Bad choices, good results

If one makes bad decisions that somehow lead to a wonderful result — such as a bad marriage that results in a good child — were they actually bad decisions?

Leif Enger's 2008 novel So Brave, Young, and Handsome leads the reader to think such thoughts. The title comes from The Cowboy's Lament, which places that dilemma in this couplet: "For we loved our comrade, so brave, young, and handsome/We all loved our comrade, although he'd done wrong."

Enger's novel is narrated by a frustrated writer, Monte Becket, who after one successful novel seems unable to write anything of value. He, his wife and son become fascinated by a boat-building neighbor named Glendon. When Glendon decides to go West to try to find his Mexican wife, whom he abandoned years before, Becket decides to go with him, a decision his wife, Susannah, somehow approves of.

Along the way, Becket learns that abandoning his wife is the least of Glendon's sins. He is also a train robber and murderer being pursued by an aging, former Pinkerton agent named Siringo, who never gives up.

Instead of returning to his family in Minnesota, Becket decides to stick with Glendon, even when this makes himself a fugitive pursued by Siringo.

The consequences of Becket's decisions go from bad to worse, yet somehow it all works out in the end. And Becket, who tells his wild story, proves he can still write after all.

Back in the hills

I'd never seen a Tussie's pants worn out at the knees. They wore out on the seat first ...

Jesse Stuart, Taps for Private Tussie

I first read Jesse Stuart's Taps for Private Tussie (1943) when I was in high school. I just finished reading it for the third time, each reading from the original edition with those wonderful Thomas Hart Benton illustrations. The novel doesn't get old.

Narrated by a boy named Sid, whose parentage remains a mystery until the end, the story tells of what happens to a hill family after Kim Tussie's widow, Aunt Vittie, receives a check from the government along with Kim's remains following a World War II battle.

Members of the Tussie family, especially the men, are allergic to work. They prefer to drink, dance, sleep and subsist on relief checks. As the story opens they are living in a schoolhouse that bas been left vacant for the summer.

Vittie proves generous with her money, however, and soon the family is living in a 16-room mansion with more food than they can imagine. Tussies from miles around hear about their good fortune and move in with them. One of these is Uncle George, Grandpa's brother, whose slick words and lively fiddle music steal Vittie's heart, angering Uncle Mott, Kim's brother, who wants Vittie for himself.

Soon enough the money runs out and the bad feelings that had been kept below the surface boil to the top.

Meanwhile, Sid has belatedly started attending school and discovers that he is a good student with what is perhaps a different world view than others in his family, however much he love them all.

Stuart is all but ignored by readers today, but in his day he was an important American writer, and Taps for Private Tussie is his masterpiece.

Saving the world

Weddings have long been a favorite way to wrap up film comedies, Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, television series or whatever. But thrillers?

Joel C. Rosenberg brings not just The Beijing Betrayal (2025) but his entire series of Marcus Ryker thrillers to a climax not just with a wedding but with a wedding that takes up several chapters. I don't think I have ever seen a fictional wedding that is described in such detail. I kept expecting terrorists to show up at any second. But no. It's just a wedding.

Ryker finally gets to marry Annie, his CIA sweetheart, and after six world-saving adventures, they deserve it.

Ryker, also with the CIA, expects the president to fire him at the beginning of the novel after his previous mission ends in embarrassment. But he is given one more chance to kill an aging terrorist, who has teamed with China to poison Americans as a diversion so that China can attack Taiwan. 

As in previous novels in the series, Rosenberg keeps the adrenaline running. Even transitional chapters, needed to set up the next bit of action, are brief and tension-filled.

One hopes nobody in China reads this novel. It might give them ideas.

The transgression of reading

The greater the clams a social system makes on an individual, the graver the transgression of reading will be,

Heather Cass White, Books Promiscuously Read

Joyce Carol Oates

Heather Cass White's comment above seemed relevant to me before reading Hazards of Time Travel by Joyce Carol Oates. Afterward they are all the more relevant.

The novel tells of a high school student who is punished for being smart. For reading books. For asking questions. For thinking independently. The story may be set in the future, but as White suggests, something similar could happen at any time, past, present or future. Social systems, political systems, religious systems can all, at their extreme, seek to control information.

This happened during the COVID epidemic. It happened in Hollywood during the Hays era. It happens at so many colleges and universities today where diversity and inclusiveness are celebrated, at least until someone says something or reads something that might be considered conservative.  It happens when Amazon makes certain books difficult to purchase. Reading, especially the reading of fiction, is frowned upon by many parents.

