“What Now?” by Ann Patchett

Before I got started reading Ann Patchett's most recent novel, Tom Lake, I glanced at the list of her other publications and noticed I had already read all but three. Just three! Totally do-able. So I ordered copies of them, and the completist in me rejoiced. 

Once my three new books arrived, I chose to read What Now? first. This is partly because it is just a little slip of a book (112 small pages with huge print!) but it is also because I really love Ann Patchett's nonfiction, maybe even more than her novels. Or, definitely more than some of her novels, and at least as much as my favorites. I have never found fault with Patchett's writing, but she is really good at writing about reality.

It's not surprising that this book is teeny tiny, because it basically comprises a commencement address Patchett gave at her alma mater, Sarah Lawrence, in 2006. (I have just realized I have absolutely no memory of any speakers at my college graduation. I feel sure none of them were remotely as interesting, or as famous, as Patchett.)

As someone who has already found a path in life that I am happy with, this book was not something that deeply inspired me, but it was encouraging and uplifting and fun to read. It would make a nice gift for a graduate (along with a lovely check, please). The next time you are tempted to purchase yet another commencement copy of Dr Seuss's Oh The Places You'll Go, you ought to opt for What Now? instead.

I do have one tiny complaint about the book. The text is interspersed with black and white photos, all in the same vein as the one on the cover (people on paths, in mazes, leaving footprints in sand, trying to decide which direction to go), but the placement of these photos was a bit distracting. I wish they had been more like punctuation than interruption.

“Tom Lake” by Ann Patchett

I just finished reading Ann Patchett's pandemic project, which causes my own (paint-by-number) to pale in comparison. (Actually I'm not sure that Patchett really wrote this book during lockdown, but it was partially set then.) 

First, I just want to ask: How in the world did Ann Patchett publish a new book and I had no idea it was coming? I didn't even hear a peep about it before I saw it on the shelf at Target two weeks ago. I must be reading the wrong news. Although I did feel a bit better when I saw it was only released on August 1st, so it's not as if it's been out there for months. 

I'll tell you a secret, though. I didn't buy it when I saw it at Target. You know why? I don't like the dust jacket. It looks so shiny and cheap! I thought surely it was just the shiny cheap Target version and figured I would find a nicer one to buy online. But nope, this is it. Shiny and cheap. But you know what they say about books and their covers, and that's, like, a thousand percent true here.

Because this book is super awesome. I enjoyed reading it so, so much. It tells the story of Lara (formerly Laura) Kenison, one-time ingenue who starred in a famous movie but ended up finding her happiness and her life on a cherry farm in Michigan. During the summer of 2020, when all three of her twenty-something daughters have come home to weather out the pandemic and help with the harvest, Lara finds herself telling them of that long-ago summer at Tom Lake when she played Emily in a summer stock production of Our Town. And whereas the story of that summer alone could have been a novel, here is where Ann Patchett reveals her genius: what might have been melodramatic or cloying if told on its own becomes so much more when viewed through the hazy lens of time and nostalgia. It's a gripping story, and as I read I almost felt like I was Lara's fourth daughter. I was definitely absorbed by this book, which Sam can attest to after seeing me wander around the house with it glued to my face. 

SO here's something really weird. You know that I tend to read every single word in a book--especially books I really like--from the Advance Praise to the author's bio. So of course I noticed that Patchett's author photo in this book appears to have been taken in her bookstore, as do some of her previous author photos, but in this one I can see several stacks of multiple copies of the same book (not uncommon with new bestsellers in bookstores). One of these looked so familiar to me--cream colored book, dark frame on the spine--so much so that I thought for sure I owned a copy of it. I literally scanned all my bookshelves looking for it, only to discover that no, I do not have a copy of this book, although Wicked and The Mysterious Benedict Society are probably the reasons I found it familiar-seeming. I figured that I needed to make like Elsa and let it go. BUT as I was scanning the interwebs just now to make SURE there isn't a less shiny and more luxurious-looking version of Tom Lake, I FIGURED IT OUT. It's Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (which I don't have a copy of, but probably should). It's weird to me that that book just popped up in relation to Tom Lake. I wonder if there are other weirdos like me who had to know what book that was. And now they're inextricably linked. Or maybe it was just the Pulitzer thing.

The staycation continues! Well, for a few more hours, anyway . . .

