This is a part 1 of 2. I have read both of the books I need to write about a fairly long time ago(in relation to this post), but I haven't had time to devote to writing a blog about either of them. Now with library fees mounting and mounting, I need to get something down so that I don't forget these books a few years from now when I sit down to write a memoir about reading all of these books. The two books in question are Elbow Room by James Alan McPherson and The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington. I have also read Adele Wiseman's The Sacrifice in the past few weeks, but I own that novel, so I'm not as much on a time crunch as with the other two. Out of those two library stragglers, James Alan McPherson's book is the most recent win in the Pulitzer chain(winner in 1978) and I read that one earlier, about a month ago now. But, time passes and I get busy; it's a book that I also wasn't super into documenting, because I was a little disappointed by it. I wrote a review for amazon.com on the book, but I must admit that I was a little more judicious towards the collection of short stories because all of the other people who reviewed it thought it was AMAZING, or at least very very good. I think it's getting to be important that I don't read reviews of books before I start a book because perhaps it is biasing me towards having expectations that are unrealistic. Well, let's get to what McPherson's book is about, mostly so that I won't forget. Elbow Room is a collection of short stories that mainly focuses on relationships between black and white people and blacks themselves. The concept of the stories is very interesting and the stories themselves are even very good, but they are not, unfortunately, in the same league as some of the other short story collections I've read so far for this project, like Jhumpa Lahiri's work or Robert Olen Butler, or Mavis Gallant...not to mention others, like the ever illustrious Alice Munro or even Greg Hollingshead. I think McPherson's book is important, and as I'm seeing the project unfold, what is interesting is that it contributes to the PP canon sensibly, meaning it fullfills an integral part of the American experience that hasn't been documented in that fashion yet. If you look at the Pulitzer Prize history as a patchwork quilt, which I am starting to feel like I am(same for the Canadian award)then it has it's place, just like the faded t-shirt with the Black power logo on it would in a quilt depicting the history of the American people. There are some stories in the collection that are pretty good:
"The Story of a Scar" is a really interesting story of love and youth and how things can go awry really fast if you don't play your hand in love the best way or you choose the wrong person with which to share your love...A man and woman are sitting in a doctor's office and the man asks the woman how she got the scar on her face and she begins to unfold this story about her relationship with a man who is too possessive and when she decides, in not the best way, to start hanging out with another man who is definitely a "playa" her face meets some unfortunate consequences that will be etched into her literally and figuratively forever. The woman says at one point in the beginning of the story "'I was pretty once,' she began, sniffing heavily. 'When I was about sixteen my mama's preacher was set to leave his wife and his pulpit and run off with me to Deetroit City. Even with this scar and all the weight I done put on, you can still see what I had.' She paused. 'Cain't you?' she asked significantly" (121). You can sense the desperation in this comment even better when you read the complete story and see a woman who is searching for love in all the wrong places...
"A Loaf of Bread" is also a great story about those who have and those who have not...A grocer, Harold Green, is caught selling his groceries for more in the crappy ass poor section of L.A. than in the other more well-off neighboorhoods(he has three stores). His argument is that it is because the neighborhood is so unsafe that he has to spend more to keep the store, with bars on the windows and other security measures. The citizens of this poor neighboorhood organize against him and protest and even get press coverage. Green's wife finally suggests that he have the store open one day and give everything away for free, but Green doesn't want to do it at all, he is stubborn and even somewhat blinds himself to the situation before him with this store. Nelson Reed is a neighborhood man who organizes the people of the neighborhood against the store and Mr. Green, and they even have a public debate on television...The short story juxtaposes between Mr. Green and his wife and their side of the story and Mr. Reed and his wife and their side of the story. The animosity between the two men builds and builds and builds. Finally one Saturday morning, Mr. Green opens his store, having given the two employees he has the day off, and expecting very few customers. His first customer, somehow, with her smile unleashes a wave of goodwill, and Mr. Green tells her that her goods are free. Word spreads and everyone comes into the store from that neighborhood to get the free groceries. They come in and fight over each other to get things and take things out of each other's hands. Mr. Reed is one of the first people into the store, but leaves without buying anything. Finally, Harold Green is standing alone by himself, in the midst of all this destruction, and Nelson Reed comes in.
