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3.44 AVERAGE
3.44 AVERAGE
A classic Frank Bascombe tale, exquisitely written by Richard Ford. I strongly recommend all of the Bascombe books Ford has written, especially "Independence Day." All are witty, prescient and thoughtfully written. Ford is a master.
The Frank Bascombe novellas. I thought I'd read these but maybe not. They seemed completely unfamiliar to me. In any case, one needs to read the first three FB novels to fully appreciate. Frank is everyone's favorite asshole with a human side. Ford often doesn't get enough credit but it's been said by the NYT he "never writes an unconsidered sentence." I agree. Right up there with Salter.
Like one more drink before last call, Let Me Be Frank with You is not strictly speaking necessary, or the most enjoyable, but it offers a buffer between the now and the cold night air that awaits us after closing time.
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
All the way through the Bascombe Trilogy (which I greatly enjoyed) I was constantly thinking that Frank Bascombe isn't exactly likeable, mainly because of his racism, directed against anyone who isn't white. I rationalised this to myself by thinking "this isn't Richard Ford speaking. This is his creation, Frank Bascombe, who isn't a particularly nice guy, not to anyone, even on a good day". But when I moved on from the Trilogy to "Let me be Frank...." and arrived at page 69 of my paperback edition, I stopped in my tracks when I read Frank's thoughts about an unexpected visitor turning up on his doorstep: "Black people bear a heavy burden trying to be normal. It's no wonder they hate us. I'd hate us, too." I may give up on Richard Ford right there. I can't rationalise Frank Bascombe's racism any more. What a shame that a very great American novelist remains so completely out of step with reality. The reality that Bascombe just can't deal with. An inability to face facts and embrace them which, I fear, may in fact be RIchard Ford's and not really Bascombe's at all. Someone please tell me I'm wrong, and why.
And is he ever. Frank, that is. At sixty-eight, and I can relate, Frank Bascombe has reached a point in life at which his failures are not tragedies. This attitude, judging by how raucously, and how frequently, I guffawed, must be a state of mind to which I aspire. No one, with the exception of Calvin Trillin, makes me laugh more. And yet, at the last page, I found myself, like Frank, touched by goodness and feeling quite emotional. Teary-eyed, to be frank.
I miss Frank Bascombe. Reading this book gave me a bittersweet feeling of having finished all the Bascombe novels, reveling in the insightful musing of a retired American man and the content reservation of growing old on the East Coast.
There are countless quotable lines in this book, all which strike extremely true, poignant, and witty, a man commenting on the intimate details his previous marriage, his family, the death of his son, his friendships, and death in general, as well as observing America at large, the Romney campaign, the economic downturn, the polarized nation, and a community, state, and country trying to bounce back from the devastation of Hurricane Sandy.
In a way this book is a time jump, allowing Bascombe to exist in his present while recollecting his life and memories — selling a now-destroyed property to an acquaintance, talking with a stranger who used to live in his home, visiting his ex-wife in a retirement community, spending time with an old acquaintance on his death bed — and finding the mundane moments that can save the day, those that expand “the largeness of it all.”
Bascombe is accepting his life and the idea of a new normal of a life full of people who are either gone or dead, the few surprises that come in a relatively fine life, and the number of people you knew, the few friends you had. And he’s doing so against the backdrop of a community wrecked by Sandy, trying to hold onto its resilient roots in the face of an uncertain future.
There are countless quotable lines in this book, all which strike extremely true, poignant, and witty, a man commenting on the intimate details his previous marriage, his family, the death of his son, his friendships, and death in general, as well as observing America at large, the Romney campaign, the economic downturn, the polarized nation, and a community, state, and country trying to bounce back from the devastation of Hurricane Sandy.
In a way this book is a time jump, allowing Bascombe to exist in his present while recollecting his life and memories — selling a now-destroyed property to an acquaintance, talking with a stranger who used to live in his home, visiting his ex-wife in a retirement community, spending time with an old acquaintance on his death bed — and finding the mundane moments that can save the day, those that expand “the largeness of it all.”
Bascombe is accepting his life and the idea of a new normal of a life full of people who are either gone or dead, the few surprises that come in a relatively fine life, and the number of people you knew, the few friends you had. And he’s doing so against the backdrop of a community wrecked by Sandy, trying to hold onto its resilient roots in the face of an uncertain future.
dark
emotional
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes