Last night's meeting at Anne-Marie's was attended by Anne-Marie, Fran, Laura, Susan K, Ann B, and Helen. We discussed A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry, which Christina had suggested.

There was an unusually strong consensus in the group that this was a terrific book - gripping, powerful, and very well-written. Although the characters were obviously intended to serve as metaphors for various principles ('mother India' 'new India' 'the old ways') each was fully realized and believable. (The only one who came in for some criticism was Dina - there was some feeling expressed that she wasn't as real or believable as the others.) The complex plot was clear and well-organized; all of the story's many threads were beautiful in their own right but made a wonderful pattern as a whole (like Dina's quilt).

A large part of our discussion was devoted to figuring out what drove Maneck to kill himself (for those of you who haven't finished the book, I hope this revelation doesn't ruin it for you - several commented if they'd known the book was going to end this way, they wouldn't have kept reading). Anne-Marie diagnosed him as a "maneck" depressive (her pun - don't blame me). What tipped him over the edge? He was the character he seemed to have the most going for him in terms of youth, opportunity, education, even relative wealth, but on the other hand, compared to the other characters seemed to have more tenuous connections to people he cared about - he was an only child, he felt alienated by his parents, particularly his father, his only college friend abandoned him (first by becoming consumed in politics, then by committing suicide), and then he chose to give up the camaraderie with Dina and the tailors for a career as a refrigerator mechanic in Dubai (not even writing a letter to any of them for 8 years, telling Dina that it seemed "pointless"). Characters who suffered far worse privations, mutilations, you name it, managed to survive while Maneck could not.

I found this book almost unbearably painful to read - frankly, I think I prefer not to know that the world can be such an unrelentingly horrific place to live in for literally millions of people. The others in our group are stronger-minded than I, however, and want to face reality, as harsh as it can be (and I don't think it can get much harsher than this). We all agreed, however, that it was an odd choice by Oprah -- unless you consider this book "uplifting" in a very perverse way (something about the unquenchability of the human spirit...?).

Other books about India that were recommended include Desirable Daughters (Anne-Marie's recommendation) and A Suitable Boy, by Vikram Seth (mine).

May The Summer Before Dark Doris Lessing Sorry, no recap

April The Moviegoer Walker Percy Sorry, no recap

March An Unofficial Rose Iris Murdoch Discussion recapped by Fran

The group met at Christina's home to discuss Fran's selection of An Unofficial Rose, by Iris Murdoch. Besides Fran and Christina, present were Anne-Marie, Clare, Helen, Laura O, Melissa K. and Susan T. (an excellent turnout especially considering that the book was hard to find—thanks everyone for your persistence!)

The major criticism of the book was the lack of characters who were either admirable or likeable. Everyone was particularly frustrated with Ann, the "rose," for her lack of gumption (no one used that word but I think that was the tenor of the complaint). People did not praise Murdoch's writing as much as I'd hoped. I find her hilariously funny. My reading aloud certain passages I considered priceless did not appear to change this view, alas. Melissa K. shared some information about Murdoch's work and her (strong) reputation as a philosopher and scholar. The group seemed disappointed—the general consensus being that either she didn't have much to say of importance in her novels, or didn't say it well. Me, I still find interesting what she has to say about the tension between romance and love, choices, and responsibility. Perhaps it comes from being a lawyer, but her technique of presenting arguments on both sides through her characters is something I really enjoy.

Since the meeting, I've finished Elegy for Iris (I was about 20% through when the group met), finished Jackson's Dilemma (her final novel), read "A Fairly Honourable Defeat" (which I found COMPLETELY HILARIOUS) and almost finished "Iris and Her Friends" (her husband's second memoir about her and their marriage). I wish I had recommended "Defeat" to the group rather than "Rose." For one, it did have at least one character I found admirable and I think others would have agreed (Tallis, the rejected husband). Rather than having all of the characters a mixture of positive and negative, in this novel Murdoch lines them up, good versus bad. (Bad wins—or sort of.) The machinations are worthy of a "Days of our Lives" plotline (but as if written by Tolstoy)—fake love letters planted in secret compartments, etc. That said, I will admit it seems to be typical of her novels that the characters are frustrating. In that sense, however, if nothing else they are "real."
 

February A Prayer for Owen Meany John Irving Discussion recapped by Fran

Last night's meeting was attended by me (Fran), Susan K (our host), Susan T, Melissa K, Clare, and Anne-Marie.  I facilitated the discussion of "A Prayer For Owen Meany."

Very possibly due to the fact I began the discussion by noting that some of the members had recently mentioned to me their discomfort with the extremely harsh criticism that has been leveled at their book choices, the comments about Owen Meany were generally favorable. My suggestion is that we do not censor, limit or tone down or criticisms, but make sure that in our zeal to rip something apart, we don't forget to look for things we can (genuinely) praise.

