The Walter Mosley book, When the Thrill Is Gone, was very entertaining and philosophical (for a murder mystery), as all Mosley's books are. I always enjoy them--they are fast paced but somehow also deep. The characters are flawed but noble. He's a great writer. The only problem I have with his novels (and others of that genre) is his insistence on honoring the tradition among murder mystery writers of including detailed descriptions of characters' clothing. I don't know how this sartorial motif started, but it's puzzling--and a bit annoying--to me. Ah well, it's also amusing in a way, too.
Next I decided to return to the "T" books so I could get the complete set read. Having perused a free book by Time magazine called The Making of America containing some of the old traditional stories of American history, I decided the book would just make me irritated because by now most of the old historical accounts I learned in school have been thoroughly debunked or revised. So that one's going to the library.
I have two Studs Terkel books I'm saving for later, and one literary criticism book edited by Michelle Tokarczyk and Elizabeth Fay called Working Class Women in the Academy, a volume of essays that came out about 20 years ago. I've read one or two of the articles, but decided it was time I read the rest. So that's what I've been doing this week, and much to my surprise, I'm enjoying it immensely. I'm also remembering why I was studying the subject back in my graduate school days.
So I guess it'll be a while longer before I get to the "M" books.
I'll report on my progress next time.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Into the Woods, Into the Past
I actually am enjoying Thoreau's Maine Woods the second time around. I keep trying to picture Maine more than 170 years ago. His is a more philosophical account of travels than the average person would write, I think. He seems respectful of people and nature as well. He makes interesting observations about the logging business and the fading trapping business. He seems interested in the indigenous people he encounters; he asks about their words and their customs. At the end of the book there is a glossary of place names that are translated from the native language into English. Many native place names are gone now, so it's interesting to see what they were when still being used.
He talks about tiny towns like Greenville that are now not really much bigger than they were then. I keep reflecting on my ancestors and other cousins and trying to imagine what they were doing when Thoreau was in their midst. When Thoreau sails down the Penobscot toward Bangor, for instance, he goes by my cousin's house as it is now and was then, since it was built in the 18th century. He talks about Sugar Island, where my grandfather was born about 50 years after that. In fact, my great grandparents weren't even born yet when he was passing through Greenville. My great-great grandparents were just getting started on their lives in the United States, having migrated from Canada a few years before.
Thoreau details the plants and animals he finds as he travels; the lists are a little boring to me, but his impulse is interesting. It's as if he wants to document these phenomena before they are gone forever. I get the sense that he knows much of the wilderness will soon be gone and he is mourning its passing. I wonder if he would have been surprised by just how much wilderness remains in Maine, though most of it is probably regrowth from logging.
It's been a worthwhile read, I think. I recommend it to all who want a close up history of a particular region of our country, and a window into a time when the wilderness was vanishing before our eyes.
Next I'll launch into one of the "M" books, I think. I've started a Walter Mosley novel so I'll probably continue with that.
He talks about tiny towns like Greenville that are now not really much bigger than they were then. I keep reflecting on my ancestors and other cousins and trying to imagine what they were doing when Thoreau was in their midst. When Thoreau sails down the Penobscot toward Bangor, for instance, he goes by my cousin's house as it is now and was then, since it was built in the 18th century. He talks about Sugar Island, where my grandfather was born about 50 years after that. In fact, my great grandparents weren't even born yet when he was passing through Greenville. My great-great grandparents were just getting started on their lives in the United States, having migrated from Canada a few years before.
Thoreau details the plants and animals he finds as he travels; the lists are a little boring to me, but his impulse is interesting. It's as if he wants to document these phenomena before they are gone forever. I get the sense that he knows much of the wilderness will soon be gone and he is mourning its passing. I wonder if he would have been surprised by just how much wilderness remains in Maine, though most of it is probably regrowth from logging.
