Reviews and Comments

I wish I felt more emotional investment with the characters in this book. Most of them drift through their lives and end up in New York. This is the story of the random, tenuous (and unlikely) connections between them.

Claire and Solomon Soderberg live a shallow life beneath the veneer of Park Avenue. Claire attempts to fill the void that is her life with a group of women who come for brunch; she is looking to them to validate her grief and her existence. Claire’s story sets up the most satisfactory device of this book: we read about the events from Claire’s point of view, and then (after we think we know what happens next) we hear the continuation of the story from Gloria, one of the guests.

McCann tries the technique again with Tillie’s story, but the effect is nowhere near as convincing. First we hear her words, and feel some sympathy for her hard life of drugs and prostitution. Then we see her from Judge Soderberg’s perspective and—she’s nothing but a smart-mouthed hooker.

We get much, much backstory about the Corrigan brothers. I was starting to wonder when they were going to get to New York.

The book ends years later, with a ridiculously improbable happy ending for Jaslyn (one of Tillie’s granddaughters).

Spoiler follows…
If you want a scorecard, here is the primary circle of characters and events: Tillie and Jazzlyn were arrested for prostitution. Judge Soderberg sentenced Tillie to prison and let Jazzlyn go. As Corrigan and Jazzlyn are driving back home from the courthouse, they are killed in an auto accident. Jazzlyn’s daughters are adopted by Gloria, a friend of Judge Soderberg’s wife, Claire. Ciaran, Corrigan’s brother, ends up with Lara, who was driving the car that killed Corrigan and Jazzlyn.

I wish I felt more emotional investment with the characters in this book. Most of them drift through their lives and end up in New York. This is the story of the random, tenuous (and unlikely) connections between them.

Claire and Solomon Soderberg live a shallow life beneath the veneer of Park Avenue. Claire attempts to fill the void that is her life with a group of women who come for brunch; she is looking to them to validate her grief and her existence. Claire’s story sets up the most satisfactory device of this book: we read about the events from Claire’s point of view, and then (after we think we know what happens next) we hear the continuation of the story from Gloria, one of the guests.

McCann tries the technique again with Tillie’s story, but the effect is nowhere near as convincing. First we hear her words, and feel some sympathy for her hard life of drugs and prostitution. Then we see her from Judge Soderberg’s perspective and—she’s nothing but a smart-mouthed hooker.

We get much, much backstory about the Corrigan brothers. I was starting to wonder when they were going to get to New York.

The book ends years later, with a ridiculously improbable happy ending for Jaslyn (one of Tillie’s granddaughters).

Spoiler follows…
If you want a scorecard, here is the primary circle of characters and events: Tillie and Jazzlyn were arrested for prostitution. Judge Soderberg sentenced Tillie to prison and let Jazzlyn go. As Corrigan and Jazzlyn are driving back home from the courthouse, they are killed in an auto accident. Jazzlyn’s daughters are adopted by Gloria, a friend of Judge Soderberg’s wife, Claire. Ciaran, Corrigan’s brother, ends up with Lara, who was driving the car that killed Corrigan and Jazzlyn.

Salvage the Bones is a beautifully written, harrowing story of the days leading up to Hurricane Katrina, told by the teenage Esch. Her widowed father is feebly attempting to prepare for the hurricane and is virtually ignored by his children, who are absorbed in their own pursuits: Randall with basketball (which may give him with opportunities that don’t otherwise exist); Skeetah with his dog, China (whom he loves without measure and who seems to love him back); Junior with his need for physical contact and affection; and Esch, who has just learned that she’s pregnant.

Esch longs for the love of her baby daddy (a friend of one of her brothers) even though he is clearly a jerk. She (and her brothers) long for the love of their mother. They try to recall things she has taught them and told them. Skeetah has already forgotten what her voice sounds like. Junior never knew her.

The only actual “mother” in the story is China, who has just given birth to her first litter. But don’t think that she’s portrayed as the angelic mother figure. There's a depiction of a dogfight that was horrific to read, as was another gasp-inducing event involving China.

The family survives Katrina (no spoiler here; the final chapter is titled “Alive”). Although this is a work of fiction, it gives us a view to what it was like inside those houses that we saw on TV in 2005. As grim as the circumstances are, Esch shows us the calm after the storm. Loyalty and hope win out.

* * * * * * * *

I have a teensy-tiny quibble with some of the author's metaphors. In chapter 4 she tells us that the dog's bark was "like a shovel dragged along asphalt wearing away to stones." Later, in chapter 12, Skeetah’s "voice sounded like a rake being dragged over rocks". The first quote was poetic; the second felt like a retread.

Overall, a really, really good book.

This book had me hooked by the second page. It’s on the same trajectory that brought us Charles Portis’ [b:True Grit|257845|True Grit|Charles Portis|http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51XHR1NY3TL.SL75.jpg|1320617] and the HBO series Deadwood.

