Straight Man

I tend not to read literary fiction. If it doesn't have monsters or pictures or detectives, I don't pick it up, and If I do, I get bored and quit (see Dodgers, see And then we came to and end). Maybe it's a character flaw in me. I don't know.

This book was recommended to me by an old professor of mine though, and I'm glad I give it a shot. Russo has humor that's pure joy to read. And, unlike other literary fiction I've tried, this has a plot. A causes B causes C. Even if that wasn't the case, if it was just about WHD JR walking around and living his life without consequence like he thought he could, I'd still have enjoyed the ride because the characterization and wit in it.

What I enjoyed most about the book is that the prose isn't trying to conceal a lack of plot. It doesn't read like some MFA thesis turned novel where each sentence is crafted perfection, made by committee, concealing meaning behind some flowery noun/verb combination. It's the thoughts that matter most in this book, and those ideas are clearly communicated. Which sounds like the definition of a book, but it seems like most books ignore that. Not this one though! I got more Russo lined up now. I've been seeing Empire Falls on bookshelves my entire life, and that's next.

I was unexpectedly delighted
with this book that I am
finding myself recommending it
to everyone. The main character,
William Henry Devereaux, Jr. is
the chairman of the English
department at a tiny college in
Pennsylvania. I can see Devereaux
played by Bill Murray; he is
constantly making little sarcastic
but hilarious remarks, almost like
Shakespearean asides, but
everyone takes him seriously.
Even when he makes the remarks
wearing a fake nose and fake
glasses! Recommended.

Published in 1997, it still feels exactly like the middle-aged, affluent white guy hand-wringing story that comprises a good chunk of the classic Western canon. Hank Devereaux Jr is nearing 50 and as the interim chair of the West Central Pennsylvania State University he's facing funding cuts, potential layoffs, a mutinous department, a debt-ridden daughter, and the daily struggle to properly urinate. He's surrounded by bumbling, impotent men and nearly every woman is somehow an object of lust. Hank eventually finds himself choking an unlucky fowl by the neck on local television and threatens to kill a duck a day until his department receives funding. Which, along with some unresolved daddy issues, is the height of his turmoil. One that he can assuage with games of racquetball, or sitting on the quiet deck of his forested home with his ever patient and capable wife, considering his tenured position at the university. It sounds absolutely insufferable.

What can I say, I'm still charmed by the story. The expansive cast of characters is easy to laugh at but it's rarely done out of malice. Its slapstick set pieces are rendered with writerly flair that I can't help but admire. And the whole thing moves at a brisk pace throughout. Yes there are some clunkers that remind me it's a book of a past era, one that follows its own bookish logic to conclusion, but I'm in the hands of a polished storyteller with a sharp eye for character that's generated enough goodwill to carry me through.