It's been a worthwhile read, I think. I recommend it to all who want a close up history of a particular region of our country, and a window into a time when the wilderness was vanishing before our eyes.
Next I'll launch into one of the "M" books, I think. I've started a Walter Mosley novel so I'll probably continue with that.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
French Fun, Southern Portraits, Maine Travels
After reading French Fun, I moved on to fiction by Jean Toomer: his signature book, Cane. It has been called a novel, but is really not that organized, being made up of a variety of poems and sketches about fictional African-American people of his era, mostly women, mostly Georgian country folk.
Toomer was born Nathan Eugene Toomer in 1894, was raised by middle-class grandparents, attended several colleges and later taught at a black college in Georgia before settling into a writing career. It was while he was teaching in Sparta, GA that he wrote the book for which he is still known. Cane was published in 1923, just in time for the Harlem Renaissance, when interest in all-things-negro was at a high. The edition of the book I have was published in 1975, but there is a new addition out with an afterword by Henry Louis Gates. Cane is no doubt still a staple of African American Studies programs, so it will probably continue to stay in print.
I'm glad I started with the introduction to the book; it was informative and helpful for understanding the unusual structure of the work. I enjoyed reading Cane for the most part, but I must admit that although it was well written, I had to fast-forward through parts of it. All in all, I'm glad I discovered it at last since it's been sitting on my book shelf for quite a few years having been bought while I was still a graduate student at UC Davis, back in the nineties. I recommend it to those interested in African American literature and history, but do read the introduction first to help you get more out of it.
Next, I want to try to finish reading Henry David Thoreau's The Maine Woods, a collection of his writings about his travels in Maine in the mid-nineteenth century. I started it a while back, but didn't get very far, so I'm hoping this time it will prove more entertaining.
Until then . . .
Toomer was born Nathan Eugene Toomer in 1894, was raised by middle-class grandparents, attended several colleges and later taught at a black college in Georgia before settling into a writing career. It was while he was teaching in Sparta, GA that he wrote the book for which he is still known. Cane was published in 1923, just in time for the Harlem Renaissance, when interest in all-things-negro was at a high. The edition of the book I have was published in 1975, but there is a new addition out with an afterword by Henry Louis Gates. Cane is no doubt still a staple of African American Studies programs, so it will probably continue to stay in print.
 |
| Jean Toomer |
Next, I want to try to finish reading Henry David Thoreau's The Maine Woods, a collection of his writings about his travels in Maine in the mid-nineteenth century. I started it a while back, but didn't get very far, so I'm hoping this time it will prove more entertaining.
Until then . . .
Monday, September 30, 2013
They're Still There
Bloods, by Wallace Terry, was a great book--disturbing, enlightening, depressing, thought-provoking. I hadn't read any Vietnam veteran literature for quite some time and this compilation of oral history narratives reminded me of what a complicated war that was and what a shattering experience it was for so many veterans.
The experiences of black veterans is the focus of this collection; their additional difficulties dealing with race issues made their war stories more interesting and in many ways different from the accounts of white or other race combatants who survived the conflict that spanned a decade.
What really struck me about the stories presented in this book is the range of attitudes the men expressed toward Vietnam, the Vietnamese people, the military, the U.S., their reception when they returned home, as well as the impact of race relations and the civil rights struggle that was going on during that time.
Some of the men were bitter or traumatized by what they saw and did while there and angry with the government who sent them there, especially when they were treated so poorly at home. Others were not critical of the military or the policies that required them to fight. Some believed we were right to go there and still believe it. Some started out believing in the mission but changed their minds after they'd been there a while.
Some didn't see much action; others saw too much. A number of them spoke frankly about atrocities that they witnessed (on both sides) or participated in. Those were chilling accounts. Those who seemed to be the most well adjusted were ones who stayed in the military and made a career out of it. I've always thought that to be true; being around other soldiers probably allowed them to adjust to peacetime in a more gradual way. They had people to talk to who understood what they went through. They weren't judged or feared; they were appreciated.
