The Emperor of Ocean Park

I picked up The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter at a used book sale, because it made quite a splash when it came out in 2002. And it was a story full of intrigue and suspense, and even action . . . but I thought it could have been told in about half as many pages. Most of the book moved at a slow pace. It would just start to take off with some bit of action or a new revelation, and then the next chapter got bogged down in back story.

Talcott Garland, who goes by the Dostoyevsky-inspired nickname Misha, has just learned of his father's death. His father, known even to his children as The Judge, nearly landed a seat on the supreme court bench, but was marred by scandal during his confirmation hearings. Misha's sister is convinced the judge was murdered and is conferring with conspiracy theorists over the internet. Meanwhile, Misha's shifty Uncle Jack is pressuring him to uncover The Judge's "arrangements." Chess pawns are mysteriously delivered to Misha . . . he is beaten and even shot. It's quite the ride. But, I found the end a little unsatisfying--especially for a 650+ page book!

I wouldn't necessarily recommend this book, but at least it's one more off my list!

Emma Brown

I've had a galley of Emma Brown sitting on my shelf for years. Someone asked me when I started this project if there were any books I regretted letting sit for so long. This is it! Based on an unfinished manuscript by Charlotte Bronte, the book was finished by the Irish writer Clare Boylan. This is something I usually avoid--sequels or prequels to classic books written by other, usually lesser, writers. This, however, was a pretty good execution of one author filling in for another.

Bronte wrote the first two chapters of the book, and they were published in a magazine after her death. Matilda Fitzgibbon arrives under mysterious circumstances to a fledgling boarding school run by three spinster sisters. Yes, it's a Bronte novel with a boarding school. And yes, someone gets locked in an attic. But the mystery that unfolds as a few kind strangers try to discover who Matilda really is, and where she goes after she disappears, is captivating. The underbelly of Victorian London is exposed--especially the plight of poor children and orphans. In fact, the only time you can really tell the novel was written in the twenty-first instead of the nineteenth century is when Boylan rails against these harsh conditions. One review I read criticized it for relying heavily on coincidence, but I just thought that made it feel more authentic.

Now, if only someone could so convincingly complete Charles Dickens's The Mystery of Edwin Drood.

By Nightfall

Still straying from "the list," I recently picked up Michael Cunningham's latest, By Nightfall, at an author event. A slim novel, it tells the story of Peter Harris, a middle-aged art gallery owner in New York. Peter is seemingly happy in his marriage, but when his wife's much younger, wayward brother comes to stay with them, he finds himself attracted to the young man. A loose homage to Thomas Mann's Death in Venice, this book isn't nearly as heavy-handed with literary references as The Hours or Specimen Days. And neither is it the sprawling family drama of Cunningham's earlier work, Flesh and Blood. In fact, it is a fairly quiet novel compared to these other examples. Not bad, but just not quite as remarkable as The Hours or Flesh and Blood.

Seeing Michael Cunningham in person was utterly delightful, however. I went to a reading and signing for this book. He read a couple of short scenes from it, then a rather lengthy chapter from what he's currently working on. He said it was a first draft, but if that's true, I can't imagine how I ever thought I could be a writer. It's so polished--I can't imagine he just sits down and writes that beautifully! I hope by first draft he meant the first draft that he was willing to show anyone. Otherwise, he's even more talented than I thought!

What I found most interesting in his talk was his theory that prose should sound rhythmic and artistic when read aloud even to someone who doesn't speak the language of the work. He really pays attention to the stresses of the syllables as he strings together his sentences, but not in a labored way. I hate prose that is trying too hard to be poetic--I'm sure everyone has seen that. You can tell each little word in a sentence is labored over. Cunningham's prose is beautiful and artistic but in a way that feel natural. You can imagine someone speaking the dialogue. The narrative doesn't feel forced. That, I think, is the sign of a truly talented writer.