December 14: "Dappled Things" Easter 2021 (2/2)

I very much enjoyed my reading through of the rest of this issue of Dappled Things, in particular the poetry.  Some of the Devon Balwit poems were really well done.  

Reading more of this publication lately has allowed me to realize that I dislike many of the book reviews, probably more than half.  The most common factor is that they try too hard.  They reveal what is always the potential weakness of publications like this: the amateur writer trying too hard to create the winning metaphor, the pristine image, or the poetic prose.  Perhaps it comes out in the reviews more often because they're trying to match the style or significance of the book they're trying to tell us is so good.  And that's another thing: they're always telling us the book is so good.  

But let not this rant obscure the fact that I enjoyed this issue quite a lot.  

December 8, 2021: "The Last Hurray," Edwin O'Connor

This is my second O'Connor novel, and my response to it is similar to the first:  I enjoyed it, some parts a lot, while a few parts dragged.  There were poignant moments, very emotionally affecting, but the overall effect was limited.  O'Connor is tremendous with character and (at times) building up a worldview and time-period.  At times, the dialogue is a slog to get through; and in general, the novels feel longer than they need to be.  All that said, I think the total effect of his novels (at least the two I read) require you to be with the characters and story for a while for the effect to work.

One interesting thing to note:  The main character, a roughish but complex and very likable Bostonian politician from the midcentury (a corrupt mayor and former governor, whose corruption is never about personal gain but rather bringing comfort and equality to the extremely poor Irish working class, an oppressed minority in Boston when the mayor grew up), asks his relatively apolitical nephew to follow this his last campaign, simply to witness the end of an era.  It's an era in politics but also in American history.  

It's clear that the nephew is, in some senses, Edwin O'Connor.  He's giving witness to an end of an era.  Like a few of the characters in the novel, O'Connor was a reporter covering Boston politics.  While O'Connor's presentation isn't quite objective and neutral, no good "histories" are, since we don't truly understand a person, time-period, or geographic place through objective recountings of facts and data.  We understand through the honest but charitable presentation of the lived experience of such a person, time-period, or geographic location.  This is exactly why novels in particular offer us something about history, human psychology, and the like that no objective discipline can offer.  In this view, O'Connor succeeds winningly.