I see that this book has received mixed reviews, and I can understand why.

This isn't just a casual read or a novel for killing time. Frank Bascombe is a complex man深陷于自己制造的精神困境中 - but aren't we all at times?

It's not always easy to tolerate all his evasions, self-justifications, and reasoning as he stumbles through life, sometimes reaching compromises and sometimes the truth.

In a way, we're probably all like this. While we consider our own mental rubble heaps important, reading about others can be tiresome and frustrating.

That is, we can repeatedly go back and forth in our own minds, covering the same ground, but we expect others to move on.

The first book of this (so far) tetrology, "The Sportswriter," begins with two of the great themes of Frank's life: his ex-wife and the death of their eldest son during their marriage.

They meet in the cemetery at his grave and then go their separate ways. She has recovered and made a new life, but he can't because he's still trapped in his old one.

This continues in "Independence Day" as he arrives at some truths, and so does she, although it's all seen through his eyes.

He has never stopped loving her and hoping for a reconciliation, and she may never have stopped loving him and may be staying in an unsatisfactory marriage because it gives her an emotional stability she never had with Frank.

The other themes in this novel are his relationships with his other son and his current lover, to whom he has trouble defining himself.

In a sense, it's all excruciating to read because Frank is a frustrating person, but he's also a good man, reasonably successful in business and compassionate to those around him who he realizes are just as perplexed and frustrated with him as he is with himself.

You can easily feel like this novel is more like a case study for a shrink as Frank goes through his mental processes, but if you're patient, I think it's fascinating and maybe a reflection of all of us.

"Independence" by Richard Ford revisits the universe of Frank Bascombe, the central character who also stars in "The Sportswriter", "The Lay of the Land", and "Let Me Be Frank with You".

The narrative is a long stroll through his existential reflections. Beneath the facade of a mediocre divorced real estate agent, he seems to believe he is always in control. However, the reader may find themselves rooting for him to pause his self-referential monologues, even if only for a moment. Wandering through the suburbs of New Jersey, Frank observes the minutiae of daily life with an irritating conviction that his perceptions are of utmost importance. Gradually, Frank erodes our empathy and patience with a healthy dose of arrogance and pedantry, almost as if they were the trophies of a life of self-sufficiency.

The plot touches on his personal life, marked by a tumultuous romance, a troubled relationship with his ex-wife, and the estrangement from his children. The central point of the plot, a trip that Frank takes with his problematic son to visit some Sports Halls of Fame, ends up becoming just another backdrop for his meanderings.

Although it received the Pulitzer in 1996, the book leaves the reader strongly tempted to check on Google if this achievement is really real. What should have been a profound exploration of themes such as aging, fatherhood, loss, and the condition of contemporary America (understood as a critique of Bush) turns into a succession of introspections, most of them about the trivial. For those who appreciate protagonists who delight in hearing their own voices, "Independence" offers a banquet. For the rest, perhaps a dose of independence from Frank Bascombe is more than desirable.

Final Rating: 2.0/10
Reading Completed: 31st book of 2024
Next Reading: "The Promise" (Damon Galgut)

I started this book in the best possible way: underlining sentences that struck me.

However, after the first 100 pages, I began to struggle.

Then there were other sporadic moments when I was completely caught up in the story.

But then there was a sluggishness that was killing me with boredom.

And then again a sprint in the last 100 pages.

Help. Worse than a roller coaster.

In my opinion, the character, Frank, is a very peculiar man in his ways of being, thinking, and expressing what he thinks, and for this very interesting. But he is surrounded by a heaviness that makes you drop your arms, look up at the sky, and yawn so much that at a certain point your jaw doesn't close anymore.

There's nothing to say about Ford's narration, he's very good. But the rhythm here has gone on vacation. I understand that we are in the days of Independence and it's being celebrated, but it could have deigned to have at least a minimum of presence.

I can say that one of the aspects that I liked the most was the sale of a property to the Markhams? Maybe it's because I was there a little over a year ago, but my goodness, all those steps, those dilemmas, those uncertainties, that having to give up your dreams, that money you can't afford to spend because you simply don't have it, that having to be content with what you find, those difficulties... it felt like I was there, between those pages. (I would like to specify that I'm at least more decisive than the Markhams, for heaven's sake).

With these peaks of beauty, and then those drops of infinite boredom, I would say that it was a difficult book for me.

