Blame
"I never thought I’d be anything but antsy as hell around another person.""Blame"
Michelle Huneven
Silence bothers me. And, if nothing is going to be said, why do I have to be here anyway? Can’t I just stay home alone and read a good book?
Maybe that’s what bonds us, we book lovers. We yearn to be connected in a world that seems unfathomable. It’s like we’re cars trying to enter the Merritt Parkway, with its short, daunting access ramps. We can see the cars humming along in the roadway, so effortlessly, but how do we get on the highway?
Music, when done right, delivers the same connection. Being alone on your bedroom floor, spinning the record, thinking if you could just meet the singer, he or she would understand you, they’d get you, you’d feel connected.
My favorite lyric of all time comes from a Jackson Browne record. It’s not a famous song, it’s the last track on side one of "Late For The Sky", it’s entitled "The Late Show".
Now to see things clear it’s hard enough I know
While you’re waiting for reality to show
Without dreaming of the perfect love
And holding it so far above
That if you stumbled on to someone real, you’d never know
Ain’t that the truth. TV and magazines will tell you you need perfection, nothing less will suit you. You hear all this drivel about soul mates. To the point where you can’t be involved with anybody. Then you open your heart to imperfection, you open yourself up to the warmth of another human being who wants to connect and you feel all warm and fuzzy. Life isn’t about another notch on the belt, it’s not about being Tiger Woods, it’s about going deep. Actually, that’s a great song off Marc Cohn’s first album, "Dig Down Deep". He wants to stay up all night and get into it.
And believe me, I’m capable of doing so. If the key fits the lock just right, if I feel the other person truly wants to hear what I have to say. I can dip and doodle, I can rivet you. But only if I get the green light. I’m looking for the green light. But as Jackson says earlier in "The Late Show":
Maybe people only ask you how you’re doing
‘Cause that’s easier than letting on how little they could care
It’s great when you’ve got a true friend somewhere. But in this modern world, although you can be connected via e-mail, even iChat, I find it still leaves plenty of down time. And that feeling of loneliness.
Jerry Maguire tried to fight off the creepiness of being alone by never being alone. That doesn’t work, that’s just desperation. But the balance… That’s hard to achieve. Either you’re in social situations yearning for some breathing room or you’re home alone, looking to connect.
That’s when you turn to a good book.
Maybe it’s because the authors know they can’t make any money.
Or maybe it’s because they know they can’t be cultural icons.
I’m not talking about Dan Brown. I’m not talking about Stephen King. I’m talking about the fiction writers who will never break through, but are adored by their audience. Readers press their books into the hands of friends like religious scrolls. You must read this!
Then again, who can you trust?
I certainly can’t trust music reviews. I’d like to, but I can’t. But book reviews can still be trustworthy. And if you cross-reference the Sunday supplement with Amazon and award-winning lists, you can determine if a book is good for you. And on your Kindle, you can download a sample chapter for a final determination. Either it grabs you or it doesn’t.
Michelle Huneven’s "Blame" grabbed me.
Not at first.
Then again, reading the opening chapter you’d think the book is about Joey Hawthorne. But it’s not. It’s about Patsy MacLemoore, the English professor who pierced Joey’s adolescent ears, off center, since she was drunk when she did it.
And there begins the real story. How Patsy was a winner in every category that counted, aced all the tests, but couldn’t function in life, she drank to cope.
I used to drink to cope.
It’s funny when you stop. Not only are you even more anxious, you can see those who continue in your old footsteps. Tanking up to overcome their inhibitions, to become the life of the party.
We all want to be the life of the party.
I don’t think I’m going to tell you what happens in "Blame". I wouldn’t want to ruin it.
But what really happens is life. Not the life of a Top Forty record, where everybody is fabulous and powerful, opening doors and shutting down intruders, but real life, where you win some and you lose some, where you’re confused plenty and don’t always get it right.
I read Ms Huneven’s first book, "Round Rock". It came in a box from my buddy at Random House. I was ultimately disappointed, I swore off her. Until I saw "Blame" listed in a year-end Top Ten. Until Kate, my bookstore owning friend, started testifying about it. Usually one recommendation is not enough, we triangulate our sources, there are so many available, and when the sight zeroes in on a target, we take the plunge.
I guess I’m writing this because I’m angry. You see the book ended. What am I supposed to do now? It’s like coming home from summer camp. You want to go back, you want to know what happens next. But it’s impossible.
I’m not recommending "Blame". I don’t even know you. But if you recognize yourself in the above, I’d pick it up.
