It’s not that I didn’t enjoy Richard Russo’s The Risk Pool.

Rather, I had a distinct feeling that it didn’t quite measure up to other remarkable books of his that I’ve had the pleasure of reading.

While in other novels by Russo, we encounter characters who are charmingly roguish yet endearingly likeable, this particular work seems to be dominated by fairly despicable losers.

The beginning of the novel holds great promise. It vividly details the tumultuous early life of the narrator, Ned Hall. His parents are estranged, and as a result, Ned finds himself caught in a difficult position. He is torn between a life with a mother who is slowly unravelling emotionally and a father who is impetuous and irresponsible.

To say that his childhood is unsettled is indeed an extreme understatement.

Over time, however, the storyline starts to feel emotionally flat.

Although Ned manages to move away from Mohawk, New York, to pursue his studies in Arizona, he is eventually drawn back by the powerful pull of his parents.

He simply can’t seem to break free from the influence of his scoundrel of a father.

The novel primarily focuses on the various ways that parents shape their children. In this case, it seems that the influence is more for bad than for good.

The expression “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” came to my mind quite often as I delved into The Risk Pool.

Ned consciously attempts to defy the gravitational pull of that falling apple, but Russo artfully leaves us wondering whether he will ultimately be able to break that particular law of nature.

Dear Richard Russo,

I have a deep affection for character-driven stories, and you are truly a master in this regard. The stories you pen are among the very best I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Now, one might wonder if there is a great deal that occurs in your tales. The answer is not usually. In fact, what does happen often leans towards the ordinary and the everyday. However, it is the remarkable way in which you depict these events and their profound effects on your captivating characters that brings me such great satisfaction. After all, don't we all have those small experiences, the ones that seem to occur almost daily, that shape us into who we are?

Your work is truly outstanding. Sadly, I am nearly at the end of your extensive back catalog. But I am filled with excitement knowing that you are still actively engaged in writing. With a bit of luck, you will continue to grace us with your wonderful stories for many years to come.

Respectfully,

Nancy Williams

In particular, I did not enjoy this one quite as much as Nobody's Fool or Empire Falls (which remains my absolute favorite). Nevertheless, I liked it a great deal. It could potentially serve as a good starting point for those who have not yet delved into Russo's works, as I believe there is a bit more of a plot in this one compared to some of his others.

This novel is often described as a Bildungsroman, but I find this categorization to be both problematic and misleading.

Large parts of young Ned's life are skipped over, as seen in this sentence: How did he manage to get a publishing job in New York City? How did he meet Leigh?

I suggest that the novel's title provides a clue to a better understanding of its content and message. It's about the dead-end life in a Rust Belt town, which is Russo's overarching theme throughout his work.

In fact, the novel is at least as much about Ned's dad as it is about Ned himself. Notice how the mother only appears briefly and is then removed from the scene, and how significant portions of Ned's life are missing.

As the narrative progresses, the parts we are given are increasingly related to the dad.

This leads to the question: Does Ned's dad grow and change, or is it about Ned's growing awareness of the kind of person his dad is? I think it's a bit of both, but the novel can only be considered a Bildungsroman about Ned in the latter aspect.

However, Russo makes a serious misstep with the dad. When we first meet him in the kidnapping scene, he is a buffoon, too clumsy to be truly dangerous except to himself, and is set off against Wussy, who plays the role of the "straight man."

The episode is excellent Patrick McManus, but it doesn't prepare us for a confrontation with Sam Hall as a three-dimensional character.

Similarly, many of the secondary characters never quite reach three-dimensionality, resulting in a less than successful combination of small-town minor tragedy and the rosy-folksy glow of a place like Lake Wobegon.

Certainly not the most successful of Russo's novels, but it's entertaining enough for 480 pages, which is no small feat in itself. So, I'll round up my 3 1/2 stars.

This is like a very gentle version of the way the British sergeant-major explained how he lectures his troops :

"First I tells 'em what I'm going to tell 'em. Then I tells 'em. Then I tells 'em what I told 'em."

Because Richard Russo's middle name might as well be Repetition. His full name could almost be Richard Repetition Russo. Now I'm doing it too. Must be catching. We are constantly bombarded with details. How many times were we told that the protagonist's father had a blackened thumb and forefinger? At least once every five pages. How many times did the father cuff the son's head? About once every two pages. How many times did the father not pay his bills? About once every other paragraph.

This is your standard autobiographical novel about growing up in small town America. There are countless of these. It's a loving melancholy examination of flawed people, especially the father. Especially the father.

The story, if there is a story, and I'm not too sure, crawls along at a snail's pace of about seven miles an hour. You could out-walk this story easily. By the time you got to the end of the street Richard Russo would be just about finishing describing lacing up his shoes.

