Steve Martin's Object of Beauty

This may sound strange but I've had an affinity for Steve Martin since his days on Laugh In. Yes, I 'm dating myself. Even then I thought there was more to this man than meets the eye and when he delved into film I knew it was true. I'm not speaking of the silly comedic films but the more serious, and naturally less popular, like Pennies from Heaven. I wanted to know Steve Martin. I thought that he had a very romantic soul.

Then he began to write novels and, surprise for the reviewers, they were good. Once again, little humor came through but instead what I would call a poignant sadness or disappointment with life. This shouldn't really surprise readers as who can be sadder than a clown? I listened several years ago to Martin's autobiography and it was, indeed, quite depressing. It's the story of a man who is often misunderstood, one who wanted to succeed, to win over a cold, withholding  parent, but never quite felt that he did. Sad indeed.

An Object of Beauty received mixed reviews but I'll admit I liked it. I won't rave simply because it isn't that kind of novel. It's a bit jaded because it's about people in the rarefied stratus of the art world who are just that. Enter one smart, sexy, amoral woman who knows what she wants out of life and just how to get it and you have Lacy Yeager, a gal you may not like but can't help but watch in awe as she proceeds to  cleverly identify who she can ignore and who she must use to work her way up to her own East Side gallery.

Steve Martin is well acquainted with the fine art world. Considered quite an astute collector, his insider knowledge comes across wonderfully well in this novel. Reading it reminded me of being back in college with my first History of Art class.

Martin takes us through the back rooms at Sotheby's, to gallery openings uptown and downtown, explaining the difference, to the banquettes of the well known New York restaurants where the deals are hashed out and then teaches us about the rise of the Modernist movement, Warhol, deKooning, Pollack, and many names I'm ignorant of. He shows how buyers can be manipulated into thinking they're getting a deal and then the deal becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy and the value of the "object of beauty" skyrockets.

One caveat I might suggest that you actually read the book rather than listen to it as I did. The reason being that the physical book, which I've had the chance to browse through, has lovely photos of some of the art work discussed throughout the novel. That's when you understand that words may sometimes fail even a great writer when it comes to describing an object of beauty.

Yes, I am on vacation and tomorrow I'll see if I can express in words the beauty I see as I sit here on the deck, watching the container ships ply the harbor and wonder what's in them and where in this big, wide, wonderful world they're going. I'm hungry already. Is it time for cheese and wine yet?

The Good Daughters

In the past I had the opportunity to apprise you of the amazing talent of this author, Joyce Maynard. http://bit.ly/ioq8Tz It makes me think about, for the 1000th time, how many talented, insightful writers are out there quietly plying their trade every day who never make it to the "top ten." How can it be that we, as a society, pride ourselves on the mediocre when we could so easily be known for our appreciation of the outstanding? Why do my sweet little old lady customers at the library prefer James Patterson or Steig Larsson to an author like Joyce Maynard? I'll never get it.

This heartfelt novel, The Good Daughters, revolves around the 4th of July birthday (Jess, read no further) of two babies, born in the same hospital, Dana Dickerson and Ruth Plank. The story is told in alternating chapters between the two women as they come of age, each trying to adapt to and be accepted in the lives they've chosen, which don't necessarily conform with the futures their families may have envisioned for them.

Each woman is interesting and lovely in her own right. Ruth, the unexpected baby, rejected by her very unhappy mother Connie, a straight-laced, church-going farm wife, partner but reluctant lover to Edwin, whose family has owned the Plank farm for generations. Plodding along for decades, doing what's expected but nothing more, the Planks grown their strawberries, sell fresh vegetables during the short New Hampshire season, and live an anachronistic life that Ruth, a spirited artist can't wait to escape from.

Dana, on the other hand, has suffered as the child of selfish, nomadic parents, who schlep their family from state to state, following father George's latest get-rich-quick schemes that never pan out. Mom seems detached from all emotion, an artist who prefers the company of her canvases and paints to that of her lonely daughter and spaced out son Ray.

It's the old nature vs. nurture conundrum taken to a new level. In gorgeous prose, Ms. Maynard takes us into the hearts of these tragic, confused characters as they try to navigate the very difficult task of living as responsible adults who have never truly understood their innermost selves.

