The Crazyladies of Pearl Street

by Trevanian

Legendary writer Trevanian brings readers his most personal novel a funny, deeply felt, often touching coming-of-age novel set in 1930s America. Six-year-old Jean-Luc LaPointe, his little sister, and his spirited but vulnerable young mother have been abandoned—again—by his father, a charming con artist. With no money and nowhere else to go, the LaPointes create a fragile nest in a tenement building at 238 North Pearl Street in Albany, New York. For the next eight years, through the Great Depression and Second World War, they live in the heart of the Irish slum, surrounded by ward heelers, unemployment, and grinding poverty. Pearl Street is also home to a variety of “crazyladies”: Miss Cox, the feared and ridiculed teacher who ignites Jean-Luc’s imagination; Mrs. Kane, who runs a beauty parlor/fortune-telling salon in the back of her husband’s grocery store; Mrs. Meehan, the desperate, harried matriarch of a thuggish family across the street; lonely Mrs. McGivney, who spends every day tending to her catatonic husband, a veteran of the Great War; and Jean-Luc’s own unconventional, vivacious mother. Colorful though it is, Jean-Luc never stops dreaming of a way out of the slum, and his mother’s impossible expectations are both his driving force and his burden. As legendary writer Trevanian lovingly re-creates the neighborhood of his youth in this funny, deeply moving coming-of-age novel, he also paints a vivid portrait of a neighborhood, a city, a nation in turmoil, and the people waiting for a better life to begin. It’s a heartfelt and unforgettable look back at one child’s life in the 1930s and ’40s, a story that will be remembered long after the last page is turned.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Book Club, Audiobook, Family, Coming Of Age, Historical

384 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2005

About the author

Rodney William Whitaker was an American film scholar and writer who wrote several novels under the pen name Trevanian. Whitaker wrote in a wide variety of genres, achieved bestseller status, and published under several other names, as well, including Nicholas Seare, Beñat Le Cagot, and Edoard Moran. He published the nonfiction book The Language of Film under his own name.
Between 1972 and 1983, five of his novels sold more than a million copies each. He was described as "the only writer of airport paperbacks to be compared to Émile Zola, Ian Fleming, Edgar Allan Poe, and Geoffrey Chaucer." Whitaker adamantly avoided publicity for most of his life, his real name a closely held secret for many years. The 1980 reference book Twentieth-Century Crime and Mystery Writers listed his real name in its Trevanian entry.

Reviews

[Marcie · Rating 5 out of 5]

After reading other reviews of this book on this website, I feel that I must defend it. First of all, no one should read this book UNLESS they are a Trevanian fan.

To not know him first as the author of "Shibumi," the greatest spy novel ever written, or to not know of his fights with publishers and refusals to do interviews and publicity signings, or to not know that he wrote in different genre under different pseudonyms (which were often an intriguing connecting puzzle of characters' names in other books), is to not understand the wonder of this autobiography. Trevanian spent his life being the elusive enigma, refusing to allow anyone to know anything about him.

And his last gift to us before he died? An autobiography. But of course, in any discussion, he's going to refer to it as fiction -- hiding is his reaction of habit. Thus I understand the confusion of some readers..."what is this fiction-memoir-thing, telling us the story of living in a slum in the 1930s that we've all heard a million times before?"

No, this is the fascinating companion material explaining the sources for all of Trevanian's creative choices in all of his works. It's the last rant of your favorite college professor, completely off-topic, on the last day of school. It's the last conversation with an old friend, charming and wry, over a last glass of wine.

Trevanian's autobiography inspires me to write a novel. Much more importantly, it inspires me to let go of every disappointment, every transgression, every righteous indignant anger I have ever felt. Life is just too short. And isn't that what an autobiography should do?

[Ayse_ · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is an autobiographical novel about Trevanian's (Rodney William Whitaker (June 12, 1931 – Dec 14, 2005)) childhood (mostly) and also adulthood. His father was a con-man who never took care of his family. He tricked his family and disowned Trevanian and his sister at a very young age. Their mother; a very strong and independent character was inadequate in providing for her children however hard she tried. They lived through the times of depression, WWII and turbulent post-war era. Always poor and restless; always making self-destructive choices, never managing to cling to what they have for too long.

Its interesting to see through the eyes of a very smart child Trevanian; a family legacy of generation after generation of wounded parents, who kept heaping their burden on their kids; the kids who get badly crushed and injured being too young and defensless for that kind of weight and almost never recover.

Its a very sad story, with many interesting anecdotes from a community, where mostly strong women trying to survive the madness of the time are shaping the world of the ones around them.

[Therese · Rating 4 out of 5]

An enjoyable read of the author’s experiences growing up in poverty on Pearl St. in Albany, NY in the 1930’s/40’s. My parents were married in the ‘40’s, and some of that era’s things that he weaves into the story, like games, songs, dances, the corner store, the neighborhood gossips, the crazy lady on the block, current events, how his family was affected by WWII, etc. brought back a lot of memories of the same things that my parents used to reminisce about.

