A Story of Our Times
03/09/12 03:53
Note: I don’t seem to be keeping up with my book blog. I don’t intend to devote this blog to book reviews, but today I do want to write about a book I recently read. I’m not abandoning the notion of keeping a separate blog for books, just allowing temporary mix of topics in this blog.
There are luxuries that come with age. One of those luxuries is freedom from having to stay ahead of all of the changes. By the time someone reaches my age, I am no longer required to be up to date with every technological advance. I am allowed to hang on to a few relics of the past. People will even put up with a bit of nostalgia from me.
I know that traditional publishing is on its way out. Book publishing companies are struggling to break even. Even with massive online sellers such as Amazon.com, the market for books is decreasing. Traditional brick and mortar bookstores are becoming less and less profitable. Libraries are moving away from rows and rows of shelves to sophisticated computers that enable readers to “borrow” electronic media and read books on their electronic readers.
I have been a slow adopter of electronic readers. I don’t own a Kindle or an iPad. I am not opposed to the devices. I just like the feel of a book in my hands. I enjoy being in my study, surrounded by shelves full of books. I’m sure that I will have one of those devices one day. They offer great convenience for travel. They are capable of many other things that I do daily, such as checking e-mail and browsing the Internet. They consume less resources and less space than shelves and shelves of paper books, some of which I have read once and will never read again.
Society, however, allows me to be a “dinosaur” when it comes to books. I don’t get criticism for my love of turning pages. And there are still plenty of sources for good books. One of my favorite imprints these days is a relatively new publisher. McSweeney’s is a publishing house founded by editor and author Dave Eggers. I have read all of Dave Eggers’ books, which isn’t saying much because he is the author of only eight books. A memoir, a children’s book (or perhaps a book for all ages), a nonfiction volume about the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and four novels.
McSweeneys publishes books with elegant covers. They aren’t the leather-bound books of old, a few of which grace my shelves. They are, rather, books that bring an imaginative flavor. My copy of Eggers’ “The Wild Things,” for example, is covered in fake fur. I have volumes from McSweeneys with traditional cloth bindings, paper slip covers that themselves are works of art, and carefully designed shapes.
One of my current treasures is a signed copy of Eggers’ latest novel, “A Hologram for the King.” The book features an elaborate foil-stamped cover with a design on the spine that makes it stand out on the shelf. At 312 pages it is just about the right heft for a book with which to curl up in a comfortable chair. It is long enough that one isn’t tempted to read it all in one sitting and compelling enough that it takes less than a week to complete – just right for a novel in my estimation. Eggers’ loopy signature across the title page may not mean much to others, but it is a bit of a personal mark from a man whose career I admire.
It is not the Great American Novel. The story is clearly dated and about our particular moment in history. And it may be a novel that is best appreciated by a man whose career has passed its mid point and who occasionally has thoughts of retirement, while still hoping that there are still a few more contributions that can be made.
I don’t want to ruin the story for those who have not read it, but the opening of the book sets the tone for the entire novel. Alan Clay is a weary businessman. He has been scarred by the recession. He has participated in the export of American jobs. He has been a player on an international stage. But now he is debt-ridden, aware of his failures, divorced and struggling with his relationship with his daughter without much hope of meeting her next semester’s tuition, no longer valued by employers and seen as a relic by younger co-workers. There is a glimmer of hope of one last big deal – a sale that will make all of the previous failings insignificant by comparison. He has the product. He has the customer. He feels close to a breakthrough.
To say more would be to tell too much about the book.
Suffice it to say that it could be depressing for a post-middle aged man who frequently feels that he belongs to the past. But in a way it seems to create a little bond between the author, the character and myself. To be sure, Eggers has wisdom beyond his age. He was born in 1970. I’m technically old enough to be his father. I had been married for three decades when Eggers married. We don’t exactly occupy the same generation. And Eggers is wildly successful for his age. His list of publications and awards stretches for pages. His tongue-in-cheek title of his memoir, “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” is actually fairly accurate. He is a man of staggering genius. And I’m not all that similar to Alan Clay, the character Eggers Created for “A Hologram for the King.” I can’t fathom his lack of control with alcohol. I don’t understand his inability to manage a successful relationship with his father or his daughter. I would have plenty of advice to give him. Had I written the novel, he would make better decisions. But I feel a connection with him and with his author.
Keeping hope alive in the face of the reality of our own mortality is a deeply human need. The book may be set in a particular moment of history, but it explores a universal truth.
