t was the best of times. It was the worst of times. (Hey–that’s catchy. Someone should use it in a book.) I had high hopes for The Fortress of Solitude, and Jonathan Lethem partially delivered on them. Just not entirely. And the parts where he didn’t deliver frustrated me so much that they almost overwhelmed the parts where he did.
The good: two completely original, memorable characters, Dylan Ebdus and Mingus Rude. A perhaps obvious but no less slightly profound point: Lethem tells us all we need to know about Dylan’s and Mingus’s parents by giving them these names. The wacky names some parents choose tells us much more about the parents than it does the kids.
The bad: a horrid comic superhero subplot. Enough with the frickin’ superheroes already. Michael Chabon already did it, and no one’s going to come along and improve on it. Get over it. (Or am I the only male in America who has never cared about comics books? Sheesh.)
Dylan’s character had to have been at least partially autobiographical. I have a hard time believing that Lethem could have come up with the insights he gives us here about growing up poor and white in a poor and black neighborhood in Brooklyn out of thin air.
I thought the first section of the book, about Dylan and Mingus in childhood, was borderline brilliant. I loved the first third, was bored by the second third, and ready to punch Lethem in the face by the third third.
I also thought that Lethem wrote really well about the act of creating art. (Dylan’s dad is a painter and Mingus’s is a musician.) If he tackles those themes in a future novel, I’ll pick it up with–ahem–great expectations.
January 30th, 2005 at 11:46 pm
Dr. J, like an unexpected kick in the nuts, your comments on this book have left me shaken, bewildered, and with the certain sense that the world is less fair and just than I had always assumed. However, I suppose if we all agreed on all of the books we discussed, this would become a fairly stagnant and boring place to visit. Since I value your opinions, I won’t presume to tell you why you are wrong. Rather, let me lay out where our experiences differ.
Where to begin? I loved this book profoundly. I related to the story and the characters on a very personal level, even though my childhood and adult experiences could not have been more different than Mingus and Dylan’s. And I’ve never even been to Brooklyn. Yet it all felt immediately familiar and real. That’s genius writing. I was moved even. As a result, I have been handing out copies of this book to friends and family at every available opportunity.
Many of the reviews that I read early on wished that the book had ended after the first part, or at least these reviewers had heavily favored the first part. The two separate parts worked for me as a whole, and it’s hard to defend without giving too much away.
Second, I had no idea that you were such a comix-phobe. The superhero subplot seems to be off-putting to several people that I discussed the book with. This baffles me. I assumed that unless this is a Gabriel Garcia Marquez magic realism-style story (and I don’t think that it is), then the superhero described is not real. In fact, I don’t think that either character even overtly imagined the superhero.
A TANGENT IN DEFENSE OF COMICS: Comic books have often allowed for the discussion of difficult topics by changing the context in which events happen. For example, the X-Men series and movie throw out some weighty issues while simultaneously kicking some butt. The premise of the Hellboy comic and movie examines the very nature of good and evil as directly as anything out there. This context-shift works in Science Fiction as well. Star Trek was famously among the first television shows to have an integrated cast, because it changed the context of events to the distant future and the alien. Comics have much to recommend them is what I am saying, and they are more than fantasy material for maladjusted 12 year olds. Now, back to the book at hand.
Dylan and Mingus had much in their relationship that could not be articulated by the boys themselves. I thought that the superhero was a symbolic representation of those things. I think that the superhero element changes over time as the differences between them grow and change.
The last part of the book, where you wanted to punch Lethem, I think was also largely symbolic. I do not think that Dylan went on the physical journey described. I think that Dylan had a tremendous amount of guilt about the ways that their lives diverged on almost predictable racial lines - to the point that it would have required super heroic actions to change. I think Mingus’s outcome is as described; it just didn’t happen the way it was presented, i.e. there were no real super heroic powers in play.
So maybe my enjoyment of this book was based largely on thinking about this: if the superhero character doesn’t exist and isn’t doing these things, what does he represent or what is actually going on in the scenes where he is depicted. I could be very wrong, but that filter shaped the way that I thought about the book and the bigger issues that the book presents but does not resolve.