"The grocer waved his arms about the empty room. Not a display case had a single item standing. 'All gone,' he said again, as if addressing a stupid child. 'There is nothing left to get. You, my friend, have come back too late for a second load. I am cleaned out.' [paragraph break] Nelson Reed stepped into the store and strode toward the counter. He moved through wine-stained flour, lettuce leaves, red, green, and blue labels, bits and pieces of broken glass. He walked toward the counter. [para break] 'All day,' the grocer laughed, not quite hysterically now, 'all day long I have not made a single cent of profit. The entire day was a loss. This store, like the others, is bleeding me.' He waved his arms about the room in a magnificent gesture of uncaring loss. 'Now do you understand?' he said. 'Now will you put yourself in my shoes? I have nothing here. Come, now, Mr. Reed, would it not be so bad a thing to walk in my shoes?' [break] 'Mr. Green,' Nelson Reed said coldly. 'My wife bought a loaf of bread in here this mornin'. She forgot to pay you. I, myself, have come here to pay you your money.' [break] 'Oh,' the grocer said. [break] 'I think it was brown bread. Don't that cost more than white?' [break] The two men looked away from each other, but not at anything in the store.[break] 'In my store, yes,' Harold Green said. He rang the register with the most casual movement of his finger. The register read fifty-five cents. [break] Nelson Reed held out a dollar. [break] 'And two cents tax,' the grocer said. [break] The man held out the dollar. [break] 'After all,' Harold Green said, 'We are all, after all, Mr. Reed, in debt to the government.' [break] He rang the register again. It read fifty-seven cents. [break] Nelson Reed held out a dollar." (210-211) This concludes the story, and it is moving and loaded with meaning.
My favorite story, though, has to be the first one, "Why I Like Country Music." It starts off with this great quote "No one will believe that I like country music. Even my wife scoffs when told such a possibility exists. 'Go on!' Gloria tells me. 'I can see blues, bebop, maybe even a little buckdancing. But not bluegrass.' Gloria says, 'Hillbilly stuff is not just music. It's like the New York Stock Exchange. The minute you see a sharp rise in it, you better watch out.'" The narrator goes on to counter that argument, and describes his childhood in South Carolina, when a beautiful little girl comes into his fourth grade class. She is Northern born, like the narrator's wife, and thus has even more exocitism than just her looks. To South Carolina blacks, the North was this amazingly different yet wonderful place. The narrator says: "You must know that in those days older folks would point to someone and say, 'He's from the North,' and the statement would be sufficient in itself. Mothers made their children behave by advising that, if they led exemplary lives and attended church regularly, when they died they would go to New York. Only someone who understands what London meant to Dick Whittington, or how California and the suburbs function in the national mind, could appreciate the mythical dimensions of this Northlore." (12-13) The story continues to talk about a young boy's love/crush on this little girl and how his only real chance to be close to her is through square dancing. And he does everything he can to be this girl's partner in the square dancing or in the maypole, one of the two activities for the class in their spring activities. His love, Gweneth Larson, is going to maypole, so he wants to maypole too, but he gets picked for square dancing, so he gets his dad involved in making the teacher switch him(there's great descriptions of the teacher too, that remind you of any bossy no-nonsense grade school teacher you've ever had)to maypole. At the last minute Gweneth gets switched over to square dancing and his plans are thwarted. She is to dance with the narrator's arch enemy! But at the last minute, Leon Hugh(the archenemy)has spurs on his shoes(a costume addition given to him by his brother)and the teacher makes him go to take them off. The narrator is given his chance! And of course this dance is never forgotten. And the narrator concludes by saying "I do remember quite well that during the final promenade before the record ended, Gweneth stood beside me and I said to her in a voice much louder than that of the caller, 'When I get up to Brooklyn I hope I see you.' But I do not remember what she said in response. I want to remember that she smiled. [break] I know I smiled, dear Gloria. I smiled with the lemonness of her and the loving of her pressed deep into those saving places of my private self. It was my plan to savor these, and I did savor them. But when I reached New York, many years later, I did not think of Brooklyn. I followed the old, beaten, steady paths into uptown Manhattan. By then I had learned to dance to many other kinds of music. And I had forgotten the savory smell of lemon. But I think sometimes of Gweneth now when I hear country music. And although it is difficult to explain to you, I still maintain that I am no mere arithmetician in the art of the square dance. I am into the calculus of it. [break] 'Go on!' you will tell me, backing into your Northern mythology. 'I can see the hustle, the hump, maybe even the Ibo highlife. But no hillbilly.' [break] These days I am firm about arguing the point, but, as always, quietly, and mostly to myself." (30-31)
Like I said before, there were some great stories in this collection, and now that I'm going through it, perhaps I should rate the collection a bit higher, but it is still not like some of the others I've already mentioned. However, in the quilt it will remain, threaded together with all the other books of American life that came before it and all that have come since.