In keeping with this spirit, I asked everyone to go around the room and tell me one thing they liked about the book, and everyone did VERY well, I am pleased to report, except perhaps for Anne-Marie, who managed to work in a few criticisms (she was probably afraid she wouldn't get the chance to air them later on) about the book bogging down in detail 4/5 of the way through, and preaching too much (viewed positively, I think she meant that the book had the right amount of detail at the beginning).  Clare liked the nativity scene.  Melissa liked the way none of the loose ends were left hanging. Susan K. liked the structure—that the story was not told as a straightforward narrative (first this happened, and then this, and then this).  We differed on which of the characters were developed and "real"—I felt that Johnny's mother was not "real" but most disagreed with me, pointing to her sympathy and caring for Owen, her flying in the face of convention, her lack of concern for what other people thought about her.  We also differed on whether the portrayal of Owen and Johnny accurately represented 11 year old boys' emotional maturity. Anne-Marie shared some of the canned "reader's group" questions at the back of her edition, which we felt reflected some cheap-o junior high school level English teacher type over-reading, finding symbolism underneath every rock (did the hail at Johnny's mother's wedding foreshadow her death by a baseball to the head). Yet, there did seem to be a lot of symbolism to examine—e.g. the armadillo's severed paws/Johnny's severed finger/Owen's arms; Hester's name. Several found Johnny's asexuality unconvincing and/or annoying.  We talked a good bit about religious ritual and how different scenes in the book related to biblical stories.  Owen's distinctive voice was enjoyed by some and an irritant to others—the device of using capital letters for his speech seemed to create problems in his lengthier monologues.  What did his voice mean?  Was it simply so that the children would listen to him? Finally, what was the meaning of the title—why was Johnny praying "for" Owen Meany, if, as the book implies, he was a saint of one sort or another, and presumably, not in need of any prayers.  (My explanation is that Johnny prayed for Owen the same way one would pray for faith, or love; at the same time, it was a petition.)
 

January The Informant Kurt Eichenwald Not so much a recap as continued discussion

Sorry for missing the Jan. 30. I must confess I did not get past about page 50 in the book. The rather wooden writing style (periodic inserts of "lifelike" details such as "He carefully balanced the bag of fast food in his arms while opening the door" in order to novelize, and the trick of ending every third paragraph with a breathless "If only he had known then what he learned later!") was my main problem. An all-male cast of characters was another turn-off (too much like my life). Corporate greed was also way too depressing (again, too much verisimilitude). I should have, and would have, plodded on and I'm sure, reached the good part, but trial gave me an excuse (deposition transcripts in which the plaintiff referred to his biggest customer as "a little prick," and his girlfriend/sales manager complained about being forced to wear pantyhose to meetings made much more exciting reading anyway).

The general consensus on The Informant sounded positive, although I did not receive a real recap (if one is coming, I am happy to disseminate, but I didn't want to hold up the announcement of the next meeting, which I will attend!!! —Fran

*****

Except for the daily headlines about Enron/Anderson (Have you all noticed the almost daily front page bylines by Kurt Eichenwald this week in the NY Times? I guess we can all anticipate his next book, your choice of title. "The Fraudulent House of Cards" is the best I can come up with on short notice.), most of us who don't live in your world were both fascinated and disgusted at the arrogant, male-dominated world of ADM and its cronies and found "The Informant" to be a compelling read. We would have appreciated your first hand experience with the corporate world. For me, it certainly confirmed what those of us who came of age in the 60s thought and why we chose other professions. As it was, we spent much of our time discussing the psychological make up of Mark Whitacre, in particular, and bipolar disorder in general.  —Helen

*****

I wasn't able to attend the discussion about "The Informant." But I did not find it remotely compelling. While the story could have been compelling if it had shed some light on the motivations of the informant, it did not. I came across an explanation that articulates what I feel is the book's problem. Here it is:

"The difference between journalism and serious nonfiction is one of kind, not word count. In journalism, the details that underlie the event's newsworthiness establish the meaning of the story. The fire occurred at such and such a time in such and such a location, so many killed, so many injured, so many Americans if the fire occurred abroad, so many homeowners if at a resort location, so much property destroyed. Serious-nonfiction-book publishing, on the other hand, strives to wring meaning out of an event, meaning that transcends its details. The justification for a book on a news story is that time and reflection and some comparative research have given the author a subtler perspective on either the event itself or on how the event was perceived when it was news.

It often happens that a journalist doing a story is left with lots of unused material. So why not sweep up the newsroom floor and turn it all into a nice fat book deal? Because the story is still a journalism story -- its meaning still in the events themselves, not in the kind of distancing that introduces a new perspective."

This essay is adapted from Thinking Like Your Editor: How to Write Great Serious Nonfiction -- and Get it Published by Susan Rabiner, former editorial director of Basic Books, and Alfred Fortunato, freelance editor.

Eichenwald had a LOT of unused material. Did he add value to the story so that it merited a book? No.  —Clare