Here old age and death catch up with some beloved McMurtry characters familiar to readers since Terms of Endearment . Willful, tart-tongued Aurora Greenway and her outspoken maid and confidante, Rose Dunlup, yes are in their 70s when this book begins; Aurora's lover, Gen. Hector Scott, is nearing 90. Their eccentricities have been exacerbated by the passing of years. Still greedy for life and sexual fulfillment, Aurora convinces Hector that they need psychoanalysis to ensure his better performance; then she begins an affair with the therapist, who is 30 years her junior. Aurora's grandchildren, the legacy of her dead daughter, Emma, are painfully neurotic: former dope dealer Tommy is in prison for manslaughter; though trying maintain mental stability with Jane and their adorable baby, Teddy again comes close to breakdown; pregnant Melissa's feckless boyfriend abandons her for a woman with a Ferrari.
Larry Jeff McMurtry was an American novelist, essayist, and screenwriter whose work was predominantly set in either the Old West or contemporary Texas. His novels included Horseman, Pass By (1962), The Last Picture Show (1966), and Terms of Endearment (1975), which were adapted into films. Films adapted from McMurtry's works earned 34 Oscar nominations (13 wins). He was also a prominent book collector and bookseller. His 1985 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Lonesome Dove was adapted into a television miniseries that earned 18 Emmy Award nominations (seven wins). The subsequent three novels in his Lonesome Dove series were adapted as three more miniseries, earning eight more Emmy nominations. McMurtry and co-writer Diana Ossana adapted the screenplay for Brokeback Mountain (2005), which earned eight Academy Award nominations with three wins, including McMurtry and Ossana for Best Adapted Screenplay. In 2014, McMurtry received the National Humanities Medal. In Tracy Daugherty's 2023 biography of McMurtry, the biographer quotes critic Dave Hickey as saying about McMurtry: "Larry is a writer, and it's kind of like being a critter. If you leave a cow alone, he'll eat grass. If you leave Larry alone, he'll write books. When he's in public, he may say hello and goodbye, but otherwise he is just resting, getting ready to go write."
I had an experience with this book like none other. When I came to the last 100 pages, I stopped reading and wrote a poem in honor of the protagonist, Aurora Greenway, but I could not finish the novel or review it.
I kept looking over at the book on my end table, wondering what was wrong with me. I've had a hard time finishing stories that were bad before, but I'd never before put off an ending of a book I was loving. I finally realized I was terrified of getting to the end of the story. Terrified.
You see. . . Larry McMurtry doesn't leave you in suspense. There are no cliffhangers here, no mysteries to be solved, either. But, what he does is. . . entangle you so deeply with his three-dimensional characters, you just can't extricate yourself from them without some pain.
So, when I awakened, early, this morning to a pale sky and a winter wind event, I thought. . . okay, girl, the surroundings look funereal enough, now. . . suck it up.
I did. I trudged through the last 100 pages of Aurora's old age and her devoted maid, Rosie's, old age, and I conjured up comparisons with three other fantastic books that are told from a late-in-life perspective: Stoner, The Stone Angel and The Stone Diaries.
And I felt like I held a stone in my own stomach as I soldiered on.
By the time my middle child descended the stairs for “breakfast,” she had assessed the scene of her mother sobbing on the living room couch, did an about-face, and headed straight back up to her room.
I don't blame her. This book, and its essential predecessor, Terms of Endearment, just about killed me. When my daughter came upon me, sobbing, I was up to my neck in Aurora's and Rosie's doubts in their “sunset” years (Had they lived meaningful lives? Chosen the right partners? Had any lasting effect on their people, their planet?) which triggered my own midlife doubts and, simultaneously, reminded me of so many other doubts that I've been privy to, throughout the years, of aging loved ones.
It's hard, this life. It seems as though we just got through patting ourselves on the backs for crawling out of the caves, but now we're supposed to compose sonatas, write award-winning novels, be culinary geniuses, post perfect-looking family portraits on Facebook and be happy, happy, happy, too.
But, most of us are still crawling. Waking up. Preparing simple meals. Heading to school. Heading to work. Heading home. Having sex, sometimes, if we're lucky.
