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Probably
one of the more interesting reads this last couple of
months was Robert James Waller's Slow Waltz in
Cedar Bend. Michael Tillman finds his
once-in-a-lifetime love in "Jellie" Braden,
who, unfortunately is already married to the dean at the
University where Michael is a professor. The story, like The Bridges of
Madison County, is a poignant story that also seems to
completely disregard the institution of marriage. Rather,
the stress is in the restrictions placed on them by
social pressures. The story doesn't have the same power
as Bridges. This could be that Bridges has already been
told. After all, how many
"once-in-lifetime-loves" can there be? In this
story, the affair blossoms while in Bridges it
becomes somewhat "martyred" as a unrequited
fling. Nevertheless, I can't help but feel had Slow
Waltz been issued first, it would have been every bit
as popular as Bridges, and my sentiment about Bridges
would have been, "It's been done" (though I
believe that Bridges was done better). The point
is the following question: What is really left to explore
by writing another book on the same theme? |
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John
Irving's Cider House Rules is a near epic story
revolving around an orphan and his life and destiny with
respect to abortion. It follows the life of Homer Wells,
born at St. Cloud's Orphanage. He leaves at the age of 18
with a family who owns an apple tree farm (where apple
cider is made). Over the years, his and the life of those
at the orphanage and at the apple farm become
intertwined, tugging on him and his opinions of abortion.
It was a fine story and certainly well told, but I'm not
into "message stories". This feels too much like
a lecture. However, it was minimized and not at all
blatant. |
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Also a
pleasant surprise was Every Dead Thing by John Connolly.
Very dark. I've mentioned this one before in a separate
posting, so I'll skip details other than to say that his
writing is, at times, very poignant, which is unusual for
a hard-boiled, vividly disturbing serial killer story. In
that earlier posting, I said: I'm in the process
of reading this right now and there is no getting around
it, this is a dark novel, extremely graphic and
gruesome. But I am constantly stumbling across whole
passages that are exceptionally well written (yeah, I
know, what does that mean?) Well, it depends. These
passages have many qualities, but usually one stands out.
One is vivid, another insightful, and a third is
poignant, but all three will have the other elements. As
an example (I'll avoid a spoiler by saying that one guy
is relating a story about a gruesome loss of a family
member to someone else who had a similar loss). The man
talking was saying that he used to see her, in his
dreams, but she, "... don't come as often
now...." The following paragraph is then inserted
and after it the man continues his story:
Perhaps
he saw something in my face, even in the slow
darkening evening, that led him to understand. I do
not know, for certain, and he gave me no sign that he
knew or that there was anything more between us than
a need to know and a desire to tell, but he stopped
for a moment in the telling and in that pause we all
but touched, like two travelers who pass on a long,
hard road and offer comfort to each other in the
journey.
What
struck me is that this paragraph does nothing for the
story. If it were removed you would not notice the void.
We already know the man talking is still grieving; we
already know the man listening is fighting off his own
demons. There is nothing in there necessary to connect
the previous paragraph with the next. In fact, the
monolog the first man relates, holds up fine and, if
taken by itself, one might think that interrupting it
with anything would spoil the moment. But not only does
Connolly interrupt it, the scene is even more powerful
for it and we have a bit richer insight into both of
these people.
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