The Girls From the Five Great Valleys

The Girls From the Five Great Valleys / Elizabeth Savage
Amazon Encore, 2014, c1977.
224 p.


This is another title from the Nancy Pearl BookLust Rediscoveries series, and it is one that I really loved. It takes on the stories of five girls from midcentury Montana, and the way they progress through high school into a wider life, surrounded by small town social mores.

With five main characters, not all of them get equal billing; I felt that three characters -- Hilary, Doll, and Amelia -- got the most attention. But there is enough about all of them to make the reader interested in each one. This is definitely a book for the reader who loves character development and a way with language; there is not a lot of plot and what there is moves slowly, driven by characters. I thought it was a beautiful, thoughtful, and intriguing read.

The story begins with Hilary, and from there moves outward to her connections with the group of five girls that make up her circle of friends. There isn't necessarily a lot to connect them, except for propinquity and habit. I think anyone who grew up in a smaller town and experienced this kind of friendship will understand, and will also recognize the growing apart that occurs as people get older.

The ways in which the friendships are tested, and the girls each take their own directions into adulthood makes this a strong story. None have an entitled or easy road, but they go the way that their inclinations and circumstances lead. I actually found it powerful how Savage can take each character and make it clear what her ability and interest is, and then let the character follow it. I also enjoyed how the families of the five girls also have their own incidents and personalities. It all folds together very nicely into a complex and dimensional narrative.

There is darkness in the story, and hope, and surprise. I loved the ending, which made me reconsider the entire book (do not read it first!). The setting is also vividly evoked, becoming almost a character in its own right. I can't really give a plot summary, because, as I've mentioned, it's a sketchy "plot" -- if you're going to read this, you'll be looking more at the beautifully drawn characters and place.

This is another hit for me, a rediscovery I am so pleased to have made thanks to Nancy Pearl. 

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Further Reading:

This book reminds me in a quite vague and un-pindownable way of Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery. Not in the plot elements, as Anne is in the Maritimes 40years before the setting of this book, but in the way that a group of young women maintain friendships for this moment.



 

One Sweet Quarrel

One Sweet Quarrel / Deirdre McNamer
Amazon Encore, 2013, c1994.
314 p.

This is another of Nancy Pearl's Book Lust Rediscovery series; titles originally published between 1960-2000, and brought back into availability thanks to Nancy Pearl's efforts. 

This book tells the story of three very different siblings born near the turn of the 20th century: Carlton, Jerry, and Daisy Malone. Brought up in the Midwest, as adults they spread out. Jerry heads to Montana to homestead, and on the heels of his arrival he also finds himself a bride. Daisy tries her luck as a singer in Manhattan, eventually reuniting with Jerry in Montana. Neither of them is that keen on Carlton, who stayed behind at home and made money. 

The joy of the story is in the manner of telling. It goes back and forth, showing us these characters both old and young, told in letters and in regular narrative, moving between Montana and other possible lives. McNamer skims from moment to moment, filling in the colours of the story's outlines bit by bit. The story progresses, but as it does it also reflects and explains and explores the characters' thoughts and motives. It is a satisfying read, especially for the patient reader who loves a landscape and a history that are slowly expanded with each page.   

There is a restlessness to the main characters, whether that's to make something of themselves as performers, or to succeed at land speculation in the West. This energy moves the story, and leads to some of the more outlandish events, like the attempt to invigorate small Shelby, Montana by hosting a World Heavyweight Championship in 1923. (spoiler alert: things don't go quite as planned).

In between the various occurrences, though, there are many beautiful moments of connection, and some lovely writing. It never gets precious, rather, there is the saving grace of Midwest realism, leavened with wry humour. The plot points exist, but the characters drive the story. It was an enjoyable and thoughtful read, one I'd recommend to anyone interested in stories of the western experience. Or to those who love great settings and great characters. 

One of the parts I loved, was, of course, a Christmas scene. This is a quiet family Christmas; Jerry's family in Montana, who are broke, but seem to be enjoying their holiday nevertheless. 

There are four of them gathered around a table with a red cloth on it and a small roast duck at its center. It is Christmas 1919, the one they believe to be their last in Montana... There is a small tree over on the hutch -- the train brought a stack of them one day from the mountains -- and it is draped with chains of paper rings and topped with a battered angel. The bare electric bulb that hangs from the ceiling is dark. There are candles on the table and in one corner the kerosene light. The light is fluttering and warm on their faces...