[Leslie · Rating 4 out of 5]

So....when I was young I hazarded asking my father to talk about his life growing up as a boy in Alabama. He kind of looked at me in a distracted way and kept walking right out of the room, muttering "What do you want to know?"- his voice tinged with irritation.

Well, this book does just the opposite. Trevanian's story is narrated by a young boy growing up in Albany, New York, on the "Irish slum" block of Pearl Street in the 1930s and 40s. It's quite good, but just so long-winded to me, like someone taking a nostalgic journey, writing down every little thing remembered so preciously. I just couldn't read every single word without glazing over and falling out of my chair. I needed these 367 pages to be more like 187.

"See, what had happened was...."
many many years ago I had a friend who raved about Trevanian's book, Shibumi. I've never read it; but on a trip to the library I espied TREVANIAN in caps on the red spine of The Crazyladies of Pearl Street and plucked it off the shelf.

This book was published in 2005, the year that Trevanian died, so, this being his final novel, I imagine that he DID take that nostalgic trip back into the past. His writing is very engaging, and I'd still like to read Shibumi and The Eiger Sanction. Any Trevanian fans out there who would like to share their favorites by him?

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

I return often to a well-worn theory that says "the world is made of two types of people..." and then you complete the dichotomy with "people who like X, and people who don't." It most commonly comes to mind when thinking about Japan, but now I think about Trevanian in the same way.

I simply can't imagine how one can't read his writing and not think it's as good as anyone can ever write.

Despite the off-putting title, this is just as good as any other of his novels, but its effect is multiplied (at least for me) knowing the subject is himself, and that this is his last work before he died in 2006. The observations, and internal thoughts and dreams, and stories of being young -- are all universal and welcoming. To hear of the world through the reverse lens of a very wise man inhabiting the mind of an eleven year old boy is a nice trick. Maybe more than anything, the way this book gives insight into Trevanian's life and world view is a real treat to a deep fan.

The review is without value other than to point the way for other potential readers, and to capture the thoughts and feelings for enjoying later.

[Sonia Gomes · Rating 1 out of 5]

I was left with a twinge of guilt of sorrow...

How could I give a single star to the author who had written 'The Summer of Katya'?

It had had left such an impression on me!

I wanted more of Trevanian and with such an evocative title as 'The Crazyladies of Pearl Street! I was dragged into it. Dragged!

Now I understand, 'All that glitters is not gold'. Page after page of events, details and more details in such a very listless manner. I understand that this his Autobiography but shouldn't there be more spirit to the book? And what about humour? ... After falling asleep a couple of times, this book was not for me...

Just to be sure I read it once again, but there it was, nothing had changed, page after page of events, details and more details... in a dry, listless manner...

So little time and so many books. Sorry Trevanian, 'Summer of Katya' was beautiful, but 'The Crazyladies of Pearl Street'....You cannot win all the time.

[Mary Ann · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a delight. I first read The Eiger Sanction forty years ago when I picked up a copy at a library sale, and I was hooked. I've read all of Trevanian's work, and Shibumi is my favorite. Crazy Ladies is very different; I understand it is at least semi-autobiographical, published in 2005 when Rod Whitaker was in his seventies and in poor health. His biting wit is present here, but there is something elegantly Proustian in his account of the minutiae of quotidian objects and events. The 1930s and 1940's are vividly portrayed, and it's one of the best coming-of-age stories I have read. Jonathan Hemlock and Nicholai Hel are born here.

[Sherri]

so far one of the most fantastic books i have ever read. finally, an author who isnt afraid to use the english language! dozens of too-little-used words; in fantastic ways. love it.

[Douglas Gibson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I recommend my 2nd read of 2023, Trevanian’s “The Crazies Ladies of Pearl Street,” to lovers of well written fiction and coming of age stories. If you enjoyed Betty Smith’s. “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” Gloria Naylor’s “The Women of Brewster Place,” or Henry Roth’s, “Call it Sleep,” you will be right at home with the type of storytelling here. If you haven’t read those three books- add them to your list immediately.
This one is not for those that need a dense plot, as I stated, it is a coming of age story. The story focuses on our protagonist, Jean-Luc LaPointe, who was abandoned by his father, as he grows up in 30’s New York City with his sister, and his eccentric mother. His voice is what makes the book so charming and ultimately engrossing. His narration looks back on his childhood with a perfect mix of childhood innocence and adult cynicism. One page will have you laughing at his childlike imagination, while a few pages later your heart will break for some of the injustices the family suffers all because of his description of those events.
As Jean-Luc takes us through his early years we remember that there really is no such thing as “the good old days." Times in our history have always been tough, admittedly more for some groups than others; what this novel does is show you how one family handles these conflicts. Along the way the book makes strong statements about the role of children, poverty, racism, and feminism.
(Disclaimer- this was my Book Club’s pick. I had never heard of the author or the book before- but I am glad I have now!)

