Here we have another novel about New York City, also written by an acclaimed author of Irish origin, also about an immigrant trying to find her place in the world. Brooklyn by Colm Tóibín takes place long before 9/11 and I read it prior to reading Netherland, but I am deliberately posting my reviews out-of-sequence. I was interested in the premise of this novel, a young woman departing her native Ireland for New York in the early 1950s. I was less interested in Eilis Lacey, the young woman it turned out to be.  I never found myself gripped by her predicament, so it didn’t matter by whom she was asked to dance on which night. When she suffered a major misfortune that necessitated her return to Ireland I was unmoved. For me the entire story flowed by like the placid water of that return trip rather than the choppy seas of her maiden voyage.

I don’t live in New York City. I don’t play cricket. Why then do I keep picking up books about the disorientation of living in post 9/11 New York (see Chronic City) and the civility of cricket (see Psmith in the City)? Joseph O’Neill came to Salt Lake City and signed copies of Netherland at Winter Institute prior to receiving the PEN/Faulkner Award, so I did have two valid reasons for reading this book. Which leaves the question of timing. Why did I wait until now to read it? I had picked it up earlier but another book interposed it’s way on to my reading list. Had I read Netherland at another time I’m confident I would have enjoyed it more. It is well-written and award-worthy, it has a cast of original characters, and I identified with the malaise that held the protagonist in an inert state despite not sharing his Dutch/Englishman in New York background, his enthusiasm for cricket, or his income bracket. I identified with Hans against my will; I’m weary of the malaise. Netherland is indeed a relevant book, but it’s not the kind of book I’d like to be reading  at the moment. I’ve had enough of New York City. I’m going to hold off on reading Joanna Smith Rakoff’s A Fortunate Age as a result and get back to some non-fiction.

I’ve been struggling to find a frame of reference for my review of Chronic City by Jonathan Lethem. One of the themes of the book is the very transmutability of frames of reference, which makes it all the more difficult to apply one to the story. I even attempted to read Psmith in the City by P.G. Wodehouse, an author who is repeatedly cited in the text, but did not profit from it. I was able to identify a suitable song by U2:

I was lost between the midnight and the dawning
In a place of no consequence or company
3:33 when the numbers fell off the clock face
Speed dialling with no signal at all

“Unknown Caller” is a good fit, but it requires its own frame of reference rather than providing one. Chronic City is replete with pop culture references, but they have been distorted to the point of being barely recognizable. Lethem is holding a mirror to New York City, but the mirror is warped. Chronic City also contains an abundance of drug references, primarily to marijuana. Some are implicit, such as one possible interpretation of the title, while most are explicit use by the point of view characters. This only heightens the surreal “through the looking glass” sensation. I felt agitated while reading it, as if Lethem’s writing is itself a form of illicit stimulant. Like a dealer, Lethem is guilty of possession with the intent to distribute!

Chronic City follows Chase Insteadman, the former child actor, through his life-altering acquaintance with Perkus Tooth, a former counterculture soothsayer. Chase and Perkus share fixes and fixations with Richard Abneg, a former activist turned fixer for the mayor. Rounding out this expansive social circle is Janice Trumbull, an astronaut stranded in orbit who is only present in the letters she writes to her fiance (Chase), and Oona Laszlo, a ghostwriter who is not present in her writing. Each character negates their own identity, casting off frames of reference along the way until the baffled Insteadman finally comes to terms with his relation to the people around him. Lethem writes the story so brilliantly that we are left wondering which is more warped, the city or its reflection?

Congratulations to Daniyal Mueenuddin, author of the short story collection In Other Rooms, Other Wonders (see review posted 2/18/09), which was named one of the five National Book Award Finalists in Fiction. Winners will be announced on November 18.

With my renewed focus on time spent writing I have recently completed a new mythological poem entitled Then came Thor, beard aflame. It can be found on the Poems by J.A. Clemens page, a new addition to the blog!

Recently I made a conscious decision to redistribute the amount of time I spend reading versus the amount of time spent writing. I have felt somewhat stymied in my writing lately and find it necessary to commit more time to that pursuit. Unfortunately devoting more time to writing entails reducing reading time. That decision is evident in the lapse between posted reviews. Bottom line: less reading, fewer reviews, more writing. Time to test the formula.

I’ve been on a major deal-with-a-demon reading kick lately – from new release The Angel’s Game to the book that defined the genre, Goethe’s Faust, to the Bartimaeus trilogy by Jonathan Stroud. I’m on the second book, The Golem’s Eye, and so far I like it better than the first book, The Amulet of Samarkand.