He mulls. He ruminates. He describes. He worries. He considers.

He's a good writer. But he ain't the writer I need right now. This novel has 480 pages in it. All full of words describing the father's fatuous, aggravating, inept, boorish and yet strangely awesome ways. Yes, it seemed to me to be a kind of hymn to the great unlettered manly man, the guy who can shoot great pool, romance the new barmaid with some homely come-on lines, fix up the permanently ailing Oldsmobile, pick a winner, play a hell of a poker game but never earn a decent wage for more than two consecutive months. Thing is, I think we have had enough love letters from writers to these kind of guys to last us a lifetime. So eventually, about half-way through, I thought : not gonna finish this one.

I really don't like not finishing novels which I think are actually pretty good. But I don't want pretty good anymore. I want to get zapped in the ventricles by something unexpectedly great, something I didn't see coming. I probably want too much.

As great a portrait of this region as any I've read.

As a man of Russo's age who grew up in upstate New York with a drinking father, I have vivid memories. I would drink ginger ale and amuse myself in bars while men swapped stories, ribbed one another, and exposed their faults to a boozy, forgiving or at least forgetful world. In "The Risk Pool", I found an affectionate, amusing, and harrowing portrait of the people trying to fight their ways through and out of the bottom of our society's risk pool.

This book mines the same rich vein explored so rewardingly in "Empire Falls" and "Nobody's Fool". Russo has a remarkable talent for uncovering the hidden gems within the lives of ordinary people. He again finds the good ore and brings it to us with great, if honest, respect for the people whose lives it comprises. His writing is a testament to the power of storytelling and the ability to see the beauty and tragedy in the everyday.

An early, classic Richard Russo novel showcases all of his typical themes. It delves into the world of small towns, where we encounter dysfunctional yet endearing men. These men have a penchant for drinking excessive amounts, staying out far too late, and living paycheck to paycheck, often with long stretches of unemployment. Alongside them are the long-suffering women in their lives, who ultimately come to terms with the true nature of the men they love.

The unique twist in this Russo novel is that it is told from the perspective of the son. He grows up in this complex world, shuttling back and forth between his mentally ill mother and his flawed father over a span of approximately 30 years. The story is filled with humor, wisdom, and touching moments, offering deep insights into the human condition. I simply adore Russo's work for its ability to capture the essence of life in such a vivid and engaging way.

A Surprisingly Charming Eulogy to a Complete Douchebag

This eulogy takes an unexpected turn as it delves into the life of a person who might be considered a complete douchebag. It covers Russo's usual themes and visits the usual places that are familiar to a certain fandom. The charm lies in the way it manages to find something redeemable or at least interesting about this otherwise unlikable character. Perhaps it's a testament to Russo's skill as a writer that he can make us see even the most flawed individuals in a new light. Through this eulogy, we are invited to look beyond the surface and discover the hidden depths that might exist within anyone, no matter how douchey they may seem at first glance.

With popular books such as this one that has already been reviewed by a significant number of readers (405 precisely), I frequently enjoy perusing a sampling of what others have observed. This not only assists me in clarifying my own impressions of the book but also helps me determine if I have anything distinct to offer compared to what has already been noted by others.

Those who rated this book as 1 or 2 stars (less than 3% of all raters) griped that it was'very slow,' 'boring,' and/or 'too long.' As one reviewer pointed out, it suffered from excessive'repetition.' Why does the reader have to endure reading about so many 'drunken escapades?'

Conversely, those who rated it as 4 or 5 stars (approximately 75% of all raters) lauded Russo's character development and vivid descriptions of small town life in upstate NY. A few also relished the humor that punctuated some of the events in the book.

I concur that I emerged with a clear sense of what small town life in 1950s upstate NY might have been like. It was as if Russo had crafted a colorful tapestry, portraying certain aspects of the town's life with great insight and power. And I found myself smiling and even giggling on a few occasions due to his timely use of ironic humor.

However, I also found it extremely slow-paced, if not tedious at times. By around the halfway point of the book, I debated whether to continue or not. To the author's credit, I did so mainly because I wanted to see what would happen to Ned and his Dad Sammy. Nevertheless, I still noted to myself on multiple occasions, 'Why did Russo include this particular episode in the book? It really doesn't advance the plot significantly. I already understand this point about this character's personality.'

For all of its 479 pages and copious, perceptive character descriptions, there were still aspects of some of them that remained a mystery. Why were Ned's parents the way they were? What transpired in their lives growing up to make them behave thus? Why were some of the other secondary characters the way they were? A few sentences here and there surely could have added substantial depth and richness to the book. And yet Russo droned on about some other things more than once.

When a truly excellent 4 or 5 star novel concludes, I often wish it would persist. Or I hope that the author has written or will pen a sequel. This is because I desire to learn more about one or more of the characters. In this instance, I felt, 'Whew, I've finally finished it.'

