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Lapham Rising: A Witty and Darkly Comic Novel About an Eccentric Man's Battle Against Millionaire Excess
Harry March is something of a wreck and more than half nuts. Up until now, he has lived peacefully on an island in the Hamptons with his talking dog, Hector, a born-again Evangelical and unapologetic capitalist. But March’s life starts to completely unravel when Lapham—an ostentatious multimillionaire who made his fortune on asparagus tongs—begins construction of a gargantuan mansion just across the way. To Harry, Lapham’s monstrosity-to-be represents the fetid and corrupt excess that has ruined modern civilization. Which means, quite simply, that this is war.
272 pages, Paperback
First published February 1, 2006
27 people are currently reading
228 people want to read
About the author
Roger Rosenblatt
57 books148 followersROGER ROSENBLATT, whose work has been published in 14 languages, is the author of five New York Times Notable Books of the Year, and three Times bestsellers, including the memoirs KAYAK MORNING, THE BOY DETECTIVE, and MAKING TOAST, originally an essay in the New Yorker. His newest book is THE STORY I AM, a collection on writing and the writing life.
Rosenblatt has also written seven off-Broadway plays, notably the one-person Free Speech in America, that he performed at the American Place Theater, named one of the Times's "Ten Best Plays of 1991." Last spring at the Bay Street Theater in Sag Harbor, he performed and played piano in his play, Lives in the Basement, Does Nothing, which will go to the Staller Center for the Arts at Stony Brook, and the Flea Theater in New York in 2021. He also wrote the screenplay for his bestselling novel LAPHAM RISING, to star Frank Langella, Stockard Channing, and Bobby Cannavale, currently in production.
The Distinguished Professor of English and Writing at SUNY Stony Brook/Southampton, he formerly held the Briggs-Copeland appointment in creative writing at Harvard, where he earned his Ph.D. Among his honors are two George Polk Awards; the Peabody, and the Emmy, for his essays at Time magazine and on PBS; a Fulbright to Ireland, where he played on the Irish International Basketball Team; seven honorary doctorates; the Kenyon Review Award for Lifetime Literary Achievement; and the President's Medal from the Chautauqua Institution for his body of work.
Rosenblatt has also written seven off-Broadway plays, notably the one-person Free Speech in America, that he performed at the American Place Theater, named one of the Times's "Ten Best Plays of 1991." Last spring at the Bay Street Theater in Sag Harbor, he performed and played piano in his play, Lives in the Basement, Does Nothing, which will go to the Staller Center for the Arts at Stony Brook, and the Flea Theater in New York in 2021. He also wrote the screenplay for his bestselling novel LAPHAM RISING, to star Frank Langella, Stockard Channing, and Bobby Cannavale, currently in production.
The Distinguished Professor of English and Writing at SUNY Stony Brook/Southampton, he formerly held the Briggs-Copeland appointment in creative writing at Harvard, where he earned his Ph.D. Among his honors are two George Polk Awards; the Peabody, and the Emmy, for his essays at Time magazine and on PBS; a Fulbright to Ireland, where he played on the Irish International Basketball Team; seven honorary doctorates; the Kenyon Review Award for Lifetime Literary Achievement; and the President's Medal from the Chautauqua Institution for his body of work.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
August 26, 2019
____________________________________
......................... Mad As a March Harry .............................
___________________________________
Harry March is quite mad. He was once a brilliant, best-selling writer, but now he does little but watch Murder She Wrote reruns all day and hold two-way conversations with his dog Hector. Harry is a recluse who lives in a small house on a tiny secluded island in a river in the Hamptons, avoids other people whenever possible, and keeps his life's savings piled on the floor of a spare room, not knowing how much is there and seldom spending any of it. Harry was happy with his life until ten months ago when Lapham, a pretentious multimillionaire, started to build an ostentatious mega-mansion near Harry's island, effectively destroying Harry's idyllic seclusion. "Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!" go the workmen's hammers. The real world is knocking, and Harry must do something to make it go away.