I'm already bracing myself for the criticism that's bound to come my way regarding this. However, after perusing more than one highly favorable review of Richard Ford's work, I decided to take on this particular piece first. To my dismay, I discovered that I detested the main character to such an extent that no matter how skillfully the story was told about real estate in New Jersey and other aspects of modern life's exigencies, it couldn't sway my opinion. In this instance, I had the impression that Ford bears a striking resemblance to his central character. This realization left me with a rather unpleasant taste in my mouth, one that has effectively turned me off him for good.

It's quite unfortunate really, as I had initially hoped to find something redeeming in his writing. But alas, the unlikable nature of the protagonist and the perceived similarity to the author himself have soured the experience for me. I can't help but wonder if others will have the same reaction or if they will be able to overlook these aspects and appreciate the other elements of the story. Only time will tell, I suppose.

I rarely find myself thinking "wow, I hated that book."

Often times, the last few sentences of a book I've struggled through make me seriously reconsider whether or not I actually disliked it at all.

However, I can confidently say that this is by far the most aggravating, pretentious, and boring book I've ever read.

The entire book is essentially a monologue and inner-workings, which I'm typically more than happy with.

But the stuff Ford presents feels absolutely contrived and ridiculous.

The main character is stale and has typical middle-aged thoughts, while simultaneously being incredibly delusional about father-son relationships.

His son's motivations make little to no sense, and I never, ever, EVER want to talk about real estate with anyone again.

Ever. Please god, don't pick this up. Don't do it. Don't let the fancy award draw you in.

I speak not its name as I can't believe its designation was bestowed upon this heinous book.

It's truly a disappointment that I hope others will avoid.

The writing style, the characters, and the overall storyline all combine to create a reading experience that is anything but enjoyable.

I would not recommend this book to anyone, regardless of their literary preferences.

There are far better books out there that are worth your time and attention.

Don't waste your money or your precious reading time on this one.

Trust me, you'll be glad you didn't.

The second chapter of the "Bascombe saga".

Perhaps less successful than the previous "Sportswriter", more due to a matter of rhythm and incisiveness, but not for this any less interesting and lacking in ideas.

"Even a good idea can be misleading if adopted in ignorance."

This second installment of the Bascombe story presents a unique set of challenges and opportunities. The pacing might not be as tight as in the first, but it still manages to draw the reader in with its engaging plot and well-developed characters.

The theme of ignorance leading to misinterpretation of good ideas is explored in a thought-provoking way. It makes the reader question their own assumptions and consider the importance of being well-informed before making decisions.

Overall, while it may have its flaws, the second chapter of the Bascombe saga is a worthy addition to the series and leaves the reader eager to see what comes next.

I thought the writing was truly fabulous.

Every single word seemed to be in its perfect place, as if carefully curated and arranged by a master wordsmith.

The author's command over the language was evident, with a seamless flow of ideas and a precision in expression that left me in awe.

It was no surprise to me that this work was a worthy winner of the prestigious Pulitzer Prize.

The Pulitzer Prize is a symbol of excellence in journalism and literature, and this piece of writing more than lived up to that reputation.

It had the power to engage, inspire, and move the reader, taking them on a journey through the author's thoughts and perspectives.

I couldn't help but admire the skill and talent that went into creating such a remarkable piece of writing.

It will surely be remembered as a classic in the world of literature and a source of inspiration for future generations of writers.

I have a profound love for "Independence Day" by Richard Ford. The stately sentences, crafted in a wry and reflective style, possess an incredible ability to penetrate deep into the human condition. On the surface and in terms of the plot, it may seem as if not much is happening. However, this is precisely where its charm lies.

It exquisitely captures the life of a middle-aged estate agent (or realtor) in the USA during the late 1980s. The story oscillates between being hilariously funny and deeply sad, seamlessly transitioning between the parochial and the universal. Its grandeur is encapsulated in the fact that the protagonist understands that people don't merely buy a house; rather, "they buy a life."

This is my video review:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urlNh...

Really a Virtuoso performance.

Ford, in this book, accomplishes what I have always believed Delillo fails to do. That is, he provides an endless and minute description of events precisely as they unfold from within the subjective consciousness of the protagonist. This technique, in this instance, makes the main character extremely human due to the flood of details that correspond, in terms of quality, quantity, and pace, with my own experience of how events occur.

