A forthcoming historical novel of great promise

 As readers of this blog may know, I'm not a fan of novel excerpts in publications - as a rule - but once in a while there are excerpts worth reading on their own and that truly service as an intro to a forthcoming novel that might have been overlooked. No chance of that last happening to Elena Ferrante's latest, excerpted at length recently in the NYTimes - a strong enough selection to make this onto my wanna-read list (despite tepid review in the New Yorker - can't have everything). But the New Yorker fiction piece this week is from an author unknown to me and I expect to many - David Wright Falade - and the piece, which I am sure will be part of his novel (Nigh on a Brother, acc to the NYer "contributors" notes) in 2022, The Sand Banks, 1861, looks like it might be a significant debut novel - w/ possibility of literary and commercial success; it reminded me a little of The Known World and the more recent George Washington Black, in that it's fiction in a historical setting, obviously - the onset of the Civil War - as experienced in a small community on the Va. coast. The central figure is a young man serving as a slave to the largest local landowner, who is also his father; Falade does a good job establishing this character and his sense of exploitation and isolation at a key moment in his life and in his times. He and others on this coastal island are just receiving word that the Union forces have entered Va., and this young man summons the courage to announce to his father/"owner" that he plans to run away to join the Union forces, or at least to support them through some kind of menial labor. And thus the plot is set in motion - which I imagine will lead to many adventures and encounters. I'm not sure how well this movement, slaves running not to freedom but to service in or for the Union armies, this work from this early look gives promise of being topical, informative, and dramatic, and though I'm no devotee of historical fiction I'm looking forward to the eventual publication of Falade's work. 

Dostoevsky's strengths and his one weakness

Finished "book 11" (of 12) in Fyodor Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov (1880; Pevear-Volokhonsky, and it's great to see how well FD handles the central plot element: the murder of the brothers' father Fyodor. As noted in an earlier post, FD's narrator gives us an extraordinary amount of info about the interior lives of most of the major characters; he gives us much detail about the conflicts and torments the brothers endure regarding relations w/ the lecherous father (all by the "good" son, Alyosha), he chronicles the events leading up to the murder, from the POV of several characters - but as to the murder itself, he gives us two roses of ellipses. And now we see why! Up to this point in the novel, all the evidence points to the oldest son, Dimitri, imprisoned and on the eve of the first day of his trial for murder. Of course we accept the narrator's information, and we have no doubt that Dimitri is guilty - his behavior so odd and extreme, the evidence to obvious, his excuses so flimsy and contorted (e.g., he was found holding 3,000 rubles, the precise amount stolen from the dead father, though D claims he had been carrying this money around as a favor to one of his (many) woman friends. But - spoilers here for those who haven't read this novel! - in book 11 things turn around, as the epileptic Smerdgov (sp?), who supposedly had been suffering from an extreme fit at the time of the murder, S. admits to middle-brother Ivan that he (widely believed to be the father's out-of-wedlock son) that he'd committed the murder, that he was faking his two-day fit. The tables have turned - but who will come to Dimitri's defense at the trial? A great plot twist - but there's so much more to this plenteous novel that the murder trial. What strikes me in particular on this reading of the word is how effective FD is in creating scenes of pathos: Who can not nearly come to tears in reading the account of the death of the child Ilyusha, and in particular well yup to tears when we see how Alyosho befriends the young boys of the neighborhood and works w/ them to ensure that they behave w/ kindness toward the dying child - and that they continue doing so for the rest of their lives? FD is more widely known for this intellectual heft and for the highly dramatic scenes of fervid mental torment - but he can handle sentimental with greatness as well. Similarly, it's obvious that he had great sympathy for animals and a loathing toward anyone who behaves w/ cruelty toward any animal - though he can understand this cruelty in children and he tries to assuage it. A Dostoevsky weakness, however: Does he have any truly great female characters? She (wittily) contrasts his work w/ Tolstoy's, and part of this imagined rivalry, one would guess, may be jealous of Tolstoy's ability to write about women. The women in FD novels, however, are background players, symbols primarily, and never, as far as I can recall, rounded characters w/ complex emotions and well-founded beliefs - the vanish when compared w/ his dynamic and multifaceted male characters. 

Some observations on The Brothers Karamazov

A few notes on Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov (1880, Pevear-Volokonsky tr.), I'm beginning to (re)read  Part 4 (of 4): First, what an unusual narrative device FD uses in describing the scene of the crime - the killing of the father Fyodor Pavlovich K. FD's narrator is by all measures an omniscient figure, giving us access not only to a wide and vivid range of dramatic scenes but also into the background and the thoughts of all of the major characters. He carefully builds toward the murder scene - Dimitri heading toward his father's house, rage and jealousy foremost in his mind, as well as his need for money that he believes his father owes to him. He brings us right into the garden, as he lures his father out of the house with the "secret" code door-knock. And then: the narrative breaks off with a series of ellipse dots; we simply do not see the scene of the murder - we see Dmitri rushing out of the garden, pursued by the elderly servant, Grigorev (sp?). So when the officials arrive the next morning to arrest Dimitri, we have no way to be sure than his claim of innocence is legitimate; it's up to us to make the judgement - though I think all readers will find his recollection of the events to be spurious or dubious at best. 