This scenerio, of course, could be the stuff of a horrific tragedy; instead, Rosenblatt has given us a wonderfully witty satire on pretentions and materialism, and to some degree on the pretensions of the anti-pretentious. This is a funny, funny book. It is one that I would gladly display in a prominent place in the library of Castle Pseudonymous, my summer cottage, if I could only find an exorbitantly expensive, signed, hand-illuminated first edition in gilt-edged Tibetan yak-skin vellum.
......................... Mad As a March Harry .............................
___________________________________
Harry March is quite mad. He was once a brilliant, best-selling writer, but now he does little but watch Murder She Wrote reruns all day and hold two-way conversations with his dog Hector. Harry is a recluse who lives in a small house on a tiny secluded island in a river in the Hamptons, avoids other people whenever possible, and keeps his life's savings piled on the floor of a spare room, not knowing how much is there and seldom spending any of it. Harry was happy with his life until ten months ago when Lapham, a pretentious multimillionaire, started to build an ostentatious mega-mansion near Harry's island, effectively destroying Harry's idyllic seclusion. "Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!" go the workmen's hammers. The real world is knocking, and Harry must do something to make it go away.
This scenerio, of course, could be the stuff of a horrific tragedy; instead, Rosenblatt has given us a wonderfully witty satire on pretentions and materialism, and to some degree on the pretensions of the anti-pretentious. This is a funny, funny book. It is one that I would gladly display in a prominent place in the library of Castle Pseudonymous, my summer cottage, if I could only find an exorbitantly expensive, signed, hand-illuminated first edition in gilt-edged Tibetan yak-skin vellum.
October 28, 2024
It was cute but not overly
March 9, 2010
HIGHEST RECOMMENDATION:
Picked up on a whim more or less, and glad of it. This is the first novel by Roger Rosenblatt, a guy familiar to me as an essayist on public radio. I opened and skimmed it and could see that it would be a smooth read, and I liked the premise as gleaned from the jacket. The male competitive element blended with acid comedy and local color seemed to remind me of another book I just finished, Thomas McGuane's The Sporting Club.
The title, Lapham Rising is a play on the famous William Dean Howells naturalist novel of a century ago, The Rise of Silas Lapham, about a rube who makes his fortune, tries to enter society and begins building a massive mansion to outpace the Joneses.
In this new novel, the object of scorn is a tycoon building a similarly overblown monstrosity, just for the sake of having the biggest house around, and its construction becomes the bane of longtime resident, Harry March. March evidently intends to wage some kind of war against this encroachment.
Comic complications ensue.
I like the idea of this very much; seems promising, and it looks like the author has done the heavy lifting for the reader.
Let's see.
Page 12: "And I again am reminded, as if I needed reminding, that I do not fit in the world. Good thing I do not live on it."
First 40 pages:
This book is sheer delight. Funny, breezy, with an attitude. Flows like beer. Enjoying this immensely.
ONE THIRD MARK:
The first-person narrator, March, might be said to an unreliable one, to some degree, because we're only getting his take on Lapham the millionaire and he himself is not an especially likeable person: a loner, misanthrope, merciless spewer of sarcasm, lazy, and increasingly erratic, slowly going insane. His dog, the not so subtly named "Hector", is his equal in sarcasm, engaging in a "dialogue" with him, serving as his sort of Greek chorus, conscience, Man Friday, whatnot. It's a construct in March's head, of course, not to be taken as literally as in Harlan Ellison's "A Boy and His Dog," but serves as a nice framework to present the dialogues in March's head. The ponderings of March are funny and sometimes painfully over the top. Am reading this with great enjoyment.
THREE QUARTERS:
Harry March's misanthropy and mischief makes him an unsympathetic character, even when I find myself agreeing with his societal critiques. He's severely sociopathic, maybe even schizo; his conversations with his dog (who's a Christian, btw) seem to become almost too literal. It nearly borders on magical realism. But anyway, the book works, apart from a weak attempt to compare his unseen nemesis Lapham to the homespun illiteracy and politics of GW Bush. That seemed beneath Rosenblatt's skills. His description of the Hamptons is savage, acidic. His search for horsehair to complete his death-dealing contraption is a wonderful odyssey, across and against the American grain. The citizens' simultaneous repulsion of and fascination with March's transgressive antics are funny. One wonders if a few elite dinner invitations that might otherwise have been made to Rosenblatt were withdrawn after this book came out.