They eat peach preserves sent by George and his wife in Seattle; wild rice from Aunt Mina and Uncle Charles in the Twin Cities; cheese from Vivian's mother; tinned crackers from Daisy Lou....

The presents were always opened Christmas Eve so the house would have a day's warmth in it and the children would sleep through the night. Such meager gifts this year. Everyone so broke. 

Maudie had yearned for a new doll with a nightgown and a traveling dress that she had seen in a neighbor's Sears catalogue. She got a small, cheaper one, and Vivian made all the clothes for it from scraps. She didn't like to sew, and it showed. There were signs of impatience on the little dresses, undone hems that made her ashamed when she saw them, though she had spent hours on the tiny scraps at night when she was half asleep.

Francis got a wooden replica of a World War airplane, made by Foster, a young guy who worked at the mercantile. Each child got an orange. And pencils from Daisy with their initials on them. And a one-dollar bill from their Uncle Carleton, which made the biggest impression of all and caused their parents to feel, for a bleak few moments, like bystanders.

The children got their mother a 1920 calendar from the mercantile. They had loved its size and color and had insisted on it, though Jerry had suggested a muffler instead. The calendar showed slim young women in fur coats, fur muffs, ice skating on a pond surrounded by pines. Thatched English cottages with chimney smoke like treble clefs. Lawns. Croquet. Parade horses with red plumes. A girl in a swing under a huge spreading maple, her blonde hair brushing the ground. 

Jerry got from the children and Vivian a small cardboard case to hold his pens and pencils and silver letter opener. 

Vivian's mother had sent handkerchiefs for everyone and a packet of well-wrapped fudge. Four pieces of it sat on a saucer like a prize.

This description reminded me of some of the Christmases in the Little House series, another western family making do. I thought this book was a great rediscovery, and I am so glad to have found it.

McGraw's Greensleeves

Greensleeves / Eloise Jarvis McGraw
Amazon Skyscape, 2015. (orig. pub. 1968).
334 p.

I picked up this book for two reasons: first, I've read McGraw's historical novel Mara Daughter of the Nile many times since I first discovered it back in my youth, and second, this has just been reissued thanks to Nancy Pearl and her Book Crush Rediscoveries project -- the teen version of her Book Lust Rediscoveries.  It has been impossible to find, so I was delighted to see it in her lineup. I've read and enjoyed so many of the Book Lust Rediscoveries, but this is the first one for "young readers" that I've picked up.

The main character, Shannon Lightley, is just 18, but she is very cosmopolitan, having travelled all over the world either with her actress mother or journalist father for most of her life (they are divorced). As the book opens, she is finishing high school in small town America, where she's been living for the past 2 1/2 years with her extremely normal aunt and uncle -- she wanted an American schooling and some stability. But she's found that it didn't agree with her, and now the only thing she feels is relief that high school is over -- and a complete lack of direction about what to do next.

She's about to give in and just go back to Europe like her father wants her to, but at the airport she just can't do it. She stays; luckily for her, her Uncle Frosty rescues her, takes her home, and finds some work for her to do for him. He's a lawyer, probating an excessively strange will, and wants her to check out the people named in the will and the possible circumstances that led to it. He intends her just to take a look around and maybe innocuously chat a bit, as a non-suspicious-looking young girl.

Shannon, however, goes all in: she gets herself a makeover, pretending to be Georgetta, a small town girl from the Midwest all new to the city; she gets a job at a diner across the road from the will-writer's former boarding house, and then moves right in to her old room. And begins to interact with all the persons of interest, finding out more about herself than about them in the process.

Of course there's a love story involved too. But of more interest, there's a safe suitor, and then one that is older and completely unsuitable -- the interesting thing is that Shannon allows herself to acknowledge the attraction between them (and try it out) without assuming that they are in love. It's something I don't see teen girls being allowed to do very often in fiction, especially not older fiction. I found it fascinating.

There are some drawbacks to my enjoyment of this one though; I know it's a period piece, but Shannon is 18, trying to decide if she wants to go to college or not, and is waitressing for the length of the summer and her undercover job. But when she finds true love, the educated boy worthy of her, in order for them to kiss and have a more serious relationship, they have to start talking marriage. Jarring to say the least! I understood Shannon's sense of being stifled and wanting more, especially in light of this taken-for-granted development.