I've read other accounts from Vietnam veterans, but I think this collection was the most balanced, giving a fuller picture, I think, than those which try to present a more unified view of the war, whether pro or con. I recommend it highly, especially now that we're having to deal with a whole new generation of war veterans. Even though we give them parades and presents, awards and decorations, we shouldn't lose sight of the fact that they are still going to be deeply affected in unpredictable ways by what they have gone through.
And I think we should not lose sight of the fact that many of the Vietnam vets are still out there, still suffering and continue to need our help. Just because we want to forget how we treated them doesn't mean we should forget them.
After Bloods I read a light, fluffy little book that was really more of a reference book: French Fun: The Real Spoken Language of Quebec, by Steve Timmins. It was a dictionary-style collection of French Canadian idioms. It's designed for English-speaking students of French who live in Canada, though, as the author admits, it can also be useful for non-Canadian English speakers. There were some pretty funny idioms that, when translated literally, evoked a comical mental picture, accompanied, in some cases, by an actual picture--a drawing depicting its literal meaning. It was a much more entertaining read than I had imagined it would be. Another "T" book accomplished!
Until next time!
The experiences of black veterans is the focus of this collection; their additional difficulties dealing with race issues made their war stories more interesting and in many ways different from the accounts of white or other race combatants who survived the conflict that spanned a decade.
What really struck me about the stories presented in this book is the range of attitudes the men expressed toward Vietnam, the Vietnamese people, the military, the U.S., their reception when they returned home, as well as the impact of race relations and the civil rights struggle that was going on during that time.
Some of the men were bitter or traumatized by what they saw and did while there and angry with the government who sent them there, especially when they were treated so poorly at home. Others were not critical of the military or the policies that required them to fight. Some believed we were right to go there and still believe it. Some started out believing in the mission but changed their minds after they'd been there a while.
Some didn't see much action; others saw too much. A number of them spoke frankly about atrocities that they witnessed (on both sides) or participated in. Those were chilling accounts. Those who seemed to be the most well adjusted were ones who stayed in the military and made a career out of it. I've always thought that to be true; being around other soldiers probably allowed them to adjust to peacetime in a more gradual way. They had people to talk to who understood what they went through. They weren't judged or feared; they were appreciated.
I've read other accounts from Vietnam veterans, but I think this collection was the most balanced, giving a fuller picture, I think, than those which try to present a more unified view of the war, whether pro or con. I recommend it highly, especially now that we're having to deal with a whole new generation of war veterans. Even though we give them parades and presents, awards and decorations, we shouldn't lose sight of the fact that they are still going to be deeply affected in unpredictable ways by what they have gone through.
And I think we should not lose sight of the fact that many of the Vietnam vets are still out there, still suffering and continue to need our help. Just because we want to forget how we treated them doesn't mean we should forget them.
After Bloods I read a light, fluffy little book that was really more of a reference book: French Fun: The Real Spoken Language of Quebec, by Steve Timmins. It was a dictionary-style collection of French Canadian idioms. It's designed for English-speaking students of French who live in Canada, though, as the author admits, it can also be useful for non-Canadian English speakers. There were some pretty funny idioms that, when translated literally, evoked a comical mental picture, accompanied, in some cases, by an actual picture--a drawing depicting its literal meaning. It was a much more entertaining read than I had imagined it would be. Another "T" book accomplished!
Until next time!
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Extraordinary People
I finished Ann Tyler's Searching for Caleb and I must say it was a very good book! The characters were very strange but interesting, and I got involved in their dilemmas. All worked out well in the end, though, so I highly recommend this book. Next on my list: Bloods.
