Russo's writing about small-town life in the U.S. northeast is truly outstanding. His Mohawk novels strike a perfect balance, being neither overly sentimental nor overly cynical. His characters are complex and human, rarely flawless but also not completely without hope. Even the most unlikable characters are presented with a sense of dignity.
This novel focuses on the lifelong relationship between Ned Hall and his father, Sam, who abandoned Ned and his mother shortly after Ned's birth but has maintained an intermittent connection with him ever since. There is no grand "plot" to drive the story forward. Instead, it explores a son's love for an unreliable father and the diverse group of people who make up the community where they live. Some characters you will admire, some you will pity, and some you will dislike. However, Russo's skillful writing allows you to get to know each of them on a deeper level, and with that understanding comes a greater appreciation for the human experience.
In the end, that is what makes Russo such a great novelist. He has the ability to bring his characters to life and make us care about them, even when they are far from perfect. His novels are a testament to the power of storytelling and the importance of understanding and empathy.
I did a reread of this while recovering from surgery. It's quite evident that Russo is truly at his best when delving into father-son and male friendship relations. However, upon this second go-round, I was not only struck by the rather thin portrayal of the women in the book but also the presence of some unearned misogyny within its pages. Of course, first-person narrators are permitted their prejudices. But at a certain point, as a reader, you渴望 the novel's voice to offer you a reason to understand the viewpoint. Yet, one must also bear in mind that your critic was on painkillers throughout this entire second reading. So, perhaps he can't be entirely trusted.
Maybe the painkillers influenced my perception, making me more sensitive to the flaws in the portrayal of women. Or perhaps it was just that upon a closer examination, these issues became more glaring. Either way, it's a thought-provoking aspect of the book that I couldn't ignore. Despite Russo's strengths in other areas, the treatment of women in this novel leaves something to be desired.
It makes me wonder if this is a reflection of the author's own biases or if it was an oversight in the writing process. In any case, it's an important point to consider when evaluating the overall quality of the book. And as I continue to recover from surgery and reflect on this reread, I find myself grappling with these questions and looking forward to seeing how Russo might address them in future works.