But it is a delightful read, nonetheless. The period details make it just strange enough; Shannon's struggle to find her own way makes it current and relatable (even if her worries never have to do with having enough money for survival). I liked the physical details of clothing, hair, and domestic settings of all of the characters, and how those descriptions reflected their role and status. This is one of those familiar novels featuring young women who are both older and younger than their years, and very, very connected to art/drama/music and aesthetics in general. If I'd have discovered it when I was much younger, I think I probably would have loved it, and made it a reread. As it is, I appreciated it and enjoyed it, but it will never be as strongly embedded in my bookish heart as my other McGraw favourite, Mara, Daughter of the Nile is.


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Further Reading:

Madeleine L'Engle's Camilla reminds me of this novel, even if it is set across the country in New York. Camilla is fifteen, and is experiencing her parent's breakup, and is discovering that she has to leave childhood behind and become a grownup. While she is nowhere near as self-directing as Shannon Lightley, the story is all about her finding a way forward, and also includes various unlikable men who drive the action. And lots of deep thoughts.

Sari Wilson's forthcoming Girl Through Glass features Mira, a very young ballet dancer in New York City, who is suffering from her parents' divorce, and creates a controlled dance world for herself, full of secrets. She also finds an unsuitable older man, who changes her life path in unexpected ways. While this one is set more recently than the other two I've mentioned -- starting in 1977 when Mira is a girl, and flipping back and forth between her childhood and her contemporary life as a dance historian -- it has the same feeling of young artsy girl with troubled home life finding a future, and discovering who she really is. It just takes Mira a little longer to do so.

One Minus One

One Minus One / Ruth Doan MacDougall
AmazonEncore, 2013, c1971.
160 p.

Emily Bean is a recent divorcée, a high school English teacher, and a real mess. It's 1969, but Emily is not by any means an independent woman. She spends this book falling into a quick rebound fling with a local radio announcer, then into a more serious affair with her coworker, the bearded Cliff, all the while pining terribly for her lost husband.

Emily's journey is a difficult emotional one; her life has changed from the trajectory she expected it to take, and she is struggling to find a way forward. She doesn't have the help of a society that supports an independent path -- women's lib is just on the horizon, and not something she's been acquainted with in any case. She was completely identified with her role as wife and fully expected it to continue, and is now drifting, at loose ends, trying to move past her emotional loss (and not very successfully).

There's not too much plot here...Emily finds a new job, a couple of new boyfriends, goes home on the holidays, and thinks a lot. But the person she is at the end of the book is quite a distance away from the person who started out on this path. The story is told in a flat style that belies some of the violence and sexual threat that Emily encounters, and reflects her emotional distance from her experiences. She seems to let things happen to her rather than make them happen, but slowly various events cause her to act with some agency in her own life. At the end of the book she has to assert her own desires, to speak up, even while she is still floundering for solid ground. We don't really find out how things turn out for Emily, but there is a glimpse of a better life ahead -- just a glimpse, but enough to keep her on our minds after the book has ended.

This is one of the titles in Nancy Pearl's Book Lust Rediscovery Series, and I never would have picked it up otherwise. I probably wouldn't have stuck with it otherwise, either, but I knew that there must be something to it to make it into this reprint series. Pearl says in the intro that it is character that is her defining interest in this book -- I can see why, as it is all about Emily and her interior journey. But for me, this book was so, so, so 70s that it was almost painful.

Emily's behaviours, her acceptance of screwed-up relationship dynamics, her close call with sexual violence, her passivity, her weird dependence on others, her judgements of roomates and others who aren't partnered up, and the general assumption that Emily and her two roomates are only biding time teaching until they can get a husband -- well. I had a hard time *enjoying* this book. I appreciated what MacDougall was trying to do, and recognize that in itself, the book succeeds at describing the emotional journey which it aims to illuminate. It just was not the book for me. Still, I am finding this reprint series really engaging, and it is certainly exposing me to books I wouldn't have heard of otherwise. There are a few more of these titles that I enjoyed more than this book, and I'll be sharing those soon.

After Life

After Life / Rhian Ellis
AmazonEncore, 2013, c2000.
310 p.

Another selection from Nancy Pearl's Book Lust Rediscoveries series, this is most suitable for RIP reading season!

It features a fictional setting drawn from the real life Lily Dale, a town of spiritualists and mediums. I've read about Lily Dale so was really intrigued by the premise of this novel: Naomi Ash and her mother Patsy (aka Madame Galina Ash) are only partially fake mediums and clairvoyants, and they live in Train Line, a town of spiritualists.

This book also takes its place in the firmament of great first lines:

"First, I had to get his body into the boat."

