Independence Day by Richard Ford, (c)1995
ISBN 0-679-73518-6
I received this book by way of a well-meaning church member who
brought it to me while I was filling in for the church secretary one
day. I hadn't requested it and he hadn't recommended it to me
previously; I'm not even sure if he's read it. But there it was, in my possession, and I felt obligated to read it before I returned it, this literary
Pulitzer-Prize winner with a back cover blurb that would not have
prompted me to read it otherwise.
Being a literary masterpiece, Independence Day is highly descriptive. As a somewhat-regular reader of high fantasy, I can generally take a concentrated dose of expositional details, but it took me a while to get into this book. Since I wasn't immediately caught up in the narration and hadn't yet made it far enough in to really care what happened next, I found myself paying more attention to the writing, the actual structure of the sentences and the ways the words were put together to form them. It occurred to me that Mr. Ford's sentences were very much like sentences I have written (and, all too often, have spoken): lengthy sentences employing several commas to cram in as many details as possible to create a complete thought before the period arrives, with parenthetical asides serving to share the protagonist's (in this case, real estate agent Frank Bascombe's) perspective on the situation. Oh, I realized, Frank is reflective, like me. This must be what it's like for other people to listen to my stories. In that case, perhaps I'd better settle in and let him tell me his story.
It took several settings, but eventually I got to know Frank well enough to put up with him and tag along for the course of his holiday weekend. It was Independence Day weekend and he had real estate clients to meet (and ponder over and evaluate and determine how best to deal with) and a son to take on a weekend trip (in the midst of reflecting on their earlier lives together, his divorce, his move into his ex-wife's former house, and the ways his relationships with his children - this son as well as a younger daughter - have altered over time). Also, there were Frank's girlfriend, the snack stand he owns, the tenants who avoid him in one of his rentals, and the vacant other rental that could use some tenants.
Over time, I came to appreciate my time with Frank and the others in his life; some amusing, some exasperating. I gained certain insights into the world of real estate that I wouldn't have otherwise, and I feel as though I received a sense of what life in the Northeast might be like (as opposed to life in the Midwest or Mountain West areas, where my life has so far been spent). I don't expect to find myself rushing back to Haddam, New Jersey, anytime soon (this is the sequel to Ford's The Sportswriter and it seems there is a third book that followed this one), but I would recommend a trip for anyone who has some time to set aside for a leisurely read through a long weekend of reflection, self-evaluating, and realization.
Being a literary masterpiece, Independence Day is highly descriptive. As a somewhat-regular reader of high fantasy, I can generally take a concentrated dose of expositional details, but it took me a while to get into this book. Since I wasn't immediately caught up in the narration and hadn't yet made it far enough in to really care what happened next, I found myself paying more attention to the writing, the actual structure of the sentences and the ways the words were put together to form them. It occurred to me that Mr. Ford's sentences were very much like sentences I have written (and, all too often, have spoken): lengthy sentences employing several commas to cram in as many details as possible to create a complete thought before the period arrives, with parenthetical asides serving to share the protagonist's (in this case, real estate agent Frank Bascombe's) perspective on the situation. Oh, I realized, Frank is reflective, like me. This must be what it's like for other people to listen to my stories. In that case, perhaps I'd better settle in and let him tell me his story.
It took several settings, but eventually I got to know Frank well enough to put up with him and tag along for the course of his holiday weekend. It was Independence Day weekend and he had real estate clients to meet (and ponder over and evaluate and determine how best to deal with) and a son to take on a weekend trip (in the midst of reflecting on their earlier lives together, his divorce, his move into his ex-wife's former house, and the ways his relationships with his children - this son as well as a younger daughter - have altered over time). Also, there were Frank's girlfriend, the snack stand he owns, the tenants who avoid him in one of his rentals, and the vacant other rental that could use some tenants.
Over time, I came to appreciate my time with Frank and the others in his life; some amusing, some exasperating. I gained certain insights into the world of real estate that I wouldn't have otherwise, and I feel as though I received a sense of what life in the Northeast might be like (as opposed to life in the Midwest or Mountain West areas, where my life has so far been spent). I don't expect to find myself rushing back to Haddam, New Jersey, anytime soon (this is the sequel to Ford's The Sportswriter and it seems there is a third book that followed this one), but I would recommend a trip for anyone who has some time to set aside for a leisurely read through a long weekend of reflection, self-evaluating, and realization.
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