So, in retrospect, and knowing that I will not live long enough to know what book becomes the Great American Novel, I guess I’d leave this one on the nominations list. It is at least quite a story for an over-the-hill American man to read.
A guy could recognize himself in such a book.
There are luxuries that come with age. One of those luxuries is freedom from having to stay ahead of all of the changes. By the time someone reaches my age, I am no longer required to be up to date with every technological advance. I am allowed to hang on to a few relics of the past. People will even put up with a bit of nostalgia from me.I know that traditional publishing is on its way out. Book publishing companies are struggling to break even. Even with massive online sellers such as Amazon.com, the market for books is decreasing. Traditional brick and mortar bookstores are becoming less and less profitable. Libraries are moving away from rows and rows of shelves to sophisticated computers that enable readers to “borrow” electronic media and read books on their electronic readers.
I have been a slow adopter of electronic readers. I don’t own a Kindle or an iPad. I am not opposed to the devices. I just like the feel of a book in my hands. I enjoy being in my study, surrounded by shelves full of books. I’m sure that I will have one of those devices one day. They offer great convenience for travel. They are capable of many other things that I do daily, such as checking e-mail and browsing the Internet. They consume less resources and less space than shelves and shelves of paper books, some of which I have read once and will never read again.
Society, however, allows me to be a “dinosaur” when it comes to books. I don’t get criticism for my love of turning pages. And there are still plenty of sources for good books. One of my favorite imprints these days is a relatively new publisher. McSweeney’s is a publishing house founded by editor and author Dave Eggers. I have read all of Dave Eggers’ books, which isn’t saying much because he is the author of only eight books. A memoir, a children’s book (or perhaps a book for all ages), a nonfiction volume about the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and four novels.
McSweeneys publishes books with elegant covers. They aren’t the leather-bound books of old, a few of which grace my shelves. They are, rather, books that bring an imaginative flavor. My copy of Eggers’ “The Wild Things,” for example, is covered in fake fur. I have volumes from McSweeneys with traditional cloth bindings, paper slip covers that themselves are works of art, and carefully designed shapes.
One of my current treasures is a signed copy of Eggers’ latest novel, “A Hologram for the King.” The book features an elaborate foil-stamped cover with a design on the spine that makes it stand out on the shelf. At 312 pages it is just about the right heft for a book with which to curl up in a comfortable chair. It is long enough that one isn’t tempted to read it all in one sitting and compelling enough that it takes less than a week to complete – just right for a novel in my estimation. Eggers’ loopy signature across the title page may not mean much to others, but it is a bit of a personal mark from a man whose career I admire.
It is not the Great American Novel. The story is clearly dated and about our particular moment in history. And it may be a novel that is best appreciated by a man whose career has passed its mid point and who occasionally has thoughts of retirement, while still hoping that there are still a few more contributions that can be made.
I don’t want to ruin the story for those who have not read it, but the opening of the book sets the tone for the entire novel. Alan Clay is a weary businessman. He has been scarred by the recession. He has participated in the export of American jobs. He has been a player on an international stage. But now he is debt-ridden, aware of his failures, divorced and struggling with his relationship with his daughter without much hope of meeting her next semester’s tuition, no longer valued by employers and seen as a relic by younger co-workers. There is a glimmer of hope of one last big deal – a sale that will make all of the previous failings insignificant by comparison. He has the product. He has the customer. He feels close to a breakthrough.
To say more would be to tell too much about the book.
Suffice it to say that it could be depressing for a post-middle aged man who frequently feels that he belongs to the past. But in a way it seems to create a little bond between the author, the character and myself. To be sure, Eggers has wisdom beyond his age. He was born in 1970. I’m technically old enough to be his father. I had been married for three decades when Eggers married. We don’t exactly occupy the same generation. And Eggers is wildly successful for his age. His list of publications and awards stretches for pages. His tongue-in-cheek title of his memoir, “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” is actually fairly accurate. He is a man of staggering genius. And I’m not all that similar to Alan Clay, the character Eggers Created for “A Hologram for the King.” I can’t fathom his lack of control with alcohol. I don’t understand his inability to manage a successful relationship with his father or his daughter. I would have plenty of advice to give him. Had I written the novel, he would make better decisions. But I feel a connection with him and with his author.
Keeping hope alive in the face of the reality of our own mortality is a deeply human need. The book may be set in a particular moment of history, but it explores a universal truth.
So, in retrospect, and knowing that I will not live long enough to know what book becomes the Great American Novel, I guess I’d leave this one on the nominations list. It is at least quite a story for an over-the-hill American man to read.
A guy could recognize himself in such a book.