After this humdinger of a beginning, we go back to discover how and why Naomi is trying to dispose of a body. It's the 'why' of this murder that keeps us reading, trying to discover what could have happened to cause this to happen to Naomi and Peter, her sometime boyfriend.

Naomi is a complicated character. Stolid, aching for security, and rather surprised by her own mediumistic talent that appears in her late teens, she is always unsettled and uncertain of her place in life. She and her mother have been on their own for a long, long time -- they lived with Naomi's grandparents in New Orleans for much of her youth, but left town to strike out on their own after her grandmother died, ending up in Train Line.

At the time that the book opens, Naomi is living in a small apartment, with roommates, rather than with her mother. Her day job is maintaining the spiritualist community's library, and she also works as an after-school babysitter for a quiet, awkward child, a relationship that is extremely important to her.

There are a couple of references to librarians and library work in this novel, which of course I notice. One line that amused me was Naomi talking to Officer Peterson, who is investigating the discovery of a body:

He asked me what my job entailed, exactly, and said that a couple of people had told him that I might be a good person to talk to. Was it true that I saw a lot of the people who came through Train Line?
"Yes, I guess so. Though I don't necessarily look at them."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I"m a librarian. I mostly only notice people who annoy me."

In every way, Naomi is very self-contained, and is holding in a lot of trauma and secrets. She is a difficult character, lacking social connections, disliking having to take the time to care about her appearance, mostly numb to feeling. She is not motivated to achieve anything or develop any particular skills or place for herself in the world. And yet the reader does feel empathy for her by the end.

She seems to have locked away most of her emotion around the death that is shared in the first few pages, but when a contractor starts development across the lake and uncovers a body -- the one she buried some years ago -- everything starts up again. She begins to become slightly unhinged as this discovery results in some suspicion falling on her, causing her relationship with the girl she babysits to be summarily discontinued. Her mother (unaware of Naomi's concerns) is also trying to use this discovery to restart her local radio show, and awkwardly for Naomi, she wants her help.

This book was fascinating in its depiction of a dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship that is not all good or all bad. There is still connection, but it's clear there is a fault line there, and after reading the last few chapters of this book I wondered how far Naomi had gone to protect her secrets.

Ellis is also wonderful at creating atmosphere, whether in New Orleans at the beginning and end of the book, or Train Line in between. The story slowly surrounded me, like the fog on the cover, and kept me pondering the fine line between truth and deception long after I finished reading.

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One of the many things I enjoy about the Book Lust Rediscoveries titles are the forewords written by Nancy Pearl. In reading her introductory essay on After Life, not only did I get to hear a little bit about why she selected this book, and the reasons she thinks it is worth reading, I also discovered that Pearl collects quotes from her reading, like many of us do. I've kept a commonplace book myself for years and years, and just love gathering up the words that catch my attention.

When I read the following paragraph in the introduction to this book, it sounded oddly familiar... because I realized that I could say much the same thing!

The way an author uses language is always important to me in the books I choose to read. I realized a long time ago that, of all the books I've most enjoyed, the vast majority are characterized by their authors' ability to put words together in ways that surprise and enchant me, ways that cause me to look at the world as I never had before. Invariably, there are sentences and paragraphs in these books that I am compelled to read aloud to my husband (or whomever happens to be close by), post on the bulletin board in my office, and copy into the by now multi-volumed set of notebooks I have kept for years and years, which contain my favorite poems and lines from the books I've loved, to be read to myself when I need comforting or aloud, by my husband, to help me fall asleep.

This was a great book, one I really enjoyed, one that made me look closer. Great choice for a satisfying read -- and so nice to have a great book to follow up a read that wasn't so pleasant!

Cowboy & the Cossack

The Cowboy & The Cossack / Clair Huffaker; introduction by Nancy Pearl.
Las Vegas: Amazon Encore, 2012, c1973.
355 p.

This is one of Nancy Pearl's "Book Lust Rediscoveries" series, a collection of titles that I've been greatly enjoying. Through this project, Pearl hopes to reintroduce some of her favourite works of forgotten fiction from the years between 1960 and 2000.

The Cowboy and the Cossack is a book I would have been pretty unlikely to discover on my own. It's a Western, with a twist: it takes place in Russia.

