SOUTH OF BROAD

If Pat Conroy published a shopping list, I would probably search for it and read it. Ever since around 1980, when my mother recommended The Lords of Discipline to me, I have been a faithful fan. Part of that devotion may be my having lived on the edges of Charleston (up to fifth grade) and the fact that some of his upbringing roughly parallels that of mine (military father, marshes, South). I loved Great Santini, Prince of Tides, and Water is Wide. I even tracked down a copy of Boo. Although I am seldom awed by the famous or wealthy, I was somewhat starstruck when I finally got to meet Conroy in person, while he was giving a talk in Columbia about his memories of poet and novelist James Dickey. He turned out to be as gracious and pleasant as many of the Southern characters he pens. I have often found myself trading away hours of sleep in order to avoid putting down his latest novel (although I confess that the only thing I haven’t read of his is the cookbook). I enjoyed his nonfictional My Losing Season, as well as Beach Music (though it was probably my least favorite of his novels).

So, I was very excited when I heard Conroy had a new novel, South of Broad, coming out, roughly ten years after his last effort. I immediately lost much-needed rest. Dysfunctional families and individuals are his stock and trade, and this book is chock full of them. The story is placed during the cauldron of desegregation and high-school life (primarily the exploits of the integrated football team) in 1969 Charleston, as a small group of disparate and damaged souls comes together and forms a strong (yet often disputatious) bond that lasts into adulthood. The star the group circles around is protagonist Leo King, a young man recovering from the loss of an adored older brother (suicide) and the parenting of a stern, rigid, ex-Catholic nun mother (who is also the principal of his high school), a role that is moderated by the love and attention of a softer, understanding, and supportive father. King---who is ending several years of probation (having taken the rap for a drug crime he didn’t commit), extensive mental care, and slave-like community service (for a crotchety antiques dealer)---is asked to be a moderating influence between the races in the newly integrated public school and on the football team, as well as to serve as shepherd (similar in ways to the story in Lords of Discipline) to three high-society kids, forced out of their private school; several orphans, including a brother and sister from the mountains of North Carolina; and two damaged, but talented, twin neighbors---one a beautiful, uninhibited, and rebellious girl (Sheba, destined for stardom in Hollywood) and the other a beautiful, flamboyant gay boy (Trevor, destined for local fame in San Francisco as a pianist). King, although apparently rather homely (but well-known because of a long-standing stint as newspaper delivery boy), has a deep heart and manages to achieve his tasks of maintaining racial harmony and stability for the group, but he pays a hard price after marrying Starla (one of the NC orphans), who suffers from borderline personality disorder. He becomes best friends with his black co-captain (whose father is the new coach). While their youthful actions and bonding are important to the tale, the major storyline occurs twenty years later as the truth of their lives unravels while several members of the clique attempt to save Trevor from a terrible fate in California, as well as defend themselves from the twin’s evil father and the onrushing hurricane Hugo.

Conroy loves and understands Charleston and The Citadel, particularly, and the strengths of the book are place and character. Readers familiar with his books will feel pretty comfortable. However, the first part of the book seemed rushed---almost cramped---as he tried to jam things together, to situate the characters, and provide the bedrock of the story. . .it almost felt that he might have written the first section last, and in a hurry. King’s character seemed a bit unrealistic at times, and some of the wordplay seemed outside of that which I was familiar with. Yes, people call each other terrible things, even in jest, but I simply can’t see some phrases tumbling from the lips of most Charlestonians I knew, even the most racist (if they were upper-class). I really enjoyed the love story between King's parents and descriptions of the area (a city that I really like, but do not want to live in). Once the story morphed into their adult lives, it seemed to flow better (even accepting certain scenes that didn’t ring true). Perhaps there were just too many subplots (coverage of which could have accounted for an addition 200-300 pages), but perhaps he was under length or time constraints. There are a lot of disturbing parts (incest, pedophilia, AIDS, racism) that one might want to consider if a young adult choses to pick up the book.

Overall, I enjoyed the book, and heartily recommend it. It touched me personally in several areas. . .particularly Leo’s relationship to Starla. He is a classic codependent personality who cannot give up on his crazy wife. Been there, done that! (Though I got enough help to finally cut the ropes that were dragging me down into the abyss). I just hope we do not have to wait an additional ten years for his next story.

