By chance, I was watching Walter Isaacson’s interview with James McBride on Amanpour’s television show. I didn’t know McBride’s work. I liked the fact that he didn’t answer in a rehearsed way to Isaacson’s questions. The novel looked offbeat. I was also interested because the novel was set in the twenties and thirties, and I am writing a novel set in the thirties.
I loved this novel because of the relationships and friendships between idiosyncratic characters: Orthodox Jews who stay rooted in an African-American neighborhood when everyone else has vamoosed.
The uncovering of a skeleton in the seventies in Chicken Hill, in Pottstown, Pennsylvania is the trigger for this tale, set in the twenties and the thirties. Moshe Ludlow, a Romanian Jew, runs a theater, where African American perform, while his wife, Chona runs the Heaven and Earth grocery store.
Generous-spirited and kind, Chona helps anyone in need in the neighborhood. When Dodo, a deaf boy is about to be sent to an asylum, the neighborhood closes ranks. Despite the cultural differences with their African-American neighbors, there is goodwill, genuine affection, and practical help. Dodo is eventually sent to an institution. Even though the place is horrific, Dodo manages to communicate and befriend another patient with multiple sclerosis.
I love to write about relationships of characters from different cultural backgrounds who have rapport. McBride doesn’t sugarcoat anything---the racism and xenophobia of the thirties is described in the novel, but he also shows the power of good neighbors.
“A murder mystery locked inside a Great American Novel . . . Charming, smart, heart-blistering, and heart-healing.” —Danez Smith, The New York Times Book Review
“We all need—we all deserve—this vibrant, love-affirming novel that bounds over any difference that claims to separate us.” —Ron Charles, The Washington Post
From James McBride, author of the bestselling Oprah’s Book Club pick Deacon King Kong and the National Book Award–winning The Good Lord Bird, a novel about small-town secrets and the people who keep them
In 1972, when workers in Pottstown, Pennsylvania, were digging the foundations for…
I visited Fort Davis, Texas, this past summer as part of a
research trip for a new novel. Fort
Davis was established in an isolated part of West Texas to protect settlers
heading westward from Indians. At the Fort Davis museum, I stumbled upon The
Last Camel Charge,The Untold Story
of America’s Desert Military Campaign. I had already read about how the US
military had imported camels from the Middle East in 1855.
I
loved this book because of the quirky historical details that are recounted as
an engaging narrative. Johnson’s non-fiction book reads almost like a novel!
Jefferson Davis, who was Secretary of War
in 1855, was receptive to the idea that camels might be a good alternative to
horses and mules for carrying supplies to the Southwest. We hear of the
adventures of army officer Henry Wayne (later, Confederate Brigadier Genera,l), who went on a tour of the Middle East, searching for camels. But there are also
the flamboyant characters he brought with him to train the camels.
An Ottoman
Greek named Phillip Tedro, who converted to Islam and called himself Hadji A, was hired as a camel driver for the US Army. Other colorful characters, like
the explorer Sam Bishop, appreciated and respected the camel. When he and his tiny expedition were outnumbered by Mojave tribe, they broke
through the siege with a herd of camels. The federal government abandoned this experiment with the onset of the Civil War.
“A fascinating story, telling aspects of the American West that most of us know little about.”—True West Magazine
In the mid-nineteenth century, the U.S. Army was on the verge of employing a weapon that had never before been seen on its native soil: a cavalry mount that would fare better than both mules and horses in the American Southwest...
Against the Mojave in the Arizona Territory, against the Mormons in Utah Territory, during the early stages of the Civil War, the camel would become part of military history and a nearly forgotten chapter of Americana.
Because medical quackery, healing, and illness are
themes in my new novel, a professor friend recommended that I read Thomas
Mann’s The Magic Mountain.
I
loved this leisurely, episodic novel, set shortly before the First World War. I
was especially interested in how Mann explores the line between medical experimentation
and quackery, especially in diseases with no known cure. At the time the novel
was written, there was no cure for tuberculosis.
The
novel is set in Davos, Switzerland, in a sanitorium high on a mountain. In his
twenties, Hans Castorp visits his cousin, Joachim, who has been diagnosed with
tuberculosis. Castorp, who is not interested in the family business, seems to
have found the perfect escape from middle-class drudgery.
While the atmosphere
at first seems pleasurable with outings, concerts, and diversions, Castorp
starts to feel that the escape may be a trap. Many of the patients die. A few
unscrupulous doctors are exploiting wealthy patients for profit.
I was
delighted by the odd range of characters who are part of the scene: an
expressive Italian, a Jewish Jesuit, a promiscuous Dutchman.
With this dizzyingly rich novel of ideas, Thomas Mann rose to the front ranks of the great modern novelists, winning the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1929. The Magic Mountain takes place in an exclusive tuberculosis sanatorium in the Swiss Alps-a community devoted to sickness that serves as a fictional microcosm for Europe in the days before the First World War. To this hermetic and otherworldly realm comes Hans Castorp, an "ordinary young man" who arrives for a short visit and ends up staying for seven years, during which he succumbs both to the lure of eros and to the…
Confessions of a Knight Errant is a comedic, picaresque novel in the tradition of Don Quixote with a
flamboyant cast of characters.
Dr. Gary Watson is the picaro, a radical
environmentalist and wannabe novelist who has been accused of masterminding a
computer hack that wiped out the files of a major publishing company. His
Sancho Panza is Kharalombos, a fat, gluttonous Greek dancing teacher who is
wanted by the secret police for cavorting with the daughter of the Big Man of
Egypt.
Self-preservation necessitates a hurried journey to the refuge of a
girls’ camp in rural Texas. Then, a body that is connected to
Middle Eastern antiquities turns up nearby, and they are on the run once more.