We've unnaturally raised the bar on ourselves. . . and yet, at the end of the day, it will be our meals, our conversations, our smiles, and our songs, that are truly remembered.
The characters in this book doubt this, as we all do, on the dark days, but their experiences, their joy, and their pain, are all so very real.
As Theo the Greek, a side character who I fell in love with almost as much as the established main characters, so poignantly observes: I guess we're all just passing through.
Aurora
Your name conjures a light show and you are, indeed, a colorful display. You're bodacious (big assed), audacious (all sass), loquacious (you outlast), you're a goddess, a queen. A lady among Lilliputians, you scatter mice who masquerade as men, stabbing them with your stilettos as they scramble under your feet. Men fear you, fear your quips and quirks, brand you bitch, brand you bossy, wish to brandish you to the backseat. They laugh at you, as you negotiate that whale of an automobile, but notice. . . only one, in all the years, ever offered to take the wheel? You grab what you want: the crab, the bisque, the mincemeat pie, the balls, the cock, the inner thigh. You are insatiable; I would never satisfy you here with ample terms of endearment, but, lady, oh my love: You are the dash of light I have sought in every dark night. You are, my dear, the evening star.
McMurtry explored the lives of women as fully as he explored his guys
Americans who remember the late Larry McMurtry almost certainly are thinking of Lonesome Dove and his many other Western novels that featured rugged men, some of them (but not all) of heroic stature. Or, because there has recently been a revival of interest in the film version of The Last Picture Show, they may think of him as a novelist who specialized in exploring male friendship—with all of its fits and starts and often bruising turbulence.
But McMurtry wrote at least as much about women—some of them like Aurora in his Houston novels of truly heroic stature. And, he wrote a lot about female friendship as well.
Because McMurtry has been such an influence in my own 50 years as a journalist, I committed myself to revisit his legacy, when he died in March 2021. This is the 13th of his novels I have read over the intervening two years.
The revelation I've found in these first 13 novels is that he matured dramatically in his depiction of women's lives. And, by the way, I'm not alone in saying this. It's also one of the revelations in Tracy Daugherty's new biography, Larry McMurtry: A Life. McMurtry's real-life relationships with women were complex (read Daugherty for more) and the women in his life seem to have mostly fond memories of their relationships.
That's essential background, I think, to understanding why anyone would give 5 stars to The Evening Star in a 2023 review. This is, after all, the sixth and final volume in what McMurtry called his Houston series. It was published in 1992, more than two decades after the first Houston novel, Moving On, which even McMurtry regarded as one of his most deeply flawed novels. Moving On introduced the characters who meander through the subsequent 22 years and five novels set around Houston. That debut novel in the series, Moving On, mainly focuses on the restless Patsy Carpenter. In his newest preface to paperback editions of Moving On, McMurtry admits that readers have told him that he quite simply did not do justice to Patsy in that first novel. Among other complaints, he had Patsy start crying at the drop of a hat in that first novel—a fairly one-dimensional sense of Patsy's emotional range in life.
Well, so first, I can tell you: Patsy doesn't cry in the sixth and final novel. She's as quirky and as amorally driven as ever and she parachutes back into Aurora's world at several key points in this long saga—both in very helpful and in deliberately threatening ways. By The Evening Star, McMurtry seems to have fine-tuned Patsy's character until she becomes a truly memorable part of this saga. Although we might not agree with Patsy's moral code, she's definitely a woman we'd like to sit next to at a dinner party for a long evening of conversation.
So why doesn't everyone remember and love The Evening Star?
Here's the problem: This novel—as writers like to say about the Seinfeld TV series—"is about nothing." Readers who love Lonesome Dove or Last Picture Show know that a whole lot happens in those novels! And, yes, just like Seinfeld, this really is not about nothing. A lot happens with Aurora and her family and her even larger circle of friends and boyfriends. But, in the end, this is a novel about a life-long friendship between two women: Aurora, the larger-than-life Houston socialite, and Rosie, her Black maid. When the series started, Rosie was merely Aurora's servant—a background character for occasional comic relief with a questionably shaky depiction by McMurtry who was still learning about how to portray race in relationships. But by this final novel in the Houston series, Aurora and Rosie are best friends—both of them strong willed, funny and always ready for daring new challenges. It's as if McMurtry created this entire novel to give Rosie—and the friendship of these two women—it's due.