 In 1880, a group of cowboys is delivering a herd of 500 longhorns to Siberia, and when they get there they find out that a similarly sized group of Cossacks will be accompanying them on their cross-country journey. There is instant distrust on both sides, but through the lengthy journey and having to back each other up against wolves, Imperial soldiers, Tartars, and the like, they come to an understanding of each other's culture and develop deep friendships. This may sound a bit Hallmarky, but it really isn't.

The writing is simple and straightforward but also philosophical, like many Westerns. It's a man's world and it's all about the male code, yet there is an appreciation for nature, for beauty and even poetry and music now and again. The narrator, Levi, is a young cowboy who idolizes his boss, Shad, and eventually also the Cossack leader Rostov, who seems to be a Russian counterpart to Shad. Through this cattle drive, Levi grows up, finally and completely, and much of the story deals with his coming of age. His innocence lends a freshness to the story and allows for  a clear presentation of the newness of Russia -- Levi is noticing everything. There is also a good amount of humour and pathos in this book, and it reads very quickly.

I enjoyed this and think that Huffaker has created a variety of characters who are fairly easy to keep straight -- and with 15 cowboys and the same number of Cossacks, it could have been very confusing. He includes characters who are Jewish, Black, and Native American, as well as the more usual cowboys, and the Russian characters reveal the distinctions in their culture as well. It was a really good read, and a reminder of the power of reading outside your usual genre.

In the introduction to this book, Pearl talks a little about genre reading, and how, when she asks her students what genres they tend to read, NOBODY ever answers 'Westerns'. This made me think a bit -- I haven't read many Westerns in the last few years, but as a young teen I devoured all of the multitude of Louis L'Amour titles that my Dad owned. And I read a few Zane Grey and some really dated popular titles by forgettable writers from the early part of the century. So I went into this novel curious as to how I'd like it. Fortunately, I really liked it.

I read this just before going on my summer holidays so I added some Zane Gray to my holiday reading -- a reread and some new titles, which I'll be talking about soon. I still plan on reading a few of Pearl's own suggestions for readalikes, most particularly Lonesome Dove, which I have never read. She also suggests a similar kind of read, Paulette Jiles' The Colour of Lightning. I haven't read that one yet either! I've noticed a resurgence in a modern version of the Western lately, some examples being The Sisters Brothers, In Calamity's Wake, or The Outlander. If anyone else has any suggestions, please pass them on -- I'm kind of on a Western kick right now ;)

And I'd love to ask my own blog readers: what genre do you usually gravitate toward? Do you read Westerns?

Last Night at the Ritz

The Last Night at the Ritz / Elizabeth Savage
Las Vegas: Amazon Publishing, 2012, c1973.
196 p.

This is the second Book Lust Rediscoveries title, selected by Nancy Pearl, that I've finished. I enjoyed it quite a lot -- it was short and snappy, with a fascinating narrator. In her introduction, Pearl discusses the appeal of the writing, suggesting that "a great deal of its charm and memorableness comes from all the supremely quotable lines in it." There are so many gems, many of which, however, work best in context. Still, there is the much quoted line below which I also love:

“It is very dangerous to get caught without something to read.”

The introductions to these books have thus far not been entirely about the actual text, but rather, about the reading experience. Pearl mentions how and why she discovered the title, what it means to her, what kind of readerly connections and/or encounters she's had in relation to the book, the social context of the story, and so on. Of course, she also highlights why it is that she's chosen it for republication. I'm finding these essays as interesting as the actual books, and they've made me think about how I share what I read as well. (and have I mentioned how charming I find the logo on the front of each book? It's so cute)

But on to my thoughts on this book: The main character (our narrator) is unnamed. As the book opens, she is meeting her old college friend Gay, Gay's husband Len, and an old flame, Wes, at the Ritz-Carlton in Boston for one last dinner before...well, before something that she skirts around and refers to obliquely until the end of the book.

We aren't quite sure what the issue is that she is facing, other than that is it a serious medical event, but the outcome is by no means certain. Though the story takes place over two days, through the narrative discursions we become familiar with our narrator's long friendship with Gay and all that they've experienced together since they bonded as best friends in college. We learn about the past 25 years, including secrets and lies, desires and loathings, and events both happy and tragic. It's nothing startling, stylistically, but the narrator has a wonderful voice (despite being drunk most of the time) and the habit of only telling you half a story then circling back to it later, a fine way to hold the interest of a reader. The tone is flippant, natural, witty, and very much of its time (set in late 60's).

