Bridge of Sighs (Richard Russo)
You know, the last time I read Russo, it was the perfect medicine for my situation — bored and a little lonely, whiling away time while The Boyfriend was out of town. And though I bought this book late last year, it was a happy day when that ever-roaming Boyfriend left town and I found I could again comfort myself with a little Richard Russo. No, I don’t find him inspiring or cutting edge or even incredibly unique. But the man is an excellent sculptor of character and a master of simple story telling.
Bridge of Sighs, again, was not surprising or unique. In fact, parts are a bit repetitive of his previous books (another textile mill town?) and of the tried-and-true plot lines of many other authors (love triangles, odd-man-out moments, pressures to follow/rebel against family ways, etc.). But Russo really takes the time to introduce the reader to the people — the REAL people — of his tale. He gives them pasts, futures, secret dreams, idiosyncrasies, talents, faults. The words that come out of their mouths ring of truth, as if it wouldn’t be possible for that particular character to say or do anything else in that particular moment in time. And I find this getting-to-know-you dance with the characters so comforting. You can sit back, kick up your feet and just let these people wash over you.
Same, too, with the plot. It meanders along toward a conclusion that, yes, probably could have been guessed, at least most of it. But it has a feeling of inevitability, like gravity pulling a stream downhill. There will be no eye-brow furrowing moments of complexity, no enigmatic word play, no meta-fiction farces like jumps in time or point of view. It’s just a straight-forward story. There is pain and loss, of course, as in any story, and those are emotional moments. But the reader comes to terms with it as the characters do, led along by the patient explanations and logical justifications of the author. In other words, everything happens for a reason, a reason that will be pondered and put into context by the characters in the story — unlike in real life, where shit happens for absolutely no reason at all and there is no omniscient narrator to help you make sense of it. The characters do the real heavy lifting, and the reader is along for the ride.
Hey, I love good eyebrow-furrowing plots, meta farces and enigma as much as the next person. Actually, I love it, probably more than most. But books like this are a balm on occasion, a welcome respite during which you can trust you’re in the hands of a master story teller, one that wouldn’t lead you wrong.
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars - Book club selection
Fiction, Repeated Author |