I’m a big believer in role models. While we are growing up, we emulate the behavior of those we admire, hoping we’ll be admirable too. Eventually we sort our our own priorities and personalities but until then, it helps to have someone to follow. Given all that, I probably could have picked a better person to imitate than Lillian Hellman. For one thing, Lillian Hellman was a professional dramatist and I don’t like her plays. As dramatic vehicles they are “theatrical” pieces where characters quiver, thunder or plot but rarely come to any realizations and the plays are aging as well as my old Earth Shoes. In other words, not. So Lillian’s plays are out. Her integrity was attacked often and well, most notably when Mary McCarthy said, “Every word she writes is a lie—including ‘and’ and ‘the.’” Those who tracked down the details suggest there’s some exaggeration in Miss Mary’s statement but not enough to acquit Miss Lillian. So she wasn’t a good example there either. Nevertheless, I was looking for a unique voice and shimmering images of words when I found Lillian Hellman’s An Unfinished Woman. One role model, made to order. An Unfinished Woman was popular around the…
I still remember the first day I saw it, upright in a metal paperback stand in my English teacher’s class. Because I recognized the author’s name, it took me a week or two before I asked about the paperback; I was already a dweeb to the other students and I didn’t need that image underscored by carrying around this book. The teacher probably guessed I was interested but he played it cool saying the books in the rack were for borrowing as long as we wanted to keep them and didn’t say a word about the author. That’s all it took. One reading lead to another and another until I had to replace the disintegrating paperback. I’ve read a lot of books that achieved a new point in literature but few things have amazed me as much as Woody’ Guthrie’s Bound for Glory. Before I picked up this autobiography, my thoughts of Mr. Guthrie were tagged to grade-school sing-alongs of “Roll On Columbia” or “This Land is Your Land.” I appreciated the simple lyrics and catchy melodies but I really didn’t know anything about the man other than he was from Oklahoma, like my dad’s family. His autobiography was a…
My mother loved historical romance novels. These tales were the “chick-lit” of her day, usually set in an era of voluminous skirts and low, square necklines (which looked good on the cover) and centered around headstrong, resourceful heroines who caused scandals and made mistakes until circumstances or the right man came into alignment and the heroine became a part of history. Mom’s favorite writers were Norah Lofts and Anya Seton, two authors who made a point of researching the background of each book for accuracy. I know because I read every book in her collection. (This was before before YA books really came onto the scene and I will read the back of bug repellant bottles if nothing else is available.) My favorite was an Anya Seton story set in 19th century Massachusetts and it’s a little bit different from the rest. It was called, The Hearth and Eagle. The Hearth and Eagle is (in the story) a historic tavern in Marblehead and the daughter of the tavern owner isn’t interested in history. Hesper Honeywood’s dad may be fascinated by genealogy and poetry but his daughter prefers ready bought goods to home-made and the company of a young fisherman to…
I’ve called this column “The Books that Follow you Home” and for these first two months I’ve focused on the books but during “this festive season of the year” to quote my hero, Dickens, I must admit I’m thinking about the other noun in the title, Home. Home is, of course, a big part of the culture of Christmas but it means different things to different people. To some, home at Christmas is a decorated house, the bigger the better, that is bursting at the seams with family, friends and presents to mark the occasion. To others, it’s a small place, where they live very quietly and alone. Home can be an apartment, a ship, a trailer or even just a box but it’s as sacred and wonderful as Windsor Castle or The Breakers because it belongs to you. In a scary, changing world, home is the place where you can be yourself without apology and there’s no reason to be afraid because you are protected when you are between these walls. When home is a good place the very walls seem to warm and comfort you like a comfortable sweater. It’s when architecture becomes a friend. All of this…
People interested in books are fascinated by first lines. Their favorites usually include the evocative “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderly” and Orwell’s line about the clocks striking 13 and of course, “Happy families are all alike.” These are great first lines. Whether they fill less than an line (“Call me Ishmael”) or take the entire paragraph, first sentences grab the reader’s attention and set the tone of the book all at once and they make the next line seem inevitable. My favorite first line comes from a book few people know or love but for a rip-snorting, gut-grabbing sentence, it’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. Let me clear my throat, I’ll share it with you…. “Mister Deck, are you my stinkin’ Daddy?“ That, ladies and gentleman was the voice of T. R., the heroine of Larry McMurtry’s novel, Some Can Whistle. (You could tell the young lady was from Texas, right?) This furious young voice is directed at Danny Deck, a failed novelist, and retired sitcom writer who is spending his middle years retreating from the active life that made him rich and unhappy. Part of this retreat is fueled by overexposure to the…