Moonglow by Michael Chabon (2016)

A man recounts the incredible stories told him by his dying grandfather.

Book Review: Moonglow is a work of fiction. A novel. I only say that because so many in the national media seem to be treating it as a lightly fictionalized memoir, when Michael Chabon himself says it's all made up. In interviews he's said that he believes that many memoirs out there are not memoirs, that is, not truthful, so he decided to make Moonglow feel "like a genuine work of literary memoir," wanting his work of "mimicry" to seem "plausible," that "it's a game." His maternal grandparents were not like that. While creating verisimilitude with footnotes, bits and bobs of fact, and imaginary interviews, he also drops numerous hints within that it's all just a work of fiction (the mention of Munchausen should've been enough). And a very well done work of fiction at that. Chabon is a facile writer and he recreates the human swirl of memories in the structure of his novel: time darts back and forth, from person to person, from state to state, from country to country. Reading Moonglow I felt the warm heart within the novel; I was sucked in by the character of the stoic grandfather, but even more so by the shattered grandmother and the mother who bore the brunt of the family's insanity. These are strong, imprinted characters, and the narrator is the least interesting of all, but he tells a mean, powerful, and at times disturbing story. Chabon is in complete control of the many brilliant moments in the book (at times I felt Philip Roth hovering Chagall-like above the page -- Gravity's Rainbow is cited). Not just a master of time and space, but of the portraits he creates, the wonderful language he uses, how the stories are presented. I loved the framing device of the grandfather with a cat and a window at the beginning of the book, and the grandfather with a cat (Ramon!) and a snake at the end of the novel. Just one of many such touches for the reader to find. And that's my one problem (and it is just my problem) with the book. Moonglow does a fantastic job of appearing as a warm, heartfelt memoir that tells the family history of "Chabon's" grandparents, but at the same time as he reaches for my emotions, the IRL Chabon, the author, can't let go of the fact that it's all meta, a shuck, post-modern. As though he can't quite commit either way. For me (and just me), Moonglow would have been stronger if he had wholeheartedly picked one road, if he'd really committed. But that's not what he wanted to do here. Chabon makes us see all the masterful touches that say: "It's just a play, I made it up, but isn't it a great story?" Yes it is. [4★]