She's Not There was well-written, human, and touching. Boylan told her story in mostly matter-of-fact tones, and I empathized with her struggle to come to terms with her gender identity. The most intriguing part of the narrative, for me, was how her loved ones coped with her transformation, specifically her wife, Grace, and her best friend, Pulitzer Prize-winning author Richard Russo. Both stood by her; both came with her to Wisconsin for her reassignment surgery, and legally, as far as I can tell from Boylan's website, she and Grace are even still married. Talk about quasi-happy endings (happy for Jennifer; I still can't help wondering how Grace really feels).
As an English major, I have a great deal of books, many of which are still unread. I decided that I would get Russo's book from the library, just in case he was one of those dreadful "postmodernist" writers I can't bear to read and wouldn't want hanging on my shelf forever. You know, the "The Emperor's New Clothes," type of writer, where you can't admit you don't understand what the hell the book is supposed to be about without being scorned as ignorant by people who probably don't understand it either, but won't admit it.
I had no problem understanding, enjoying, loving, Empire Falls. It was beyond wonderful to read a book that was intelligent without being too clever by half, where the author actually wants the reader to follow the plot, care about the characters, and understand what he's getting at. They made a two-part HBO miniseries out of it, which was good but not great. The best bit of casting was Paul Newman (in his final role before his death) as Max Roby, father of the main character, Miles Roby. Who would think that Newman, a man reknowned for his sex appeal and charisma, could do scruffy old reprobate so well?
It is the dream, I suppose, of every writer who sets pen to paper (or keyboard to screen) to write the Great American Novel (or Canadian, or British, or German, or whatever nationality the writer possesses). The mantle of Great American Writer has been passed along from Hawthorne and Melville and Twain to Lewis and Hemingway and Steinbeck to Updike and Bellow and Roth. There are many opinions on what makes a novelist "great," and countless seminar hours devoted in institutes of higher learning debating their greatness. It's easier to determine greatness in hindsight; they're still teaching Huckleberry Finn (where it hasn't been banned), whereas other books deemed great at the time are now dated relics of literary history. In my opinion, Empire Falls qualifies as a Great American Novel. Maybe his other novels do too; through each of them, Russo is writing the history of 20th century small-town America in detail, from the points of view of all strata of society, and he captures the picture as though by camera and not by pen. Some characters are strong, others weak and foolish, but all are real (even the caricatures, and there are a few of those as well).
I don't know how literary history will judge Russo and his collected works, but I believe it should be favourable. I followed up Empire Falls with three more of his novels: Nobody's Fool, Bridge of Sighs, and Straight Man. Those I bought, and I loved each one. (I went and bought a copy of Empire Falls, too, though not the $50 first edition hardcover I found in Vermont. Maybe one day.) I shall continue to read him, and urge anyone who enjoys intelligent prose and engaging characters to do likewise.
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