Here's a review of Searching for Caleb that came out in The New York Times in 1975. I think it beautifully captures the book's essence:
By KATHA POLLITT
It's hard to classify Anne Tyler's novels. They are Southern in their sure sense of family and place but lack the taste for violence and the Gothic that often characterizes self- consciously Southern literature. They are modern in their fictional techniques, yet utterly unconcerned with the contemporary moment as a subject, so that, with only minor dislocations, her stories could just as well have taken place in the twenties or thirties. The current school of feminist-influenced novels seems to have passed her by completely: her women are strong, often stronger than the men in their lives, but solidly grounded in traditional roles. Among our better contemporary novelists, Tyler occupies a somewhat lonely place, polishing brighter and brighter a craft many novelists no longer deem essential to their purpose: the unfolding of character through brilliantly imagined and absolutely accurate detail.
In "Searching for Caleb" she has invented a family whose very conventionality borders on the eccentric. The Pecks of Baltimore are wealthy, standoffish, stolidly self-satisfied. In their suburban enclave of wide lawns and spacious houses, for generations have lived quietly together tactfully ignoring a world they consider loud and frivolous and full of rude people with outlandish surnames.
To be a true Peck is to sink into a kind of lukewarm bath that is comforting but enervating, a perpetual childhood presided over by the brisk, formal, aging grandfather, Daniel. Only two have rebelled: Caleb, Daniel's dreamy, cello-playing brother, who disappeared without a trace 60 years ago, and Duncan, Daniel's grandson, a wild boy in love with scrapes and danger who grows into a strange, private, restless adult.
When Duncan marries his cousin Justine, hitherto an ardent Peck, she begins to discover her own thirst for adventure. For years the two careen through the small towns of Maryland and Virginia as Duncan quits one makeshift job for another. He refuses to acknowledge the past that propels them both into an ever bleaker and dingier future. Justine is pulled both forward and back: an amateur teller of fortunes who advises her clients always to go along with change, she remains in thrall to her own childhood. And so, when Daniel decides to find his lost brother, Justine is the one who joins him. For the old man the quest is a way of recapturing the past, but for Justine it becomes a search for the self she has mislaid. The outcome is marvelously ironic, since the answers to her questions are themselves enigmatic. Yet she emerges triumphant, her own woman at last.
Less perfectly realized than "Celestial Navigation," her extraordinarily moving and beautiful last novel, "Searching for Caleb" is Tyler's sunniest, most expansive book. While etching with a fine, sharp wit the narrow-mindedness and pettishness of the Pecks, she lavishes on them a tenderness that lifts them above satire. Consider Daniel Peck. A cold and unoriginal man, aging gracefully but without wisdom, he is yet allowed moments in which we glimpse his bewilderment at a life that has been in the end disappointing: "In my childhood I was trained to hold things in, you see. But I thought I was holding them in until a certain time. I assumed that someday, somewhere, I would again be given the opportunity to spend all that save-up feeling. When will that be?"
Reading "Searching for Caleb," one is constantly being startled by such moments: gestures, words, wrinkles of thought and feeling that are at once revelatory and exactly right. But at the center of Tyler's characters is a private, mysterious core which is left, wisely, inviolate. Ultimately this wisdom is what makes Tyler more than a fine crafts- man of realistic novels. Her complex, crotchety inventions surprise us, but one senses they surprise her too.
Katha Pollitt is a reviewer of contemporary fiction.
Here's a review of Searching for Caleb that came out in The New York Times in 1975. I think it beautifully captures the book's essence:
January 3, 1975
Searching For CalebBy KATHA POLLITT
It's hard to classify Anne Tyler's novels. They are Southern in their sure sense of family and place but lack the taste for violence and the Gothic that often characterizes self- consciously Southern literature. They are modern in their fictional techniques, yet utterly unconcerned with the contemporary moment as a subject, so that, with only minor dislocations, her stories could just as well have taken place in the twenties or thirties. The current school of feminist-influenced novels seems to have passed her by completely: her women are strong, often stronger than the men in their lives, but solidly grounded in traditional roles. Among our better contemporary novelists, Tyler occupies a somewhat lonely place, polishing brighter and brighter a craft many novelists no longer deem essential to their purpose: the unfolding of character through brilliantly imagined and absolutely accurate detail.
