The Mysteries of Pittsburgh - Michael Chabon (1988)

A book that should be mandatory reading for aspiring writers, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh is a testament to the fact that good writing is something that requires practice, effort and, perhaps even, a little maturity. Chabon's first book, started when he was just 21 is so blindingly inferior to his better efforts that only my continued astonishment at its awfulness kept me reading to the end.

Coming across as part-autobiographical and part-wish-fulfillment fantasy, the plot centres around, Art Bechstein, a directionless, colourless university graduate with an unlikely family background - he's the son of a Jewish money launderer working for the mob. Meeting two alluring and attractive students at the University Library, Arthur and the improbably named Phlox, Art bounces back and forth between the two and enters into the constellation of characters that surround them, and crosses orbits, catastrophically, with Cleveland, a highly-literate biker with criminal ambitions. The problems, aside from Art's blank nothingness, begin with the fact that neither Phlox or Arthur are very compelling characters. Neither are their respective worlds very glamarous or exciting. So it's not just a little difficult to understand Art's enchantment. In fact, it's downright irritating and hints at a lack of experience on Chabon's part which feels embarrassingly revealing. As if to compensate, the Cleveland character tries to inject a little excitement and weight into the narrative by using his connection to Art to get himself a gig as a jewel-thief. Overly ambitious and careless, Cleveland draws down the wrath of Papa Bechstein who promptly orders him to be disposed of. Cleveland dies in a melodramatic and overwrought set-piece centred around the 'Cloud Factory' - a mysterious, quasi-mythological factory which produces perfect puffs of smoke - clouds - in a secluded little Pittsburgh valley. Bleaurgh.

Still, worth reading for the reassuring message that, yes, you too can be a writer. Well, maybe. If you every just got on with it.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (2009) - Michael Chabon

A beautiful and at times moving and evocative homage to comic books. The opening chapters of the book, revealing details of Joseph Kavalier's study of escapology and his eventual escape from prague in a large coffin containing the actual-factual Golem, are spellbinding. The atmosphere of simultaneous dread and hope that Chabon manages to sustain through this thread is as thrilling as anything I've seen in the cinema, and the image of the Golem, in fact the very idea of the Golem, lingers and persists through the course of the entire novel. The simple introduction of this piece of Jewish folklore, so obvious and natural once Chabon has done it, serves to link the notion of the superhero to a series of fundamental human desires and dreams and primes the reader for what's to come.

Despite its moments of brilliance the novel doesn't quite hang together in my opinion, becoming increasingly sketchy and unwieldy as the plot tries to find some kind of resolution. I wonder if, like a comic book series, any kind of ending would remain unsatisfactory. After having created such wonderful and engaging heroes it's impossible for the reader to imagine that their adventures could not carry on beyond the bounds of this story. The conclusion therefore feel a little forced ad clumsy to me. This narrative failing, if that's what I can call it, is mitigated by rich veins of characterisation which run through the book, as well as scenes which are so well-imagined that they feel both utterly real and yet also utterly thrilling. Due to my own personal (and especially romantic) interests I found the development of Sam Clay's character particularly engrossing, and the scenes between him and his wholly unbelievable suitor have an emotional veracity that's completely devastating.

There's a scene where Clay and the aforementioned love-interest, Bake (Tracy Bacon), make their way to the abandones remains of the New York World Fair and clamber inside the Perisphere - an Epcot like sphere containing a scale model of the city of the future [see pics of the real thing include in this post]. Chabon describes the intricate workings of the display as Bake and Clay gain entry through some sort of service hatch...describing them as the dernier cri of the art of clockwork machinery, finally...

"Sammy went over and stood beside Bacon for a moment. Then he eased himself down on the ground beside him. He folded an arm under his chest and, inclining his head slightly, squinted his eyes, trying to lose himself in the illusion of the model...he was a twentieth of an inch tall, zipping along an oceaninc highway in his little antigravity Skyflivver, straking past the silent faces of the aspiring silvery buildings. It was a perfect day in a perfect city. A double sunset flickered n the windows that threw shadows across the leafy square of the city. His fingertips were on fire.
"Ow!" Sammy said, dropping hislighter. "Ouch!"
Bacon let his own flame go out. "You have to kind of pad it with your necktie, dopey," he said. He grabbed Sammy's hand. "This the one?"
"Yeah," Sammy said. "The first two fingers. Oh. Okay."
They lay there for a few seconds in the dark, in the future, with Sammy sore fingertips in Tracy Bacon's mouth, listening to the fabulous clockwork of their hearts and lungs, and loving each other.

Okay, so I know it's bit hammy, but I'm normally starved for writing of this quality that includes any kind of man-on-man action (just to be a little crude so that things don't get too soppy). I know it's just a failure of imagination on my part, and that all great love-stories should have this effect on me, but gosh, sometimes this is just necessary.