If so, then he done good.
We're heading into the finale...
FINAL:
Not sure why I thought a lot about Gatsby while reading this. Gatsby and Lapham are kind of mysterious tycoons, emblemmatic of the wealth of their ages; and the shoreline setting among east coast elites solidifies the connection. The feeling is especially strong in the finale, which I can't reveal, and in which March's inclinations are vindicated. But anyway this turned out to be a great book, even though the cartoon physics that undermine March in ironic fashion didn't really work for me. Think Road Runner and Acme. But anyway this hit almost all of its other targets, satirically speaking (the idea of hit-and-run is circled back to nicely) and earns my highest recommendation.
Picked up on a whim more or less, and glad of it. This is the first novel by Roger Rosenblatt, a guy familiar to me as an essayist on public radio. I opened and skimmed it and could see that it would be a smooth read, and I liked the premise as gleaned from the jacket. The male competitive element blended with acid comedy and local color seemed to remind me of another book I just finished, Thomas McGuane's The Sporting Club.
The title, Lapham Rising is a play on the famous William Dean Howells naturalist novel of a century ago, The Rise of Silas Lapham, about a rube who makes his fortune, tries to enter society and begins building a massive mansion to outpace the Joneses.
In this new novel, the object of scorn is a tycoon building a similarly overblown monstrosity, just for the sake of having the biggest house around, and its construction becomes the bane of longtime resident, Harry March. March evidently intends to wage some kind of war against this encroachment.
Comic complications ensue.
I like the idea of this very much; seems promising, and it looks like the author has done the heavy lifting for the reader.
Let's see.
Page 12: "And I again am reminded, as if I needed reminding, that I do not fit in the world. Good thing I do not live on it."
First 40 pages:
This book is sheer delight. Funny, breezy, with an attitude. Flows like beer. Enjoying this immensely.
ONE THIRD MARK:
The first-person narrator, March, might be said to an unreliable one, to some degree, because we're only getting his take on Lapham the millionaire and he himself is not an especially likeable person: a loner, misanthrope, merciless spewer of sarcasm, lazy, and increasingly erratic, slowly going insane. His dog, the not so subtly named "Hector", is his equal in sarcasm, engaging in a "dialogue" with him, serving as his sort of Greek chorus, conscience, Man Friday, whatnot. It's a construct in March's head, of course, not to be taken as literally as in Harlan Ellison's "A Boy and His Dog," but serves as a nice framework to present the dialogues in March's head. The ponderings of March are funny and sometimes painfully over the top. Am reading this with great enjoyment.
THREE QUARTERS:
Harry March's misanthropy and mischief makes him an unsympathetic character, even when I find myself agreeing with his societal critiques. He's severely sociopathic, maybe even schizo; his conversations with his dog (who's a Christian, btw) seem to become almost too literal. It nearly borders on magical realism. But anyway, the book works, apart from a weak attempt to compare his unseen nemesis Lapham to the homespun illiteracy and politics of GW Bush. That seemed beneath Rosenblatt's skills. His description of the Hamptons is savage, acidic. His search for horsehair to complete his death-dealing contraption is a wonderful odyssey, across and against the American grain. The citizens' simultaneous repulsion of and fascination with March's transgressive antics are funny. One wonders if a few elite dinner invitations that might otherwise have been made to Rosenblatt were withdrawn after this book came out.
If so, then he done good.
We're heading into the finale...
FINAL:
Not sure why I thought a lot about Gatsby while reading this. Gatsby and Lapham are kind of mysterious tycoons, emblemmatic of the wealth of their ages; and the shoreline setting among east coast elites solidifies the connection. The feeling is especially strong in the finale, which I can't reveal, and in which March's inclinations are vindicated. But anyway this turned out to be a great book, even though the cartoon physics that undermine March in ironic fashion didn't really work for me. Think Road Runner and Acme. But anyway this hit almost all of its other targets, satirically speaking (the idea of hit-and-run is circled back to nicely) and earns my highest recommendation.
