I tend to say that I don’t really enjoy reading short-story collections, but I don’t think this is necessarily true, so don’t believe me if I ever tell you that.
Take, for example, David Gates and his 1999 collection, The Wonders of the Invisible World. This taut, angry, perfect set of stories just blew me away. Gates’ characters are raw, honest, and utterly believable. They are intimidated by love. They are undone by bad habits. They forgive and hurt each other.
One of the outstanding strengths of this story collection is Gates’ remarkable ability to replicate dialogue. It has been a long time since I have read such real, flawless, effortless conversations between fictional people. Even if the stories don’t interest you, this feature alone should keep you riveted to these stories.
I want to keep calling this collection “pitch-perfect American fiction.” And so that’s what I’ll leave you with. Read it; you won’t be disappointed.
For the past few weeks, I went wandering back through the 10 best books I read in 2010. I conclude the year’s review with these fragmented thoughts on my favorite book of the year, Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections.
I know this is not the Franzen novel that everyone’s been talking about this year, but I hadn’t previously read any of his work and so I wanted to get started before Freedomcame out. My reservations about “modern” literature have already been briefly expressed, but I felt like they all dissolved after I had read The Corrections.
Franzen’s ability to inhabit the dreary, seemingly hopeless Lambert family is astonishing to me. At first glance, this sounds like a supremely boring book: This middle-class family is falling apart and the mild-mannered matriarch is obsessed with getting her whole disjointed family together for Christmas one last time. Why would anyone want to read a nearly 600-page tome about that?
Well, for one thing, because Franzen is a bit of a genius. I don’t know how he does it; I really don’t. Some critics called him a “prophet.” The Corrections came out a few weeks before 9/11. After we recovered from the shock, we began to realize that this novel was already proclaiming the domestic malaise that we would face in the post-9/11 world; it was a quiet and almost eerie warning.
To my mind, Franzen’s most impressive ability is his skill in replicating voices. Many authors do not write convincing characters of their opposite sex (Dickens and Per Petterson come to mind). Franzen does not seem troubled by this at all. In fact, I think the most believable character is the mother, Enid Lambert. Her gestures and fears are so perfectly expressed that you feel like you might have spent a lot of time with her at a long, fluorescent family reunion.
One of the most moving exchanges for me was a passage I have already written about here. Franzen most likely did not intend for this to be read religiously at all, but I read the exchange between the Lambert siblings, Denise and Chip, as the perfect description of the Gospel. We cannot stand to be forgiven. And yet over and over again, a beneficent Franzen offers his characters forgiveness. They are unwilling to extend or accept forgiveness, but they crave it, just like we do. The Corrections is a beautiful novel about the complex web of emotions that families create, but it is also a map through the labyrinth of familial tension; it’s letting you into the secret of the way out.
In short, it is one of the most full novels I have ever read. At the conclusion of David Gates’s review of The Corrections, he writes:
No one book, of course, can provide everything we want in a novel. But a book as strong as ”The Corrections” seems ruled only by its own self-generated aesthetic: it creates the illusion of giving a complete account of a world, and while we’re under its enchantment it temporarily eclipses whatever else we may have read.
The Corrections is lovely and sad and true. What more can you ask from a genuine work of art?
With that, I’ve spoken my peace about the 10 best books I read in 2010. Thanks for reading along. Now, onward to 2011! There is much to be conquered.