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448 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2004
Several months after first reading Crossing California, I discovered a video on author Adam Langer’s website. Narrated by Langer, the video features early 1970’s Super-8 footage of Chicago’s West Rogers Park, the neighborhood in which the novel is set. Unearthed from the basement of his parents’ home, this should have been a gem to me. I was absolutely captivated by this novel, and I admit to being something of an Adam Langer fan-boy. Strangely, my first response to this footage was dejection. The vintage home-movie footage failed miserably to measure up to the imagery of Langer’s novel. I didn’t want to learn what this world actually looked like in 1972; my own West Rogers Park was the only one I needed. I guess it was a microcosm of a tired but often accurate cliché: “The book was so much better than the movie”—or in this case, the home-movie.
Eventually, this experience forced me to a comforting revelation that I re-live more often than I should have to. The world needs great books. I read fiction to escape to a place where reality is suggested and framed out by an author, but ultimately built, defined, and experienced by each unique reader. This is an all-consuming interactive process, stretching brain muscles that otherwise go unused. The world needs great books, and Adam Langer’s debut novel is just that.
Crossing California is a momentous, heartbreakingly funny diorama of a novel, with characters at once vibrant and dopey—but almost always charming. Though essentially a coming-of-age tale, it doesn’t fit snugly into that niche. Unlike, for example, Russell Banks’s Rule of the Bone—in which focus rarely shifts from Bone—there are numerous well-developed and essential characters here. Following the intersecting lives of the Wasserstrom, Rovner, and Wills families is a rewarding pursuit, with plenty of quirks and twists along the way. Yet somehow, I think Langer’s characters are actually overshadowed by his brilliant sense of place.
Every scene in Crossing California has been thoughtfully sketched out for readers. Tucked away in the book’s front matter is a simple two-page map of West Rogers Park. The map itself is unremarkable, but I found myself obsessively consulting it as Langer’s rich prose expanded the dimensions of this neighborhood. I felt like a child with a gorgeous new pop-up book—new buildings, streets, and forests springing to life all around me. So back to the map I went, repeatedly, in search of answers to pressing questions: Where’s Mount Warren in relation to Wolfy’s Hot Dogs? What’s the best route from Ida Crown Academy to Jill Wasserstrom’s apartment? I have never cared so deeply about or felt so rewarded by the sense of place in a novel.
Finally, Langer’s readers are flawlessly transported to the late 1970s. Awkward teenage encounters, religious rites, and tales of adolescence and forced adulthood are all anchored by a keen sense of history. Langer’s references to contemporary politics, music, sports, and film—in the first chapter alone you’ll find nods to ELO, the Iran hostage crisis, and Walter Payton—ground the novel in its unmistakable era. The true genius of this book is the slick combination of so many minute details that congeal to build a swaying tower of a plot, all supported by that sturdy foundation, Langer’s uncanny sense of place. In short, this is a beautiful book. A bestseller in its own moment, it may one day be regarded among the very best “Chicago novels.”
Until recently, Langer was known primarily as a playwright and the author of a film festival compendium, but that's about to change. Reviewers have heaped the kind of praise on Crossing California for which most first-time novelists would sacrifice their coffee and nicotine. Critics zeroed in on Langer's biting wit (the youngest Rovner's song, "My Love Ain't Always Orthodox," is a particular fave) and lauded his depiction of youthful disaffection, embodied in characters like Jill, the intellectual outcast who defends the Ayatollah Khomeini in order to get a rise from her peers. The minor complaints: a few blanched at Langer's frank depiction of adolescent sexual high jinks and alleged that California sinks from the weight of its multiple story lines. The Plain Dealer claims the novel does not deliver on its ambition, while all the other critics enthusiastically say it does.
This is an excerpt from a review published in Bookmarks magazine.