Richard Russo's, "Empire Falls"

Yet another novel that claims to understand middle-class America. Some novels are written with movies in mind. Reading Empire Falls, I couldn't help but wonder if an eventual TV series was the goal. HBO could do a more literary job than Russo has for sure. Left up to actors, the dialogues will instantly soar at least above Russo's tin ear. Talented actors, with competent direction would also know the value of subtlety when irony or symbolism abound. Not so with Russo who would subtitle mimes to ensure nothing was left to interpretation. This novel (as in, fall of the American Empire; very clever this Russo is, don't you think?) is rife with canny observations, dull melodrama, and bitter condescension--towards its characters as well as its readers. The narrative can be classified as a third-person-intentional where the author confesses character intentions in a commentary.

Empire Falls is a New England mill town. Much of the property and people in the area are owned or controlled by Francine Whiting, the queen bee. The Robys are the deadbeat parallel to the Whitings. Most of the locals are resigned to a depressing fate and live convinced that it will get worse. Everyone gets into everyone else's business, personal, spiritual, moral, and civil affairs. The novel hits its nadir whenever Russo attempts humor. He thinks trash-talking priests are hilarious. The only endearing moments are between the sad sack protagonist Miles Roby and his daughter Tick. Other likable characters--the rebel brother, lifer waitress, tavern owner--barely escape the straight jacket Russo binds them in. With teenagers, Russo is a few decades off and he slots them to represent tired high school cliques. A Columbine-like incident is also thrown in as an afterthought.

Certainly there's a good blueprint here to start a novel. A writer with class would skewer the surface and plumb unknown depths. Conjuring up disillusion through empathy and irony elevates the subject as Marquez and Morrison have shown us. No such luck with Russo, who comes off more as a snickering classist than a patron of the middle-class. Russo received the Pulitzer Prize for this novel. You the reader needs to know this. If you ever entertained thoughts of writing your novel, get out there and do it. Literature and the middle-class are both too precious to be left in the hands of the Russos of America.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Amelie Nothomb's, "Fear and Trembling"

The Cartel Trilogy--by Don Winslow

Donald James', "Monstrum"