Love used bookstores.
So many authors from the recent past fall out of favor and just don’t
make it on to my radar. They’re not discussed
much in the periodicals and blogs I read, and their books aren’t available in the
usual bookstores. Often it’s the generation or two before the current one that
is most ignored. Those writers seem so
old and passé, often trite, and why read what we’re so busy reacting against? But
in used bookstores I often come across authors whose names I recognize, and I might
know a little something of their reputation, but I've never read a word.
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| John O'Hara 1905-1970 |
A recent find: a collection of 26 short stories, Assembly,
by John O’Hara. It was originally
published in 1960. About half of the
stories had appeared in The New Yorker.
The others were new. Over 200 of
his stories were published in The New Yorker, starting in 1928. That’s a remarkable achievement that may
never be duplicated. I didn’t start
reading The New Yorker until the 70’s (O’Hara died in 1970), so I entirely
missed his long run there.
Most striking to me is O’Hara’s incredibly sensitive ear for
dialogue. Many of the stories are just
about all dialogue, almost screenplays in essence. It’s amazing how in what
passes for a literal transcription of a conversation O’Hara can deliver so much
information about character, social and economic status, and state of
mind. I’m not at all sure how he manages
it. Rereading some of the stories I
realize that though the dialogue reads with a natural flow, it’s not actually
very natural. People really don’t talk
like that (true also of many plays). But
nonetheless it seems absolutely true-to-life.
That takes talent and effort.
The stories that are more plot driven were for me less
pleasing ('In a Grove', 'The Free').
My favorites are more static, a snapshot in time rendered through
conversation. 'Call Me, Call Me' is just
two conversations (hence the title), that’s all. The similarities and differences between the
two conversations are fascinating.
'Weakness' is a telling portrait of a boxer, and 'In The
Silence' is a stunning depiction of veteran with what we would now call
PTSD.
Now that we’re so wrapped up in avoiding ‘realism’ with all
kinds of literary devices, subterfuge, and yes sometimes gimmicks, it is
instructive to read someone from a few generations ago how mastered an old-fashioned approach to realistic storytelling. I’m reminded that it’s not in fact very
realistic. It’s perhaps just as
artificial, just as carefully constructed and balanced and hence unnatural. But it’s better at concealing the artifice,
and quite a bit less self-conscious. The
writer isn’t calling attention to himself quite so directly, and he’s not
trotting out techniques with the self-satisfied smile of a young magician
that has just learned a new trick. But
it’s just as artful in a more modest, less obvious way.
True, today new and experimental non-mainstream fiction is
much more accessible than 40 years ago. But
if reading eventually becomes all digital, what will become of the used
bookstore? With nothing new being
printed, will the trickle-down process from new to used eventually dry up
completely? How will we discover these worthy authors who just don’t get much exposure in today’s world? I hope the
work of writers like O’Hara will be somewhere for readers to stumble across.
Fifty years from now the works of many of today’s hot young writers may well
dwell in similar obscurity. Where will we find them?
