Review by New York Times Review
JOHN CROWLEY is a virtuoso of metaphor, a peerless recreator of living moments, of small daily sublimities. And his latest novel, "Four Freedoms," is in many ways his most unguarded and imaginative work. But readers expecting fantasy or science fiction - Crowley is the author of the cult fantasy series "Aegypt" - should be warned. This new book is rooted firmly in the clear, knowable past; at times, it has the grainy, kinetic authenticity of an old newsreel. The setting is Ponca City, Okla. (a real place), and the enormous Van Damme Aero factory (invented), where in the middle of World War II swarms of workers are gathered "like ants around their queen," constructing the largest long-distance bomber ever conceived (another invention), the six-engine propeller-driven B-30 Pax, with a fuselage 35 feet high and 60 feet long, and a wingspan of 225 feet. The assembly plant is as vast as a cathedral, the company town that supports it so big and busy that it has its own train spur. Getting a job at Ponca City, Crowley tells us, foreshadowing his climax, "was like being drafted by a tornado." We're about 40 rather eccentric, digressive pages in before the story seems to bank and turn and settle on Prosper Olander as its protagonist: a young man on crutches with a "ski-jump spine and marionette's legs" who has come to work for the Van Damme brothers. He's the protagonist, in part, because Crowley wants to write about the lives of disabled people - especially those, unfit for military duty, who work in the factory. But like the cruelly wounded Philoctetes in Greek mythology, Prosper has received a gift from the gods. In his case, though, it's not an infallible bow and arrow but a deep well of empathy. And so, after a long flashback to describe his boyhood, the story changes again and the sweet-tempered, openhearted Prosper hands off the narrative to a series of beguiling women who have also come to Ponca City. Women, of course, are not physically disabled. But in wartime America they are classed, as one Van Damme executive bluntly observes, with "the coloreds, the oldsters, the defectives" who have to replace the "men with skills." For them, the factory and its town are a liberation, a "workers' paradise," almost Utopia. In this safe and harmonious world, building terrible engines of mass destruction - Crowley is not an unironic writer - for as long as the war lasts, they will be valued, valuable, free. (The novel's title comes from a State of the Union address by Franklin Roosevelt, himself partially paralyzed, who functions as a presiding spirit.) CROWLEY sometimes has trouble with endings. The book goes on one episode too long and rambles through its conclusion. But it's aglow with unforgettable characters like the bawdy boy who shares the young Prospers hospital ward and Prosper's sad, germophobic mother. And it's brilliantly stitched together by motifs of chrysalises and movies and by a joyous abundance of metaphor and simile: "the ding of a bicycle bell like struck crystal"; a woman "talking for much of the day in a steady soft uncrossable stream." A proud girl moves through high school boys "as through a shoal of fish that parted to let her pass and then regrouped behind her." Images like these, beautiful and unbidden, come to the surface only when a novelist has immersed himself entirely in his characters, out of pity and tenderness, out of love. Unlike his cult fantasy series 'Aegypt,' John Crowley's new novel is firmly rooted in the clear, knowable past. In fact, it has the kinetic authenticity of a newsreel. Max Byrd is president of the Squaw Valley Community of Writers and the author of the novel "Shooting the Sun."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 27, 2009]
Review by Booklist Review
As Jack Griffin drives up to Cape Cod for a wedding, he is assailed by memories of his past, for not only is the cape the site of his childhood summer vacations with his embittered parents, it is also the place where he honeymooned with his wife, Joy, some 30 years prior. Their marriage has hit a rough patch, which is particularly painful for Jack, since he long ago vowed to keep his marriage free from the rancor that marked his parents' relationship. And yet his parents, failed academics consigned to the Mid-fucking-west, are very much with him, since his father's ashes are in the trunk of his car, and his mother is constantly on his cell phone, still hectoring him with acerbic advice. In the turbulent year that follows, Jack must face the fact that he may have inherited his parents' endless yearning for a better life. In this wryly funny, introspective novel, Russo eschews the broad social canvas and small-town milieu that have been mainstays of his work. The scope may be narrow, but the result is an impressively expansive analysis of familial dynamics between not only spouses but also in-laws, parents, and children. Russo is writing in a lower key here than in his two previous prizewinning novels, but it's Russo all the same, and his many fans are sure to savor the journey.