[korey · Rating 2 out of 5]

Man this one was a struggle. I so wanted to like it since it's a story of a boy growing up in the slums of Albany during the Depression and WWII, but it was a total BORE. There was just too much superfluous narrative and not enough dialog or character development. But, what dialog there is was great, I wanted more! I actually skipped and skimmed my way through the last 1/3 of the book - which I never do.

[Reid · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quite a nice book, if a bit snarky, if you know what I mean; which is to say, the author is a bit high on himself, and sometimes his judgments of the world and the people in it are hypercritical, simplistic, and not truly on target. However, I was never less than engaged by this book, and especially relished the background material on the website he published specifically to accompany the book. Don't worry, the book stands alone, but if you want more information on any of the footnotes, the website is fun. Oh, one more little criticism: it becomes quite evident that this is more memoir than novel, and the pretense is a tad annoying. Still, it is a very good read, with vividly and lovingly portrayed characters, and I would recommend it to anyone.

[L · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have many favorite book and this is one of them. Luke's mother is abandoned by her husband, shortly after their marriage. He returns once to father Luke's sister and sends the family a note to meet him in Albany. With no money the family moves into a small apartment in the heart of the Irish slum which happens to be on Pearl Street. For a number of years you follow Luke and his family through the Great Depression and World War II. What Luke discovers is that he lives in a neighborhood of crazy ladies. The author does a wonderful job with each character and the book is rich with details from the 1930's. It is a must read.

[Barbara · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5 stars. Slow read. A few parts were pretty good but overall it was slow,cumbersome and disjointed to me.

[Rose · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very interesting and engaging. While the title would suggest that the story is about these women, really it's about a boy’s life around 1936.

[thewanderingjew · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Crazyladies of Pearl Street, Trevanian, author; Lee Leoncavallo, narrator
I loved reading this book. I loved its simple presentation of life with all its warts and foibles in what could only be called a simpler time. I loved the fact that the main characters never truly gave up. Most of the characters rose above their own defeats and challenged the world again; even if they never succeeded, they kept on trying. This was a country of hope, for most of its travelers.
The book is about a different time, a time that had problems, but in retrospect with a comparison of today’s, they were more easily addressed.
This is a book that is reminiscent of the author’s life. He had a deadbeat dad, a conman who abandoned his mother and children. He liked his drink, and alcohol was a massive problem for the poor immigrant, Irish population. They came to America in poverty. They came with dreams and hopes. Often they ended up with nightmares, but the mom in this novel, and the mom in Trevanian's real life, never gave up hope, even when she succumbed to sadness or sickness, she always rose again. Still, she was filled with her own problems some self inflicted because she was opinionated and harbored many prejudices. The Jews were out to cheat her, the neighbors were looking down at her, when the butcher was kind to her she was sure he wanted to get something in return. Because the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and declared war, she tolerated nothing Japanese.
The book introduces Jean Luc La Pointe who tells the story. He is a very precocious and super bright little boy with a very high IQ. He stupefies some of his teachers with his knowledge. At six years old, his maturity is far beyond his years. His man/nun imaginings, his conversations with his teachers and his philosophy of life will have the reader laughing. How he sneaks into the movie theater will remind some readers of their own shenanigans. Some of the superstitions will be nostalgic, like deaths occur in threes. It will arouse memories of stores that gave credit, keeping records in black/white covered notebooks. It was a time when people were called names that were disparaging, but no one would get shot over it. Kids riding bikes and delivering papers are also memories of days gone by.
Jean Luc protects his younger sister Anne-Marie. He is his mother’s right hand and confidant because his father has abandoned them. She leans heavily on him and he is aware of his burden, but his love for his mother and his own kind heart propel him to always support, protect and defend her. His mother often embarrasses him because she dresses with too much panache or butchers the English language with backwards idioms, like believe me, you or it will be a hot day in Hell. She trusts no one because she has been betrayed, often, and harbors deep prejudices and superstitions that guide her behavior. Still, she is independent, chooses her own style and defies the norms of the day, unconcerned about what people will say. She is kind. She is playful. He loves her and she loves her children.
The story begins when his mother takes her children from their home in Lake George, to Albany, New York. After a four year absence in which his sister was born, his father suddenly resurfaces and sends for them, but he is a conman, and once again, he disappoints them. He leaves a note saying he is going out to find a green cake. The apartment is decorated wildly for St. Patrick’s day. He never comes back, leaving them penniless, struggling to fend for themselves in a place they are complete strangers.
Although there is the occasional kind person, his mother always believes there is an ulterior motive and refuses help when it is offered unless she is at her wit’s end. She believes that more often than not, there is a person waiting in the wings to take advantage of them, and she is often proven right. Albany is a microcosm of the world when it comes to small towns and immigrants trying to make ends meet.
The book takes place in a time when the world is trying to come out of a depression and is dealing with world problems and a coming war in Europe. It shows the depths of depravity that some will go to in order to take advantage of others. It shows the depth of love some feel for others and the extent of what they will suffer to keep that love alive. It deals with the unendurable pain some feel from their hopelessness, from their wartime experiences, and from their emotional and physical stress. It does not shy away from the anti-Semitism of the time or the anti-immigrant atmosphere. The term Jew someone down is introduced as a cliché used in negotiations. It was a time when people were called names and even though they were disparaging, it didn’t cause violence. Still, because of the humor interjected so often and so naturally, the book is not heavy at all.
The country was deeply nationalistic and when Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, the citizens rose to the occasion. The volunteers couldn’t be processed fast enough. However, there was a dark side to the country, as well. The welfare system was corrupt, so were the ward heelers, the Tammany bosses who provided for the new immigrants more quickly. They also paid them for their votes which was an accepted practice, since most would have voted that way anyway. The political system was corrupt then, but the purchasing and dishonest election system was not as sophisticated as it is today, and the vote buying was well known. The corrupt elections were accepted, in much the same way as today, though for different reasons, the corruption and cheating is being overlooked. The mob is still in control of the swamp.
Every problem is dealt with in a way that shows life simply went on as everyone adjusted to each new issue as best they could. Those that didn’t often took drastic measures, even taking their own lives. This was a time when people either had money for something or didn’t. Credit cards didn’t exist. If a shopkeeper wouldn’t show compassion, the family was doomed. There were some people who were easier marks than others. Some turned to alcohol. Some were too illiterate to do much of anything but manual labor. Some were jealous, some too superstitious. Survival was difficult on a multitude of levels.
The real name of this author, who wrote under several pseudonyms is Rodney William Whitaker. The book is close to an autobiographical picture of his life. It is about the kind of life his family had, the poverty, the shame, the prejudices, the superstitions, their struggles to survive. It is about his coming of age, his finding love and his ultimate success.
The narrator of this book was superb, using tone and expression to identify each character uniquely and to emphasize each moment appropriately.

