"This is a story of loss, yes, but more than that; it's a story of love, a story carefully and beautifully told. Jon Chopan is a writer with moxie and heart. He may tell us not to believe everything we read, but, thanks to his veracity and precision, we do. We most certainly do."--Lee Martin, author of "The Bright Forever "Vividly weaving memory, urban legend, and stark reality, "Pulled from the River "explores the distance between a city's greatness and its failures, between place and identity, between who we are and who we hope to be.
This book has made me cry, shout, sigh, and overall just shake it in the air like a prize. I’ve always been a fan of collected works but this is organized so terrifically I am certain boundless heart went into this book. I don’t think any piece of nonfiction has given me such a solid grasp of nostalgia in such a beautiful, carefully executed way. It makes me value my hometown without shying away from its seedier qualities, and allows me to address death, life, and growing up as uncomfortably or peacefully as permitted. Jon Chopan’s work inspires me to tackle CNF again.
I became acquainted with Jon Chopan's book Pulled from the River due to a class that I took at SUNY (State University of New York at) Oswego (which Chopan also attended, although not during the same time that I did), which required me to read an excerpt from it. Chopan also visited the class and delivered a speech, and I knew then that it was a book that I needed to add to my to-read list. I am glad that I did because it is definitely a very interesting and compelling read. Chopan is a student of creative nonfiction, and Pulled from the River is a prime example of the effectiveness of such a seemingly contradictory hybrid. Is the book, after all, a nonfiction book since Chopan warns readers not to believe everything that we read? Is it a novel, though, if it is meant to be nonfiction, and what about the format of the book? It is ultimately a series of short works that had previously been published in literary magazines and similar publications, so one could argue that it is an anthology, but I am of the mindset that all of Pulled from the River's pieces make up a cohesive whole and are not self-contained. I can't imagine reading any one of these pieces and it having the same effect on me without reading the whole book; I wouldn't have the same context or frame of reference. The central character of Pulled from the River is interestingly not really a person but a place - Rochester, NY, a city that is ultimately the constant factor threading all of the pieces of the book together. There are also characters that cross over, as the pieces are all meant to be from Chopan's own life and memory, but Rochester is, as I said, the ultimate constant. It is very much focused on death and the effect(s) that death has on those of us whom it leaves in its wake; Chopan, the narrator of most of the pieces contained in the book, is haunted by death and those whom it has taken from him and his city. The book also asks the fundamental question of what makes a home and what it means to be alive in a city that is slowly dying. I really only find fault with two aspects of the book. One is that on page 154, Chopan writes, "Most nights we rib him about the crying, which comes twelve or thirteen beers deep. We call him 'pussy' or 'fag,' the types of names men use when they are acting like boys, when they are uncomfortable with the state of things." I do find it very offensive to excuse such sexist and homophobic talk with the age-old "boys will be boys" logic and to make all men complicit in such behavior. (Chopan does, as I said, however, tell us not to believe everything that we read.) I also wish that he had written about Oswego, NY at least a little in the book, seeing as how he did spend some time there. (I really would have enjoyed reading that, since, seeing as how I spent about six years there as a student, I know the place pretty well.) While I do understand that, as I said, the primary focus of the book is Rochester, Chopan also spent some time as a student in Ohio, which, albeit briefly, is chronicled and described in the book. Pulled from the River is, however, incredibly profound and abstract and questions the element of realism, and I very much enjoyed it. (Another gold nugget is that in the acknowledgements, Chopan thanks Leigh Wilson, a creative writing professor at SUNY Oswego, whose name I recognized because I had her as a student there for two different classes, including the aforementioned one for which Chopan spoke.)
This collection of short stories is really hard to review, and for the best reasons possible.
I will put the disclaimer out there that I do know the author, to some degree. He was my creative writing professor when I took a fiction workshop course with him and fifteen other students. I also want you to know that I read this book like I would with any other book: there's no special treatment here.
Pulled from the River is a collection of short stories, letters, and announcements that blur the line between fiction and non-fiction. There is an index that says that you shouldn't believe everything you read, and at some parts that was very easy to do. Other parts were not, since I have met the author and he told us stuff.
The collection focuses on life in Rochester, New York from the late ninety-eighties and early ninety-nineties to the later two thousands when the narrator is in Ohio at school. The dying city with the closing of Kodak and Xerox, a friend's suicide, a homicide that rocks the city on its heels, family, hockey, and letting go are all touched upon in this collection. There is a candid and searing honesty in the stories he writes, and there is no BS either (in other words: straight to the point and no pretentious crap).
A good majority of the stories are strong with their themes, characters, and setting. Other stories are not as strong, but the strong stories do make up for the weaker stories. The author plays with form and style, which makes this collection a varied and engaging read. It's quite short, and an easy read.
Some of the things that I do not like about this collection has to do with something I initially was going to write off before I even read this collection. In class one day, Jon Chopan mentioned that his collection of stories really needed an editor. I waved it off as a writer who is hard on himself, and isn't giving himself enough credit. To be honest: he really did need an editor. There were quite a few typos, a lot of repeated usage of had, awkward phrasing that could have been simplified, and there was one time when he used three similes right after one another that felt a bit too forced when one could have sufficed. I am not the one to always catch these sort of things, but they were fairly obvious in this collection. This was published on a small press, so there isn't quite the backup with editorial staff as a "Big Six" might.
Beyond those qualms, I quite liked this collection of stories. It's a throwback to Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried" and how I thought the fiction and non-fiction aspects were hard to identify. There is a good bit of humor, although dark. There is also a lot of love, and sadness about growing up and feeling like you'll forget where you came from. I recommend this book to anyone who likes stories that are character driven, strong in setting, and want a no BS read. It's quite short and compulsively readable.
Like Winesburg, Ohio, this is a linked collection about a place--in this case, Rochester, New York. But if you don't have a connection to Rochester, you'll still enjoy the book. It's about a lot more than place. It's about growing up, about loss and love and striking a balance between toughness and sensitivity, about trying to escape without losing your identity. The mix of characters and forms brings surprises throughout. There are letters, a coroner's report, obituaries, anecdotes, and stories--all parts of an impressive whole. Read it!