Ruth harbors a life long fascination, I should say a soul shattering connection, to Dana's quirky brother Ray. Every summer Connie Plank oddly insists on the requisite visit to the Dickerson family so that the "birthday sisters" can spend time together. Of course, Ruth and Dana have little in common and being forced to spend time together exacerbates their reluctance to socialize. These sojourns do, however, allow the spark to ignite between Ray and Ruth who years later will have the chance to act on their attraction to each other with complicated, tragic results.

Dana, on the other hand, falls in love with Clarice, a college professor for whom "coming out" back in the '60's was a sure way to sabotage the tenure track. Their idyllic, long term relationship is one of the amazing strengths of Ms. Maynard's novel. Dana is a woman inexplicably drawn to the land. A nurturer, she buys a farm, raises strawberries, flowers, and goats, establishing an Eden where she and Clarice can escape the judgment of the outside world.  Never have I read such a deeply moving description of a long term love affair challenged, but never hobbled by, tremendous social and physical troubles.

I can't say enough about the beauty of Ms. Maynard's writing, in her previous novel, Labor Day, and in her latest, The Good Daughters. I find myself sighing with satisfaction at the end of certain chapters and relishing the next ones. At the risk of going out on a limb, I believe that one can often get the sense of a person through their words and I feel that Joyce Maynard has an extraordinarily kind soul. There isn't an ounce of judgment or recrimination in her work. Instead, one feels that she embraces  all of humanity with its foibles, weaknesses, desires and joys. This is a woman I would love to know.

Read more about Ms. Maynard at http://www.joycemaynard.com/Joyce_Maynard/ABOUT_JOYCE.html

Back from Botswana

Yes, I recently had the pleasure of eavesdropping at the Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party in Gaborone and, once again, I'm so sorry that Botswana can't be included in my ambitious African vacation later this year. Perhaps someday I'll be able to return and soak up the peaceful, laid back life lovingly described by Alexander McCall Smith in his No. 1 Ladies Detective series.

Though the plot was a little thinner than usual, perhaps owing to the fact that there doesn't really seem to be much crime in Gaborone, the lilting voice of Lisette Lecat, who's been doing an outstanding job of narrating these books for years now, is the perfect antidote for endless trips up and down route 41 in Southwest Florida.

For me, at least, the draw will always be the author himself. I never cease to marvel at Smith's insightful grasp of our shared human condition and of the female mind in particular. One can't help but adore Grace Makutsi, once secretary to Ma Ramotswe, now second in command as assistant detective, as she shops for the perfect pair of shoes for her wedding day.
A woman who struggled with poverty, about to be married to Phuti Radiphuti, respected business owner, Grace is in the unusual situation of being able to shop without a thought to the cost, a happenstance that she takes very seriously.

Smith's love and respect for people with all of their foibles, weaknesses and strengths is so endearing. I've seen various PBS documentaries with Smith in which he takes audiences on tours of the Okavango, Delta, introduces us to the local leaders, and simply overflows with appreciation for the land where he was raised.
 If you've never read any of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Series then you really must begin at the beginning. Once you get to know the characters then you can bounce around without any loss of enjoyment. Oh, and do see the delightful film starring Jill Scott. I'm anxiously awaiting a sequel.

A Wealth of Books!

I wish that I had taken a photo of the South County Library staff yesterday when the boxes from Book Expo arrived. I think that I was more excited than Jess and Kathleen, the actual attendees. One of the first things I'll do when I retire will be to call Maryellen (who will also be retired) and book our trip to NYC. We won't be reimbursed, no, but we also won't have to worry about staffing levels or be circumscribed by policy on who we want to see and when.

The cartons of books were a heavy lift but Jessica got them up on carts and we dug in. I love my Nook, no question, but there's nothing like fingering the pages of advanced reader's copies, realizing that one is about to be ahead of the curve, pronouncing on the new novels before the general public gets to see them.

I immediately emailed Barbara Hoffert, book editor at Library Journal, to brag that I was holding in my hand an autographed copy of Amy Waldman's much anticipated The Submission, a novel about choosing the architectural design for a memorial at ground zero. Could I go ahead and review it? And, while I'm at it, and since I'm leaving next week for a "reading" vacation in Maryland and Massachusetts, would she like me to tackle the new Anne Enright? Tom Perrotta? Alice Hoffman?

