| << Back 10/16/02 An obtuse character develops a fuller understanding of life SMN The Solace of Leaving Early by Haven Kimmel. Doubleday, 2002. $23.95 — 256 pp. Whether
in life or in books — and to me life and books are intertwined,
with the former writing the latter and the latter helping guide the
former — we occasionally meet personalities whom we dislike
on our first encounter. As we come to know these people or characters,
however, as they open themselves before us, or change themselves,
or reveal their hearts, we may slowly find ourselves coming to admire
them, enjoy them, perhaps even love them.Such is the case with Langston Braverman, one of the principal characters in Haven Kimmels new novel The Solace Of Leaving Early. Langston first strikes the reader as arrogant, conceited, and silly. She has abandoned her graduate studies, has returned home to the small Indiana town of Haddington to live with her parents, has nothing but contempt for the people living in the town, and has even refused to attend the funeral of her childhood friend, Alice, whom she mistakenly believes has died of cancer. Amos Townsend, a minister who lives within a short walk of Langstons home, struggles with his own place in the town as he agonizes over Alices murder and his own possible responsibility for her death. He finds some solace in helping Alices two young daughters who have survived their mothers shooting, which they also witnessed. In the wake of the murder, the girls have renamed themselves Epiphany and Immaculata, and they claim to speak with the Virgin Mary in their grandmothers backyard. Langstons own mother forces her to become a teacher and a babysitter for the girls. As we watch Langston engage the two sisters, we see her changing from a haughty English Ph.D. candidate to a person who has at last begun to find her own way back into life. Even from her first encounter, Langston strikes the right note with the two grieving siblings. Here Langston asks what she should call the girls: Madeline pointed to herself first. Ive been given the name Immaculata, and this is Epiphany. Langston sat back, surprised. Oh dear. How ever Latin and archaic and liturgical. And also metaphorical. I too have a strange name. Langston, is that right? Epiphany asked, looking down. She seemed embarrassed to have spoken. Yes. And dont ask me who I was named after; Ive never actually asked my mother for fear she would say it was the poet of the Harlem Renaissance, Langston Hughes. The girls were silent. Perhaps youre wondering why I would find that objectionable. Langston Hughes was a brilliant poet, one of the great lights of the American canon. And naming a little white baby girl after him would constitute the worst kind of co-opting of his eminence, no different than if shed named me Duke Ellington. Tomorrow Ill bring some of Hughess poems to read to you.
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