November 3, 2020
Such a quirky little novel. I absolutely loved the humor and the sarcastic protagonist and his evangelical Westie. Light and quick and oh-so-fun.
January 26, 2020
Last summer a film crew invaded Excelsior for a few days. A movie based upon the book, LAPHAM RISING by Roger Rosenblatt was being filmed in town.
For the filming, Excelsior Bay Books was remade into a toy store for the day. There were cameras, props, lights, people, and actors all working in controlled chaos for what will be end up being a two minute scene.
I finally got around to reading LAPHAM RISING and quite liked it. The book is a satire about life in the exclusive Hamptons on Long Island. Harry March, (played by Frank Langella) a reclusive, cranky writer, lives in a modest house that is being overshadowed by a mega mansion (the House of Lapham) being built across the creek by a man who made his fortune on asparagus tongs.. (Much like what is happening in Excelsior these days).
Harry is livid but his dog, Hector, is more pragmatic. Did I mention that Hector talks to Harry?
Hector is a West Highland Terrier with a razor wit and a dog’s instinct for self-preservation. He points out the inconsistencies in Harry’s arguments and reminds him of the humanity all around him. In other words, he’s Harry’s alter-ego. And mostly faithful companion.
The scene filmed in Excelsior Bay Books was very much like the scene in the book. Harry and Hector come in the toy store ( we were transformed by the magic of Hollywood) looking for something, anything, made of horse hair for a secret project that Harry is building on his dock. He spots a doll on the counter with long hair that grows when you push a button. He wants four of them but his creepy demeanor freaks out the clerk and she refuses to sell him the dolls. That’s it. That’s the scene. It took all day but we were thrilled.
But back to the book. Harry is influenced by the English poet Samuel Johnson and believes in the simple life. He can’t tolerate most people and as a result, his wife has left him. He commissions an artist to build a statue of her sitting at the kitchen table reading the New York Times. He keeps all his money in cash in his “money room”. He’s building something on his dock he calls “the Da Vinci”. He is scheming something big, a swan song.The mega mansion is the last straw. Harry is losing his marbles. Or is he?
So if you have a mega mansion going up near you, blocking the sun, ruining your view, taking up more that its fair share of space, don’t do what Harry did. Don’t lose your marbles. Just talk to your dog and read LAPHAM RISING. You’ll feel a little better and have a laugh.
Please support your local independent.
For the filming, Excelsior Bay Books was remade into a toy store for the day. There were cameras, props, lights, people, and actors all working in controlled chaos for what will be end up being a two minute scene.
I finally got around to reading LAPHAM RISING and quite liked it. The book is a satire about life in the exclusive Hamptons on Long Island. Harry March, (played by Frank Langella) a reclusive, cranky writer, lives in a modest house that is being overshadowed by a mega mansion (the House of Lapham) being built across the creek by a man who made his fortune on asparagus tongs.. (Much like what is happening in Excelsior these days).
Harry is livid but his dog, Hector, is more pragmatic. Did I mention that Hector talks to Harry?
Hector is a West Highland Terrier with a razor wit and a dog’s instinct for self-preservation. He points out the inconsistencies in Harry’s arguments and reminds him of the humanity all around him. In other words, he’s Harry’s alter-ego. And mostly faithful companion.
The scene filmed in Excelsior Bay Books was very much like the scene in the book. Harry and Hector come in the toy store ( we were transformed by the magic of Hollywood) looking for something, anything, made of horse hair for a secret project that Harry is building on his dock. He spots a doll on the counter with long hair that grows when you push a button. He wants four of them but his creepy demeanor freaks out the clerk and she refuses to sell him the dolls. That’s it. That’s the scene. It took all day but we were thrilled.