For that reason, I love this mature novel that caps the Houston series.
One way to judge the public ambivalence toward this novel, though, is that the movie made from Houston novel No. 3, Terms of Endearment, has an 81 percent approval rating among critics (on Rotten Tomatoes) while this final novel only earned 25 percent critic approval. As it turns out, audiences loved both movies, because of Shirley MacLaine's portrayal of Aurora. (This isn't a movie review, so I won't write more about my own complaints about the second movie, but if you know this novel and that second movie, then you know there were indeed problems.)
In general, most movie critics complained that not much happened in The Evening Star, the feature film. And, that's right. This novel is more than 600 pages of the continuing adventures of Aurora and Rosie. And, this time, McMurtry has them finely tuned and in full control of their lives.
Are there flaws in this novel? Certainly. The one annoying detail for me (although I'm still sticking with my 5-star rating) is that twice McMurtry tries to narrate chapters through the minds of infants. That's right, babies are the narrators for a couple of short chapters. And, while he definitely has perfected his narration of women as characters, these scenes in which infants talk to us are way too cutesy and I couldn't wait for them to end. Thankfully, they're brief.
So, if you've read this far, you're likely a McMurtry fan. I doubt that many people will take the deep, deep, deep dive I'm taking into McMutry's 40-plus-bookshelf, but I can tell you:
If you've come to love McMurtry for more than his rugged Western guys—this is a novel you should not miss!
What an odd book. Though it's interesting to catch up with Aurora, Rosie and the General, the book is overlong and meanders with several random and meaningless details.
Yet, there are some good parts - really good, actually. Where "Terms of Endearment" was about a selfish woman who was frustrated by her frilly life being filled with people who underwhelmed her, this is about her actually coming to terms with the frustrations of life, more or less accepting them, and trying to find some meaning to it all.
This McMurtry book is set apart from his others in that where most of his novels seem to be able to communicate something lively and true - through characterizations and dialogue - this book attempts to sum up the goal of life. It's not completely successful, and it's annoyingly corny in several instances, but it makes sense - and its last pages are powerful.
Frequently labeled as the sequel to Terms of Endearment, Larry McMurtry’s The Evening Star also brings to a close his sequence of six novels that live under the umbrella of his “Houston chronicles” (the first five novels in the sequence are listed at the end of this review, and are also highly recommended). The good news for readers is that The Evening Star features many familiar characters that appear in earlier books, although each novel does a fairly good job as a standalone story
The memorable cast of characters is headed by the redoubtable Aurora Greenway, now in her seventies, and also features her stalwart, plainspoken, lovable, and sensitive maid, Rosie, who by this time has morphed into Aurora’s best friend, despite cooking and cleaning duties. There are two main challenges Aurora deals with in this story: first, she still possesses a healthy sexual appetite, which is not being satisfied by her long-time, live-in lover, General Hector Scott, now impotent and pushing ninety. The General is himself dissatisfied and unhappy with his inability to perform, and constantly suspects Aurora is seeking ways to discard him even as she courts a former lover, Pascal, an impetuous, volatile Frenchman, who would like nothing better than a change of status to live-in lover.
Commanding equal attention in Aurora’s life are her three neurotic and dysfunctional grandchildren, Melanie, Teddy, and Tommy, all of whom she would love to see “settled,” yet all of whom are at various stages of instability in their lives, although arguably, Tommy does have a stability of sorts—he is serving time in jail for shooting his girlfriend, and seems quite content with his lot. College dropout Melanie is pregnant by her now ex-boyfriend, who hesitated a mere heartbeat before abandoning Melanie for a temptress with a Ferrari. Teddy lives with his lover, Jane, and their toddler son, the precocious and self-centered Bump. Teddy and Jane met in a mental institution, now work in convenience stores in a seedy neighborhood, and have different approaches to child-rearing. In addition, Jane is ready to explore her bisexuality, bringing Teddy ever nearer to another breakdown.