And what about the interrogation? Look, we all know that the American system of justice is often abused, in particular in regards to those of color and those w/out the means to hire competent attorneys. But the Russian system, as portrayed here, seems outrageous to most of us today: the prosecutor and the local AG immediately begin a complete examination and interrogation of the suspect and all witnesses, without even any pretense of providing the suspect - Dimitri, in this case - with a lawyer or even w/ any legal advice (they to read him a version of what we call the Miranda rights - so perhaps they were ahead of us on that score alone). Yes, this process is more like a grand jury, and Dimitri will get his day in court - but not after providing the state w/ a whole lot of information that he probably would have withheld had he be competent (he's still reeling from his night of revelry) and well advised. 

It also strikes me, deep into the complex novel, how willing FD is to set aside some of his major characters and to move the "off screen" if and when need be. The first part of the book concerned, mostly, Alyosha, the youngest brother, contemplating whether to marry for become a celibate monk. He pretty much vanishes, for half the novel - tho he will reappear in Part 4 (as we pick up, again the story of the impoversihed family and the young boy bullied by his peers). Similarly, the middle brother, Ivan, romantic rival to his brother Dimitri, heads off for Moscow at about the mid-point and we don't seem him about - maybe not till late in the 4th part? It's also surprising how little we see of the lurid father K, and how, with just a few brushstrokes (mostly, Dimitri's loathing and repulsion when he looks at his father) he creates a vivid character. 

Ferrante's forthcoming novel, excerpted in the NYTimes, looks to be definitely worth reading

Definitely worth reading the long excerpt from Elena Ferrante's forthcoming novel, The Lying Life of Adults, which ran as a special section in the Sunday NYTimes. I'm not always a fan of published novel excerpts, which can sometimes feel like a glorified advertisement for a forthcoming publication - but the Times over the past year or so that they've been running occasional excerpts has done a good job in selecting fiction that is in some sense newsworthy - selections for well-known writers who really don't need the publicity boost - and topically relevant (see for ex. Colson Whitehead's The Underground Railroad). Ferrante now has such a vast following around the world thanks to her Brilliant Friend series that a forthcoming book from her is an event; I have to say that the Times team has done a great job in editing this piece - trimming where appropriate and keeping the narrative line clear and coherent: Good for them! (Though points lost for the ridiculous typography for the title of this work, which is almost impossible to recognize and cogitate.) This excerpt, from the POV of a woman looking back on her early teenage years in Naples, tells of a time in her youth when she begins to learn of her father's complex family history and in particular when she meets, against her parents' wishes, her aunt, who has been at odds, perhaps at war, with the narrator's father for many years. The aunt, whom the parents have described as mean and ugly (the plot gets into gear when the young woman overhears her father compare her w/ the ostracized aunt) turns out to be beautiful, though unconventionally so. She's also quite outspoken, blunt, vulgar at times, and embittered - and it's obvious that the novel, as it unfolds, will be about a struggle for the soul and the allegiance of the young woman. I am one of the few who wasn't crazy about the Brilliant Friend series - though I could see why it meant so much to so many readers - but this novel comes forth with a lot of promise and what I expect will be a more tightly controlled plot and sharper character delineation. 

A promising piece of short fiction, You Are My Dear Friend, in current NYer: Should it be part of a novel?

 I liked Mahuri Vijay's story, You Are My Dear Friebd, in the current New Yorker, at least up to a point. It's the kind of naturalistic piece driven by character and event, told in a direct and conventional style, for the most part quite clear and transparent - though I spent a lot of time at the outset trying to keep straight the names of a # of the characters who as it turned out were entirely tangential to the plot. The story follows several years in the life of a young woman from an impoverished background (parents died young, tragically, in a way that is never explained - is that because this may be an excerpt from a novel?), working as an au pair for an English family; one of the guests as a party her employers becomes almost a stalker, following this young woman around, and eventually persuading her to marry him - a widower  about twice her age. Several years into their dreary marriage they decide to adopt a young girl - who turns out to be extremely difficult and belligerent, and who eventually breaks off from her adoptive parents - and the story or short fiction pretty much ends at that point. I found her establishment of character and situation to be strong and compelling, and I wanted to know more about the central character and her fate - and if this is a novel excerpt perhaps I/we will be able to follow this story line a bit farther; as is, with such an abrupt ending w/ little resolved, I felt a bit cheated: as a story, it opts out; as an excerpt, it shows promise. (Readers of this blog will know perhaps that some of my favorite stories are those that seemingly "could be novels," but that work best by leaving us wanting more. This story doesn't quite make that grade: I not only "want more" but need more in order to bring some resolution to the crisis in the lives of the central characters, the mother and adoptive daughter - and even the husband/father, whose adult daughter will have nothing to do w/ him, for reasons we don't yet understand.)

