Deliverance by James Dickey – a book review

DeliveranceDeliverance by James Dickey

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

What an amazing book! It took me completely by surprise and, without belaboring the point, it can be read as an extended metaphor for the most difficult, life-changing challenges of our lives. (Yes, I’m talking about metastatic cancer.)

I’ve seen the movie, which was an adventure-thriller adaptation of James Dickey’s book. But James Dickey‘s book is not an adventure-thriller, not in that sense. It is much, much more.

James Dickey was not only a prose author; he was also a poet. In fact, he was perhaps better known as a poet, having been a Poet Laureate Consultant to the (US) Library of Congress, among other honors, and he finished his life as a professor of English at the University of South Carolina at Columbia, where he was also poet-in-residence.

The soul of a poet sings through the prose of Deliverance. The descriptions of the river, the trees, the people and the protagonist’s inner landscape are both closely observed and stunningly rendered. The sentences are simple, the vocabulary accessible, yet the writing soars and lifts the reader with it.

Four middle-class suburban guys who like to hang out together decide to go whitewater rafting in an all-but-inaccessible part of Georgia and terrible things happen. The environment–natural and human– is trying to kill them. They have to react, they have to save their own lives and escape. At what cost?

Four men enter, three men leave. All three survivors are badly injured and at least one is profoundly changed. He is Ed Gentry, vice-president of a small advertising agency. (Dickey worked in advertising early in his career.) The story starts slowly, gently, as befits a legend of the South. We meet the men, and especially get to know Ed: his work, his wife, his son, his personal history. We start to see how his life is ordered, how he thinks, how he experiences the world.

We experience this journey through Ed’s eyes and through his soul. We become intimate with his loves and his terrors. We share his wonder at his own mental and physical abilities. We become one with him as he faces the challenge of his life and its aftermath.

Forget about the movie. Read this book!

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A Painted House by John Grisham

A Painted HouseA Painted House by John Grisham

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Not a legal thriller, which I think is a departure for Grisham. The novel, reportedly inspired by his own childhood, takes place in Arkansas in 1952. (Of note, Grisham (like me) was born in 1955.) The story is narrated by Luke Chandler, a seven-year-old boy, the son of tenant cotton farmers. He wonderfully evokes rural 1952: inter-church baseball games (Baptists against Methodists), church sermons, the traveling carnival – but most of all the social strata and relationships. I don’t remember how insightful I was at seven, but sometimes Luke’s comments seem more like those of a young teen. Maybe kids who get off school to pick the cotton mature faster, though.

The story revolves around the relationships, liaisons and quarrels among Luke’s family (tenant farmers), a family of sharecroppers whose teenage daughter is pregnant by Luke’s young uncle, and the itinerant “hands” who camp out on the farm for a few weeks during the picking season: a family of “hill people” from the Ozarks and a work gang of Mexicans brought in by truck. With the impunity of childhood, Luke moves freely among these groups and sees much.

I listened to a recording of A Painted House with narration by Peter Marinker. His reading was too breathy for my taste, but the story was so gripping that it didn’t matter.

My recommendation: Excellent. Definitely worth a read or listen.

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Bathing Elephants by Leela Devi Panikar

Bathing Elephants by Leela Devi Panikar

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is Leela Devi Panikar’s second short story anthology. Her first, Floating Petals, was published by NanaDon in 2007. Leela says about that first collection:

You can sit by a river all day long just to watch what the current carries past. Depending on the day and where you live, it could be small boats with fisherman, young children on inner tubes, paper lanterns lit by candles, or bodies. And the only thing they will have in common is the river itself. The same is true of these stories. They range from a first day at school, to running away from home, to the breaking of feet, to the death of a husband still alive. And all they have in common is me, and what flowed through my mind on the days I wrote them. (From the back cover.)

In the same way, all the six stories in Bathing Elephants have in common is the close observation and evocative prose of their author. And that is enough. The stories are longer and broader than in the first collection, emotional and resonant, yet timeless in their recreation of human stories, human emotions. It isn’t enough to read them just once.

My recommendation: Excellent. Read them both.

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