The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers (1940)

Residents of a small town seek answers to their loneliness and isolation.

Classics Review: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter not only has one of the best titles ever, but has an observational intelligence that exposes a rarely seen level of humanity. The story centers around five lonely people. A "deaf-mute" who loses his good friend; a black doctor estranged from his family who believes that socialism can save the black race; a young girl who wants to be a pianist (a quite similar character to Frankie in McCullers' The Member of the Wedding); a bar owner who has lost his wife and now doesn't know who he is; and a populist vagabond whose anger issues prevent him from success. The latter four lonely people find their answers in a deaf-mute who in his uncanny silence reflects their hopes and aspirations back to them, just as he thought he found the answer to his own loneliness in another deaf-mute who reflected himself back to him. Carson McCullers (1917-1967) shows that people need their pipe dreams and illusions, and cannot live without them. But there's an overlooked but key counterbalance in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter to the four people who seek salvation in the Christ-like deaf-mute. That alternative heart and soul is a family cook, Portia, a black woman who creates her own support and resources within her own family. That family is battered and maimed by an unjust system, a life inevitably stacked against them, but they continue to help each other, save each other, lift each other up. McCullers believes that the salvation from the world's loneliness and isolation is the family love curated by Portia. At the end the young girl finds herself balanced on the knife edge between a hopeless working life in a dime store and her dreams of a life in the exhilaration of music. Richard Wright noted of this book: "The most impressive aspect ... is the astonishing humanity that enables a white writer for the first time ... to handle [black] characters with as much ease and grace as those of her own race ... an attitude toward life which enables Miss McCullers to ... embrace white and black humanity in one sweep of apprehension and tenderness." Every character in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter is presented with awe-inspiring compassion and sensitivity, is suffused with a humanity few authors attain. A heart-breaking moment is when two characters with the same beliefs can't find common ground or a way to support each other. This was Carson McCullers' first novel, written when she was 22. There are a few flaws in this almost perfect work, which might be expected in a first novel: McCullers has to make sure every subtle point is clearly signaled and some of the didactic moments about socialism go on too long. But I love this book and I love Carson McCullers.  [4½★]

Welcome Home by Lucia Berlin (2018)

An unfinished autobiography by the recently rediscovered author, structured around the many places she lived, supplemented with letters she wrote.

Nonfiction Review: Welcome Home is interesting and occasionally lovely, but not quite necessary for anyone but Lucia Berlin (1936-2004) acolytes. Of course there are many more such (including me) since the publication of her selected stories, A Manual for Cleaning Women was released. The first half of this is an early draft of an autobiography organized around the many (many, many) places she lived, from Alaska to Chile. Some sections are much more finished than others: many are mere sketches, a few rival the best of her stories. It's clear that if she'd completed Welcome Home she would've linked the various houses of her life into a flowing narrative written in the addicting style of her stories. She writes with an honesty and a seemingly autobiographical truth that hooks me every time. The extant narrative ends in 1965. The second half is a selection of letters to and from Berlin, most of them sent to the poet Edward Dorn and his wife. These too end in 1965. When I first picked up Welcome Home my expectations were low as it seemed to be simply a collection of bits and bobs. But then I got caught up in the strength and urgency of her writing and was enjoying myself a little too much when it all came to a halt with a disappointing thud. Ending in mid-sentence: "Buddy lay curled up and shaking violently on the front seat ...".   Ah, if only she had come back to these writings what might've been. For me, the letters were a little less compelling than her narrative, though interesting for the many biographical facts: dating Jay Silverheels; receiving The Elements of Style in 1959; having Denise Levertov as a neighbor in New York. She also talks about the development of her skills, how she hates the "affectation and phoniness" of her writing, the "vanity": "like a little kid passing olives to see if the grown-ups are watching." Happily, she successfully eliminated this perceived flaw, demonstrating that one must first recognize a problem to solve it. Welcome Home is too good to be so short, but it's more of Lucia Berlin and we just have to be satisfied with that.  [3½★]

Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead by Sara Gran (2011)

The self-proclaimed "world's best detective" ventures to New Orleans to solve the mystery of a district attorney who disappeared during Hurricane Katrina.

