Posts Tagged ‘Philip Roth’

“Mrs. Nixon: A Novelist Imagines a Life” by Ann Beattie

Tuesday, November 15th, 2011

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Ann Beattie set for herself a daunting challenge when crafting Mrs. Nixon: A Novelist Imagines a Life.

Three players occupy the book’s 300 pages — Ann Beattie, Richard Nixon, and Pat Nixon. Each of these persons is known for practicing a strain of obscurantism, deliberately preventing the facts or full details of something from becoming known. For Beattie this has been an aesthetic choice (Jay McInerney once described this choice as a “refusal to overdetermine her characters, her reluctance to explain their behavior”). For President Nixon the practice was a political strategy that ultimately led him to the brink of impeachment. For his wife Pat Nixon this behavior was an emotional defense, the means she chose to preserve personal dignity in the face of prying inquisitors.

Ann Beattie and Pat Nixon: for this Novelist to imagine that Life, and then to deliver a relatively satisfying reading experience, is something of an achievement. Beattie jettisons the staid narrative conventions she long since mastered in favor of boldly litting out for new territory. She wills Mrs. Nixon likewise to escape her comfort zone. What emerges is an imaginative literary concoction that initial critics have labelled, accurately, as unclassifiable, genre-bending, playful and polymorphous, and unlike anything Beattie’s written before.

What’s to like? If you’re a die-hard Beattie fan, my advice is dive right in. Part of your enjoyment will be finding just how suitably matched are the author and her subject (consider, for example, how many of Beattie’s stories contain the incomprehensible mystery of an oddly paired woman and man). Mrs. Nixon is made up of a well-paced series of chapters, over 40 in all, each representing another attempt by Beattie to conjure up something, anything, of the elusive, real Pat Nixon. There are autobiographical glimpses as well: of Beattie’s relationship with her mother, and husband; scenes set in the couple’s house in Maine.

What may be of interest to readers beyond the circle of Beattie acolytes are the chapters that interrupt the experimental fictions and turn instead to a general examination of the art of writing. In these pages Beattie engages in literary analyses of her favorite authors (Chekhov and Carver especially) and her favorite short short stories. Reading these terrific asides is like auditing one of Professor Beattie’s creative writing seminars at UVA. In a similar vein she offers haunting ruminations on the limitations of language and the limits, finally, of knowing anyone. All is not dour, however. The book is animated by Vaudeville-like antics, once its dark opening pages give way to story after story that reminded me of an experimental variety show. It’s a stylistically diverse exhibition whose theme is, Who was Pat Nixon?

Beattie tells us her guiding spirit for these proceedings is Donald Barthelme, a writer whose stories she admires for their mix fact and fiction, high and low, art criticism and gossip and comic strips. A few chapters adopt Barthelme’s brand of flash fiction, inserting Pat Nixon into exceptionally compact stories that focus only on incident rather than rolling out an arced narrative. You are in for a heady blend of serious dirge swirled with playful yelps (as in the chapter about Elvis’s visit to the White House). One delight: you’ll find Beattie’s mimicry of President Nixon’s speechifying (even in his private moments with Pat) to be as clever as that of Philip Roth in his Nixon-era satire, Our Gang. Her humor is more subtle, though, as apparent when she sums up Mr. Nixon: “This is not a little boy to whom you would have wanted to give an ant farm.”

I wondered if Beattie wasn’t also riffing on the Pirandello quandary of characters in search of an author. In a recent interview Beattie confessed: “I came to understand as I was writing that I too was a character in the book.”

What’s not to like? Well, Mrs. Nixon is not a book for history buffs nor is it a good choice for readers seeking a conventional biography. Beattie does not hold herself out as an historian, not even one of amateur status. She made little or no effort to uncover new facts or details about Pat Nixon and instead relied on existing published sources. In the Notes section she lists the material she read; the one book that looms largest is daughter Julie Nixon Eisenhower’s loving biography, Pat Nixon: The Untold Story (1986). I recommend that as your better bet, especially if you want a biography as a gift to please a traditional reader. Certainly be wary of “Mrs. Nixon” if you were resistant to Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Reagan (1999), Edmund Morris’ unconventional and largely fictionalized biography of President Reagan. Mrs. Nixon is a book for the adventurous, literary minded reader.

A couple omissions should be mentioned. In an early chapter entitled “Major and Minor Events of Mrs. Nixon’s Life,” Beattie includes dozens of items but forgets to list the weddings of her two daughters. An odd oversight, I’d say.  Also, while the author says she was interested to find other writers who treated Pat Nixon imaginatively (for example, she includes a poem by David Kirby entitled, “Skinny-Dipping with Pat Nixon”) , she does not mention the John Adams opera, “Nixon in China,” whose libretto by Alice Goodman features Pat Nixon as perhaps its most fully formed character.

After the hit-or-miss quality of the middle sections of the book, I was struck by the simple power of its concluding two chapters. These serve as twinned goodbyes. In the first farewell Beattie presents some final personal thoughts on writing (“All writing is about altering time.” “You erase yourself every time you write.”). In the final goodbye Mrs. Nixon, “quietly loyal and enigmatic” to the end, is set free.

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A shorter version of this review is posted on Amazon, here.