[Carol · Rating 5 out of 5]

THE CRAZY LADIES OF PEARL STREET was, for me, a happy trip down memory lane. With references to some of the radio programs I remember during the golden days of radio...a time when one could escape the boredom of hot summer days by listening to the adventures of "The Green Hornet" or "The Shadow", when you could ride with the "Lone Ranger and Tonto", listen to “Buster Brown” or be scared out of your wits by "Inner Sanctum's" squeaking door or sit in a darkened room listening to the footsteps on “Dragnet.” This story recalls a time before television and computer games when one need only an imagination and an inexpensive radio to enjoy hours of entertainment. I'm just old enough to remember those days, but even if you are not, you still might enjoy this semi-autobiographical look back at an earlier time in our country's history.

Set in Albany, New York in the years prior to and following WWII this story is a retrospective look at a simpler time when most people were "poor financially" but "rich in spirit". Narrated by Jean-Luc Pointe, it tells of his life growing up in a poverty stricken neighborhood with his emotionally strong but physically weak mother Ruby and his sister Anne-Marie as they struggle to survive when his "charming, con-man" father deserts them yet again. Luc is forced to become the man of the house at the tender age of six, a position that he alternately relishes and resents. Filled with memorable characters like Mrs. Cox - the teacher who first recognizes Luc's talent for story-telling; Mr. Kane - the Jewish grocer who extends credit, and provides the luxury of a "pay phone" (the only telephone in the neighborhood); Mrs. McGivney the lonely woman who spends her days tending to her catatonic husband and who relies on Luc for her only companionship; Ben the cowboy who lives upstairs; and other peripheral characters like Aunt Lorna, her slimy husband and his shady associates – they all add to the tone and texture of this beautiful word tapestry.

If you appreciate wonderfully descriptive writing and are subject to bouts of nostalgia then Trevanian is the writer for you and THE CRAZY LADIES OF PEARL STREET is a reading experience that will enfold you like a warm cozy blanket. I loved it.....

[Carson hall · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book drove me nuts. There are some parts that I really found readable and others that were just so boring. In the edition I own it starts off by indicating that what follows is a work of fiction and the whole thing about being coincidental if it resembles anyone. He also makes a snarky remark about a society that is constantly suing. Then I look on the internet and find out that this is a semi-autobiographical novel. Well in that case it would resemble people, both living and dead. If it is semi-autobiographical what is real and what isn't? Did he live on Diamond Street in New York City? Was he Jewish and not Catholic? The whole thing just drives me nuts, I know I could have downloaded the 300 pages where he explains all those footnotes, but it's funner to be angry at such a ridiculous quandary than to read another 300 pages of events and maybe real/fake anecdotes on his life. Besides that, I absolutely hated his mother character. Yeah, I guess the first time she got a saying wrong it was humorous, but it gets to a point where it is not cute, funny or anything except annoying. Usually I either hate a book, like a book, or love a book; since Wally Lamb published his first book I have not been so annoyed by loving and hating a book at the same time. Oh yeah, and the title of the book is misleading. It's not so much about crazy ladies, and after reading it I find the title a little offensive. These were poor women under extenuating circumstances, not crazy ladies. Besides it was most about the author or whomever growing up.

