...You speak of your Army comrades as "brutally stupid." I too am
surrounded by the type, and can find little compassion for them. Have
you read Farrell's Studs Lonigan? Do so, and you will find the
majority of my classmates in its pages. They are without minds; they are
without purpose. They think it "Hot sh*t" to roll in the bed of some
downtrodden whore and to talk of it lasciviously afterwards. I am not
shocked by their antics -- they amuse me-- but I find it depressing to
realize that these are specimens of the finest America has to offer in
her young manhood. And if this is what one encounters in the V-12, I can
imagine that the caliber is still lower in a unit such as yours, which
must include the very dregs of society. Well, C'est la guerre.
With regard to religion, I suppose this will startle you (remembering our talks at school about Schopenhauer, etc.) but I am no longer an atheist. In the past several months I have taken honest stock of my philosophical attitudes, and have found to my surprise that Christianity is no longer the anathema I once thought it to be. I can understand now why the greatest thinkers, the most enlightened minds in all of our Western culture have propounded the Christian ideal and the Christian ethic in one form or another.....
-This is a quotation from a fictional letter in Richard Yates's "A Special Providence." In its crazy pretentiousness, it seems very, very real. I wonder if Yates actually received this letter--or something very close to it--when he was fighting. If not, if he simply invented this letter, then I'm in awe.
-The young writer of the letter is clearly very silly. He puts all of his comrades into one vague group, then announces his superiority. (What better way to confirm--between the lines--that you are really anything but superior?) He commands his friend to read Farrell, with a weirdly archaic choice of verbiage: "Do so." He relies heavily on cliche: "I'm not shocked by their antics -- they amuse me...." "I find it depressing to realize...." And, most strikingly, he is flatly condescending to the person he is addressing in this very letter. ("I can imagine the caliber is still lower in a unit such as yours....") This is a person whose self-image is far, far off from objective reality. I wince when I read the paragraphs because I see some of my own fatuousness in each sentence. Don't you? No one can create this sensation the way Yates can.
-Because he is Yates, this writer doesn't stop at the silliness. It's not just facile mockery that the writer is going for here. In the next paragraph, quietly, Yates decides to rip your heart out. The chatter about Christianity is obviously covering an admission that the fictional letter-writer can't make: "I'm afraid I'm going to die." The poignancy of the sentiment--and the fact that the sentiment goes unstated--seems, to me, almost overwhelming. This is classic Yates: "I recognize human absurdity, but I also feel for humans. Compassion and satire in one package." I find this inspiring.
-Some people say "A Special Providence" is Yates's weakest novel; I think it is. (Others argue for "Disturbing the Peace," but I actually was swept up in "Peace," and I wasn't--consistently--in "Providence.") To me, the problem with "Providence" is that you care very deeply about the mom, and you don't care so much about Robert. (That said, the NYTimes critic argued exactly the opposite.)
-I like novels that attempt to answer the question: "How are we supposed to live?" (Or, better, novels that simply raise this question in new ways.) But novels whose action is set on a battlefield feel boring to me: The young soldier's actions are somewhat constrained. His options are limited. So my mind wanders. (That said, I enjoyed the cringe-worthy faux-romance between Prentice and Quint. It ends the only way it can, with Quint exploding in response to Prentice's neediness. "Damn it: I'm not your father!")
-Despite my impatience with "Providence," the novel is often admirable. I'm fascinated by George, who disappears from Robert's life, and who pays for his disappearance by tacitly enabling Alice's extravagance. (George complains, but it's clear the broken George/Alice system is, in some weird way, appealing for both George and Alice.) I also like this about Yates: He is aware that most human "moves" arise from a mixture of motives, and very often among those motives you'll find some opportunism. Again and again, in a Yates scenario, two silently ambivalent characters seem to be friends, but as time drags on and relations fray, the formerly-unmentioned opportunism becomes unavoidable. Home truths are exposed. People behave childishly. Matters are left "undone." Messes are left "behind."
-Yates did have favorite ideas and twists, and you may find the Alice portions of "Providence" reminding you strongly of "The Easter Parade." (One sister even goes to another for help, and the interlude ends badly, just as "Easter Parade" narrates, in an only superficially-different set of circumstances.) But: You love whom you love. Yates could have told his story of disillusionment and bad faith a trillion more times, and I still would have followed him again and again.
-In George Pelecanos's new novel, GP describes a young man who seeks out tough, enterprising protagonists to draw strength from. There must be something wrong with me. My favorite literary companions are not heroes; they're not, say, Captain America or even Inspector Dalgliesh. My favorites are the "losers" in a Yates novel. Those losers make me feel less alone. They seem to capture important truths about the human condition--at least as I see it. C'est la vie. C'est la guerre!