To address her first challenge, Aurora persuades the General that the solution to their bedroom issues is therapy. The skeptical General quickly quits the therapy, leaving Aurora to start a dalliance with the therapist, some thirty years her junior. However, skilled as he is in straightening out others’ lives, the therapist himself is directionless, lackadaisical, and easily led by strong-minded women like Aurora, and subsequently, Patsy, the best friend of Aurora’s deceased daughter, Emma.
In trying to help get her grandchildren settled to her satisfaction, Aurora dispenses her unique brand of tough, grandmotherly love, providing advice, money, and a shoulder to cry on, as necessary. In their turn, the grandchildren run to, or shy away from Aurora, as the vicissitudes of their lives dictate.
The unfolding lives of this motley cast of characters provides ample working material for McMurtry to spin an engaging yarn that will have no difficulty keeping readers’ interests for close to 650 pages. As he advances the stories of each of his characters, readers are treated to plenty of trials and tribulations, pathos and poignancy, and instances of laugh-out-loud humor and comedy. McMurtry masterfully ties up all loose ends of his story in practical, yet sad and heartwarming ways that will not disappoint. If anything, it will persuade those who have not read other novels in the series to do so right away.
[Note: The other five novels in the Houston chronicles are Moving On, All My Friends are Going to be Strangers, Terms of Endearment, Somebody’s Darling, and Some Can Whistle.]
This should really be titled "Aurora and Rosie Get Laid (and mostly not enjoying it" because this is the substance of the book: two septugenarians sleeping with younger men and complaining about them. The peripheral characters - family, friends, lovers - are just spin-offs of a bad Eudora Welty novel and hardly worth talking about. Had its merits nothing I'd advise anyone to waste 600 pages on.
Once again, I was amazed and thrilled by McMurty's prodigious skills as a writer. Not one word is wasted. His writing is lean, and holds momentum, and his storytelling is masterful.
I see several people complaining about the book's "meandering" style. But, life is often "meandering". You are busy going about your daily life and then all of a sudden you realize ten years has passed. I also see people have complained about the end of the book and how the writing style changed. I believe this was on purpose. As Aurora grew older, her ability to communicate was diminished. The style of the last chapter represents this. I would have given the book 5 stars but it took me about 100 pages to get into it so I took a star away. Because I can.
As always with Larry McMurtry, this was a great book. I was a little sad at the end that it would be the last time I would read about Aurora Greenway. She may be one of the best characters ever written.
I'm listening to this book in my car. It's made me laugh and gasp out loud, and the characters feel as if they're different parts of life for everyone.
Favorite fictional character of all time Aurora Greenaway and I love this book more than Terms of Endearment since it focuses on her. This is my second favorite Larry McMurtry after Lonesome Dove.
The Evening Star is the sequel to Terms of Endearment. I watched Terms of Endearment recently and thought I'd read the swquel, which picks up when Emma's kids are grown and all are in some sort of trouble to the dismay of their grandmother, Aurora. That sounded intriguing; however, that's as good as it got.
The book just never progressed past Aurora's constant bullying, bitching, bemoaning, or boo-hooing about everything and everybody. I heard Shirley MacLaine's voice (she played Aurora in Terms of Endearment). The plot just dragged on and on in that tone. UGH!! after much thought, the only character I found remotely endearing was Rosie, Aurora's housemaid and friend. The ending was just flat-out stupid. Perhaps even the author got tired of the book and just decided to pull all the plot strings together in a knot and cut it off. The final 10+ chapters were often only sentences to a few paragraphs long. Then came a 24 year leap in time and a BOOM/hit-the-wall ending. Seriously, that's what took a 2 star rating to a ONE. I had hoped for more from McMurtry with this sequel and I wasted time reading this book! T
When I started this book I was so captivated that I wondered why I hadn’t read any of Larry McMurtry’s books before. The characters and dialogue were interesting and quirky. Aurora Greenway is some indeterminate age - late middle-aged, early old age - and still full of spunk. Her daughter Emma died in “Terms of Endearment”, leaving behind three children who are now adults whose lives leave much to be desired. Aurora’s maid Rosie has been with her for more than 40 years and they’re so close that they’re like family to each other. Much of the book is spent on Aurora’s relationships with the various men in her life - lovers, grandsons, great grandsons. Some of it is fun, some a little sad. But mostly, after 600+ pages, it’s just a little tiring. Not much ever really happens. By the end of the book I wasn’t quite as captivated. But I can see how taking some of McMurtry’s lengthy books filled with interesting characters and witty dialogue and boiling them down to a 2-hour movies could be successful.