[Peggy]

Honestly this was one of the worst books, I have ever read.
The typographical errors and the inconsistencies of the plot were at best annoying. The author changes descriptions of past events to fit in with whatever story he happens to wander into in that chapter. The father has either left the mother when she is pregnant with Anne-Marie or after she is born depending on which page you are on. The Grandfather either helped out the mother a lot and brought lollipops to Jean-Luc and Anne-Marie or he died in a car accident two weeks after the father left the mother for the second time. (When she was either pregnant with Anne-Marie or AM was an infant-a little young to pick out a Safe-T-Pop color. Either the mother and father eloped or the mother was mad at Aunt/Cousin Lorna for leaving Ruby's wedding reception.
Aside from the willy-nilly time line of the (weak) plot, the contradictory nature of the book made it just short of unreadable. I would give it a half star if that were an option but one star is too much so I am giving it zero.

[Cori · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book. I don't know why it's not more popular as a local publication in the Capital District. It's fun to read about such familiar areas as Albany, Troy & Lake George during a time gone-by. I'd recommend this to anyone who would enjoy reading about the Capital District or anyone who enjoys reading about the experiences of others. This novel is autobiographical about a young boy living on South Pearl somewhere between Clinton and Livingston just before and during WWII. He tells of the hardships living in a poor household run by a single-mother; his fears about his future and hers; the social fabric of his poor neighborhood; the financial and familial disappointments he and his mother and sister suffered time and time again; the idea that "one day our ship will come in"; and so much more.

The author went on to live in France where he died in 2005. This was his last published book.

[wally · Rating 4 out of 5]

this was the first story by trevanian that i picked up and it wasn't the last. an entertaining read and subsequent reads of all things trevanian have me asking the question: how'd this guy get around so much?

jean-luc lapointe, his little sister and their mother in albany new york. 1936. back in the day. jean-luc's mother is a hoot, believe me you! a phrase she uses. they're all waiting for their ship to come in. the old man has abandoned them and life is hard. things happen. a wonderful cast of characters and all of them come to life through the eyes of jean-luc. enjoyable read.

[Çiğdem Gündüz · Rating 4 out of 5]

'Birdenbire... bizim fakir insanlar olduğumuzu fark ettim, kanım dondu. İnci Sokağı'ndaki o zorlu yıllarımız boyunca kendimizi hiç fakir insanlar olarak düşünmemiştim. Paramız azdı, tamam, ara sıra şansımız ters gidiyordu, ama Dickens romanlarında ya da Les Miserables'da okuduğumuz fakir insanlar'dan değildik biz. Oysa şimdi öyleydik. Bu kırsal fakirlik, müzeleriyle, kütüphanesiyle, iyi şansa çıkabilecek sokaklarıyla renklenen kent fakirliğinden çok daha ağır bir şeydi. Artık sonuna kadar fakir kalacağımızdan emindim. Çıkış yoktu'

[Karen · Rating 2 out of 5]

The title of this book is mis-leading and would have been a better book had it been more about the "crazy ladies living on Pearl Street" rather than about a boy telling his story of growing up in the slums of Albany, New York during WWII. Parts of it held your interest...such as learning about the day to day details of life during the depression and war while living in such extreme poverty but the book was just a struggle to get through most of it.

[Susan Schnackenberg · Rating 1 out of 5]

Part novel, part lecture.....way too much lecture.

The attempts to share interesting bits of history in the beginning of the story were appreciated but soon became distracting when the characters were lost. Story became a boring, history lesson.

[Cheryl S. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Came close to being 5 stars for me. Loved the nostalgia and humor and the writing is superb.

[Ginger Gritzo · Rating 4 out of 5]

He led an interesting life and introduced me to a few new words.

[Ayshim · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bu ikinci kuşak insanların kendi aralarında ve daha öncekilerle rastgele ve süresiz çiftleşmelerinden de yirmi kadar çocuk çıkmıştı. Hepsi kardeş/kuzen/baba/amca/oğul/torun ilişkileri içindeydi. Her bir Meehan, soyadını en azından iki kere hak etmekteydi, ama içlerinden yalnızca biri ‘Bayan Meehan’ diye anılıyordu.

Aşiretin yemeklerini pişiren, küçük çocuklara bakan, temizliğini yapan genellikle oydu –çoğu zaman temizlik de, yırtık pırtık bir saçaklı süpürgeyle kirlerin yer değiştirmesini sağlamaktan ibaretti.

‘’Eh, burada inekler donana kadar oturamayız ya!’’ dedi. ‘’Ben içeriyi bir kolaçan edeyim. Belki Ray birine nereye gideceğini, ne zaman döneceğini söylemiş olabilir. Siz eşyalarımıza göz kulak olun.’’ Basamakları çıkıp kırmızı tuğladan yapılmış salaş binaya girdi.

Duyarlıdan da öte, hemen içim kalkar. Apartmanın giriş holüne adımımı attığım anda çektiğim ilk solukla birlikte, küf, lizol, bayat yağ, çürümüş ahşap, ter, fare tersi, kömür tozu, bebek çişi ve haşlanmış lahana karışımı, yüz elli yıllık yoksulluk, umutsuzluk kokusu, kalıcı rutubetin eşliğinde burun deliklerime doldu.