Our narrator is the wilder, more exuberant half of the pair, while Gay (despite her name) is quite proper and often disapproving. Together, they are a matched set. About Gay, the narrator says:

"Gay's never approved of me. But she's always loved me. The two things don't have as much to do with one another as some people think."

The setting is also fascinating -- I felt like I'd taken a brief tour of Boston and environs by the time I'd done, and thought that the characters inhabited their surroundings thoroughly. Actually, at times I was a little taken aback by these adults getting so drunk and acting so obnoxiously, wandering through parks at night and causing a fuss -- something I associate with early adolescence! But the story appealed to me. I enjoy this kind of interior focus, and having the main character tell us all about both what is happening and what has happened was fine with me.

This isn't the usual kind of book I read -- in its being American mid-century, I mean. So it was an interesting and stimulating read, that was also quite unexpected and not something that had been on my TBR. Overall, a satisfying find.

A Gay & Melancholy Sound

A Gay & Melancholy Sound / Merle Miller; intro by Nancy Pearl.
AmazonEncore, 2011, c1961.
583 p.

This is the first book in the Book Lust Rediscoveries series, selected and introduced by celebrity librarian Nancy Pearl. I bought myself a copy because I am very interested in the whole idea of a series of "Rediscovered" novels that one (admittedly influential) librarian can bring from out-of-print to accessible again.

With this series, she is reanimating some of her favourite novels which were published "between 1960-2000". I'm not sure why the limitation, but there doesn't seem to be a problem finding titles so far! Each one starts with an introductory essay about the book, and about why she selected it for the series. This first book of the project, described as her favourite book, is a huge one... a lengthy tale of one man's life. About this title, she says:


Miller’s novel never feels dated or awkward: there’s no strong whiff of the long-dead past emanating from its pages. Indeed, there’s enough snark, emotional pain, and irony to satisfy even the most demanding twenty-first-century reader.
(read the entire introduction here)

This is the life story of Joshua Bland, a precocious child who now feels, as an adult, that he lives up to his name. His early promise has led to nothing but self-loathing and alienation from his life experience. He has had exciting, dangerous, entertaining, intriguing experiences -- but has not been able to feel any connection or  emotional satisfaction from them. He is a character who is hard to love; in fact, he can't even love himself. But notwithstanding his behaviour, I was caught up in his story very quickly, wanting to learn all the details of who he was and why he'd turned out this way.

Being a novel from mid-century, of course the mother comes in for a lot of blame. Joshua's mother drives his quiet, kind father away with her pretensions and demands, and his stepfather is a flashy, demanding man who   rests all his hope of fame and fortune on the young Joshua's head. He forces Joshua to take part in a nationwide trivia competition, in which Joshua's nerves overtake him and he fails miserably. This failure shapes him. His mother and stepfather are ashamed and embarrassed, and seem to care more about their status than his feelings about it. The whole small town he lives in had prepared a celebration which of course now fizzles out, and Joshua's abject failure to bring any notice to them turns him from a favoured child to a pariah of sorts.

This key event is referred to by the adult Bland a few different times, and clearly sets the stage for his self-loathing. But as he grows up and continues to stumble through life, we see that his inability to accept himself is causing him great difficulty. His marriages are rocky despite his initial belief in the relationship; he can't behave kindly or normally, and in one case behaves so reprehensibly that I was disgusted and infuriated.

The book's conceit is that Joshua is recording his story, trying not to make excuses for himself, in the hours before he makes a final decision about the value of his life. At some points he is very much justifying himself, but even then he undercuts our pity by presenting himself in the worst possible light. He judges himself harshly and is snarky and cruel both as a defense and in the belief that he is ultimately unlovable anyhow.

I don't want to write a review as long as the book, so I'll simply say that this very miserable character is somehow written with sympathy -- in one way reading this feels like watching a train wreck, but one in which you feel sorry for the inevitable crash you see coming. He is a nasty man, but not really, not underneath; there is that kernel of good, of hope and optimism, that he refuses to accept, or to reveal only to be crushed again. It's said that cynicism is disappointed idealism, and perhaps that's one  part of Bland's character. His cynicism is overwhelming, washing him out to sea without any kind of life preserver to hold to. He's driven away anyone who might have helped him, and feels a perverse satisfaction in 'proving' his anticipated isolation. He's a sad man, brilliantly written. Although this a long tale, I felt that the energy of the story carried a reader quickly through all 584 pages, all the way to the sad, disintegrating conclusion. I found it a powerful read, a moving story of emotional damage and self-sabotage, interspersed with wit, cleverness and longing.