I have not yet had the pleasure of reading The Shadow of the Wind, the sensational antecedent to The Angel’s Game, so I am unable to use that particular yardstick to take the measure of the second book by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Great expectations have been placed on this long-awaited follow up, and they factor into the story as well. The events of The Angel’s Game precede those of The Shadow of the Wind, so there is no harm in reading the second book first. If The Shadow of the Wind is superior to The Angel’s Game then it must be truly sublime!

Despite the sublime sounding title, The Angel’s Game is more of a danse macabre. Multiple cemeteries are revisited, including the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. Death is never far away, as the Great War looms and families are torn asunder.

David Martín is an orphan – his mother abandoned him and his father was murdered – but he is not without sponsors, Senor Sempere of the Sempere & Sons bookstore and Don Pedro Vidal, playboy and author, among them. They open the doors of literature to young Martín and he plunges headlong into the unfathomable depths. There he meets another patron, the mysterious French publisher Andreas Corelli, who holds the metaphysical key to Martín’s greatest expectations.

Corelli is the Mephistopheles to Martín’s Faust (in true reverse order I am currently reading Goethe’s Faust), and when Martín breaks his pact with the fallen angel the consequences are dire. Martín repeatedly loses Cristina, his Margaret, and is ultimately redeemed through the intervention of Isabella, the mother of Daniel Sempere, the protaganist of The Shadow of the Wind.

It may be that The Angel’s Game is overshadowed by The Shadow of the Wind, but it is beautifully written and translated nevertheless, and I certainly recommend it.

The iPod plays such a prominent role in The Song Is You by Arthur Phillips that I kept mine on while I read (it’s on at the moment). Like the main character, Julian Donahue, I set it to shuffle, leaving the song selection up to the digital wheel of fate, allowing it to offer up songs to fit the moment. Picking a U2 song to fit this book was a cinch; the inevitable choice being “Angel of Harlem.”

Lady Day got diamond eyes
She sees the truth behind the lies

Billie Holiday, Irish singers in New York – the song is a lock. And it did come up on my shuffled songs. But no one song can sum up a book any more than a song can sum up a person. What about a complete playlist? Without direct access to Julian’s iPod and Cait O’Dwyer’s music, could I create a playlist to accompany my reading? Some of these songs came up on shuffle, some I sought out, and some were suggested to me (special thanks to Anesidora):

1. Angel of Harlem, U2
2. Raining Again, Staind
3. Sorrow, Flyleaf
4. The One I’m Waiting For, Relient k
5. Naked, Avril Lavigne
6. No Line on the Horizon, U2
7. Angel Standing By, Jewel
8. I Will Possess Your Heart, Death Cab for Cutie
9. Torn and Tattered, Joss Stone
10. Look Around, Blues Traveler
11. Promises, the Cranberries

To my ear and mind this list seems to be an excellent fit, but I would have to re-read the book while listening to it to be certain. Phillips writes rich prose that warrants slow savoring. I particularly enjoyed his hybrid words such as “moodicidal” and “divorcistan.” Originality is his strongest suit, and it is his character’s strongest longing.

Julian Donahue is a commercial director with a peculiar acuity for predicting the lifespan of a model’s beauty. This is an asset in his line of work, but a detriment in his personal life. Every interaction is analyzed down to the arc it will follow; if it is an arc Julian has already traversed, the beauty is lost to him. Already lost to him are his wife and son, but none of his interactions promise an original arc until he happens to hear Cait O’Dwyer sing. Her performance is not perfect, but he is able to project the arc of her career. He becomes her behind-the-scenes anonymous adviser and her music revives the dormant beauty in his life.

Julian strives for originality, and it is that originality that catches the attention of Cait, the star on the rise. They dance around one another, intriguing and inspiring in turn, but never touching. Near misses mount until each partner is beguiled to the breaking point.

Unfortunately the breaking point in their unconsummated intimacy is also the breaking point in the story. The ending of the book is as abrupt as the silence after a rock concert. That much is inevitable, but for an encore Phillips tacks on a disonant digression that detracts from the lyrical story he was telling. An unexpected twist in the arc, perhaps, but an unsatisfying one at that.

The long-awaited release of Katherine Howe’s The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane (see review posted 01/09) finally arrived last week! It is the #1 Indie Next Pick for June, and is presently #4 on the Indie Bound Bestsellers List for hardcover fiction! We set our display in a prominent location using a subtle pentagram formation. Along with the hard cover and audio versions of the book we are promoting I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem by Maryse Conde (University of Virginia Press, $16.50), Grimoires: A History of Magic Books by Owen Davies (Oxford University Press, $29.95), and Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln’s Mother & Other Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart (Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, $18.95) and a selection of Wicked themed books.

Visit the book’s website, the author’s Facebook page, or read Katherine Howe’s guest blog on Powell’s.com for more about this tremendous debut!