Bizim binanın özenti süsleri, kartonpiyerleri, eskimiş kat kat boyalar altına saklanmış iddialı görünüşüyle yarattığı izlenim, kibarken yoksullaşmışlıktan başka bir şey değildi. Kibar bir yaşlı kadının bar kavgasında ön dişlerini kaybetmesi gibi.

Buna karşılık radyonun üstünlüğü, bizi kendine çekmesi, hayal gücümüzü meşgul etmesi, resimleri zihnimizin duvarlarına kendimiz yapalım diye bizi zorlamasıydı.

Ben uzun süre boyunca, Protestan olarak yalnızca zencileri tanımıştım. Protestan olmanın, Katolik olmaya göre daha canlı bir şey olması gerektiği kanısındaydım. Tabii daha sonra beyaz Protestanları tanıyınca, bunun hiç de böyle olmadığını öğrendim. Ama en azından, Protestanların çoğu sonunda o katı, steril çocukluklarının etkisinden kurtulabiliyorlardı. Oysa Yahudilerle Katolikler, kendi belirsizlikleriyle ve suçluluk duygularıyla ömürlerinin sonuna kadar boğuşuyor, daha da beteri, herkese de bunu anlatıp duruyorlardı.

Gerçeklerle kanıtlar, önyargıları alt edecek kadar güçlü olamazdı.

Mohavkların başı dönmez, çünkü dönmeyeceğine inanırlar.

Tabii bu hediyeler, açlıkla arasında en fazla iki dolar ve birkaç gün bulunan bir aile için hovardalık sayılırdı, ama çevrelerinde tüketim toplumu coşup taşarken yoksulluğa demir atmış insanların da durumla başa çıkma yöntemi buydu.

Yemeklere, derslere ve kiliseye sessiz taburlar halinde yürürdük. Elektrikli ziller hayatımızın noktalama işaretleriydi.

Kelimelere her zaman hayranlık duyardım. O küçük ses paketleri, türlü anlamları, duyguları ve tavırları sarıp sarmalardı. Amber içinde kalmış fosil böceklerin sarmalanması gibi.

Bugünlerde bir ara şansımız dönecek, bizi alıp çok uzaklara götürecek. Ben çok küçükken annemin bu dönen şans sözünü, Hudson nehrindeki iskelelerden birine yanaşan bir gemi gibi hayal ederdim. Bildiğimiz masallardaki gibi. İçimiz iskelede gemiye doğru yürüyecek, hiç arkamıza bakmayacaktık. Hoş, rahatlatıcı bir hayaldi. Derken bir gün annem, bende yüksek IQ olduğu için bir şeyler icat edebileceğimi, ünlü olabileceğimi, o sayede harikulade bir evde yaşayacağımızı anlatırken birdenbire farkına vardım ki, annemin bekleyip durduğu o gemi aslında benmişim. Mideme bir şey oturdu sanki. Buz gibi bir duygu. Bizi İnci Sokağından kurtarmak benim görevimdi. Bu sorumluluğun ağırlığı başımı döndürdü. Kendimi hikâye oyunlarına daha yoğun bir biçimde gömmeye koyuldum.

Sonsuzluğun ne başı ne de sonu vardır. Bu cümleyi anlıyordum. Yani… içindeki tüm kelimelerin anlamını biliyordum. O açıdan cümleyi anlıyor sayılırdım. Ama bu bence, yakalamayı başarıp da tutmayı başaramadığım o kaypak kavramlardan biriydi. Yağlı bir bilyeyi, Çin lokantalarının yemek çubuklarıyla yakalamak gibi bir şey.

Papa’nın bize iyi niyetle gülümsemeye çalıştığını görüyordum, ama asetik hatları ve incecik dudakları, gülümsemeye pek uygun değildi.

Bu yüksek kalorili ihtiras ziyafetlerinin on yaşında bir çocuğa verdiği ana mesaj, aşkın karanlık ve tehlikeli bir iş olduğuydu.

Geceleri hafif sesle, evlerin içindeki radyolarda çalınan şarkılardı bunlar… alçak sesle oluşu, aslında komşulara nezaketten çok İrlanda kökenlilerin radyoyu yüksek sesle çalmanın daha pahalı olduğu yolundaki inancındandı.

Zaten erkekleri köle işçi haline gelmeye zorlayan da çocuklarıydı.

İş yerindeki o kolej mezunu, züppe şeflerin bir halt bildiği yoktu. Kimse de yaşlılara layık olduğu saygıyı göstermiyordu. Bütün bunlar Eleanor Roosevelt’in suçuydu! Kadın dediğin istenmediği yerlere burnunu sokmazdı!

Anneme göre, bizim temizlik, dürüstlük ve özsaygı düzeyimizin altında kalan insanlarla yakınlaşmak tehlikeliydi, çünkü ‘bir kuş sürüsünü tüylerine bakarak ayırt edemezdiniz’ (Bu da annemin dile katkılarından biriydi –kaynağı herhalde, ‘bir kitabı kapağına bakarak anlayamazsınız’ deyimiyle, ‘eş tüyleri olan kuşlar bir araya toplanır’ deyiminin bileşimi olmalıydı).