P.S. Which Yates novels should you read? "Rev. Road" and "Easter Parade." I also have a soft spot for "A Good School" and "Cold Spring Harbor."
With regard to religion, I suppose this will startle you (remembering our talks at school about Schopenhauer, etc.) but I am no longer an atheist. In the past several months I have taken honest stock of my philosophical attitudes, and have found to my surprise that Christianity is no longer the anathema I once thought it to be. I can understand now why the greatest thinkers, the most enlightened minds in all of our Western culture have propounded the Christian ideal and the Christian ethic in one form or another.....
-This is a quotation from a fictional letter in Richard Yates's "A Special Providence." In its crazy pretentiousness, it seems very, very real. I wonder if Yates actually received this letter--or something very close to it--when he was fighting. If not, if he simply invented this letter, then I'm in awe.
-The young writer of the letter is clearly very silly. He puts all of his comrades into one vague group, then announces his superiority. (What better way to confirm--between the lines--that you are really anything but superior?) He commands his friend to read Farrell, with a weirdly archaic choice of verbiage: "Do so." He relies heavily on cliche: "I'm not shocked by their antics -- they amuse me...." "I find it depressing to realize...." And, most strikingly, he is flatly condescending to the person he is addressing in this very letter. ("I can imagine the caliber is still lower in a unit such as yours....") This is a person whose self-image is far, far off from objective reality. I wince when I read the paragraphs because I see some of my own fatuousness in each sentence. Don't you? No one can create this sensation the way Yates can.
-Because he is Yates, this writer doesn't stop at the silliness. It's not just facile mockery that the writer is going for here. In the next paragraph, quietly, Yates decides to rip your heart out. The chatter about Christianity is obviously covering an admission that the fictional letter-writer can't make: "I'm afraid I'm going to die." The poignancy of the sentiment--and the fact that the sentiment goes unstated--seems, to me, almost overwhelming. This is classic Yates: "I recognize human absurdity, but I also feel for humans. Compassion and satire in one package." I find this inspiring.
-Some people say "A Special Providence" is Yates's weakest novel; I think it is. (Others argue for "Disturbing the Peace," but I actually was swept up in "Peace," and I wasn't--consistently--in "Providence.") To me, the problem with "Providence" is that you care very deeply about the mom, and you don't care so much about Robert. (That said, the NYTimes critic argued exactly the opposite.)
-I like novels that attempt to answer the question: "How are we supposed to live?" (Or, better, novels that simply raise this question in new ways.) But novels whose action is set on a battlefield feel boring to me: The young soldier's actions are somewhat constrained. His options are limited. So my mind wanders. (That said, I enjoyed the cringe-worthy faux-romance between Prentice and Quint. It ends the only way it can, with Quint exploding in response to Prentice's neediness. "Damn it: I'm not your father!")
-Despite my impatience with "Providence," the novel is often admirable. I'm fascinated by George, who disappears from Robert's life, and who pays for his disappearance by tacitly enabling Alice's extravagance. (George complains, but it's clear the broken George/Alice system is, in some weird way, appealing for both George and Alice.) I also like this about Yates: He is aware that most human "moves" arise from a mixture of motives, and very often among those motives you'll find some opportunism. Again and again, in a Yates scenario, two silently ambivalent characters seem to be friends, but as time drags on and relations fray, the formerly-unmentioned opportunism becomes unavoidable. Home truths are exposed. People behave childishly. Matters are left "undone." Messes are left "behind."
-Yates did have favorite ideas and twists, and you may find the Alice portions of "Providence" reminding you strongly of "The Easter Parade." (One sister even goes to another for help, and the interlude ends badly, just as "Easter Parade" narrates, in an only superficially-different set of circumstances.) But: You love whom you love. Yates could have told his story of disillusionment and bad faith a trillion more times, and I still would have followed him again and again.
-In George Pelecanos's new novel, GP describes a young man who seeks out tough, enterprising protagonists to draw strength from. There must be something wrong with me. My favorite literary companions are not heroes; they're not, say, Captain America or even Inspector Dalgliesh. My favorites are the "losers" in a Yates novel. Those losers make me feel less alone. They seem to capture important truths about the human condition--at least as I see it. C'est la vie. C'est la guerre!
P.S. Which Yates novels should you read? "Rev. Road" and "Easter Parade." I also have a soft spot for "A Good School" and "Cold Spring Harbor."
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