Mystery Review: Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead is an unusual and original mystery story, mainly because of the titular character, a crusty detective with a heart of gold. She's 35 (but says she's 42: "no one trusts a woman under forty"), cranky, sarcastic -- and not afraid to break the law when it comes to drugs, guns, murder, or detective work. Sara Gran attempts to introduce some bits of the mystical into the story with mixed results and happenstance is usual. If you can perform that mental prestidigitation known as suspension of disbelief, it's a fun ride. If you warm up to the singular Claire DeWitt, you'll enjoy the story despite continuity problems and improbability. Gran provides complex characters while messing with the usual detective story tropes in Claire DeWitt and the City of the Dead. My only other problem was that the ending was just a little too safe, tidy, and politically correct for me, especially after the magical mushroom mystery tour that came before. But obviously I can put all that aside, because I'm looking for the sequel.  [3½★]

The Artificial Silk Girl by Irmgard Keun (1932)

A young woman in Weimar Germany travels from Cologne to Berlin to escape her difficulties and discovers new complications.

Book Review: The Artificial Silk Girl is an account of Berlin shortly before the Nazis took over, written as the notebook (not a diary, "that's ridiculous for a trendy girl like me") entries of a woman of 18 who wants to be a star. Accordingly, the novel has no awareness of what is to come, but gives hints of the impending apocalypse seen through the eyes of one who was actually there. Our young protagonist in this picaresque tale, Doris, is both cynical and naive. Though she evinces no sympathy for the fascists, she's apolitical ("Politics poisons human relationships. I spit on it."). But she can't help but see and suffer the unemployment, poverty, hunger, and hopelessness of those times. Think a grittier, more mercenary Bridget Jones with a sharper sense of humor, or a more charming and less homicidal Lisbeth Salander; somewhere along the Jones-Salander spectrum. Doris will do whatever it takes to make her way. If the only people who still have money are men, she'll use them as they use her if she must to survive. Trying to interest a man, shes pretends to be Jewish, but he turns out to be a nationalist and hostile. When her boyfriend dumps her she "slapped his face in front of all those people, which is something I do only rarely." But her heart is not all ice: "I wanted to be with someone who can spend money at night without missing it in the morning." Her observations are cutting: he "has a tummy like a throw pillow -- I'm not sure if it's embroidered or not." She notes: "if you have money you have connections, and then you don't have to pay. You can really live on the cheap, if you're rich." And of course: "If you want to strike it lucky with men you have to let them think you're stupid." Beyond the brass, the bravado the bratwurst, there's also moments of sensitivity, as when Doris takes an elderly blind man through the Berlin streets at night describing for him all he cannot see. The Translator's Note compares The Artificial Silk Girl to "chick lit" by Sophie Kinsella or Candace Bushnell. I can see why she says that: Doris invites "all the men I had ever had a relationship with" to her opening. "I had no idea there were so many!" But Irmgard Keun (1905-1982) delves deeper and creates more, she can be grimy and unpretty. "Only if you're unhappy do you get ahead. That's why I'm glad I'm unhappy." A year after this book was published, the Nazis banned Irmgard Keun's writing and her books were burned. Bravely, she sued the Nazi regime for lost income. The Artificial Silk Girl was much better than expected and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  [4★]

You Know You Want This by Kristin Roupenian (2019)

A first book of stories by the author of the viral sensation, "Cat Person."

Book Review: You Know You Want This is not a bad collection of stories. That's called "damning with faint praise," but this book is too good to bash and few people will begrudge the time it takes to read it. A quick and easy read, it's written in clean, streamlined writers' workshop prose. But Kristin Roupenian is willing to get weird, to venture into horror, to be politely transgressive. All with a pleasant smile like the beginning of a Spielberg film when he's making the viewers think there're no dangers in suburbia. She's willing to go out on a limb, but at times she depends too much on shock value and some (sheltered? older? sensitive?) people will find this disturbing. Some of the stories are a little thin, some seem incomplete, most operate on a single level. But all are appealing, will keep the reader's attention, and all speak to us of our time. The problem with the stories in You Know You Want This, much as the problem with The Casual Vacancy was that it wasn't Harry Potter, is that there is only one "Cat Person" (reviewed here back in December 2017) in the collection. Nothing else contains as many layers. Two or three stories are close ("The Good Guy," "Death Wish") but not quite as complete. Another, "The Mirror, the Bucket, and the Old Thigh Bone," seems incomplete but provides a genuine wtf moment. "Cat Person," published in The New Yorker, created an uproar because it captured the zeitgeist, reflected us back to ourselves, and seemed all too real. An MFA student wouldn't write this but, it "sparked discussion." In retrospect, it read like it came from a cringey Reddit post (as do some of the others), but Roupenian took the story to a level that spoke to our cultural concerns, divides, and fears. Readers want to have their own copy of the story, the publisher wants to get a book out at the right time, and every author wants to be read. It won't make us forget Munro or Carver, but I don't think that's what she's trying to do. A few stories into the book her pattern becomes clear, and it's a good pattern. You Know You Want This shows a lot of potential, Kristin Roupenian has a lot of promise. I don't envy her the pressure as we impatiently wait to read (and I will) what she turns out next.  [3½★]

The Wreath by Sigrid Undset (1920)

A young woman comes of age in 14th Century Norway.