Ford's artifice vanishes beneath the deluge of particularities. Only a second reading of one detail or another reveals that the author is not just talented in his description; he is a virtuoso. He is capable of avoiding repetition and cliché while bombarding the reader with image after image and thought after thought.

At the end of the book, one realizes that the 3-day Independence Day structure has, in fact, been intricately woven around a set of ideas regarding independence, one's connection to the world, and the question of one's own inherent value, as related to contemporary (1980s) politics and the thoughts of the founding fathers. It is a masterful work that showcases Ford's remarkable literary skills.

Like Frank Bascombe, the protagonist in Ford's work, I am also middle-aged and often prone to deep contemplation. Although I wouldn't exactly regard Frank as a perfect role model, I must admit that I have a great appreciation for the book. There are several aspects that earn it extra points in my eyes.

First of all, the inner thoughts presented in the book are not only meaningful but also extremely articulate. They are the kind of thoughts that make you exclaim, "Wish I'd thought of that, if only I had the intellectual capacity to do so." It really makes you stop and think.

Ford's writing style is truly wonderful. It is descriptive enough to paint a vivid picture in your mind without being overly intrusive or distracting. You can easily get lost in the story.

The book also bravely takes on a rather tough topic, which is the uneventful and sometimes monotonous years of middle age, what Ford refers to as the Existence Period. It delves into the emotions and experiences that come with this stage of life.

Despite the somewhat沉重的主题, there is an undercurrent of empathy running throughout the book. You can sense that the author understands the struggles and joys of middle age.

Moreover, there are hints that while Frank is a smart character, Ford himself might be even smarter. It's almost as if Ford has an all-knowing meta-voice supporting Frank's first-person account. Readers can pick up on clues that Frank's self-awareness has its limitations, which makes him all the more human and relatable.

I am very grateful to my friend Robert for recommending this book to me. It has provided me with a lot of food for thought and a new perspective on middle age.

Ford, Richard, as there is the Ole Maddox or whatever his name is. No relation to Chevy, I'm sure. Ha!

See, after signing up for Goodreads back in Sept of '10...or is that ought-ten?...or will that bring out the Waco killers? Boggling over Leggo-guns and a cheerleader with a hunting rifle in the trunk of her car? Call SWAT.

Ha! Because though I remember reading this book, and saying, right-on, bro! I couldn't for the life of me remember the title, much less the author of the piece, Ford, Richard. And I've looked - searched for it from time to time.

There's a line in this one that is still with me, from...'95, when I suspect I read this: something about posing an analogy to our nation's early days when the complaints of a people fell on deaf ears and a crisis ensued. And all that patriotic malarkey...yadda yadda...all experience has shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer while evils are sufferable, rather than to right themselves by opposing the forms they've grown accustomed to...yadda yadda.

Oh, my, that little boy just pointed his index finger at moi and pulled his middle finger. Call SWAT.

Too, it's been interesting reading many of the reviews as they line up beneath the brief statement up there by the title.

Ha! Anyway, found it, and though I no longer own this book - I found it cause it dawned on moi, by the soon-to-be-changed early morning light - daylight savings! (Call SWAT) - that I may find it if I look at winners, Pulitzer, in this case and lo and behold, lo and behold, there it is.

I remembered it had something to do with a real estate agent...all those worries about being still and the need for perpetual motion, perpetual emotions....call SWAT...

Does anything go? seems like it, anymore...call SWAT 96? 95?

Richard Russo and John Updike's Rabbit Series are well-known and highly regarded works. However, this novel failed to impress me. I can see the reason it was nominated for the Pulitzer, though I don't understand why it won. Ford's prose is talented, as he can take the ordinary and mundane and describe the details in a relatable and beautiful way.

But at the end of the day, it's still just mundanity. I believe Updike and Russo have explored similar themes and done it much better. Frank Bascome spends a significant part of the beginning of the book passionately expressing his love for real estate. Seriously, who wants to read a novel about real estate?

I only found the story interesting after the incident with Paul near the end of the book, and Paul was the only character I could sympathize with. I should note that I didn't know this was part of a series until I was almost done with the book. Maybe I should have realized that the major life events Frank casually mentioned had been fully developed in another novel. But I don't think reading the first one would have changed my opinion of the second, and I have no desire to immerse myself in Frank's tired world for another long book.