In "Searching for Caleb" she has invented a family whose very conventionality borders on the eccentric. The Pecks of Baltimore are wealthy, standoffish, stolidly self-satisfied. In their suburban enclave of wide lawns and spacious houses, for generations have lived quietly together tactfully ignoring a world they consider loud and frivolous and full of rude people with outlandish surnames.
To be a true Peck is to sink into a kind of lukewarm bath that is comforting but enervating, a perpetual childhood presided over by the brisk, formal, aging grandfather, Daniel. Only two have rebelled: Caleb, Daniel's dreamy, cello-playing brother, who disappeared without a trace 60 years ago, and Duncan, Daniel's grandson, a wild boy in love with scrapes and danger who grows into a strange, private, restless adult.
When Duncan marries his cousin Justine, hitherto an ardent Peck, she begins to discover her own thirst for adventure. For years the two careen through the small towns of Maryland and Virginia as Duncan quits one makeshift job for another. He refuses to acknowledge the past that propels them both into an ever bleaker and dingier future. Justine is pulled both forward and back: an amateur teller of fortunes who advises her clients always to go along with change, she remains in thrall to her own childhood. And so, when Daniel decides to find his lost brother, Justine is the one who joins him. For the old man the quest is a way of recapturing the past, but for Justine it becomes a search for the self she has mislaid. The outcome is marvelously ironic, since the answers to her questions are themselves enigmatic. Yet she emerges triumphant, her own woman at last.
Less perfectly realized than "Celestial Navigation," her extraordinarily moving and beautiful last novel, "Searching for Caleb" is Tyler's sunniest, most expansive book. While etching with a fine, sharp wit the narrow-mindedness and pettishness of the Pecks, she lavishes on them a tenderness that lifts them above satire. Consider Daniel Peck. A cold and unoriginal man, aging gracefully but without wisdom, he is yet allowed moments in which we glimpse his bewilderment at a life that has been in the end disappointing: "In my childhood I was trained to hold things in, you see. But I thought I was holding them in until a certain time. I assumed that someday, somewhere, I would again be given the opportunity to spend all that save-up feeling. When will that be?"
Reading "Searching for Caleb," one is constantly being startled by such moments: gestures, words, wrinkles of thought and feeling that are at once revelatory and exactly right. But at the center of Tyler's characters is a private, mysterious core which is left, wisely, inviolate. Ultimately this wisdom is what makes Tyler more than a fine crafts- man of realistic novels. Her complex, crotchety inventions surprise us, but one senses they surprise her too.
Katha Pollitt is a reviewer of contemporary fiction.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Ann Tyler and Literary Fiction
Well I finished the Ballard book and it was very good! A feel good story about teaching and sports.
I'm now back to my list, reading Ann Tyler's Searching for Caleb. It's a little strange, but compelling--a family saga of a sort that reminds me of Isabel Allende's work. It proves the maxim that I believe I first heard from Stephen King: literary fiction deals with extraordinary people in ordinary situtations; popular fiction deals with ordinary people in extraordinary situations. Tyler's book is in the literary fiction category.
More later . . .
I'm now back to my list, reading Ann Tyler's Searching for Caleb. It's a little strange, but compelling--a family saga of a sort that reminds me of Isabel Allende's work. It proves the maxim that I believe I first heard from Stephen King: literary fiction deals with extraordinary people in ordinary situtations; popular fiction deals with ordinary people in extraordinary situations. Tyler's book is in the literary fiction category.
More later . . .
Saturday, August 17, 2013
One Shot at Compelling
Well, I finished the collection of short stories (or at least as many as I wanted to read). They were of that "literary" type, of course, and were therefore sometimes confusing and sometimes depressing and sometimes wonderful. There were a few of each in Best American Short Stories of 1999.