Thoughts on the first half of The Brothers Karamazov

At the half-way point in Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamozov (1880; his last novel) and am surprised on this (re)reading to see how little FD cares about getting a plot into gear; through these long first chapters (total +300 pp) he does a lot of character delineation, particularly of the youngest brother, Alyosha, who differs in temperament from his two brothers and their father (Fyodor). But throughout these pages it seems that FD's greater impulse is to expound some of his views on religion, faith, prayer, devotion. Compare this work w/ C&P, which is plot-driven and gets to the dramatic highlight, the murder of the pawnbroker, in the first 50 or so pp. In some ways, TBsK is the more profound novel, a novel of ideas, but it does feel that at the mid-point that it's time to get the plot off the ground! Not that there aren't some great sections in the first half. Notably, Alyosha's encounter w/ the group of schoolboys bullying the child from a severely impoverished and sickly family; this element of the plot is left hanging at the mid-point, but will become significant in the second half of the novel. The most famous section in the first half of the novel, probably in the whole novel, is brother Ivan's account to Alyosha of a "poem" he's writing, The Grand Inquisitor - a narrative about a leader of the Inquisition imprisoning and condemning a man who may be the 2nd coming of Jesus; this chapter has sometimes been broken out and published as a novella. To me it feels kinds of over-wrought and doesn't hold my interest as well as the "contemporary" passages - the best of which, I think, come in the dying elder's (Zosima's) account to his life, in particular his account of the disturbed older man who confessed that he had committed murder and never been accused or caught. The man asks the then-young Zosima whether he should confess to his crime and thereby ruin the lives of his wife and young daughters. We can see how this is a variant on Raskolnikov's crime in C&P: In that case, the failure to commit the perfect crime and the ensuing guilt and fear. The treatment of the theme in TBsK is more powerful and unusual: When must we own up to our crimes and guilt? To whose benefit? Toward what end? Finally, though the set-up includes many such passages that are not strictly necessary for the novel as a whole (it was published in installments over several years, I think) the elements all work together in establishing the brothers and their father as dynamic, drive, obsessed men whom we know will come into deadly rivalry, particularly in conflict over women and in an Oedipal struggle for power.

Thoughts on plot and character in Brother Karamozov

Sorry for lag of several days, but I've been (re)reading Dostoyevsky's 1880 (and final) novel, The Brothers Karamozov (Pevear-Volokhonsk7 tr.); I won't say it's an easy read, but as you get deeper into the first section the characters become more clear and distinct - and the plot doesn't really pick up until book 2, about 100 pp in. Overall, despite some highly dramatic scenes, it's closer to a novel of character than to a novel of action - somewhat atypical for FD (C&P, for ex., gets the bone into the throat right away, w/ the murder of the pawnbroker). Obvious the central characters are the 3 brothers. We get in the first section a clear delineation of the character of the oldest brother, Dmitri - wild, impulsive, abusive, a man of extremes, the exact counterpart to his father, Fyodor (interesting choice of first name on FD's part); we also get a lot of info about the youngest brother (Dmitri is half-bro to the other 2), Alyosha, serious, sensitive, deeply religious, reliable - the opposite from Dmitri and Fy. We know less about the middle son, Ivan, who seems to be the most intellectual and seems on a course to leave the family and head for Moscow (that may change). The novel, at least from the outset, is about a complex series of rivalries among the brothers and the (widowed) father for the love of two woman - Katenka and Grushenka - w/ Dmitri in love with both and competing w/ father re G. and w/ Ivan re K - and with Alyosha lost in the middle, trying to make peace among all of them. There are many intimations of the violence that we know will erupt later in the novel. As far as I can tell, FD was weak on development of women characters; his female characters are for the most part symbols, often of innocence and penitence. The male characters are by far more vivid and perplexing - going all the way back to the Underground Man, the Idiot, and esp C&P; the Devils is really his novel of ideas and politics. Overall, the scene that in each reading has gotten to me the most is when Alyosha sees the young boy being threatened and bullied by his classmates - A intervenes to protect the young boy, but the boy fights off A as well. Later, A visits the household where the boy lives in abject poverty - a truly sad scene on every measure and indictment of a society w/ no social structures or significant aid for the poor and the ill.