There's an even better scene later:

"Sammy pursed his lips and allowed a long strand of saliva to dangle downward, tipped by a thick bubbled head. The bubble lowered itself like a spider until it hung just over Bacon's face..."Ew," said Bacon. He thrashed from side to side and struggled under the weight of Sammy on his wrists, while Sammy dangles the silvery thread over him again. Then, abruptly, Bacon stopped struggling. He looked at Sammy, level, calm, and with a dangerous glint in his eye; of course he could have freed himself easily...His look said so. He opened his mouth. The pearl of spit dangled. Sammy cut the thread."

Brilliant.

The novel's also interesting because of the way it highlights the fact that so many of America's most enduring myths, and the expression of those myths in new media (film/Hollywood, comics etc) were created by Jewish immigrants. Food for thought, no?

Basic Plot Summary to refresh my memory: Samule Clay awoken late one evening by the unexpected arrival of his Czech cousin, Joe Kavalier. After studying escapology in Prague, Joe manages to escape the Third Reich's clutches by being smuggled out of Prague in a coffin containting the Golem. A talented artists, Joe is quickly enlisted by Sammy in his plans to break into the burgeoning world of comic book [Superman having just recently appeared in the pages of Adventure Comcs]. With Joe's assistance Sammy manages to convince the vaguely sleazy boss at the novelty company he toils for to fund their foray into comic book adventures. Amazing Midget Radion Comics launches with the adventures of The Escapist, Kavalier and Clay's most successful creation, and finds almost immediate popularity and profitability. The fate of his family in Prague continues to gnaw away at Joe who channels his anger into the pages of the Escapist - superpowered nemesis of axis forces everywhere. Sammy and Joe earn unprecendented money, but their paltry salaries are dwarfed by the profits of their employers. Joe meets and falls in love with Rosa Parks, while Sammy stumbles into an unexpected romance with a handsome actor, Tracy Bacon. Joe manages to secure a place for his brother on a boat rescuing Jewish children from Europse. Boat is torpedoed by Germans. Joe enlists. Through a cruel twist of fate Sammy and Bake are arrested for lewd behaviour after a gay getaway is busted by the police. Humiliated and ashamed, Sammy breaks off his affair with Bake and marries Rosa in order to allow her to have Joe's baby. In another cruel twist of fate, Joe is stationed in Antarctica [The Arctic?] and narrowly survives the accidental gassing of his fellow soldiers before hunting down a German expedition consisting of a lone German scientist. Joe finally makes it back to NY, but hides out in the Empire State Building for 10 years before inadvertantly making contact with his family and meeting his son. Sammy becomes embroiled in the congress hearings into the morally dubious nature of comic books and is, in effect, outed on prime-time TV. Freed from pretences, Sammy kinda escapes his family and moves to LA, leaving Joe and Rosa to raise their son Tommy (named after Joe's dead brother). The End.

Wonder Boys (1995)

An immediately engaging and funny book following the trials of a ageing writer struggling (and failing) to finish his lon-awaited-for fourth novel over the course of a single weekend. The dramatis personae assembled for this farce include dead dog, a squished snake, Vietnamese Jews, the jacket Marilyn Monroe wore on the day she married Joe Dimaggio, a tuba, a sad transvestite and an endless assortment of oddballs.

Here's the synopsis from Wikipedia: Pittsburgh professor and author Grady Tripp is working on an unwieldy 2,611 page manuscript that is meant to be the follow-up to his successful, award-winning novel The Land Downstairs, that was published seven years earlier. On the eve of a college-sponsored writers and publishers weekend called WordFest, two monumental things happen to Tripp: his wife walks out on him, and he learns that his mistress, who is also the chancellor of the college, Sara Gaskell, is pregnant with his child. To top it all off, Tripp finds himself involved in a bizarre crime involving one of his students, an alienated young writer named James Leer. During a party, Leer shoots and kills the chancellor's dog and steals her husband's prized Marilyn Monroe collectible: the jacket worn by the starlet on her wedding day to Joe DiMaggio.

The book also includes what I find one of the more memorable names populating the fiction I've recently read: August Van Horn is the tragic writer of sci-fi novels who is revealed to have found some postumous popularity among at least three of the book's characters - functioning as a kind of Shibboleth actually. Dunno why such a hokey name has stuck with me (maybe it's actually got more to do with the narrative than the actual name).

Here's a fairly incisive passage from the New York Times review: Mr. Chabon is that rare thing, an intelligent lyrical writer. Because his comedy always reins in his romantic impulses, his work seems to reflect a nature that is at once passionate and satirical. The result is a tone of graceful melancholy punctuated by a gentle and humane good humor. Mr. Chabon's characters are certainly confused, but he never condescends to them. Grady Tripp is presented as a mass of contradictions, but Mr. Chabon doesn't think he's hapless and neither do we. Mr. Chabon is also wise enough to send himself up.

It was interesting to read this after reading The Yiddish Policeman's Union as there are many similarities, predominanty between the two lead characters. TYPU is a little (okay, a lot) more bleak though, I guess.

I love reading Chabon, while I'm reading him, but I'm never thrilled by the prospect of reading a new one. weird.