To my dear Goodreads friends that adored this book, I apologize for having to sit out this particular dance. It’s not that I loathed it; I just didn’tTo my dear Goodreads friends that adored this book, I apologize for having to sit out this particular dance. It’s not that I loathed it; I just didn’t feel particularly moved by it. I didn’t want to get out of my chair and let loose. The rhythm threw me off quite often, and the character of the tune was just too angular for my taste. I prefer something a bit more lyrical. The two biggest problems that created such dissonance for me: a ghost and a pandemic.
“Flora died on the second of November, All Souls’ Day, when the fabric between the worlds is thin as tissue and easily torn. Since then, she has been here every morning.”
A ghost haunting a bookstore is rather alluring to this reader, in theory. But in practice, I just couldn’t buy it. Not that I’m opposed to ghost stories (see my review of Rebecca if you don’t believe me!). I like my ghosts a bit more subtle, and Flora was too over the top for me - as was the main character, Tookie. After finishing the book, I have no real good picture of this Ojibwe woman who had been imprisoned, released early, and who then sought refuge as an employee of a bookstore. Perhaps my imagination is failing me these days, but I had a better impression of some of her coworkers than I did of Tookie herself. But, I have to admit that I was absolutely on board with the interactions between the store employees as well as Tookie’s passion for books and reading. Who wouldn’t be?!
“Alone, I had to get out of my surroundings the way I used to in prison. There, I had learned to read with a force that resembled insanity. Once free, I found that I could not read just any book. It had gotten so I could see through books—the little ruses, the hooks, the setup in the beginning, the looming weight of a tragic ending, the way at the last page the author could whisk out the carpet of sorrow and restore a favorite character. I needed the writing to have a certain mineral density. It had to feel naturally meant, but not cynically contrived. I grew to dislike manipulations.”
This story takes place in contemporary Minneapolis. And yes, the pandemic did in fact come to town, just as it paid a visit to every other corner of the globe. This is where the real trouble began for me personally. I’ve worked in the public sector throughout. I have been fortunate to have been working not just with people but with books, too. The books were a lot easier to get along with during the pandemic. The people… well, I’m sure you can guess that this was a mixed bag. I simply was not ready to read about it yet. It’s just too fresh in my mind. In three weeks, a vote will be made regarding a significant expansion to our library. Some of the ugly heads are rearing themselves once again in protest. This time the issue is taxes, but the rude behavior is not all that different to that seen during the previous two years. What I’m trying to say in too many words is that the timing was simply cursed on my part.
“The things people did to one another and to themselves wore him down.”
I’m sure it’s obvious that this is a case of “it’s not you, it’s me”. Please read some other reviews. Louise Erdrich has an important story to tell, and many people will take away a whole lot more than I did. The writing is always competent. I like her stories best when I learn something about indigenous identity and history as well as the natural world. Needless to say, with the novel being set in the author’s own real-life bookstore, Birchbark Books, I’m inclined to pay a visit next time I find myself in the Midwest.
“As it turned out, books were important, like food, fuel, heat, garbage collection, snow shoveling, and booze.” ...more
“Long before they planted beets in Argus and built the highways, there was a railroad. Along the track, which crossed the Dakota-Minnesota bo3.5 stars
“Long before they planted beets in Argus and built the highways, there was a railroad. Along the track, which crossed the Dakota-Minnesota border and stretched on to Minneapolis, everything that made the town arrived. All that diminished the town departed by that route, too. On a cold spring morning in 1932 the train brought both an addition and a subtraction. They came by freight.”
I went through three different phases while reading this, my second Louise Erdrich novel. My initial reaction was: “Wow! This is some fantastic writing and a perfect introduction to an eccentric cast of characters. I can’t wait for my friends to read this!” Karl and Mary Adare are abandoned as children. Each arrives by freight train to the town of Argus, North Dakota. It is also here that the paths of each of their lives depart from one another rather significantly. Quite a lot of time is covered in a relatively short novel. Erdrich introduces a number of characters, many of them getting their own individual chapters, with their own narration of the events at hand. I started to wonder if this was going anywhere aside from painting several interesting character sketches.
“I had a great talent for obedience. I was in love with the picture of myself in a slim black cassock, and felt that the green lawns of the seminary and white brick of the chapels set me off to good advantage… Between the lines of sacred texts, I rendezvoused with thin hard hoboes who had slept in the bushes.”
As time moved on, however, I started to see a story coming together. Lives began to converge. My second impression was that this was indeed more than just a book about some odd and (for the most part) fairly unlikeable people. Erdrich is a gifted storyteller! I couldn’t wait to see exactly where she was going with this. I had faith. Much like a train that rolls out of town, though I couldn’t see all the way down the rails, I thought at some point there was a destination on the horizon. There were also some brilliant passages that held me captive.
“I did not choose solitude. Who would? It came on me like a kind of vocation, demanding an effort that married women can’t picture. Sometimes, even now, I look on the married girls the way a wild dog might look through the window at tame ones, envying the regularity of their lives but also despising the low pleasure they get from the master’s touch.”
Unfortunately, everything started to derail for me eventually. I couldn’t understand why certain events were included. I waited for some sort of grand epiphany to be laid bare after one or another of these strange little tales. But I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. Was there some sort of lesson to be learned from it all? If there was, I missed it. I must have boarded the wrong train somewhere along the way!
What started out strongly as a five star read gradually diminished. Yet there were moments of great writing that captivated me. I needed more than that, however. I didn’t feel any warmth to the story. No sort of compassion on the author’s part for her characters. She described them competently, but didn’t infuse life into them for me. When Dot, our Beet Queen, came along, I thought “Here is the moment when the story will shine once again!” Nope. I loved the last two pages though. But there was no recovery from that deflated feeling. I had already checked out by then.
Maybe it’s me. Or maybe it’s the fact this is part of a series. Perhaps it’s the series itself. I did enjoy Erdrich’s LaRose, so I’ll take a shot with another book one of these days.
“You fail sometimes. No matter how much you love your children, there are times you slip. There are moments you stutter, can’t give, lose your temper, or simply lose face with the world, and you can’t explain this to a child.” ...more
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