Aralık duran penceremden bu ilkel çiftleşme şarkısının apaçık sözlerini dinlerken, bütün bu bayağılık ve aptallık beni tiksindiriyordu. Ne de olsa, ben gevrek zekaya sahip, on bir yaşında bir çocuktum, salyası aka aka birbirinin kasığını koklayıp duran bu köpeklerse yeni yetmeydi … yani benden çok aşağıydılar … dünyalar vardı aramızda, kültürler vardı, sonsuzluklar vardı.

Madem sevişmek o kadar yüce ve güzel bir şeydi, doğa neden bu işi bu kadar küçümsüyordu da, işi işeme teçhizatımızla yapmak zorunda bırakıyordu?

Benim sunak görevlisi oluşumun dindarlıkla falan ilgisi olmadığı gibi, inançla bile ilgisi yoktu. Katolik oluşumun nedeni, solak oluşumun nedeninden farklı değildi … öyle doğmuştum da ondandı.

Çok iyi anlıyordum! Şu dünyada ani sessizlikleri duyabilen, bir kimsenin bulunması gereken yerde bulunmadığını görebilen tek kişinin ben olduğumu sanıyordum. Bu negatif algılarımı hiçbir zaman açıkça seslendirememiştim, ama her zaman hissettiğim gerçekti.

(Çocukken kullandığım yumuşatılmış lanetler ve küfürler artık değişmişti. O zamanlar o kelimelerin, değiştirilmiş dinsel kelimeler, isimler olduğunu bilsem bile, Tanrı’nın bunun farkına varmayacağını düşünecek kadar masumdum.)

Karşılaştığı gezici tarım işçilerinden söz ederken bir tanesinin çok çirkin olduğunu söylüyordu … ‘öyle çirkin ki, onca çirkinlik suratına sığmıyordu’ diyor, ‘birazını da elindeki kesekâğıdında taşımak zorunda kalıyordu,’ diye bitiriyordu. Ben bu absürt dalgasına hemen katıldım, günün birinde o köylünün karşısına dünya güzeli bir kadının çıkacağını, onun da yüzüne sığmayan güzelliğinin birazını kesekağıdında taşımak zorunda kalacağını ekledim.

Lorna Teyzenin kusursuz temizlik düzeyinde bakıp koruduğu o çocuksuz, sessiz evde, kendimi yanlış yerdeymişim gibi hissediyordum. Bu sinirli temizlik bana doğal değilmiş gibi geliyordu.

‘’Çok tatlı bir insan ama siz de takdir edersiniz, İsa’nın hareminin en zeki gelinin sayılmaz.’’

Kaçma konusuyla ilgili hikâye oyunlarının tecrübeli bir ustası olarak, bu ‘Batıdaki Turist Kampı’ meselesinin aslında analjezik bir hayal olduğunun farkındaydım.

‘Hani derler ya: Bir elin umutta, öbürü bokta, bakalım hangisi daha çabuk dolacak.’

Annemin bir imza vermesi gerektiğinde onunla birlikte bankaya gittim. Kapitalizm tapınağının serin mermerlerini, koyu renk ahşaplarını, ışıldayan pirinçlerini ilk o zaman gördüm. Bir daha ancak yirmi yıl sonra kendimi bir bankada bulacaktım.

Kuzenlerimin yaşça en büyük olanı, hem kendi ilkel mizah anlayışını hem de salaklığının derinliğini ortaya koymaya kalkmış, yandaki kuzene sarılmış, ardından gaz kaçırmış, sonra da battaniyeyi ikisinin birden kafasını örtecek şekilde çekmiş, kurbanını da garip hareketinin etkilerine mahkûm etmişti. Benim tek tesellim, Lorna Teyzeyle Tonio Eniştenin kendi çocukları olmaması, bu güruhla aramda hiç ortak gen bulunmamasıydı. Bunlar ‘nezaket’ kuzeniydi yalnızca.

İşte hikayenin normal final sahnesi… oğlan toprak yoldan gidiyor… çocukluğundan çıkıp hayatının geri kalanına doğru ilerliyor. Ama bizim hayatlarımız süreklidir ve birbiriyle birlikte örülmüştür. Hikayelerin dokusu, kolay yırtılan bir kumaş değildir. Bağlanacak iplik uçları, tatmin edilecek meraklar, seslendirilecek vedalar vardır.

Bazıları hiç öğrenmez. Hayat iyi öğretmendir derler ama, boşuna. İyi öğretmenler asla dersi öğretmeden önce sınavı önüne dayamaz.

Gemisi gelip yanaşmıştı… içi ona nasip olmamış başarılarla doluydu.

[Cathryn Conroy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a memoir written as a novel, and like many memoirs—even though it's supposed to be a novel—it has a tendency to get bogged down in the minutia. While quite a bit of it is laugh-out-loud funny and really quite engrossing to read, too much of it is boring and longwinded.