TRACKS

Although Morrison seems to get most of the literary accolades, I feel that Louise Erdrich is every bit as good a storyteller and deserves more attention and greater readership. I may not like all of her stories, but the same can be said of Morrison, and usually I am drawn in by her characters. This novel, Tracks, is a story of several Anishinabe (Chippewa, Ojibwe) families struggling to maintain their culture and lands from the onslaught of church, American ways, and the logging companies during the period roughly corresponding with American participation in World War I; it is a wonderful tale of a defiant woman, Fleur, who survives the extinction of her family in an epidemic and then boldy defies almost everyone around her to forge her own life as she wants to live it. There are elements of what can be described as Native American magical realism (though it may simply the application of native folklore). The story has two narrators. The primary is Nanapush, the old, wise, mischevious, experienced grandfather (telling the story of her mother to his granddaughter). The other is Pauline, an embittered, mentally ill woman who becomes a religious zealot, but is a devil within the community. Not native myself, I believe that Erdrich faithfully reveals some truth in the inner working and complex relationships experienced by Native Americans; some window into the reactions of Indians to the destruction of their world, as well as the tenacious resistence and stubborn accommodation that resulted; some of the humour, anger, love, hatreds, revengefulness, pettiness, forgiveness, sharing, charity, community---in all its varities---that could be found within families and among neighbors. Erdrich's characters are not one dimensional. I love how Nanapush judged and described the many characters in the community. He has to be one of my favorite characters. He loves puncturing falsehoods and white ways, but nonetheless is affected by them. . .clearly as he speaks, he is not telling the whole truth, or is embellishing for the sake of story, but you are drawn in nonetheless. I recommend this story to anyone who likes reading NA fiction.

NEGATIVE CRITICISM

I just love a sharp, witty critique of a book (even if it is off the mark). I wish I had an acid touch like that sometimes. I admire people who can concoct biting barbs off the top of their head (although these may have been ruminating a lot longer than we know). I present here two that I like:


"The covers of this book are too far apart." --- Ambrose Bierce

"Once you put it down you can't pick it up." ---Mark Twain

PAKISTAN

How exactly did Mohammed Hanif escape not being put on some notorious fatwa (akin to the one ordered against Salmon Rushdie) for having written the blasphemous, Catch-22-like A Case of Exploding Mangoes? At least, you would think, some mysterious Moslem assassins or shadowy Pakistani military death squads would be hunting down the author, angry over his humorous, cynical take on General Zia-al-Huq, Islam, government, intelligence services, US-Pakistani relations, jihad in Afghanistan (against the Soviets), and many other topics, not to mention the naughty language and homosexual encounters. Just the sentence "Allah’s house was just a dark, empty room," should have sparked slogan-shouting in the streets---you know, with banners and all. Certainly the family of dictatorial General Zia wanted to haul Hanif into court for slander!!! Of course, these things apparently have not happened, thankfully. So, is this book worth reading? Hell, yes. And this his first book to boot. Maybe that is why Hanif lives in London.

What a perfect scenario for a fiction writer to play with. The mysterious death by plane crash of Zia, several of his generals, and the U.S. Ambassador to Pakistan had left many conspiracy theories---a wonderful happenstance that allows Hanif to apply his imagination and sharp critiques in a readable and funny book. Sinister undertones are teased from the mess that is the protagonist Ali Shigri’s life. A junior air officer in training, he is the son of a deceased (suicide or murder, you decide) highly decorated Pakistani military officer who helped run the jihad against the Soviets (and may or may not have been involved in siphoning off a little American green).

The book says a lot about the paranoia and stupidity of military dictatorships. He comments on the cruelty and illogical thinking of religious fundamentalists, the backstabbing and mentality of men in military hierarchies and intelligence services. He pokes fun at bumbling American foreign service personnel and military advisors, as well as at American culture. He even takes a humorous shot at a young Osama bin Laden.

He could have used a better editor though, as several times very similar passages were used (such as "the asphalt melting under his boots"). Overall, though, I would encourage people to try this book.