But back to the book. Harry is influenced by the English poet Samuel Johnson and believes in the simple life. He can’t tolerate most people and as a result, his wife has left him. He commissions an artist to build a statue of her sitting at the kitchen table reading the New York Times. He keeps all his money in cash in his “money room”. He’s building something on his dock he calls “the Da Vinci”. He is scheming something big, a swan song.The mega mansion is the last straw. Harry is losing his marbles. Or is he?
So if you have a mega mansion going up near you, blocking the sun, ruining your view, taking up more that its fair share of space, don’t do what Harry did. Don’t lose your marbles. Just talk to your dog and read LAPHAM RISING. You’ll feel a little better and have a laugh.
Please support your local independent.
March 22, 2014
2.5**
Harry March has lived on Quogue, Long Island for his entire life. In fact, generations of Marches have inhabited the house on the small Tennessee-shaped island in the middle of the creek. In late middle-age, he’s become quite the misanthrope, however, and somewhat of a hermit. His children are grown and gone, his wife left him, and now he’s alone with his Westie, Hector and the natural surroundings he enjoys. At least until multi-millionaire Lapham begins construction of his mega mansion just across the creek.
This is a satire about the excesses of modern America’s elite, and what we truly need versus what we want. As Harry engages in a war of words against his neighbor (not to mention his philosophical debates with the dog), he manages to skewer just about everything that defines “success” in our acquisitive world – luxury cars, high-powered boats, designer cuisine, and the “best, imported” whatevers.
The problem I had with the book is that I thought that Rosenblatt was trying too hard. Harry is too clever by half; he can never simply state his position he has to be erudite, witty, and bitingly sarcastic. And I got tired of Hector, the talking evangelical dog, pretty quickly. One of the blurbs praising the book is from Carl Hiaasen – himself, no stranger to the outlandish. But Hiaasen’s books work because they are populated by both over-the-top-ridiculous characters and normal human beings, providing contrast. Rosenblatt’s first novel doesn’t give us this contrast. Harry isn’t as eccentric as Hiaasen’s Skink, and about the only normal person he encounters is Dave (a couple of pages of dialogue nearly at the end).
There were some scenes that I loved, however. The young woman who comes to try to sell Harry a pool, and surprises him with her knowledge of Johnson, is one example. And I did enjoy how he weaved in a number of literary references (though I wondered if he was doing so just to impress us with his knowledge). Rosenblatt is a good writer; his memoir, Making Toast, about the sudden loss of his daughter and how he and his wife moved to help raise their grandchildren, was very good. I just didn’t warm to this effort.
Harry March has lived on Quogue, Long Island for his entire life. In fact, generations of Marches have inhabited the house on the small Tennessee-shaped island in the middle of the creek. In late middle-age, he’s become quite the misanthrope, however, and somewhat of a hermit. His children are grown and gone, his wife left him, and now he’s alone with his Westie, Hector and the natural surroundings he enjoys. At least until multi-millionaire Lapham begins construction of his mega mansion just across the creek.
This is a satire about the excesses of modern America’s elite, and what we truly need versus what we want. As Harry engages in a war of words against his neighbor (not to mention his philosophical debates with the dog), he manages to skewer just about everything that defines “success” in our acquisitive world – luxury cars, high-powered boats, designer cuisine, and the “best, imported” whatevers.
The problem I had with the book is that I thought that Rosenblatt was trying too hard. Harry is too clever by half; he can never simply state his position he has to be erudite, witty, and bitingly sarcastic. And I got tired of Hector, the talking evangelical dog, pretty quickly. One of the blurbs praising the book is from Carl Hiaasen – himself, no stranger to the outlandish. But Hiaasen’s books work because they are populated by both over-the-top-ridiculous characters and normal human beings, providing contrast. Rosenblatt’s first novel doesn’t give us this contrast. Harry isn’t as eccentric as Hiaasen’s Skink, and about the only normal person he encounters is Dave (a couple of pages of dialogue nearly at the end).
There were some scenes that I loved, however. The young woman who comes to try to sell Harry a pool, and surprises him with her knowledge of Johnson, is one example. And I did enjoy how he weaved in a number of literary references (though I wondered if he was doing so just to impress us with his knowledge). Rosenblatt is a good writer; his memoir, Making Toast, about the sudden loss of his daughter and how he and his wife moved to help raise their grandchildren, was very good. I just didn’t warm to this effort.