“The Magician’s Assistant” by Ann Patchett

I'm working on the next inductee to my "I've Read All Her Books" group. This one takes a little more effort than the last one, considering Patchett has had more than three times the number of Fuller's books published. But, nine down and four to go! And here's a little sampling of how this one went: 

P38… this hasn’t grabbed me yet. But it’s Ann Patchett. I’ll keep going. 

P299… how did I get so close to the end?

P357… The end? How could that be the end?? I hated the end. What a letdown. How anticlimactic. 

Overall (like probably from pages 39 to 356) it was good. It was Ann Patchett and her writing is always brilliant. I can even forgive the ending. But this won’t rank among my favorites of hers. Although it’s possible it will surprise me and stick with me. Those were some pretty vivid characters. 

This is the story of Sabine Parsifal, who has spent most of her adult life in unrequited love with the magician she assists. She is actually married to the magician, and he does love her in his own way, but for him the marriage is really only a way to make sure she can inherit his wealth after he dies, since he has no other family. (Although, as very few magicians can actually make a living by performing, Parsifal and his wife are financially supported by the two rug stores he owns and runs.) The story takes place very soon after Parsifal dies of an aneurysm (though if the aneurysm hadn't gotten him, the AIDS would have). And very soon after that, Sabine finds out that Parsifal's family didn't actually die in a car wreck decades ago. They're alive and well in Nebraska. (Well, most of them are, anyway.) What follows is an evocative account of the relationships formed between Sabine and her newly-discovered family members. 

It seems like I ought to have a paragraph, or at least a sentence, to pithily wrap up this post, but I can't think of anything else to say, and really--how fitting if this review feels unfinished as it ends. Now you know how I feel. 

"Commonwealth" by Ann Patchett

I love a book I can sink into, with a deep velvety story and writing so good you hardly even notice it. 

Commonwealth, I think, is slightly autobiographical. I know from reading Patchett's non-fiction that she lived in California with her cop dad and beautiful mother until her parents split up and she moved a couple thousand miles away with her new stepfamily. That may be where the similarity between the story and her life ends, but it's enough to bring an immediacy or a vibrance to the book. 

The story centers on Franny (who I almost called Ann! Oops!) and her relationships with her sister and stepsiblings, though more tangential bonds are also explored. The plot is one I'm having real trouble with describing concisely and I feel like all I can say is that throughout the book we see the children grow and change, and their interactions grow and change along with them. What I most want to remember about this book, though, is how much I enjoyed the reading experience.

"These Precious Days" by Ann Patchett

I could have sworn that I wrote a blog post about this book! But I see now that I started a draft and never wrote anything. And now, whatever I might have said three weeks ago is gone into the void. 

What remains is that I love Ann Patchett's writing. And especially after having read a couple of her non-fiction collections of essays, I feel like she is my friend. I know she's not, and that this is a completely one-way street, but I feel like I know Ann, and like her, and would enjoy spending time with her. 

"Bel Canto" by Ann Patchett

I spent most of this book not enjoying myself. Which is odd, because (as I'm sure I've mentioned before) I really like Ann Patchett's writing. I think I didn't like the book even before I started reading it, just based on the premise: the guests at a fancy party in a nameless South American country are taken hostage at the home of the vice president. All of the women and children are allowed to leave the next morning, with the exception of the famous and beautiful opera singer, Roxane Coss, who is retained by the terrorists as a bargaining chip. And most of the book is exhausting, as the story drags by in palpable boredom and minutiae.  

But all of a sudden, twenty pages from the end, I was surprised by the realization of what a beautiful book it had been all along. And all of a sudden, the story that had been occurring at a snail's pace was moving forward at breakneck speed. And all of a sudden, the illusion of security that I had been lulled into was shattered. The beautiful future that I had come to trust in was revealed for the impossible fantasy it always had been, though I had failed to recognize it. And my faith in Ann Patchett was restored. 

"This is the Story of a Happy Marriage" by Ann Patchett

I like to come to a book with a blank slate: no preconceived notions, no spoilers, no expectations. That statement is completely true. But it is also true that I like to read books by authors whose previous works I have appreciated, or books that Sam recommends to me, or books that my mom does not recommend to me . . . which kind of means that I do like to have preconceived notions and expectations about my future reads. This sounds contradictory, but it all makes sense together when you think about it this way: I don't want to know about the plot or characters ahead of time, but I do want to know that I'm likely to enjoy the book. 