"The Story of a Scar" is a really interesting story of love and youth and how things can go awry really fast if you don't play your hand in love the best way or you choose the wrong person with which to share your love...A man and woman are sitting in a doctor's office and the man asks the woman how she got the scar on her face and she begins to unfold this story about her relationship with a man who is too possessive and when she decides, in not the best way, to start hanging out with another man who is definitely a "playa" her face meets some unfortunate consequences that will be etched into her literally and figuratively forever. The woman says at one point in the beginning of the story "'I was pretty once,' she began, sniffing heavily. 'When I was about sixteen my mama's preacher was set to leave his wife and his pulpit and run off with me to Deetroit City. Even with this scar and all the weight I done put on, you can still see what I had.' She paused. 'Cain't you?' she asked significantly" (121). You can sense the desperation in this comment even better when you read the complete story and see a woman who is searching for love in all the wrong places...
"A Loaf of Bread" is also a great story about those who have and those who have not...A grocer, Harold Green, is caught selling his groceries for more in the crappy ass poor section of L.A. than in the other more well-off neighboorhoods(he has three stores). His argument is that it is because the neighborhood is so unsafe that he has to spend more to keep the store, with bars on the windows and other security measures. The citizens of this poor neighboorhood organize against him and protest and even get press coverage. Green's wife finally suggests that he have the store open one day and give everything away for free, but Green doesn't want to do it at all, he is stubborn and even somewhat blinds himself to the situation before him with this store. Nelson Reed is a neighborhood man who organizes the people of the neighborhood against the store and Mr. Green, and they even have a public debate on television...The short story juxtaposes between Mr. Green and his wife and their side of the story and Mr. Reed and his wife and their side of the story. The animosity between the two men builds and builds and builds. Finally one Saturday morning, Mr. Green opens his store, having given the two employees he has the day off, and expecting very few customers. His first customer, somehow, with her smile unleashes a wave of goodwill, and Mr. Green tells her that her goods are free. Word spreads and everyone comes into the store from that neighborhood to get the free groceries. They come in and fight over each other to get things and take things out of each other's hands. Mr. Reed is one of the first people into the store, but leaves without buying anything. Finally, Harold Green is standing alone by himself, in the midst of all this destruction, and Nelson Reed comes in.