November 1, 2016
If you like cynicism and sarcasm then read this book. Going through a rough time in my life, I enjoyed escaping reality by reading this book as it made me literally laugh out loud. Favorite part of the book that made me laugh the most was when Harry got to tour the Lapham house and was taken to the room where Lapham's guests, whether they be creationists or evolutionists, would feel at home with the rendition of Michelangelo's painting of God reaching out to not David but a pollywog! He wanted to make sure that no matter what their stance on the beginning's of life were, they would feel comfortable in that room.
April 4, 2018
This is a cleverly written, satirical look at the obsessive ostentation of Life in the Hamptons and IMHO, addresses the crux of what ails America. The funniest character is Hector, the talking West Highland Terrier, unapologetic capitalist and evangelical proselityzer. So it is really addressing two problems which are the crux of what ails us. Parts had me laughing out loud! Good quick read.
May 2, 2016
Wanting a light book after a serious one, and liking Roger Rosenblatt's writing, I chose this one, which though funny in parts, didn't do it for me.
April 2, 2023
This book came to me from a YouTube-algorithm recommended trailer for the 2022 film Angry Neighbors. (Warning: if you watch the trailer, you’ve basically read the book.) As per my new policy to seek out the literary inspiration for these things that catch my attention, I borrowed a copy of the book from the library.
The book is small and printed on rough, thick paper. It reminded me of Jerzy Kosiński's Being ThereBeing There in how direct and quick it was to read. After so many months of “serious” reads it was nice to consume something that didn’t really mean anything.
The writing is acerbic, and probably a lot funnier to someone who lives in the Hamptons. I don’t read a lot of satire—though I really should have Swift on the to-read list—and the art of writing comedy is one that eludes me. Anything I’ve ever written that’s made anyone laugh has been incidental. I can’t write jokes on purpose. This is something I like about myself, though: I see myself as a genuine fan of comedy. I’ve enjoyed it in all its forms for most of my life. One of the first albums I owned on vinyl was Bob & Doug McKenzie’s The Great White North, I grew up with the Carol Burnette Show and SCTV, and every Monday night I sit and watch Kill Tony even though I know it’s not technically live. But I’ve never aspired to write or perform comedy.
This book didn’t change that attitude one bit.
What rang the truest to me in author Roger Rosenblatt’s prose was how well he captured the curmudgeonly nature of his elderly protagonist. I’ve been spending a lot of time with seniors this year and Rosenblatt nailed the mannerisms and shambling determination of many of them.
There are far more valuable books you could be putting into your brain, but if you need a brief palette cleanser, Lapham Rising is a nice little scoop of vanilla ice cream. As it is a personal book that reads much like someone’s lived experience, it’s also a reminder that it’s okay to write these kinds of things, too. And who knows? Maybe get a movie deal out of one?
The book is small and printed on rough, thick paper. It reminded me of Jerzy Kosiński's Being ThereBeing There in how direct and quick it was to read. After so many months of “serious” reads it was nice to consume something that didn’t really mean anything.
The writing is acerbic, and probably a lot funnier to someone who lives in the Hamptons. I don’t read a lot of satire—though I really should have Swift on the to-read list—and the art of writing comedy is one that eludes me. Anything I’ve ever written that’s made anyone laugh has been incidental. I can’t write jokes on purpose. This is something I like about myself, though: I see myself as a genuine fan of comedy. I’ve enjoyed it in all its forms for most of my life. One of the first albums I owned on vinyl was Bob & Doug McKenzie’s The Great White North, I grew up with the Carol Burnette Show and SCTV, and every Monday night I sit and watch Kill Tony even though I know it’s not technically live. But I’ve never aspired to write or perform comedy.
This book didn’t change that attitude one bit.
What rang the truest to me in author Roger Rosenblatt’s prose was how well he captured the curmudgeonly nature of his elderly protagonist. I’ve been spending a lot of time with seniors this year and Rosenblatt nailed the mannerisms and shambling determination of many of them.