Next I started on another "T" book, Caliban's Shore: The Wreck of the Grosvenor, a history of late 18th century India and some English colonists who attempt an ill-fated voyage to England around the bottom of Africa. The author, Stephen Taylor, is South African. I tried reading it, but there was so much detail about the politics of the East Indian colony that I just couldn't get interested in it.
So, I've decided to abandon that book and move on to one a co-worker lent me, One Shot at Forever, by Chris Ballard, a sports writer. The book is a true story of a high school baseball team in a small Illinois town and their quest to compete at the highest level in the state. It takes place in 1971 and their improbably successful coach is a hippie dude who coaches (and teaches) in a completely different way from what they and their parents are used to. Rather than using the drill-sergeant-style method of discipline and training, this coach allows them to find their own way and to train and discipline toward a self-imposed goal of improving and playing competitively while also having fun.
It's very well written and compelling, so I'm enjoying it. I'll return to my list when I'm finished.
Meanwhile, I've also been listening to audiobooks of Ruth Rendell's Inspector Wexford series (as incentive for walking). Reginald Wexford is a middle-aged police detective in a suburb of London and he is a great character! Rendell started writing these books back in the early 1960's, when Inspector Wexford was around 50 years old. She's still writing them, although now the inspector, who should be over 100 by now, is still middle-aged and adjusting to the social and technological changes of the 21st century, as he did with each decade of the 20th century since the 60s. Despite their protagonist's apparent deal with the devil, Rendell's novels are just as well-written as ever--cleverly plotted with interesting, realistic characters and very little violence or sexual suggestion (never any actual sex being described). They count as what are called "cozy" mysteries, which I prefer, I think. I like the puzzle of it--I can imagine the violence myself.
Until next time . . .
Next I started on another "T" book, Caliban's Shore: The Wreck of the Grosvenor, a history of late 18th century India and some English colonists who attempt an ill-fated voyage to England around the bottom of Africa. The author, Stephen Taylor, is South African. I tried reading it, but there was so much detail about the politics of the East Indian colony that I just couldn't get interested in it.
So, I've decided to abandon that book and move on to one a co-worker lent me, One Shot at Forever, by Chris Ballard, a sports writer. The book is a true story of a high school baseball team in a small Illinois town and their quest to compete at the highest level in the state. It takes place in 1971 and their improbably successful coach is a hippie dude who coaches (and teaches) in a completely different way from what they and their parents are used to. Rather than using the drill-sergeant-style method of discipline and training, this coach allows them to find their own way and to train and discipline toward a self-imposed goal of improving and playing competitively while also having fun.
It's very well written and compelling, so I'm enjoying it. I'll return to my list when I'm finished.
Meanwhile, I've also been listening to audiobooks of Ruth Rendell's Inspector Wexford series (as incentive for walking). Reginald Wexford is a middle-aged police detective in a suburb of London and he is a great character! Rendell started writing these books back in the early 1960's, when Inspector Wexford was around 50 years old. She's still writing them, although now the inspector, who should be over 100 by now, is still middle-aged and adjusting to the social and technological changes of the 21st century, as he did with each decade of the 20th century since the 60s. Despite their protagonist's apparent deal with the devil, Rendell's novels are just as well-written as ever--cleverly plotted with interesting, realistic characters and very little violence or sexual suggestion (never any actual sex being described). They count as what are called "cozy" mysteries, which I prefer, I think. I like the puzzle of it--I can imagine the violence myself.
Until next time . . .
Sunday, August 4, 2013
From History to Short Fiction: Continuing on the T-Train
The past week I finished the Troy, Maine history and started on a collection of short stories edited by Amy Tan (another "T" author): Best American Short Stories of 1999. I've read a couple of the stories so far and have been enjoying them.
I'll have more to say next week on this.
