aging

“He kisses—how do I explain it? Like someone in love. Like he has nothing to lose. Like someone who has just learned a foreign language and can use only the present tense and only the second person. Only now, only you. There are some men who have never been kissed like that. There are some men who discover, after Arthur Less, that they never will be again.”

Dates read: August 6-9, 2018

Rating: 8/10

Lists/awards: Pulitzer Prize

Can we ever really run away from our problems? The conventional wisdom is no, and for the most part I agree with that. Many of our issues are rooted in our own patterns of behavior and a change of scenery does nothing to fix that. But there sometimes is utility in getting out of a toxic environment. Being outside of our ruts in our personal roads can help us see them more clearly. New experiences can refocus our attention on what we really value. And besides, sometimes even just a break from what ails us can give us the strength to push through.

In Andrew Sean Greer’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Less, the titular Arthur Less, a writer, decides to take a trip around the world in the face of two upsetting events: his fiftieth birthday, and the marriage of his sort-of-boyfriend of nearly a decade, Freddy Pelu, to another man. Nothing seems to be going quite right for him: after an auspicious debut, his subsequent novels have declined in both sales and critical acclaim, and he worries that the closest he will come to genius were his years dating Robert Brownburn, an acclaimed poet, and being in Robert’s circle of writer and artist friends. When an invite to Freddy’s wedding arrives, Less can’t bring himself to either accept and be the subject of pitying looks or decline and know he’ll set the gossip wheels turning with speculation that he’s bitter. So he decides to be absent, creating a trip around the world for himself by accepting invitations for various and sundry events that he’d shoved in a drawer and never intended to actually respond to.

Less begins by leaving San Francisco for New York, where his new novel is gently declined by his publisher. And then it’s off to Mexico, then France, then Italy for a prize ceremony for a translation of his book, then Germany to teach a summer course, then a trip to Morocco with friends, then a retreat in India to work on his book, then Japan to write an article about food for a travel magazine, and finally back, having neatly avoided both his birthday and the wedding. Along the way he runs into an ex he doesn’t recognize, has a fling with academic, gets a custom-made suit, steps on a needle, and has to destroy his way out of a room. We get perspective on the life he’s led through both his own reminisces and the voice of a narrator, whose identity is finally revealed to us as Arthur Less gets home.

I’ll admit I was a little skeptical when this was chosen as a selection for my book club. “Funny” books can land wildly differently depending on the reader, and “prize-winning funny” does not tend to be a type of humor I find especially enjoyable. But what a delight this book was! I’ve talked before about how much my experience of a book can be impacted by what else I’ve read in the same time frame, and after the self-serious, sometimes ponderous Shantaram, the breezy lightness of Less just hit the spot. But it’s not just a fluffy book at all. It’s filled with sharp observations and resonant character notes, and the propulsive forward motion of the journey keeps the plot moving at a nice clip. It never gets bogged down anywhere. And while managing all that, it also excels at blending the moments of humor with sweetly poignant emotional work.

Writing a funny-yet-grounded book is hard, y’all. So many things to be balanced, and the Pulitzer has to be at least in part a recognition of how very well Greer crafted his work. Why, after all this gushing, is this not an even-more-highly-rated book for me? Two things: it didn’t linger in my mind (books that I rate 9 or 10 stars stick with me long after reading), and the narrator reveal. While I thought it was an emotionally satisfying way to end the book, it didn’t make logical sense, which spoiled it ever so slightly. That being said, it’s a wonderful book that I heartily enjoyed, with meditations on aging, love, dignity, and identity that run beneath the parts that make you laugh to make you think. I’d recommend it to everyone!

One year ago, I was reading: The Age of Miracles

Two years ago, I was reading: Flip

Three years ago, I was reading: The Bonfire of the Vanities

Four years ago, I was reading: Sophie’s Choice

“As a matter of fact, there is no reason, if Dr. Sue is going to live near Olive, that Olive can’t occasionally take a little of this, a little of that—just to keep the self-doubt alive. Give herself a little burst. Because Christopher doesn’t need to be living with a woman who thinks she knows everything. Nobody knows everything—they shouldn’t think they do.”

Dates read: July 17-20, 2018

Rating: 8/10

Lists/awards: Pulitzer Prize

It’s easy to think that we really know the people in our social circle. We see them being regularly rude and snappy, we write them off as jerks. They’re always kind and thoughtful when we see them, we assume that they’re a good person. But it’s hard, if not impossible, to actually completely know anyone else. The lovely human we know in the work place might go home and be cruel to their family. The person we see being prickly could spend hours volunteering in their community. Unless we’ve seen someone in every possible context, there’s always an aspect of them that could be missing from who we think we know.

The thirteen short stories that make up Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge all feature the main character at least once. Sometimes she’s the center of it. Sometimes she’s a passing reference between two other people who live in her small Maine town. It moves roughly chronologically, beginning when Olive and her husband Henry are already older and headed toward retirement (though the first story, about Henry, is mostly a flashback), and their son Christopher is an adult. Olive negotiates her relationships with her family and her community at large as they all change, slowly but inexorably…or, often just as aggravatingly for her, don’t change much at all.

Though many of the lives we encounter look at least moderately happy on the surface, there’s often profound sadness lurking underneath. This is not new territory, suburban dysfunction and familial drama, and while there’s nothing special plot-wise it’s Strout’s skill as a writer that makes this book shine. Each story is a whole unto itself but subtly builds to create a full picture of Olive, her strengths and her flaws. She can be infuriating, as when she deals with the fear from finding herself the victim of a crime by berating her husband, and she can be deeply relatable and sympathetic, like when she overhears her new daughter-in-law mocking the dress she made herself for their wedding. She is stubborn and proud and controlling and rendered with profound emotional truth. Strout never has to explicitly ascribe these qualities to Olive, because she understands the power of showing rather than telling, which she does in spare-yet-lovely prose.

As in any short story collection, some entries are stronger than others. I loved the first one, “Pharmacy” about Olive’s husband’s long-ago infatuation with a shy technician at his pharmacy, and two where Olive is only a background mention, “Winter Concert” and “Ship in a Bottle”. Some others, like “Tulips” and “The Piano Player”, failed to move me. But one of the upsides to reading short stories is that even if you don’t care for a particular story, it’ll be over soon! I’ll be honest, I was not looking forward to reading this book, because it felt like I was in a rut of books that were interconnected vignettes without strong central plots and I wanted to read something with more structure. Happily, though, it’s good enough that I found myself very much enjoying it and I’d highly recommend it even if you’re skeptical of short stories!

One year ago, I was reading: Tower

Two years ago, I was reading: Sing, Unburied, Sing

Three years ago, I was reading: Boys and Girls Together

Four years ago, I was reading: Life Itself

Book 253: Less

Book 249: Olive Kitteridge

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