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Richard Ford

 
 
matthew.
18:45 / 03.04.07
I finally finished The Sportswriter today. Magnificent. Or, maybe not. It seems I'm of two minds of the book.

SPOILERS

I really enjoyed the memories and the pages and pages of recollections, but the forward movement of the plot made me yawn. The best part of the book is the dinner scene slash climax with Vicki's family. The literature student in me recognized it as the pivotal point in Frank Bascombe's development as a character. He stood on the edge, looking backwards (obsessed with the past) and the future, after hearing of Walter Luckett's death. He talks and talks about sports and teams and all this bullshit that he sees as bullshit and then he's confronted by X with Walter's death. Frank can either continue to look backwards, or to look forwards to a time when he's gotten over X (to an extent, that is) and when he's going to do something. I guess he does. In the epilogue, he moves to Florida and... does things.

I'm happy that the novel is continued in two other books. The ending of this novel didn't satisfy me. I went through all that effort to understand Frank, and now I want to see the follow-through of the changes Frank makes.

If Independence Day won all those awards, it has to be as good as this one, right?

On the other hand, I'm not a fan of the conversations Ford's character have - or have not. For a writer acclaimed for his dialogue, his characters don't say anything remotely real. Sure, the individual word balloons sound authentic and real, but stacked together? Nope. They sound nonsensical. But I suppose that's part of the themes... not being able to communicate properly... I guess. Even Frank admits as much near the beginning.

I can see how this novel can be considered so good. But it has its flaws. A kind of small flaw? The fact that Frank refers to every black man as a Negro. Just kind of disconcerting. There's no black characters in here, other than janitors and waiters and background people. Is this a comment on the suburbia that Ford seems so inclined to deride? Or is this a comment on the prevailing thoughts of the time as characterized by Frank.

I can also see how this book fits into that seventies realism in American lit, like Raymond Carver et al. We're taking a look at the true life of America in this book, the divorces, the unhappy people, the non-communication, the emptiness of jobs and suburbia. All very cutting edge for the seventies.

Any thoughts? Anybody reading Lay Of The Land?
 
  
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