I'll have more to say next week on this.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Stories of Ordinary People Continued
Well, I finally finished Studs Terkel and found it to be a very interesting collection of interviews from a great variety of people, mostly from the Chicago area.
Meanwhile, I also read the latest Michael Connelly mystery, The Black Box, featuring his continuing detective character, Harry Bosch. It was quite good--had a nice twist at the end.
Now I'm reading another "T" book, the history of Troy, Maine, titled Troy, Past and Present: 1793, 1827-1977. The book was written back in the 70s by two of the townspeople, Leola and Edith Mitchell, both school teachers. I have the fifth edition, printed in October 2001. It's not great writing, but it's not bad writing, either, considering it was published by the town and has not been edited by a commercial publisher. And because it concerns my ancestors and their neighbors, it's interesting to me. There are numerous pictures, maps, and even some recipes from the old days. I'm enjoying it so far.
Next I may go to fiction, perhaps Jean Toomer or Ann Tyler. I'll keep you informed.
Meanwhile, I also read the latest Michael Connelly mystery, The Black Box, featuring his continuing detective character, Harry Bosch. It was quite good--had a nice twist at the end.
Now I'm reading another "T" book, the history of Troy, Maine, titled Troy, Past and Present: 1793, 1827-1977. The book was written back in the 70s by two of the townspeople, Leola and Edith Mitchell, both school teachers. I have the fifth edition, printed in October 2001. It's not great writing, but it's not bad writing, either, considering it was published by the town and has not been edited by a commercial publisher. And because it concerns my ancestors and their neighbors, it's interesting to me. There are numerous pictures, maps, and even some recipes from the old days. I'm enjoying it so far.
Next I may go to fiction, perhaps Jean Toomer or Ann Tyler. I'll keep you informed.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Greed Again
I did indeed turn to Studs Terkel this week, beginning his book on the divisions in our society, The Great Divide, a collection of interviews by Mr. Terkel and his staff in which they asked Americans what they thought about the state of the American Dream. It's quite interesting, especially since it was compiled in the mid-80s, an era characterized by tremendous greed, its signature movie being Wall Street, which came out in 1987, around the time this book was published (early 1988).
Some things I've learned so far are that some people were disappointed with Reagan, some regretted voting for him, but others thought he was right on--smart, courageous, wise. Indeed, there seems a tremendous desire on the part of some of the interviewees in the book to explain why "greed is good" (to quote Wall Street).
One interesting aspect of the book was that the stock market crash occurred during the interviewing process so that the interviewers were able to go back to people they had talked to before the crash to get their responses after it happened. Not surprisingly, those in the financial profession were the most anxious to play down the significance of the crash.
It seems Mr. Terkel tried to include all walks of life in the book, from dentist to stock broker to factory worker to farmer. Some of the opinions are harsh, some surprising. It's an interesting look at that era.
What was perhaps most disturbing about the book, though, is how much that time resembles our own. It seems that we didn't learn much, that not much has changed in 25 years, and in fact the "great divide" is wider than ever.
Until next time . . .
Some things I've learned so far are that some people were disappointed with Reagan, some regretted voting for him, but others thought he was right on--smart, courageous, wise. Indeed, there seems a tremendous desire on the part of some of the interviewees in the book to explain why "greed is good" (to quote Wall Street).
One interesting aspect of the book was that the stock market crash occurred during the interviewing process so that the interviewers were able to go back to people they had talked to before the crash to get their responses after it happened. Not surprisingly, those in the financial profession were the most anxious to play down the significance of the crash.
It seems Mr. Terkel tried to include all walks of life in the book, from dentist to stock broker to factory worker to farmer. Some of the opinions are harsh, some surprising. It's an interesting look at that era.
What was perhaps most disturbing about the book, though, is how much that time resembles our own. It seems that we didn't learn much, that not much has changed in 25 years, and in fact the "great divide" is wider than ever.
Until next time . . .
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