"The grocer waved his arms about the empty room. Not a display case had a single item standing. 'All gone,' he said again, as if addressing a stupid child. 'There is nothing left to get. You, my friend, have come back too late for a second load. I am cleaned out.' [paragraph break] Nelson Reed stepped into the store and strode toward the counter. He moved through wine-stained flour, lettuce leaves, red, green, and blue labels, bits and pieces of broken glass. He walked toward the counter. [para break] 'All day,' the grocer laughed, not quite hysterically now, 'all day long I have not made a single cent of profit. The entire day was a loss. This store, like the others, is bleeding me.' He waved his arms about the room in a magnificent gesture of uncaring loss. 'Now do you understand?' he said. 'Now will you put yourself in my shoes? I have nothing here. Come, now, Mr. Reed, would it not be so bad a thing to walk in my shoes?' [break] 'Mr. Green,' Nelson Reed said coldly. 'My wife bought a loaf of bread in here this mornin'. She forgot to pay you. I, myself, have come here to pay you your money.' [break] 'Oh,' the grocer said. [break] 'I think it was brown bread. Don't that cost more than white?' [break] The two men looked away from each other, but not at anything in the store.[break] 'In my store, yes,' Harold Green said. He rang the register with the most casual movement of his finger. The register read fifty-five cents. [break] Nelson Reed held out a dollar. [break] 'And two cents tax,' the grocer said. [break] The man held out the dollar. [break] 'After all,' Harold Green said, 'We are all, after all, Mr. Reed, in debt to the government.' [break] He rang the register again. It read fifty-seven cents. [break] Nelson Reed held out a dollar." (210-211) This concludes the story, and it is moving and loaded with meaning.
My favorite story, though, has to be the first one, "Why I Like Country Music." It starts off with this great quote "No one will believe that I like country music. Even my wife scoffs when told such a possibility exists. 'Go on!' Gloria tells me. 'I can see blues, bebop, maybe even a little buckdancing. But not bluegrass.' Gloria says, 'Hillbilly stuff is not just music. It's like the New York Stock Exchange. The minute you see a sharp rise in it, you better watch out.'" The narrator goes on to counter that argument, and describes his childhood in South Carolina, when a beautiful little girl comes into his fourth grade class. She is Northern born, like the narrator's wife, and thus has even more exocitism than just her looks. To South Carolina blacks, the North was this amazingly different yet wonderful place. The narrator says: "You must know that in those days older folks would point to someone and say, 'He's from the North,' and the statement would be sufficient in itself. Mothers made their children behave by advising that, if they led exemplary lives and attended church regularly, when they died they would go to New York. Only someone who understands what London meant to Dick Whittington, or how California and the suburbs function in the national mind, could appreciate the mythical dimensions of this Northlore." (12-13) The story continues to talk about a young boy's love/crush on this little girl and how his only real chance to be close to her is through square dancing. And he does everything he can to be this girl's partner in the square dancing or in the maypole, one of the two activities for the class in their spring activities. His love, Gweneth Larson, is going to maypole, so he wants to maypole too, but he gets picked for square dancing, so he gets his dad involved in making the teacher switch him(there's great descriptions of the teacher too, that remind you of any bossy no-nonsense grade school teacher you've ever had)to maypole. At the last minute Gweneth gets switched over to square dancing and his plans are thwarted. She is to dance with the narrator's arch enemy! But at the last minute, Leon Hugh(the archenemy)has spurs on his shoes(a costume addition given to him by his brother)and the teacher makes him go to take them off. The narrator is given his chance! And of course this dance is never forgotten. And the narrator concludes by saying "I do remember quite well that during the final promenade before the record ended, Gweneth stood beside me and I said to her in a voice much louder than that of the caller, 'When I get up to Brooklyn I hope I see you.' But I do not remember what she said in response. I want to remember that she smiled. [break] I know I smiled, dear Gloria. I smiled with the lemonness of her and the loving of her pressed deep into those saving places of my private self. It was my plan to savor these, and I did savor them. But when I reached New York, many years later, I did not think of Brooklyn. I followed the old, beaten, steady paths into uptown Manhattan. By then I had learned to dance to many other kinds of music. And I had forgotten the savory smell of lemon. But I think sometimes of Gweneth now when I hear country music. And although it is difficult to explain to you, I still maintain that I am no mere arithmetician in the art of the square dance. I am into the calculus of it. [break] 'Go on!' you will tell me, backing into your Northern mythology. 'I can see the hustle, the hump, maybe even the Ibo highlife. But no hillbilly.' [break] These days I am firm about arguing the point, but, as always, quietly, and mostly to myself." (30-31)
Like I said before, there were some great stories in this collection, and now that I'm going through it, perhaps I should rate the collection a bit higher, but it is still not like some of the others I've already mentioned. However, in the quilt it will remain, threaded together with all the other books of American life that came before it and all that have come since.
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