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A review by brandonpytel
Let Me Be Frank with You by Richard Ford
4.0
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.