Patrick deWitt skillfully uses the voice of his narrator, Eli Sisters, to tell us about the gold rush-era American west. Eli and his brother Charlie are hired guns headed for California, and leave a trail of blood in their path.

Episodes veer from comedy to tragedy almost instantaneously; actually, they don’t “veer” as much as portray simultaneous duality. How can a scene be both funny and awful at the same time? deWitt shows us how.

Early on, after sustaining a spider bite, Eli says:

“The left side of my face was grotesquely swollen, from the crown of my skull all the way to the neck, tapering off at the shoulder. My eye was merely a slit and Charlie, regaining his humor, said I looked like a half dog, and he tossed a stick to see if I would chase it.”

That is the tone of brotherhood in this book.

As much as Charlie is a heartless SOB, Eli is a little more sentimental. Portrayed as “heftier” and rather slow-witted, Eli periodically reflects on his life and gives us wonderful lines like this:

“When a man is properly drunk it is as though he is in a room by himself.”

Like Eli’s horse Tub, the book stumbles along at the end. There’s a little too much speechifying by some characters, and then there’s an ending that…seems…a little off. My reaction is that we are not supposed to trust Eli as a narrator. I’m trying not to give away anything here, but concluding events work out a little too easily in his favor. With more careful reading, I’d probably be able to pick up more clues (perhaps from the “intermissions”?).

Finally, five stars to the superb cover art by Dan Stiles.

This book is what happens to a culture that is saturated by “reality TV.” Each character gets his or her moment in the spotlight only to fade away into the background once their turn is over. We don’t get much depth of anyone’s personality, history, or goals; instead, we get a series of short stories, each with a happy ending.

Somewhat reminiscent of A Visit from the Goon Squad and Olive Kitteridge, The School of Essential Ingredients features a different character in each chapter. Unfortunately, the narrative voice never changes even as we read about the frazzled young mother, or the widower, or the insecure young woman, or the elderly couple with a Secret. As a result, some of the characters fuzzed together (Ian and Tom were particularly interchangeable).

The “cooking school” that formed the nexus of the group didn’t teach much cooking. Typical was the instruction to “add some water” to make masa for tamales. “How much?” the student asks. “Do what makes sense,” she is told.

Turns out that the instructor, Lillian, has a Gift for understanding People, and her cooking school is a cover for helping her students uncover their True Selves. This book hinted at other themes (the simple goodness of fresh ingredients; cooking and eating slowly), but in the end we bounce from feel-good story to feel-good story as if the author didn’t trust our attention span. The book made me hunger for good, in-depth character studies like Jonathan Franzen’s [b:Freedom|7905092|Freedom|Jonathan Franzen|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1316729686s/7905092.jpg|9585796].

I most enjoyed The Northeast Kingdom by Nathaniel Rich and Steven Millhauser's Rapunzel. These short stories were good but not quite good enough to make me want to read other works by these authors.

I've been a long-time KCRW/NPR listener so I recognized many of the names in Bob Edwards' book (Sylvia Poggioli, Noah Adams, Susan Stamberg, Red Barber). Anecdotes about putting the radio shows Morning Edition and All Things Considered made for a pleasant reading experience.

According to Edwards, NPR's management really botched the way they handled his "departure" from the network. Sigh. Incompetent management is everywhere.

The book concludes with a few chapters that feel a plug for his satellite radio program.

Based on rave reviews by friends who loved this book, I expected to like this book more than I did. I’m feeling generous today so I’m rating it 4 stars.

Best themes:
The elasticity of sibling bonds (“Safari” and “Great Rock and Roll Pauses”)
Fragility (“Good-bye, My Love” and “Found Objects”)

My favorite story:
Ted Hollander searching for his niece Sasha in Naples (“Good-bye, My Love”)

Funniest moments:
Characters who prefer to text (“T”) each other rather than speak even as they sit across the table from one another (“Pure Language”)

Most Annoying:
The article, written by Jules, that describes how he ended up assaulting the actress he is sent to interview (“Forty Minute Lunch”) – enough with footnotes in modern lit; if you can’t do ‘em like [a:David Foster Wallace|4339|David Foster Wallace|http://photo.goodreads.com/authors/1301424629p2/4339.jpg], then just don’t, ok?

Most Overhyped:
The PowerPoint chapter (“Great Rock and Roll Pauses”) – yes, it’s creative. However, no need to fall all over yourselves because of it. (Maybe I’ll write a story in Excel: Enter characters in column A and relationships in column B; sort by locale (column C), use a formula in column D to calculate a happiness quotient based on the characters’ ages (to be entered in a lookup table), and then review all possible outcomes in a pivot table that sums the number of times a relationship is repeated compared to the median value of the times the character says "Awesome!".)

* * *

Browsing other GR reviews I saw a couple of comparisons to [b:Cloud Atlas|49628|Cloud Atlas|David Mitchell|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1170360941s/49628.jpg|1871423], another book of interlocking short stories told in different styles and voices across different time periods. While I enjoyed Goon Squad, Cloud Atlas was much more commanding.