Well, readers, I have been doing this column since the summer of 1999, and it seems appropriate to revisit the books that have been featured here for the past year. As soon as I started reading my old reviews, I immediately noted a couple of things. In some instances, I found my enthusiasm a little embarrassing. Sometimes I got a bit hysterical about books that in retrospect, I find are “good books” but not “great books.” In addition, my reviews have little to do with the “best sellers” of the past year or trendy “now” publications. I’m a bit eclectic, I guess, picking and choosing from here and there. In fact, some of the books I have reviewed are older than I am! Perhaps the fact that they are still on the shelves is more significant than “six weeks on the best seller list.” At any rate, here are my “ten best” from this column for the past year.

1. Lamb in His Bosom by Caroline Miller. Atlanta: Peachtree Publishers, 1933. $14.95 (paperback) -- 355 pages.
2. For the Time Being by Annie Dillard. New York: Knopf, 1999. $22 -- 205 pages.
3. Black Flower by Howard Bahr. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1998. $12 (paperback) -- 267 pages.
4. Close Range by Annie Proulx. New York: Scribner Publishing, 1999. $25 -- 283 pages.
5. The Dress Lodger by Sheri Holman. New York: Atlantic Monthly Press, 2000. $25.95 -- 291 pages.
6. Blue Angel by Francine Prose. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2000. $25 -- 314 pages.
7. Plain Song by Kent Haruf. New York: Alfred Knopf, 1999. $24 -- 301 pages.
8. No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod. New York: W. W. Norton & Co, 2000. $23.95 -- 283 pages.
9. The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. New York: Nan A. Talese & Doubleday, 2000. $25.95 -- 521 pages.
10. Oriental Tales by Marguerite Yourcenar. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1985. $14.95 -- 147 pages.

Caroline Miller’s Lamb in His Bosom won a Pulitzer over 60 years ago and still radiates a poignant beauty. I suspect it always will. In addition to chronicling the history of a family of Irish immigrants in rural Georgia, Miller’s work is an encyclopedia of Appalachian customs, dialect and folklore. The writing is poetic and, at times, lyrical. It is also near painful in the accuracy of its depiction of a vanquished way of life that was both harsh and beautiful. The fact that this author chose to spend the latter part of her life in Waynesville should give all of us a sense of pride -- a kind of “reflected glory” because she lived among us.

Annie Dillard’s non-fiction For the Time Being contains a memorable blend of intellectual curiosity, provocative questions and graphic imagery. I am still encountering people who have just “discovered” this book.

Bird-headed dwarfs, 10,000 life-size effigies in an archeological dig, serial murderers, astonishing facts (there are 69 suns in the universe for every living human being on earth), Thomas Merton, the flaying of a saint and the teachings of a South Georgia fundamentalist preacher -- all are discussed by Annie, and all become mysteriously linked. Annie Dillard wants to know why we are here, and her search for answers is fascinating and spiritually enriching.

Admittedly, I tend to be a bit irrational about Howard Bahr’s The Black Flower. Like Charles Frazier’s Cold Mountain, this beautifully written novel recreates the smells, tastes and sounds of the Civil War. However, Bushrod Carter is moving toward a brutal, senseless battle in Franklin, Tenn., while Frazier’s protagonist is trying to get home.

The Black Flower is the product of painstaking research, but amid the horrors of war and mesmerizing scenes that depict human nature at its worst and best, Bushrod is fated to encounter an astonishing thing ... love.

I tend to sound like an Elvis fan who should be in therapy when I discuss this book, so I will hush.
Close Range is one of two short story collections that made my list, and although all of them are “cowboy stories,” this collection manages to touch the “common chord” that resonates in all humanity regardless of the geographical location. I’m still a bit stunned by the knowledge that a gifted lady, Annie Proulx, created these gritty insights into boozing farmers, brain-addled rodeo stars, gay cowpokes, serial killers and love-lorn women who become emotionally involved with tractors. I’ll never forget “The Blood Bay” or “Fifty-Five Miles to the Gas Pump.” One story, “Breakback Mountain,” is my nomination for one of the best short stories of this century.

Be advised, however. If you are squeamish about gays, cannibalism and gothic characters with offensive personal hygiene, leave this one on the shelf.

