The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters

If you like a well-written ghost story, The Little Stranger might be your cup o’ tea. All the familiar elements are in play here: the ruined mansion, hints of hereditary insanity, emotional extremes, ghost/demons/poltergeists, imagination versus fantasy. The genre is woven into the setting of England in the late 1940’s just after the war. So we have a relatively recent historical period with modern sensibilities but with characters who can’t quite accept the rapid changes in society. The real charm of the novel rests with Waters’ portrayal of the once magnificent mansion, Hundreds Hall, as metaphorical evidence of the psychologically deteriorating lives of its owners. I could have done with fewer ghost sightings and rumblings but in spite of that I enjoyed this view of England from the historical and social slant. If you take the first sip, I’ll bet you’ll swallow the whole cup.

The Master by Colm Toibin

I grew up in Newport and Portsmouth, Rhode Island, places where Henry James lived and walked a century earlier during the Civil War. It puts my native place in a larger context. Perhaps I have a particular affinity for James’ work that I wouldn’t have without this proximity in common. Toibin’s novel is a wonderful mixture of James the boy and man; James the writer and artist. I never felt that Toibin tried to craft a message that this is the definitive portrait of James. The writing maintains a just distance from the protagonist that allows the reader to make inferences about the man and his work. Certainly, there are moments when direct parallels are drawn between characters in his life and characters in his novels. His relationship with his siblings, his cousin Minnie Temple, and his jealousy of Oscar Wilde find a way in his writing. But Toibin does not do this in a way that reduces James’ fiction to merely elaborated real life experiences. In fact, Toibin’s novel offers a close focus on a very complex boy and sensitive man; one who surmised that women enjoyed his company more than men, one whose compassion for infected and sick Civil War soldiers aroused within him a sense of guilt and the disparity between them as he was soon to enter Harvard University to pursue law. This novel is a deeply imagined work that flows with ease and yet hints at James’ restrained prose. The emotional nuance that James translated so well in his art is turned on the man himself, the angles and turns of the prism through which he experienced life. I am familiar with Toibin’s short stories, not his novels. I recall a more muscular approach to writing found in his stories than found in this novel, which clearly speaks to the range of Toibin’s art. Revisit the world of Henry James with Colm Toibin.

At the Jim Bridger, by Ron Carlson

This is my first reading of a collection of stories by Carlson. He brings the reader right into the room with clean details and an invitation to listen to the characters. In the first story, “Towel Season,” Carlson renders with compassion a mathematician who wanders through the maze of suburban families and pool parties while at the same time noodling his latest equations in his mind: “The chasm between his pencil figurings and the figures of the real world was that, a chasm, and there was no bridge.” But the way he finds himself to a bridge is surprising and satisfying to the reader. In fact, most of these stories find us looking deep into the lives of regular people who when they are cast into a moment of disorientation must find a way out. None of these stories are predictable in their characters or endings and their precise realism lulls us into safe territory where this writer mines the riches of life.

Zeitoun by Dave Eggers

I read a lot of fiction and I often chastise myself for not reading more non-fiction. Recently I decided to pick up a copy of Dave Eggers’ book that documents one family who survived Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans 2005. Eggers references Washington’s fear of terrorists possibly overcoming the city in the aftermath of the hurricane. But what surprisingly comes out of this story is less about social profiling of Islamic terrorists, and a whole lot about ‘the enemy is us.’ Abdulrahaman Zeitoun was born in Syria, a Muslim and a U.S. citizen, a well-respected contractor, and a rental property owner in New Orleans with a family. His journey of heroism to stay in the city during the hurricane in order to oversee his property and to help those left behind, people as well as animals, is counterbalanced by the absurd, mindless, heartless bureaucrats we usually associate with monolithic governments. Zeitoun’s wife Kathy and children leave the city. Sections of the book alternate her perspective with Zeitoun’s and deepen our empathy with the personal tragedy that this family experiences. Always keeping the reader immersed in the urgency of the hurricane and its aftermath, Eggers’ writing straddles the larger history of the Zeitoun family, across time and countries. It is a fascinating piece of writing. And it is journalism at its best, a cautionary tale about our democracy committed to protecting the rights of citizens, which in fact turns out to be a government more in tune with incarcerating prisoners than helping decent citizens trapped in the flood of New Orleans without food, water, medical help, and decent shelter. Thanks to the Zeitoun family’s survival, Zeitoun’s passion for building and generosity, and Dave Eggers’ journalism, we have a clear picture of how our government can fail its people. The strength of one large family can overcome adversity but not without a lot of pain and indignity. If one message of this book is clear it is that it is incumbent on all citizens to be vigilant and hold those in authority to be accountable.