White cites an example in Jane Austen's novel, Northanger Abbey, where one woman interrupts another, "'And what are you reading, Miss —?'" The other replies, "'Oh, it is only a novel!'" She then "lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame."

In Austen's story, the prejudice against reading a novel is at least subtle. Nobody is seizing the book or burning it or preventing its circulation.

Reading, White says, can be viewed as a "crime" in two ways. First, it is an independent act — one person voluntarily reading something, whatever it might be. Second, "it removes that self from circulation, from its possible use as the property of others."

Systems, at their extreme, want to own you. They want to control you. They want to dictate what you read and, therefore, what you think.

Through time with Joyce Carol Oates

Joyce Carol Oates is one of our most prolific novelists, a prolificacy revealed not just in the number of her novels but in their variety. With Hazards of Time Travel in 2018, she even turned to science fiction and did it better than most sci-fi writers.

Her narrator is a high school senior named Adriane Strohl, who lives in a time, not far in the future, when becoming class valedictorian can be viewed by an oppressive government as an act of rebellion. You aren't allowed to ask questions or to think independently. You must conform or else. Adriane doesn't even get to give her valedictorian speech before she faces the "or else."

She is exiled, transported back to 1959 where she finds herself a coed named Mary Ellen Enright at a Wisconsin college. You might think she would enjoy the relative freedom of 1959. Everyone else is worried about the threat of nuclear war with the USSR, but coming from the future, she knows that never happened. Yet she misses her parents and friends. And she is puzzled by the technological simplicity of this age. She must learn how to use a typewriter. She must turn pages to read a book. Telephones are plugged into the wall and are just for talking.

Then she falls in love with a professor, Ira Wolfman, whom she learns is also an exile from her own time. Both believe they are being monitored by the powers-that-be in the future, but can they escape?

Oates takes us in directions we may not expect, all while warning her readers not so much about the hazards of time travel as the hazards of expanding technology and artificial intelligence. She makes 1959 sound pretty good.

You can be replaced

In the coming weeks I plan to get a new crown on one of my teeth and to have cataract surgery on both eyes. In other words, I will be replacing some of my original equipment with artificial replacement parts.

And this is the subject of Mary Roach's entertaining new book Replaceable You: Adventures in Human Anatomy (2025). As usual in her books, she makes science fun. You may not think there is anything amusing about hip replacements, artificial hearts, breast implants, mechanical joints and the like, but Roach can bring a smile while writing about just about anything.

When she is visiting a place where bodies are carved up to retrieve donated organs,  she comments about the music played in the building — Wanted Dead or Alive, Another One Bites the Dust and Only the Good Die Young, among other songs on the morgue playlist.

She writes about women who change breast implants as often as they change boyfriends. She tells of gene-edited pigs so that individuals who may eventually need new organs can have their "personal pig" when the time comes. She writes, "Hip replacement has the visual drama of a visit to a Chevron station."

Even her footnotes are worth reading. In one she reveals how she lost her virginity. That's not something one expects to find in a science book.

Roach doesn't appear to be squeamish about anything, allowing her to view and then describe things most of us might wish to avoid. And her humor makes all this easier for the reader to handle.

Individual thought

We seem to live in a world now where all thoughts are focused on the idea of prevailing, of imposing one's beliefs on others, and no thoughts, no thoughts are given to the costs of prevailing, or even what it means. Have the people never read Moby Dick? Well, no, they haven't.

Jane Smiley, 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel

Jane Smiley's book was published in 2005, yet her words above could have been written today. As she observes, people think they are right, whatever they happen to believe. Those who think differently obviously have it all wrong. This is the way it is not just in politics but in virtually everything else. What's wrong with you if you don't like my kind of music? How can you believe that? How could anyone stand to eat that? Or in that restaurant? What does she see in him?

Jane Smiley loves literature, so perhaps she is guilty of the very thing she criticizes. She thinks other people should love literature, too.

Yet she does have a point. Reading novels is, at least to some extent, an antidote for self-centered thinking.  That's because every character thinks differently from every other character, meaning that the reader is thrown into the minds of a variety of very different people with conflicting ideas, tastes and agendas. Fiction forces one to, in effect, wear the moccasins of others.

One need not even read Moby Dick or anything else that sophisticated. Winnie-the-Pooh makes the same point. Each character thinks in a different way than everyone else. Owl may be Pooh's friend, but that doesn't mean he has to be as obsessed with honey as Pooh is. Tigger likes bouncing, but he doesn't expect anyone else to bounce. And yet they all get along and together, using their very different minds and opinions, manage to solve problems and have a good time together. Imagine what it would be like, as Smiley warns, if they all thought the same way about everything.