Classics Review: The Wreath is the first of three volumes in the "Kristin Lavransdatter" saga, written by the third woman to win the Nobel Prize (in 1928), Danish-born, Norwegian-raised Sigrid Undset (1882-1949). This novel is impeccably researched, but doesn't read like an academic or historical novel: it reads like it was written by a modern author observing life in 1309. The detail is that realistic. There are lovely phrases such as "she sat as erect as a candle." The Wreath is a wonderfully written historical romance (at least this far in the tale -- yes there's a love triangle), but emphasizes the historical over the romance and provides depth in its rounded characters. Despite being well-rooted in the time, the modern perspective does peek through, as when a character notes that "ignorant people often spoke of witchcraft as soon as a woman showed herself wiser than the councilmen." There's also a deeper awareness of (here self-destructive) emotions: "She never felt so strongly how much she loved Erlend as when he said such things that make her feel dejected or surprised." The title character is more modern than I imagine was often true at the time: she's seduced (and falls in love with) an excommunicated man and stonily defies her loving and beloved father ("even if I have to trample on my own father" -- teenagers!). The story and the conflict all centers on this strong, passionate, but doubt-ridden 16 year-old girl. She can be both courageous and cruel. The Wreath is a quick, easy, and educational read -- I truly felt like I'd taken my time machine to the land of icy fjords. Now I need to read the next two volumes (The Wife and The Cross), as it seems certain that the seeds planted here will bear strange and bitter fruit in future.  [3½★]

The Prone Gunman by Jean-Patrick Manchette (1981)

A hit man wants to leave the business for true love, but that course never did run smooth.

Mystery Review: The Prone Gunman (per the movie tie-in, simply The Gunman) has a main character who, unlike in so many similar novels and films, makes mistakes, panics, is not always in control (which makes him more sympathetic in those moments when readers realize we're actually rooting for a serial killer). But he's also tough, persistent, and ruthless. Something like Jay Gatsby, our murderous protagonist left home to make his fortune, when he'd be able to return a success to his high school sweetheart who promised to wait for him. A less-comedic Grosse Pointe Blank (1997) vibe (the lead characters are both named "Martin"). The Prone Gunman is written in a stark, cinematically vivid, noirish, hard-boiled style. Fast paced and tense. This is a book aware of existentialism and absurdity: "Between meaninglessness and suffering, I prefer bacon." Though not his best work, this is what Manchette does well. An exciting story that comes full circle and shows what is meaningless in the midst of its social commentary. The Prone Gunman is a story of failure mixed with blood, violence, and death.  [3★]

The Crazy Kill by Chester Himes (1959)

On the sidewalk outside a wake, a man is found murdered.

Mystery Review: The Crazy Kill is the third book in the Harlem Detectives series, and here Chester Himes belatedly hit the sophomore slump. The eponymous and disturbingly aggressive Harlem detectives (they're called "Wild West gunmen" by the locals), Coffin Ed Johnson and Gravedigger Jones, barely make an appearance, disappointing after their expanded role in the second book, The Real Cool Killers. There's no detective work in The Crazy Kill and most of the focus is on other characters. Though I call this book a slump, it still resonates with the murky atmosphere, dramatic realism, and lively events of the previous novels, and can be happily enjoyed on that basis alone. Quirky characters and Himes' graveyard humor and satire are always worth the price of admission.  Also, as Gravedigger would say, Chester Himes can write like a "mother-raper." He's minutely aware of the racial subtext of everything that happens. The letdown here is the plot, which is minimal and unconnected though Himes seems to be trying to look at the role of men's jealousy in Harlem violence. Mostly we have a series of events randomly winding their way to a predictable and underwhelming conclusion. Maybe I missed something, and if you choose to read The Crazy Kill to see if I did, you'll still be amply entertained.  [3★]