--Wilkinson, Joanne Copyright 2009 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Crafting a dense, flashback-filled narrative that stutters across two summer outings to New England (and as many weddings), Russo (Empire Falls) convincingly depicts a life coming apart at the seams, but the effort falls short of the literary magic that earned him a Pulitzer. A professor in his 50s who aches to go back to screenwriting, Jack Griffin struggles to divest himself of his parents. Lugging around, first, his father's, then both his parents' urns in the trunk of his convertible, he hopes to find an appropriate spot to scatter their ashes while juggling family commitments-his daughter's wedding, a separation from his wife. Indeed, his parents-especially his mother, who calls her son incessantly before he starts hearing her from beyond the grave-occupy the narrative like capricious ghosts, and Griffin inherits "the worst attributes of both." Though Russo can write gorgeous sentences and some situations are amazingly rendered-Griffin wading into the surf to try to scatter his father's ashes, his wheelchair-bound father-in-law plummeting off a ramp and into a yew-the navel-gazing interior monologues that constitute much of the novel lack the punch of Russo's earlier work. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Joy and Jack Griffin head to Cape Cod to attend a friend's wedding, where their daughter Laura announces her own engagement. Sensing the malaise in their 30-year marriage, the Griffins decide to reconnect by visiting the B & B where they once honeymooned. Their arrival in separate vehicles seems symbolic of the discord in their hearts and minds. Jack, still coming to terms with his father's death and bristling at his mother's constant criticism, feels restless in his career as a college professor, wondering whether he should have left a lucrative screenwriting gig in L.A. Joy, chafing at Jack's implicit displeasure with her sunny disposition and maddening family, longs for an empathetic listener. Russo lovingly explores the deceptive nature of memory as each exquisitely drawn character attempts to deconstruct the family myths that inform their relationships. Verdict The Griffins may not find magic on old Cape Cod, but readers will. Those who savored Russo's long, languid novels (e.g., Pulitzer winner Empire Falls) may be surprised by this one's rapid pace, but Russo's familiar compassion for the vicissitudes of the human condition shines through. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 7/09.]-Sally Bissell, Lee Cty. Lib. Syst., Ft. Myers, FL (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A change of pace from Pulitzer-winning author Russo (Bridge of Sighs, 2007, etc.). In contrast to his acclaimed novels about dying towns in the Northeast, the author's slapstick satire of academia (Straight Man, 1997) previously seemed like an anomaly. Now it has a companion of sorts, though Russo can't seem to decide whether his protagonist is comic or tragic. Maybe both. The son of two professors who were unhappy with each other and their lot in life, Jack Griffin vowed not to follow in their footsteps, instead becoming a hack screenwriter in Los Angeles. Then he leaves that career to become a cinema professor and moves back East with his wife Joy. Most of the novel takes place during two weddings a year apart: one on Cape Cod, where Jack had endured annual summer vacations and convinced Joy to spend their honeymoon; the other in Maine, where Joy had wanted to honeymoon. Plenty of flashbacks concerning the families of each spouse seem on the surface to present very different models for marriage, and there is an account of the year between the weddings that shows their relationship changing significantly. It isn't enough that Jack feels trapped by his familial past; he carries his parents' ashes in his trunk, can't bear to scatter them and carries on conversations with his late mother that eventually become audible. Will Jack and Joy be able to sustain their marriage? Will their daughter succumb to the fate of her parents, just as Jack and Joy have? Observes Jack, "Late middle age, he was coming to understand, was a time of life when everything was predictable and yet somehow you failed to see any of it coming." Readable, as always with this agreeable and gifted author. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
