Life's a duck!
... or a goose?
Whatever!
Sometimes you just have to grab it by the throat and give it a good shake if you want to make sense of it.
As I tell my students, all good stories begin with character, and Teddy's rendering of the events fails entirely to render what it felt like to be William Henry Devereaux, Jr., as the events were taking place.
Richard Russo strikes [gold] again!
I definitely managed to get into the mind of Hank, an English teacher at a small university in Railton, Pennsylvania, as he goes through a midlife crisis. ( ... promotion in an institution like West Central Pennsylvania University was a little bit like being proclaimed the winner of a shit-eating contest. ) Hank's story is similar in many ways to those of other Russo protagonists that had won me over with their messy, humorous, heart-wrenching attempts to make sense of life, love, family, friends, aging, failure and everything in between
Odd details and unexpected points of view are the stuff of which vivid stories are made.
What makes William Henry Devereaux, Jr special in this typical Russo panoply of underdogs living in decrepit blue-collar towns, is his academic background. As a teacher of creative writing, Hank is allowed to include in his narrative and share with the reader a few of his writer's tricks, a glimpse at the way he makes storytelling an art form.
He misses all the details that even an out-of-practice storyteller like me would not only mention but place in the foreground. He's like a tone-deaf man trying to sing, sliding between notes, tapping his foot arhythmically, hoping his exuberance will make up for not bothering to establish a key.
Teddy is a fellow English teacher, an earnest fellow, more than a little in love with Hank's wife, but his major failure is a lack of sophistication in his narrative presentation. Hank, with a published novel under his belt, although one written more than two decades previously, is ever ready to correct him.
I don't see how you could 'not' kid about love and still claim to have a sense of humor.
Here I think is one key to unlock any of the Richard Russo novels: despair is always waiting right around the corner, ready to wreck our lives, and the only way to deal with it is to laugh in its face. Hank deliberately chooses the role of buffoon as he tries to steer his deeply divided English department through a perfect storm of budget cuts, staff cuts and failed dreams. Like the decrepit car he is driving, Hank feels his life is sliding backward on an icy slope instead of climbing up to his house on a hill.
My spiritual position is the outfield. True, I might be a good target for shortstops to throw at, but I'm most myself ranging in the outfield after fly balls.
Russo is a master of the complex metaphor, always finding an odd, surprising, funny angle to illustrate his hero's struggle. It could be an old car, a baseball game, a poor goose on the campus pond, a bloody nose from an outraged poet. Hank seems to do a lot of leg pulling and clowning, especially in the beginning of the novel, but you can always feel the underlying despair at reaching fifty years of age and asking yourself what had you done with your life, with your youthful aspirations.
In English departments the most serious competition is for the role of straight man.
Humor is one way to deal with this despair, and Hank has turned his goofing into an art form, but there comes a time when you can no longer dodge the incoming balls (I've slipped into baseball lingo myself, and I don't even know the rules of the game). So what do you do when the going gets tough? Flee from town or turn back and fight? Play the clown or the straight man?
We might manage to be happy, even here, if the faces around us were new, but we have to look at each other every day, and this reminds us of ourselves and all the opportunities we found compelling reasons not to seize.
The other tool Hank has in his arsenal is William of Occam, a reminder that we need to focus on what is the most important thing in our life, and eliminate the distractions, the false paths, the unnecessary complications. All fine and dandy in theory, but not so easy to apply when it comes to a human heart.
What ails people is never simple, and William of Occam, who provided mankind with a beacon of rationality by which to view the world of physical circumstance, knew better than to apply his razor to the irrational, where entities multiply like strands of a virus under a microscope.
Like it happened with all my previous novels by Richard Russo, writing a review is a hard task because there are so many things that relate directly to my personal experiences, so many moments of laughter in the face of adversity or of tenderness from the most unexpected directions. I feel like I would need to write ten reviews instead of one. It's not only about Hank. Every little side character in the story deserves at least a mention, to have his or her own struggle remembered – estranged parents, daughters leaving the family home, colleagues facing their own disillusions, neighbours who are more than comic relief.
The task he has chosen for himself, of wooing my mother with a bright red pickup truck, a Patsy Cline tape, and a string of malapropisms, is ample justification to me for not taking the world too seriously, its relentless heartbreak notwithstanding.
Richard Russo writes variations of the same novel over and over again, but this novel is all encompassing of our modern life, of our economic and personal failures, of our endurance and of our hopes for the future.
Other people make their peace with who they are, what they've become. Why can't I?
Peace is usually to be found in the aftermath of a war. In this present novel, the war between the factions of the Railton University English Department ends in a compromise between generations, between the firebrands we were in our early years and the limitations of our older selves.
Growing old, as someone once remarked, is not for sissies, but age is not the issue so much as diminishment.
I have mentioned humor and Occam's razor as tools to deal with the hard knocks from life. The third one for Hank, and for us, is literature / art. Hank's parents were both bookworms, so absorbed in their fictional worlds and in their academic careers, that they became distant and distracted from their own son. Hank's revenge was to become a writer instead of a reader and critic of novels, probably also a way to impress his parents and finally get noticed. But when he falls in love it is with another English teacher. His daughters may be shunning an academic career: My daughter has never found a moment's comfort in a book, and this provokes in me a complex reaction. . Julie swears she will not become a 'fool of books', but is this the reaction of a rebellious teenager or a way to get noticed. There are patterns and themes everywhere, but if I were to pick only one it is the story of Rachel, the department secretary with literary aspirations. It's maybe the truest path to redemption for Hank. He may not write another novel, but he can guide the next novelist along.
That's about all I have to teach her, since the requisite heart, voice, vision, and sense of narrative are already there, learned intuitively.
also, on the subject of being accepted for publication for the first time:
She will consider the possibility that the leaky vessel of her talent may be seaworthy after all. Instead of being dictated to by the waves of doubt that threaten to swamp all navigators, she'll turn bravely into the wind. The moment she does is the moment I envy.
I never wrote or published anything myself, but if I can steer somebody else towards a good read, I believe I can be at peace with myself and with my love for the written word. Thanks, Richard Russo.