Funny thing is, sometimes coming to a book with no preconceived notions means the book turns out to be something completely different from what I thought it would be. That happened to me with This is the Story of a Happy Marriage. I did expect a memoir-style book rather than fiction (although the possibility of fiction did cross my mind), so that wasn't the issue; where the incongruity lay was in the fact that I actually thought the book would be about marriage. When I saw the title listed inside the front cover of The Dutch House, I thought, Oh how sweet, Ann Patchett has had a happy marriage like mine, and she's written a book about it. So of course I wanted to read it, because all happy marriages are alike, right? So surely reading this book would be like looking in a mirror and seeing me and Sam reflected back. 

Surprise! This is a book of short stories, and the title comes from just one of them. Throughout most of the book, marriage is barely mentioned. In fact, after the first few stories I started to wonder whether the titular "happy marriage" referred to Patchett's relationship to writing. (I still think that's a plausible interpretation.) But this surprise was quickly revealed to not be a disappointing one, because I enjoyed reading this book so much. Most of it comprises essays and articles that Patchett wrote for various magazines over the years, and it's such a treat to read them all together like this, because I never would have come across so many of them on my own. 

And you'll never believe this. When my copy of this book arrived, Sam said, "But I already gave you that book for Christmas!" and after a little bit of "no you didn't" and "yes I did" we discovered that Sam was right. (What more can you expect from a literary amnesiac?) Ah, well. It's a really good book and it deserved to be bought twice. 

"The Dutch House" by Ann Patchett

Have I come to expect too much of my favorite authors? First Geraldine Brooks, and now Ann Patchett. Up until now, I have really loved every book I've read by Ann Patchett (although I admit that has only added up to three--two novels and one work of non-fiction--of her fifteen). 

Don't get me wrong--I'm definitely not saying I did not like The Dutch House. It's a book you can sink into. The writing was impeccable. The characters were interesting and well-developed. The story was generally engaging. I was just . . . prepared to be amazed, and in the end I was merely entertained. It's a solid, good read, but not transcendent. 

Sam (who read this book a few months back) and I discussed our thoughts and he pointed out that too much happens at the end, in a way that seems quite rushed, and I agree with him. It may be a satisfying ending in some ways, but it also had a vibe of, "and then this happened and then this happened and then this happened the end." 

Sorry, Ann! I still want to visit Parnassus Books someday and hang out with you. 

"State of Wonder" by Ann Patchett

I wasn't especially interested in the subject matter here (scientists in the Amazon) but my opinion of Patchett's writing is high enough that I was able to overcome my distaste for the bugs and the humidity and the mud of the jungle. And I was not disappointed.

Dr Annick Swenson has spent years researching the fertility of the Lakashi tribe in Brazil. The pharmaceutical company that employs her sends Dr Anders Eckman to get an update from the uncommunicative Swenson . . . and he ends up dead. Now it's up to his coworker, Dr Marina Singh, to find out what is going on. (And by the way, this is much less of a murder mystery/detective novel than my synopsis makes it sound; it trends more towards The Poisonwood Bible without missionaries.)

Though I did find myself quite thankful that the plot didn't actually move to the jungle until about halfway through the book, once "we" got there, it wasn't as bad as I expected. I suppose my indifference to the jungle is due in part to its strangeness to me--it seems too foreign for me to relate--but it's also in large part because the thought of being there damages my pride. I know that I would not handle the jungle well. I would not be capable and tenacious. I would not adapt and rise to the occasion. I would wilt and be discouraged and cry. I would be crabby and irritable and a nightmare to be around. But Patchett, though her writing made the setting feel real and immediate, magically allowed me to read about the jungle without feeling like I was suffering for it. I didn't feel detached from the story, but somehow it managed to not subject me to discomfort. And, just as I found in Run, there were surprises and plot twists that crept up and were suddenly just THERE without manipulating my emotions or annoying me with obviousness. Some scenes (especially one towards the end of chapter 8) were so powerful that I had to put the book down and take a deep breath before going on. I am amazed at Patchett's ability to convey such intensity while remaining relatively subtle and understated.

