Keeper - Francoise Sagan (1968)