To give Russo the benefit of the doubt, it's possible that these were the flaws one sometimes encounters in a novelist's first or second book. Perhaps his later works are more tightly written than this one. Or at least better edited. I hope so. I liked Risk well enough that I may read Empire Falls at some point in the future since this won him the Pulitzer Prize. But only when I'm prepared for what I anticipate will likely be a long read. If anything, Risk affirmed one of my guiding principles regarding fiction: I fare better with books that are 350 pages or fewer. In my opinion, that provides a novelist with more than ample space to convey the points he/she wishes to without becoming either tedious or'repetitive.'

Mohawk! It is now an almost "familiar" town in Richard Russo's works. Just like in "Everybody's Fool", "Nobody's Fool" and "Mohawk", this small town seems to have been forgotten by time and fortune. However, the strange, strained, stymied, stupid, or strong characters in it just grow on you. Many of the small and big roles "appear" in all these books. Sometimes the same folks show up in different books with different names, and you feel like you are beginning to "know" them a little.

The father figure (Sam Hall here) is almost always absent from the family/home. Yet his influence (shall we call that genes?) is often huge. He is always down on his luck, often drunk, and never could have a good/normal relationship with women. However, he is surrounded by loyal and caring friends. Deep down, he has a big heart and is loved and, more importantly, respected by many. The father-son relationship is complicated. The missing dad has his unique way of showing his love. Often, there are damages done by the lack of attention and normalcy, but the son is lucky/smart enough to pull through.

The mother figure, on the other hand, is often neurotic, controlling, or just non-existent. And the mother-son relationship, from the surface, might seem to be the only thing that keeps the son living a normal life, while actually it is not healthy at all. Then there is often another woman who has lived a hard life but still has a warm heart.

The small town drinking places are also characters in their own right. Mohawk Grills, The Elms, Mike's Place, Greenies. The changing of time may close the tanneries and cost many people their livelihoods, but the beer and liquor will always be a constant presence, for better or for worse.

Once again, Mr. Russo has proved himself to be a good storyteller. Even when his stories have a similar theme with different variations, I somehow don't get bored with them. There are no strange plot twists, weird structures, or confusing timelines. It's just old-fashioned storytelling, and many times, the time-tested way is the good way.

I read it two years ago and it didn't convince me.

However, I have read it again now and I really liked it.

What has caught my attention is how well-written it is and the really funny touches of humor it has.

The plot is structured in four parts, in which we get to know the characters. Although there are many of them, they are well-defined.

The narration, almost all in monologues, is very interesting, especially in the third part.

It is a hard story, about poverty, difficult and distant father-son relationships. But the narration has a certain tenderness and the ending is very beautiful.

This time, upon re-reading, I was able to appreciate the depth and charm of the story that I had missed before.

The author's writing style is engaging and draws the reader in, making it a pleasure to read.

I would highly recommend this book to others who enjoy stories that explore complex emotions and relationships.

It is a book that can be read and re-read, each time uncovering new layers and meanings.

I absolutely loved this book. In fact, I have loved all of Russo's books, and this one is no exception.

Don't go into this expecting a plethora of plot twists or mind-boggling surprises. That's simply not the essence of what you seek when you pick up a Russo novel. What this remarkable author truly delivers are characters.

Huge, vivid characters that are not only believable but also delightfully unpredictable. They propel the novel forward with their very essence, being true to themselves.

And let's not forget Russo's writing style. It is so seamless and profoundly insightful that you almost lose the awareness that you are reading.

Russo seldom ventures far from the settings and themes that he is most comfortable with - families, small town America, and industrial decay. However, the characters he creates are so rich and distinct that they manage to make you forget that you may have encountered similar themes before.

His ability to breathe life into these characters and make them feel like real people in a tangible world is truly a testament to his talent as a writer.

This book is a must-read for anyone who appreciates character-driven stories and masterful writing.

This is an old book that was published in 1986 by a Pulitzer Prize winning author.

It delves into the life of Ned Hall and his family over a span of about thirty years in a small town located in upstate New York.

This is a town where everyone knows each other, perhaps even more than they should.

Ned serves as the narrator, vividly describing his life starting from when he was a young boy and progressing through to adulthood.

His parents divorced when he was a teenager. He lived with his mother for a short time, but mostly with his father, Sam Hall.

As always, the author masterfully develops the characters and the unique culture of the small town.

Much of the action occurs in bars and restaurants.

The characters are all imperfect, with many being severely slow, yet they somehow possess endearing qualities.

Moreover, there is an abundance of humor throughout the book, which is another of the author's trademarks.

So, this book presents itself as a mythical biography.

If it has an overarching theme, I am unable to express it clearly.