Dark and Light

I'm getting near the end of my Have Read, Must Blog list (hooray!), but it is becoming a stretch to find a theme between the remaining books. The best I can do for six of them is to highlight their contrast.

First, from the shadows.

The unquestionably dark: The Road by Cormack McCarthy, full of post-apocalyptic dirt and horror. It's the story of a father and son's grueling journey in search of safety in a world where they're not even sure it exists anymore. It's horrible and hopeless and sad, but also compelling and strong.

The dark and beautiful: Truth & Beauty: A Friendship by Ann Patchett. I was first introduced to Patchett's excellent writing in her novel Run. T&B is non-fiction about her relationship with an amazing, larger-than-life, self-destructive friend. I bought it because I loved the cover and because I love Patchett's writing, even though the concept of the book was not overly appealing to me. Luckily for me it turned out to be quite engaging. And, as I expected, very well written.

The darkly humorous: Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem. I really enjoyed reading this book, even if the protagonist--part small-time thug, part detective . . . with Tourette's--seemed so odd that I'm not sure I was ever really able to identify with him. He was certainly unique, anyway. And I'm excited about this!

And now, in the sunshine:

The Cat-Nappers by P G Wodehouse, which is nothing if not silly and tongue-in-cheek. Though if you've read any Jeeves and Wooster books, this is exactly what you might expect (along with a few high-jinks, many complications, and a misunderstanding or two). This is the sort of book to read in one rainy afternoon of house-sitting.

The Darling Buds of May by H E Bates. This book has a bright and cheerful tone with an undercurrent of earthiness. It tells the story of the carefree, easy-going Larkin family, eternal optimists and general free spirits, and the way they convert an uptight, timid tax clerk to their way of life. I'd never heard of this book (nor the early-90s TV series it sparked, which starred Catherine Zeta-Jones!) until Sam told me about it: he loves the family he grew up in, but if he were forced to choose a different one, he would have chosen the Larkins.

A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. This was a broad overview of science through the ages--kind of gossipy, and more about the scientists and their rivalries than about the science itself-- but I was really disappointed in my inability to retain information from this book. I mean, just after I'd finished reading the physics section I was asked to provide the answer to a crossword clue about the scientist who first proposed the currently understood atomic model, and I drew a complete blank. I want to remember EVERYTHING! But alas, that is not what fortune has in store for The Literary Amnesiac. 

"Run" by Ann Patchett

I think this was another one from the "100 Most Read Books" list. It's definitely a good one. I'm not marking it a "must read," but it is a close runner-up.

This is one of those rare books that starts strong and keeps that pace. I liked the first line: "Bernadette had been dead two weeks when her sisters showed up in Doyle's living room asking for the statue back." That grabbed me right away and drew me into the story, as any good first line should.

The title of the book was well-chosen. It was interesting to see how that word fit into the lives of so many of the characters. It was most obvious with Kenya and her great talent for running, and more subtle for the others: Sullivan running from his problems in Africa; Tip running down his own path even though his father had other hopes for him; Doyle running for office (though this was in the past) and hoping his sons would follow in his footsteps; the pace of the book; and even, if I stretch it a little too far, Tennessee getting run over.

I loved when a big revelation was coming and one tiny clue made me realize the answer a paragraph or two before it was spelled out, like when Tennessee "reached into her own hair and pulled on one of her little braids." That was one of those moments that caused everything to shift so that something previously unthought of came into focus. Or earlier in the book, when small hints were doled out bit by bit, like "Teddy had always been her favorite of the two brothers" or "Kendra was never allowed to speak to the Doyles," each hint reminding me there was a little mystery to figure out, until I was sure before the truth was revealed.

My favorite character was Kenya. She was so impressively self-sufficient and self-possessed--qualities admirable (and rare) enough in an adult, but made all the more amazing when found in an eleven-year-old.

I think Anne would find the priest's philosophy on what does (or doesn't) follow death interesting. After a lifetime of encouraging others to "constantly strain forward to see the power and the glory that was waiting up ahead," he had come to wonder whether "God may well have been life itself," and we ought to "elevate the present to a state of the divine . . . How wrongheaded it seemed now to think that the thrill of heartbeat and breath were just a stepping stone to something greater . . . Life itself had been holy."

At the top of this post I'm actually displaying cover art that does not match the copy I read, because I like it so much better than the boring mottled blue one I have in hand. See?