David Patneaude's Blog: Different Worlds - Posts Tagged "review"

Some of us remember the original movie (you know--John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn), and more of us are probably familiar with the Coen Brothers'2010 remake with Jeff Bridges in the starring role and Hailee Steinfeld as Mattie Ross, a girl of singular convictions and courage. But if you haven't read the book, do it. When Charles Portis's most famous novel was published, the Boston Globe called it "An American Masterpiece." I can't argue with that. It truly is. If you like stories with complex characters, adventure, suspense, bravery, loyalty, eccentricity, humor, lyrical writing, delightfully unexpected dialogue, and yes, true grit, you'll love this book. Rarely, if ever, do I read a book and find myself unable to NOT laugh out loud. But I read parts of TRUE GRIT on the train in Europe, laughing at the dialogue, marveling at the writing, prompting people around me (including my wife) to wonder, prompting me to read passages out loud to prove that I had reason to laugh. Check it out. The five stars are earned.

Most authors use writing as the vehicle for telling a story; Fewer use story as the vehicle for showcasing their writing. The former is usually thought of as commercial, the latter as literary. What I prefer reading is neither of those (although if I had to choose between the two, I'd go for the pretty words every time). I prefer a story in which the author hits the sweet spot, somewhere in the in-between. In other words, I like literary stories in which something happens. Or stories with a plot that are well-written and thoughtful.

So when I review and rate a book, I consider how well a story meets those two criteria--does it engage me with scenes happening on the page, and is it well-written? And if both of those factors are present, what's the ratio? Too much scenic stuff? Then I don't have time to take a breath and get to know the characters and think about what's happening to them and what it all means. Too much prequel and sequel? Then boredom sets in and I find myself skimming and skipping, at least mentally, to hurry on to the next page on which something is actually happening. And I start to resent being told what the characters are thinking/feeling/deciding. I'd rather experience what's going on and decide that stuff for myself.

I love books that manage to balance scene and sequel, action and narration, plot and character, dialogue and interior monologue, calm and conflict. AND are intelligently written.

Given that Goodreads reviews are on a one-star to five-star continuum, I try to assign stars to both story and style, five for each, and then average them to get my final evaluation. For instance, recently I reviewed a book by David Baldacci called Wish You Well. I thought the story merited a four, the writing a two. Then, using my advanced math skills, I averaged the two and came up with a three. Highly scientific, right?

But enough of my wonkiness. Where this is leading is an explanation for a review of my most recent read, Richard Ford's Canada. Richard Ford is a wonderful writer--he's won a Pulitzer, for cripe's sakes. And I gave him five stars for the literary merits of this book. On the other hand, not much happens, and what does happen takes place, for the most part, off the page. It's revealed retrospectively by a passive narrator who observes everything (even the stuff that happens to him) from a distance, either actual or determined by disinterest or the passage of time.

So like the protagonist (Dell) I found myself observing, waiting for the other shoe to fall, waiting for something to happen. Which in one way works. The tension builds. Doom is on the horizon. But it's so slo-o-o-w in coming. Page after page of telling and introspection eventually lead to a real scene (a short one), but then we're on to another batch of sequel followed by prequel to whatever might be coming way down the road.

I admired the writing greatly. If you're a writer who wants to know more about how to put a sentence together, read this book. It's worth it. But I thought the writing excelled to the detriment of the story. So I gave the story a one. One plus five equals six. Divided by two is three. So there you go. My review: three stars.

If you're not a baseball fan, you should read ONE SHOT AT FOREVER. It's about much more than baseball. If you are a baseball fan, you'll think you've just been transported to your own personal field of dreams. Think of "Hoosiers" on a baseball diamond, but with a different cast of small town characters on a quest for an unlikely goal--a state championship--in a time--the early seventies--when Illinois high school teams weren't classified by school size. Picture "our" team, representing a rural school of fewer than 300 students, grades nine to twelve, boys and girls, competing against, among other behemoths, a Chicago area school of more than four thousand boys. Throw in a charismatic but counterculture coach, small town conservative values, lack of support from just about everyone including school administrators, no budget for uniforms and equipment, a divot-filled infield with no pitcher's mound and an outfield split by a running track and surrounded by corn stalks, and you have an intriguing but impossible situation, right? A fool's journey? You haven't yet met the boys (and girl) of Macon High. Read the book.

At an annoyingly young age (compared to me, anyway) Gavin Extence has written a nearly perfect book. What is it about British writers, anyway? Is there some kind of gene that makes them wise and talented beyond their years? A gene that for me--even though I'm twice his age and have that one-fourth Irish thing going--still hasn't quite kicked in?

But enough about me. Enough whining. Let's talk about THE UNIVERSE VERSUS ALEX WOODS, which is, I guess, if it has to be genre-ized, a coming of age story that's about a kid who gets hit in the head with a chunk of meteorite, his mom, astrology, tarot cards, his friend (a girl), an American curmudgeon who befriends him, epilepsy, the nervous system, the universe, Kurt Vonnegut, his books, a book club, disease, death, dignity, religion, bullying, libraries and librarians, overcoming adversity, persistence, adults who are jerks, adults who are gems, revelation, good laws, bad laws, progress, regress, learning to drive, loyalty, heartbreaking sadness, unbridled joy, single-mindedness, empathy, cleverness, courage, being true to yourself, and doing the right thing, no matter what the consequences.

I don't think the story would have had an easy time finding a home here in the good old US of A if it hadn't already had a lot of success across the pond. The main character's a guy. There's no romance to speak of, thus no beautiful couple (mysterious, sensuous beauty; muscled, dangerous dude) on the cover. No fantasy. No "chosen one" theme (unless you count being conked on the head by a meteorite). And there's no editing (self or institutional) to "cleanse" the story from its viewpoints on various sacred cows that could have publishers and some members of the book-reading (or book-burning) public flogging themselves in dismay.

Mr. Extence and his characters aren't afraid to discuss the futility rather than the glory of war, the hypocrisy of religion or at least those who practice it, the shortcomings of not only George W Bush, who was (and is) a favorite whipping boy, but also Ronald Reagan, a minor saint in the eyes of some Americans who went through much of his presidency in a fog. Also mentioned, and not in unfavorable terms: single parenthood, homosexuality, agnosticism, atheism, suicide, assisted suicide. Did I mention generalized swearing and the use of the word fuck and its variations and a one-time appearance of "the worst word in the world?" But American publishers and audiences seem to be okay with swearing (and violence, and war, and infantile, starry-eyed romance, and mediocre writing, even. It's those other things, sacred or in their eyes the opposite--profane--that give them the chilly-willies.

My overwhelming feeling is that in the end, the author was true to his story. He included what he felt had to be included to tell the tale well and completely, and his editors not only let him keep it in, but embraced it. Over there, that was simply being, like Alex himself, true to your beliefs. Here it would be brave, and unlikely.

You should get to know Alex. You won't forget him.