Blue Angel revived a lot of unpleasant memories for me, but that is not meant to imply that this is a bad book. Rather, I was astonished at the graphic details of Francine Prose’s depiction of a teacher’s life in a small liberal-arts college. Angels of mercy, defend us! I had forgotten how bad it was, and of course, I didn’t realize how soul-deadening the whole experience could be until I bailed out ... and then, again, when I read this book. It is all here: the faculty lounge, the endless politics and the jockeying for position, paranoia and pettiness. But, let me stress that Blue Angel is a delightfully satirical book. Anyone who has ever taught in a small college will immediately recognize poor Ted Swenson. Hopefully, they will also have compassion/pity for him and his dilemma: Ted is an English teacher and novelist who can’t write anymore. Then, a bizarre, punked-out girl with ugly hair and Doc Martins enrolls in his creative writing class ... and she can write ... something that Ted can no longer do. Ted’s doom is sealed. After he rents the old movie, “Blue Angel,” he ... well, you better read the book.

Plain Song continues to chalk up awards despite the fact that it is over two years old. The title says it all. This is a homely tale of life in a small, Midwestern town. It reminded me of Grover’s Corners in “Our Town,” where people quietly live ... and suffer. There are no heroic struggles between mighty forces -- just people pursuing food, shelter and love. (Gossip abounds, however.) The atmosphere is pastoral and the characters -- farmers, teachers, high school students, divorcees and lonely widows -- illustrate the novel’s message: persist and endure. Certainly Haruf records the details of the daily life in a small town with poetic imagery and compassion.

The Dress Lodger is a masterpiece of atmosphere. Reading it, I felt like I was at the Owl Show at the Ritz on a Saturday night watching Boris Karloff glide through the fog of a London Street to do something unspeakable. But, I would be doing this work an injustice to call it a horror novel. It is much, much more. The unlikely heroine, Gustine, is an unforgettable character -- a 15-year-old prostitute who rents an expensive dress so that she may troll for customers in the “posh” sections of Victorian Sunderland. The brawling, drunken inhabitants are on the eve of a cholera epidemic. Bizarre events and characters abound: drug addicts, deformed children, grave-robbers, the “satanic mills” of industry -- a Charles Dickens world. The narration is beautifully crafted and the ending will make your hair lift -- but, as I said, it isn’t a horror novel.

Do you still cry over reruns of “Lassie, Come Home?” Are you still a sucker for a voice with a Scottish burr in it and sad poems by Robert Burns?

Ah, well. Then read, No Great Mischief by Alistair MacLeod. This is a heart-warming (and heart-breaking) story of a Scottish family and their descendants that traveled form Scotland to Nova Scotia in 1779. An incident on the day of sailing establishes a motif in the family’s history that illustrates a “MacDonald” quality, and possibly, a flaw. When the abandoned family dog swims after the boat, Calem Ruaidh stops and waits for the exhausted dog. Lifting the dog from the water, he says, “Ah, poor cu! You love too much, you try too hard.” And so the dog went to Nova Scotia. As the years pass, the MacDonald clan continues to “love by the heart, not by the head.” It is a decision that brings grief and tragedy. It also gives the characters in this book a touching humanity and dignity.

The Blind Assassin holds the distinction of being the most intricate and intellectually challenging book on this list. Like all of Atwood’s novels, this one resembles a series of Chinese boxes and contains plots within plots within plots. The narrator, Iris Griffin, is a frail octogenarian who feels a compulsion to “tell all” before she dies -- yet she is reluctant to reveal the details of her sister’s death and the facts regarding the scandalous novel, “The Blind Assassin” (yes, there are two novels here, as well as a series of fanciful science-fiction tales). It is a tale of the rich, greedy and selfish and the tragic results of having the power to get anything you want.

Oriental Tales was written in 1938 and came to my attention as a result of an awesome anthology of “the world’s greatest short stories” titled Black Water and edited by Alberto Manguel. One of the stories, “How Wang Fu Was Saved,” by Marguerite Yourcenar, impressed me so much, I began a search for Yourcenar’s work. Oriental Tales (and several other novels) is the result. These eleven short stories are unique in literature. All are provocative, fanciful and sensual and are crafted like fables, myths and anecdotes. There are genji, pagan gods, demons and tormented lovers -- the ingredients of great storytelling.

Finally, I regret leaving out some great books, but 10 is enough! Also, numbers don’t mean much here. I guess I wanted to put Caroline Miller first, but after that, order doesn’t mean a thing. If it did, then Oriental Tales shouldn’t be last, but then, neither should any of the other works. Feel free to contact me if additional information would be helpful. I especially enjoy e-mail inquiries.

(Gary Carden is a storyteller and writer who lives in Sylva. He can be reached at gcarden498@aol.com)

 

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