“Nemesis” by Philip Roth

Tuesday, October 5th, 2010

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“Nemesis” is an old-fashioned novel.  The book has the glow of a twilit, though painful, reminiscence.  It is set in the Jewish Weequahic section of Newark during the war year of 1944.  Roth imagines the community suffering through a devastating polio epidemic that cruelly maims and kills its youngest members.  The protagonist is Bucky Cantor, a young man, a stalwart common man, whose decision to abandon his post as summer playground director will have fateful consequences.

Advice from an Elder

Very early in his career Roth sent to Saul Bellow a draft of a short story he was trying to get published, asking the elder writer for comments and advice. One of the remarks in Bellow’s 1957 letter responding to Roth (included in “Saul Bellow: Letters”, slated for release on November 4) stands out: “My reaction to your story was on the positive side of the scale, strongly. But mixed, too. I liked the straightness of it, the plainness.” A half century later, Roth’s new novel respects Bellow’s preference. Direct, straight and plain, “Nemesis” unfolds in a manner you may not immediately associate with Roth. It is as if, having chosen to set his tale in the mid-twentieth century, Roth decided to set aside the signature style and quirks he’s perfected in the last few decades, and, instead, hark back to the American literature of that earlier period, embracing its feel and direction. For me, that embrace is one of the pleasures of this short novel.

The straightforward narrative of “Nemesis,” which follows the traditional path of exposition, rising action, conflict, and aftermath, eschews the inventive and experimental course Roth took in some ambitious novels of the 1980’s and 1990’s, notably “The Counterlife” and “Operation Shylock.” The surprisingly plain voice of the new novel, narrated not by some maniacally garrulous Nathan Zuckerman type but by an even-tempered, practical-minded witness (who later reveals himself to have been one of the Newark child polio survivors), imparts a classic balance to the proceedings. Also un-Roth-like is the absence of ethnic satire (the Jewish community is lovingly portrayed). Readers expecting to encounter Roth’s comical eye for the worst in people, a celebration of rebellion, a sexual adventurousness, will be disappointed. Also, though fulminating anger abounds (Bucky repeatedly shakes his fist at a God “who spends too much time killing children”), that energy may not be sufficient for some readers who may very well find the book lackluster and timid.

A throwback to the last century

In its style (earnest and unfussy) and in its themes, “Nemesis” reminds me of the classic mid-20th century American fiction that has long been a staple of high school English classes — especially the books, stories and plays featuring common men, ordinary Joes who meet tragic ends. “Nemesis” shares with Steinbeck’s “The Pearl,” Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea,” and Thornton Wilder’s “The Bridge of San Luis Rey,” the theme of the vicissitudes of fate and the contingency of our existence. Roth shares with those authors and their social realist contemporaries — the writers who commanded the stage when he was young — an interest in the way the world at large shapes our private lives and how accidental forces shape individual destiny. If you still have a fondness for those books — maybe because they were the vehicles through which you first learned to read and interpret critically — then you are bound to like “Nemesis.”

“Nemesis” is unafraid to tackle the moral dimension of our actions and lives. We are witness to the corrosive effects of resentment, self-pity, suspicion and rage. By book’s end we have come to realize all of us are carriers of disease — “bringers of crippling and death” — if not in a literal sense then in the guise of anger, hate, spite and selfishness. Roth raises anew the old questions: What is our responsibility to our fellows? Are we all to blame? One is reminded of Arthur Miller, especially the stark examination of these issues in his play “Incident at Vichy,” set in World War II. Are we left with the impossible choice between either resigning ourselves to the suffering of others, or taking on a responsibility whose dimensions doom us to failure?

The draft short story Roth had shared with Bellow back in 1957 reminded the elder writer, in one respect, of “The Plague” by Albert Camus, a book Bellow disliked. He warned Roth against writing stories too beholden to a controlling idea: “I have a thing about Ideas in stories. Camus’ The Plague was an IDEA. Good or bad? Not so hot, in my opinion.” I’m not certain exactly what Bellow meant by this; my guess is that he was warning against turning the text into a (mere) parable. And yet there is no mistaking the correspondences between the fictional devastation visited upon the inhabitants of Camus’ Oran and Roth’s Newark, and contemporary or near-contemporary events in Europe. As the writer Abraham Verghese observed in his recent review of Sigrid Nunez’s “Salvation City” (a novel set in a near-future America consumed by a flu epidemic): “An epidemic makes such a great backdrop for a novel.” In reaction to a disease that with shocking speed maims, paralyzes, and kills a community’s “beautiful children,” Roth depicts society’s descent into fear, apprehension and suspicion of outsiders, a course that ends, appropriately, in a search for meaning. 

Coda

One final note: the pages of “Nemesis” close with the narrator’s achingly beautiful memory of an afternoon near the end of June, 1944, before the epidemic seriously took hold of the city, when the Chancellor Avenue playground boys gathered to watch Bucky Cantor demonstrate the throw of a javelin. He writes: “None of us had ever before seen an athletic act so beautifully executed right in front of our eyes. Through him we boys had left the little story of the neighborhood and entered the historical saga of our ancient gender.”

Time will tell, but “Nemesis” could emerge as the one classic Roth novel all of us should read.

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(A shorter version of this review is posted on Amazon, here.)