Your mileage may vary.
January 31st, 2005 at 3:10 pm
Wow–I’m surprised to see that our opinions diverged this much. I am interested that when it came to the parts I most liked, DJ Cayenne liked them too, and for the same reasons.
I meant to mention this in my earlier post, too: The first section of Solitude reminded me of the prologue to Don DeLillo’s Underworld, and that’s one of my favorite pieces of writing anywhere. So I had high hopes for the rest of the book. Unfortunately, I felt like it got dragged under by some of the same riptides that drowned Underworld–both books tried to be too Epic, I thought.
Dr J is prepared to concede that he may be a little too snobby about comic books and sci-fi in general, but still felt like the book stood well enough on its own without that subplot.
For the most part, Dr J hears “science fiction” and sees this guy: http://www.tronguy.net/.
Looking forward to hearing what others think of the book.
January 31st, 2005 at 4:35 pm
Flavawheel is both shocked and dismayed at DJ Cayenne’s apparent turn to the geekside; is the good DJ perhaps clad in an “I Grok Spock” t-shirt as we speak?
My advice is to slowly back out of the Android’s Dungeon and immediately begin a regimen of Wild Turkey and Johnny Cash until symptoms subside.
February 1st, 2005 at 3:33 pm
Ouch, FlavaWheel. DJ Cayenne is reeling from your mocking. All I’m saying is that if you automatically cringe at the mention of superheroes, you will hit a road block in this particular book, as Dr J did. Which is too bad.
February 2nd, 2005 at 10:28 pm
I’m only about 30 pages in. Perhaps I shouldn’t have read this post until I was done, because now I’m worried about what’s to come. So far I love it. One of my favorite sentences ever is found on page 18 — “There were days like white pages. . . ” But as a stereotypical chick, I just don’t get the comix thing. (Notwithstanding my opinion that Cavalier and Clay is the Great American Novel.) But I’m not deterred, as the book is just too good to put down right now. I’ll try not to come back to this post until I’m finished. Which might be in June. See you then.
February 3rd, 2005 at 10:35 am
I am weighing in on the side of Dr. J. While overall I thoroughly enjoyed the book, the whole comic subplot totally threw me and did not add anything to the character or plot development. In fact, after I finished the book - I had to ask DJ Cayenne what he thought the significance of the ring even meant. So I am a little surprised at how DJ Cayenne’s reaction because this sub-theme was definitely somewhat of a downer to the whole book.
That being said - I thought it was unbelievably well written and even though the description of Brooklyn was not a place that you would want to raise your white children, it actually made me long to move next door to my brother (who happens to live in a brownstone in that neighborhood……..)
February 3rd, 2005 at 12:58 pm
One solid fact about this book that has somehow escaped mention until now is that it’s the first novel I know of to use Wild Cherry’s “Play that funky music white boy” as a major plot device. You’ll have to see how he does it if you haven’t read the book yet, but it’s pretty cool (and very funny).
Not to spoil the fun, but Mrs Dr J is reading Fortress now and is none too impressed with the female characters. I find it hard to argue with her on that one.
February 3rd, 2005 at 1:12 pm
Interesting comment Dr J. Lethem’s previous book, which I also enjoyed, was called “Motherless Brooklyn”. Something tells me there have not been a lot of positive female role models in Mr. Lethem’s life.
February 4th, 2005 at 3:29 pm
None too impressed with the female characters is an understatement…All of the women in this book were ABYSMAL without one redeeming quality. For that reason I would definitely characterize this as a “guys” book. My husband enjoyed and related to it much more than I did.
March 22nd, 2006 at 7:22 pm
[...] [Ed: You can read Dr J’s comments on this book, as well as the rest of the group’s previous discussion here.] [...]
May 4th, 2006 at 9:55 pm
[...] Way back in the early days of the BGB Empire, we had a lengthy back and forth on this book, with everyone having a slightly different take on it. Refresh your memory here and here. OK, I have to post this now so I can comment on Frank’s post. Bye. [...]