After the first hundred pages, where the General and Aurora had some indefatigable arguments, the book finally settled into a riveting page turner.
Was the spirit of Aurora Greenway a force of goodness or destruction? In all, her selfishness probably did disturb her grandkids, but her lust for life (sorry no better words come to mind) were unmatched and make her fictional life an inspiration.
There is something authentic about McMurtry's writing. Has anyone read where his character sculpting of Aurora Greenway came from?
Interested to read what about people thought about this.
Normally, I'd have a problem with McMurtry pulling out the old cancer card yet again, but he does it so matter-of-factly that it's almost acceptable. One minute a character is eating a pig sandwich, and by the next page, she has cancer. There isn't a telltale cough or a sudden bout of lethargy. Cancer just appears all of a sudden like a mustard stain on your collar. As for the rest of the book, it isn't anything special, but it's entertaining enough to hold your attention. I still feel compelled to read the rest of his mammoth bibliography and that kind of scares me.
I loved this book. I loved that he wrote a book continuing with the life of the ever selfish Aurora. I don't know what it is about McMurtry, but he always makes me fall in love with his characters. There is something about his female characters that always knocks me out.
What a beautiful novel, both in its own right and as the end of a series of books that started with Moving On. It’s most directly a sequel to Terms of Endearment, but it ties up loose ends of the whole sequence of books. It’s also a far better work than the slightly uncertain Terms of Endearment. It has a bittersweet and elegiac tone throughout that is appropriate for writing about the book’s aging characters. No one I’ve ever read writes character death as well as McMurtry, and there is a lot of death in this one. McMurtry handles each one with some of his most powerful prose, flexing his style to suit the nature of the death and the character. The Evening Star contains a few of the most beautiful passages I’ve read in American literature, including one that, on paper at least, shouldn’t work at all (while keeping it vague enough to be spoiler free, I’ll say it’s a scene written from the perspective of a baby). McMurtry has a compassionate, empathetic eye for all his characters, but he isn’t a merciful creator, either; his characters aren’t spared heartbreaking fates, and we aren’t spared reading about them. But there’s a beautiful optimism behind it all, a celebration of life’s joyous moments and the enduring power art has to bond us to one another. While I’d rank Moving On and All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers a bit higher overall, I’ll say that The Evening Star is McMurtry’s most beautiful book so far. I highly recommend it, but with the caveat that its power increases if you’ve read the Houston novels that precede it.
“Well, most people have always thought I was too much,” Aurora said. “If I am, it’s not calculated. I’ve just always thought I’d better keep trying. So many people stop trying, and the minute they do, they dwindle. I personally would rather not dwindle until I have to.”
Aurora Greenway nearly ruined me. I found myself going back over the final 50 pages. Reading and rereading and asking myself why I was openly weeping on an airplane (I’m tearing up now). But I know why. It’s because Aurora got older, and fatter, and lonelier, and more alone, and all the other things that people dread as their life goes on, and still, she never stopped trying, and she never stopped insisting that the people she loved had to try too. I’m really going to miss her.
No plot here, really. It's all about the quirky characters. Although about halfway through a 600+ page book, their quirks started to get tiresome. Aurora is a an over-sexed senior citizen who has an elderly live-in and decrepit boyfriend of twenty years who mostly ignores her numerous other affairs. Along with her maid, she raised her three grandchildren after her daughter's death. The eldest is an ahedonic murderer incarcerated in Huntsville, the youngest has been in and out of mental hospitals, and the granddaughter is pregnant, unmarried, and unemployed. Aurora and her maid are constantly on the prowl for new boyfriends (including those much younger) and they pick some doozies. The ending was flat. Not McMurtry's best.