There are far more valuable books you could be putting into your brain, but if you need a brief palette cleanser, Lapham Rising is a nice little scoop of vanilla ice cream. As it is a personal book that reads much like someone’s lived experience, it’s also a reminder that it’s okay to write these kinds of things, too. And who knows? Maybe get a movie deal out of one?
June 8, 2021
A witty satire on the corrupting influences of wealth as seen through the eyes of the dissolute, disreputable writer Harry March. Set in the Hamptons, this novel revolves around Harry's vendetta against the Lapham family (new money) who are erecting a pretentious new home across the inlet from Harry's dilapidated family home. Harry's main companion/conversationalist is his dog, who serves as his conscience, but does not deter him from building an outsized Da Vinci catapult, which he plans to launch from his dock immediately after construction concludes on the Lapham house. Un surprisingly, the ending leaves the reader hanging.
January 12, 2018
I wasn't sure how I was going to feel about this book. I picked it up at the library used book sale. But, I was pleasantly surprised. It's a fun book to read, all told from the perspective of Harry, the main character, who is definitely a character, in every sense of the word. I would love to go to a dinner party with Harry, knowing that he would most likely make an utter fool of himself, piss off everyone in attendance, and quite possibly cause some sort of harm and destruction. If you'd like to hang out with someone like that, definitely read this book. :)
January 18, 2023
I loved the references to Chautauqua in this book, but overall it felt like one I was just pushing through. At the end, I was sad to leave the characters and invested in their fate, but it took me until after I finished the book to realize that.
February 17, 2017
I heard about this book because it is about to be made into a movie. I was curious so I got it from the library. I enjoyed it. Am looking forward to the movie. It is worth the read.
May 22, 2017
Hilarious.
November 6, 2022
Heard 1 hour of this abridgment as an intro to 20th Century happenings at Chautauqua Institute.
April 1, 2023
Silly.
August 4, 2024
Humorous satire featuring Harry March and his talking dog. Harry has a quiet private island until a rich man starts building a mega-mansion across the river. Fun read.
June 23, 2013
This is a very clever, funny and outrageous read. Our book club read it and laughed all through our discussion. One example: Harry is a hermit who lives on a small island in the Hamptons. He has named his island Noman. He waits for people to ask him where he lives and he replies Noman. Then he wants them to ask "Where is Noman?" and he can reply "No(man) is an island." When a young girl finally asks the right questions and Harry gives her the answers she doesn't get the joke. He is sorely disappointed. I understand that when Rosenblatt first wrote the book he didn't have the dog, Hector, in it. He decided that Harry had to have someone to talk to, but didn't want another character living on the island, so he added Hector. You'll have to figure out why Hector is a born again Christian dog. Harry is a curmudgeon, who borders on crazy, is rude, satirical, and who rails against the wealth and excesses of his Hampton neighbors and one in particular, Lapham. I repeat, Harry is clever, funny and outrageous!
May 7, 2014
I feel terrible that I am giving this book one star, as I think Rosenblatt's Making Toast is one of the best books I've read in recent years, but I could not get into this novel at ALL. I read a hundred pages and just couldn't force myself to go any further. There is nothing wrong with the writing, per se, but the entire plot is irritating, the protagonist is rather unlikable (even to his dog), and I couldn't bring myself to care what happened next enough to pick it up yet again to continue it. It left a bad taste of pretentiousness and arrogance in the voice and I found nothing likable about it. Sorry, Mr. Rosenblatt- your talent with words is indisputable, but this novel is insufferable.
January 26, 2018
I did not find this book funny however I did like the afterward when the author interviewed Hector, the dog. I probably missed a lot of the "humor" as I know nothing about Long Island and it's hierarchy. I liked the conversations with the dog. And it was short. Oh I forgot the best part (other than the dog) - this quote close to the end when everything has literally blown up... "Somewhere, I am sure, a calm, quiet place awaits me where I may do something worthwhile again. Another island, perhaps. Or a little cottage near the sea, far removed from developers, removed from Lapham. And, there is always Vermont. For everyone, in every time of despairing optimism, there is always Vermont."