Written by Trevanian (a pseudonym for Rodney William Whitaker), the book follows the life of Jean-Luc LaPointe, a smart and precocious boy known as Luke to his friends. Luke, his mother, and his sister Anne-Marie live on North Pearl Street in Albany, New York from 1936 to 1945. It is the Great Depression, but the people who live on North Pearl are far poorer than most. The street is considered an Irish slum. Every penny matters when the welfare check is only $7.27 a week. Luke's deadbeat father stayed with Luke's mom just long enough to father two children; they haven't seen or heard from him in years. Told in the first person by Luke, this coming-of-age story is essentially a series of (long) vignettes about the family's intense poverty, creative ways to earn money, the Roman Catholic church, teachers and nuns, the movies and music of the time, and the "crazyladies" who live on the street.

The story really is interesting in that it portrays an important part of American history from the point of view of one hard-hit family. But the meandering and twisting narrative may lose all but the most devoted readers, and that's really a shame because better editing would have fixed this.

A bonus (of sorts): This may be a novel, but it has footnotes. Oddly, they are only available online for download. I was curious enough to go to the author's website and download the file. Well, no wonder the publisher didn't want to include them with the book. These aren't footnotes! They are essays—70 pages in all on such esoteric (and sort of, kind of related to the book) topics of 1930s filmmaking, Indian vs. Native American, the educational training of teachers, IQ tests, how to expertly chew a pencil, Edward R. Murrow, and many more.

[George · Rating 1 out of 5]

NOT MY 10¢-GLASS OF BEER.

“…when I stepped into that hall I drew my first breath of that medley of mildew, Lysol, ancient grease, rotting woodwork, sweat, rat droppings, coal dust, baby urine and boiled
cabbage...the residue of a hundred and fifty years of poverty and hopelessness, damp and eternal in the nostrils.” (p. 8)

The Crazyladies of Pearl Street, by Trevanian, is a depressing novel about unlikable people; out of the ‘life’s a bitch and then you die’ genre. Why would I ever choose to read such tripe?

Perhaps it was the $1.99 on-line, bargain price; and the really terrific title. I kept waiting for the crazy ladies to make an appearance—I could have abided ‘crazy’—but all that showed up where desperate, broken folks in an environment of dysfunction and squalor.

There might be some nuggets of nostalgia (e.g. vacuum-tube radios), for some of us really old readers, hidden in these pages somewhere. But, unless you happen to miss the miseries of the Great Depression and World War II, they’re very well hidden.

Recommendation: This is the first novel by Trevarian that I have read. Thankfully, it will also be the last. It shouldn’t even make your ‘to read’ list.

“But when he returned to sign up, the recruiting offices were so hungry for bullet-blocking meat that they didn’t look very carefully into a man’s past.” (pp. 276-277).

Crown/Archetype. Kindle Edition, 386 pages

[Fred Forbes · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maybe you can blame it on Don Winslow. I had pretty much forgotten Trevaian whose thrillers I enjoyed - The Eiger Sanction, the Loo Sanction, Shibumi, etc. until Don Winslow, another great thriller writer, with the blessing of the estate, produced a prequel to Shibumi and did an excellent job. What ever happened to Trevanian?, wondered I, and a bit of research showed he passed in 2005 and I realized that I had not read his last book, this one, a semi-autobiographical novel of growing up in the tenements of Albany in the mid '30's to mid '40s during the end of the depression and World War II.

I'm a fan of coming of age stories and this one is a classic, taking place in the decade before my birth so it added some perspective to my early life. Typical Trevanian, the prose is amazing, the characterization spot on, and the pacing just right. Sometimes it is tough imagining a pre-teen having that level of perception and that precise a vocabulary but the boyhood tendencies and behavior hit the mark. A truly enjoyable reading experience.

But wait, there's more! I noticed some small footnote numbers spread through the book which sent me searching toward the front where it is explained that cybernotes were available on the website. 70 pages of them, many expository essays, some lagniappe for the faithful, I guess. Some of the comments as enjoyable as the book itself. Enjoy!

[Heidi'sbooks · Rating 5 out of 5]

I thought this book was a cross between "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" and "The World is My Home" by Michener. The writing is superb. What a great wordsmith!

The autobiographical story follows Jean-Luc LaPointe from 6 years old to around 15 years old when he lives on North Pearl Street in Albany, NY. We follow his life through the Great Depression and the Second World War. We learn about the residents and neighbors, their quirks and their passions. Mrs. McGivney is a neighbor whose husband is a hero. (But just maybe she's the real hero.) The owner of the corner store helps Jean-Luc and teaches him the nuances of war and good and evil.

He is an exceptionally bright child, but he also is tasked with supporting his single mom through her illnesses. He is her emotional support, her nurse and her provider. He doesn't really get a childhood. His 4th grade teacher opens his eyes to the joys of learning. And he hides in a special room in the library to read books he wasn't supposed to check out. What's not to love about that?

The reader gets a feel for the historical era.