"McMurtry takes us deep into the heart of Texas, and deep into the heart of one of the most memorable characters of our time, Aurora Greenway -- along with her family, friends, and lovers -- in a tale of affectionate wit, bittersweet tenderness, and the unexpected turns that life can take. This is Larry McMurtry at his very best: warm, compassionate, full of comic invention, an author so attuned to the feelings, needs, and desires of his characters that they possess a reality unique in American fiction." (From Amazon)
The book, like the movie, was just fair. I enjoyed that we got to know more about the characters but just is not as good as the original.
Larry McMurtry should have been kicked out of the guild with the publication of this book.
McMurtry wrote himself into a hole, didn't know what to do, chose a terrible solution, and wrote one of the worst endings in American fiction. If he had been a $2.99er do-it-yourself author at Amazon, it might be understandable. McMurtry, though, knows how to great a great novel.
An enduring story that continues after “Terms of Endearment” with the same characters just being older – they’re all as looney as they used to be although a bit, maybe, more understanding --- book is really well written and I would recommend reading Term of Endearment first and both are 100 percent then the movies! Each character is just so well defined, feel like you’re right there with them, cried at the ending!
I read this book when it was first published in the early 90s, and I read it again this November, even though it took me weeks and sometimes seemed quite a slog and probably means I won’t achieve my reading goal this year. It’s not one of Larry McMurtry’s best - not even close - and yet it has something in that moves me. Sometimes I do not question the urge to read (or reread) a specific book; I just assume there is some greater wisdom at work and that the particularity of the reading experience has something salutary to offer to me.
McMurtry’s range is the sublime to the ridiculous and there is plenty of ridiculousness in this book, and yet I cannot resist the character of Aurora Greenway. She’s so unlike me in most ways, but I can’t help wishing her bold and guilt-free approach to her own existence will rub off on me. McMurtry is not easy on her or her orphaned grandchildren, much as I wish it would be otherwise, but he does bring Aurora’s story (her long, long story) to a close and I appreciated that as a rarity in fiction.
”She wished that she could simply be still and content, at rest in her heart, as the elderly, or at least the late middle-aged, were supposed to be, but in fact she never felt still, content, or at rest. Not only had the fever of life not abated - in her it seemed to be glowing ever more hotly.”
Larry McMurtry writes characters like no one else. Period.
And while many not like his plot (which are often just meandering events that focus on the mundane with the occasional time skip), his books are able to reflect beautifully on so many themes and topics.
I truly did love this book and I have to say that the cover art is perfect. It's dusky, nostalgic, cozy, and melancholic. And I think these things provide an excellent backdrop.
We follow one of McMurtry's most iconic characters, Aurora Greenway, in her "evening" years, along with some of the cast of characters from Terms of Endearment and plenty of new ones. In doing so, McMurtry is able to explore what it's like to grow old, to move into a different phase of life, reflections and epiphanies (that arrive too late to cause change), the suddenness of death, and more.
In particular, I'm still stumped and in awe of the last 20ish pages or so, in which (much like Terms of Endearment) it feels like McMurtry was able to tell an entirely different story and I'm still working on parsing out what it all means.
When Larry McMurtry passed a little while ago, I found this book on my shelf and felt I should read it to remind me of how good a writer he was. And he is terrific at the craft - one of the best in fully shaping characters and interaction. Unfortunately, in this one, which is somewhat a sequel in the Terms of Endearment line, he only does that - the plot is pretty much "people live and die". It was an enjoyable meander for the first 300 or pages....but at 600 pages for someone who is more plot focused usually, it became more a "lost in the woods" then "enjoyable walk in the park". The story itself is pretty innocuous - following the older times of Aurora Greenway, a matriarch type who has a lot of interesting people enter and leave her life as she figures out how she is going to live out her final years.
In all, good show of McMurtry's talents in prose but just twice as long as needed to be.