June 5, 2016
Fun
Harry March was formerly a writer but had not written in years. He lives on a small island in The Hamptons with his Terrier dog who talks to him. He becomes obsessed with the large mansion that is being built on the other side of the bay. Harry watches it being built and the absurdity of the opulence encompasses all of his thoughts. Harry is himself extremely eccentric and he tells his story with much flair. I'm glad I was reading this on my Kindle because his vocabulary was quite extensive and I had to look up many of the words ! Other than this minor annoyance at times, I enjoyed the book and the ending had that "aha " moment.
Harry March was formerly a writer but had not written in years. He lives on a small island in The Hamptons with his Terrier dog who talks to him. He becomes obsessed with the large mansion that is being built on the other side of the bay. Harry watches it being built and the absurdity of the opulence encompasses all of his thoughts. Harry is himself extremely eccentric and he tells his story with much flair. I'm glad I was reading this on my Kindle because his vocabulary was quite extensive and I had to look up many of the words ! Other than this minor annoyance at times, I enjoyed the book and the ending had that "aha " moment.
July 2, 2008
This was loaned to me by a friend who thought I'd enjoy it, and I sort of did. Problem was I didn't much care for the main character, who is a crotchety old writer who lives on an island and despises his neighbors. His talking Westie (who's also a born-again evangelical) is a hoot, but I don't think he makes this book worth recomending. If he'd been the main character, that would have been a lot more fun.
July 10, 2008
Awesome book. VERY funny. Roger Rosenblatt was my creative writing professor at Southampton College and I can see his sarcasm and dry wit in every word. A very satirical novel about the ridiculous extravagance of the Hamptons, the people who live there year round versus the people who have their third mansion there for the summer. Just to give you an idea of the hilarity, the dog of the main character is a born-again Christian.
November 16, 2012
I'd call this novel cute, a term I'm quite sure would send Harry March, the protagonist of Lapham Rising, into a curmudgeonly (and funny) rant. Rosenblatt is ruthlessly satirical about modern culture--or what passes for it--and manages to make his arguments funny and pithy at the same time. I don't know that I'd advise anyone to run out and buy it, but its not a bad book to spend a couple of days with.
March 7, 2008
It's rare to find such a solid, entertaining satire in the 21st century, especially for a former non-fiction writer! If I didn't respect and admire Rosenblatt so much, I'd be pissed he's crossing genres so successfully! But this book is great, especially if you're familiar with the geography or social politics of the Hamptons. GREAT book.
July 25, 2008
I really hate to give books bad reviews, but I just could not get in to this book. When I picked it up in the store, I read the first few lines and laughed, but I need dialoge at some point and this book has hardly any. And the main character is absurd. The book has good intentions, but it just wasn't for me.
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June 12, 2010There's good quirky (Wonderboys) and then there is a bit too quirky. This fits into the latter category. The sculpture of the ex-wife sitting at the kitchen table; the bazillionare's mansion being built across the street with a device that air conditions the entire property; the skinny-dipping Realtor; the dog that actually speaks? It was just too much.
August 20, 2010
Story of a dried up writer living in the Hamptons who attempts to sabotage his annoyingly affluent and ostentatious neighbor.
Not funny and not interesting, no compelling characters (the talking dog is the best, but even that is riddled w/ holes). Goes to show that who you know can be everything to getting published. Read early Hiaasen instead for some mind candy.
Not funny and not interesting, no compelling characters (the talking dog is the best, but even that is riddled w/ holes). Goes to show that who you know can be everything to getting published. Read early Hiaasen instead for some mind candy.
March 10, 2016
C'mon! A smart ass evangelical dog that talks! A crazy curmudgeon who is really pissed and obsessive over a new neighbor's construction of a mammoth house. Does this make for a good story? You bet it does when it comes from the pen of Roger Rosenblatt! A worthy satire that makes you laugh out loud. A truly fun read with an important underlying message.
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