The Perrotta it is! Kudos to Kathleen Young-Wells for accosting Mr. Perrotta at BEA. Declaring herself his biggest fan anywhere - we librarians love superlatives - she was able to acquire an autographed copy for herself and another one for me. Please note that he graciously responded that he'd been waiting for her all his life. She swooned.

The man must be prescient as his latest novel in a long list of work noted for its blatant social commentary involves - you guessed it - the Rapture! Ironically titled The Leftovers, of which I surely hope I'm one, this is another book that's been getting plenty of hype. I can't wait to dig in.

I began The Submission at 7 AM, eschewing my NY Times and the No-News News Press, and honestly, if I wasn't on my way to the doctor's office for the results of an MRI, and then on to lunch at
Crave, I'd be plopped in a chair until I finished this remarkable novel. It's exceeding even my high expectations. I'll link to the reviews the minute they're published.

Off the Radar - Two Little Gems

This is what I'll miss most about working in a library and why I'll need to be a frequent visitor. I'll still read all the professional journals, of course, I'll be up on what the top writers in the world are doing, but how on earth do you find the little delights that catch your eye when you're shelving? Perhaps it would be fun to work in a book store.

My dear friend Andrea understands how much I crave respite from the news of the world, the frustration and disappointment with the status quo, because she's the same way. So when she mentioned that I might enjoy A Guide to the Birds of East Africa, a novel by Nicholas Drayson, I snapped it up. Think Major Pettigrew moves from East Anglia to Nairobi, Kenya.

In the quiet, subtle manner of Alexander McCall-Smith, Drayson, who lived in Nairobi for two years, touches on many serious political issues facing the Kenyan people, the prevalence of AIDS, corruption of the police and political authorities, and race relations, through a sweet love triangle.

At the center of this triangle is the widow Rose Mbikwa. Of Scottish descent, Rose met and married the love of her life, an African political activist who died in prison under mysterious circumstances. For sixteen years Rose has led the Tuesday morning bird walks and for six years Mr. Malik has been in her thrall, slowly healing from the death of his own beloved wife Aruna.

With the annual Nairobi Hunt Club Ball approaching, the shy, rotund, balding, Mr. Malik is trying desperately to drum up the courage to ask Mrs. Mbikwa to accompany him, when a blast from his past appears in the person of the gold-chain-draped, red-sport-car-driving, Harry Khan. Harry is a caricature of every fast-talking, womanizing creep who ever came down the pike so he naturally sets his cap for Rose.

What follows is a madcap, week long competition to win the hand of the unwitting Rose, who happens to be out of the country having eye surgery. The rules set up by Mr. Malik's cronies at the Asadi men's club state that whichever man comes up with the highest number of unique bird sightings will have the privilege of asking Rose to the ball. Only problem? No one seems to have let the estimable Mrs. Rose Mbikwa in on the contest.

A more serious but no less beautifully written novel that caught my eye is The Typist by Michael Knight, a creative writing teacher at the University of Tennessee. Ann Patchett calls it "elegant, thoughtful, and resonant." Need I say more?
Set in Tokyo immediately after the devastating bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, this novel examines the disconnect between the conquered and the conquerors, through the eyes of Francis VanCleave, a typist on the staff of General MacArthur.

Van is not your typical soldier abroad. As the typist he is more of an observer, a witness to the carelessness with which the army's men make their presence known, frequenting the dance halls and prostitutes, condescending to the locals. But when Van's roommate, the troubled, insecure combat veteran Clifford, falls hard for Namiki, a local woman from a good family, he enlists Van's help in securing her trust, setting in motion a series of events that readers sense will end in tragedy.

Knight's writing is so spare and perfect. It's amazing the emotions he generates in less than 200 pages. Van's sensibilites commend themselves to MacArthur who entrusts his lonely 10 year old son to Van's weekly visits. Their poignant relationship foreshadows the resolution of another personal decision Van must make about the wife he married on impulse and left behind in the states.

Though The Typist takes place in the 1940's it could just as easily be set in Baghdad or Kabul right now. It poses the question, "what do we look like to those whose lives we've destroyed?" How must it feel to be beholden to your conquerors for your recovery? So far, we've been lucky, but I often wonder when our acts of aggression will come back to haunt us. More to the point, why aren't they haunting us right now?