Second Look Books: Independence Day by Richard Ford (Alfred A. Knopf, $24)

This book review was first published on Sunday, July 30, 1995.

Richard Ford is no longer a “young American writer.” He has reached late maturity, a stage where technical mastery and a defined voice may not be enough. Just like Norman Mailer and Richard Wright, who had talent and promise in their youth but took different paths in maturity. Ford, with his recently published “Independence Day,” seems to be at a crossroads in his fiction. His technical skills and stylized voice are as elegant as those of Bellow or Heller, but his themes and inspirations appear to be stagnant.

The young Ford wrote several atmospheric and strange novels, influenced perhaps by his Mississippi roots and the oral traditions. He explored various themes such as life and death, love and car bombs. However, in the late 80s, his focus shifted to New Jersey and middle-class suburban life. With “The Sportswriter,” he created Frank Bascombe, a modern American male dealing with the loss of his son and the breakup of his marriage. “Independence Day” continues Bascombe's story, but this time he is selling real estate and involved with a woman named Sally. The novel's plot centers around a trip Frank plans to take with his son to visit sports halls of fame.

The action takes place over a few days, during which Frank has various interactions with clients, tries to collect rent, and has a conversation with Sally that leaves him confused about their relationship. He finally picks up his son for the trip. Ford's attempt to define Frank's “Existence Period” as representing the confusion of white American males in the late 20th century falls flat. Frank is a dull character, and his platitudes about choice and his relationships lack depth. Overall, “Independence Day” fails to deliver on its promises, and Ford needs to break free from his current rut and return to the world of action and consequence.

"Sadly, of course, with adulthood comes the realization that you can see on the horizon things that you will never be able to adapt to. You recognize them as problems, you worry about them excessively, you predict, you take precautions and make various arrangements, telling yourself that you must change the way you have been doing things until now. Only you don't. You can't. In a way, it's already too late. Maybe it's something even worse: maybe what you see coming from far away isn't really what you're afraid of but its consequences, and what you're afraid might happen has already happened. This is essentially like the realization that none of us will benefit from the recent great advances in medical science, yet we applaud them hoping that some vaccine will be timely and ready and thinking that things can still get better. Only that it's also too late for that. And that's exactly how our life ends before we even realize it."

Reading these words at the beginning of the book, I thought, "Wow, here we are. This guy has a lot of interesting things to tell us." He seemed to have studied human psychology well, and everything indicated that it would be a very interesting book about life and its difficulties, and how we struggle to overcome them and make it a little more bearable. So far, so good, but here's where the problems start and the difficulties begin. It's a difficult book. Difficult because for almost the entire duration of the book, you have to live with the logic that in reality, nothing particularly happens, while in reality, the world of our hero has been turned upside down. Here begins my objection. Many times I felt that I was going to connect with the hero, yet I couldn't say that I always agreed with his actions or his words. To be precise, I would say to myself, "Come on, my friend, you're working hard. What effort are you making? Let me tell you my thoughts and see who will win." But in the end, where I was fighting to understand him, a uncontrollable babble would start for me, which others might find very charming, but for me, it was academically trained too much because I felt that I had lost the connection I was trying to establish with the hero. There were really some very, very interesting individual moments that caught my attention, but they were always lost and weakened in front of my eyes by the text with its so detailed description of situations. That is, okay, let's not be silly. The theme is important. All of us, at least I personally, have experienced the same existential void as the hero. I have wondered equally about important decisions that I had to make in my life, and yes, I tried to find answers to questions in order to be able to move on. But this was and continues to be a personal battle of mine within the framework of my self-improvement. However, when you try to bring all this out in a book, I would expect, especially being such a good writer, to pass this battle, this struggle to find a meaning of existence, also to the reader, and personally, it didn't pass it to me to the extent that I wanted. Overall, an interesting book that, however, didn't touch me to the extent that I wanted and expected.

Richard Ford is a remarkable writer, and his works often展现出独特的魅力。

In his stories, it seems that nothing much is happening at first glance. The plot may unfold slowly, with ordinary characters going about their daily lives.

However, upon closer inspection, one realizes that everything is happening. Ford has a keen eye for the subtleties of human nature and the small details that can have a profound impact on a person's life.

His novels are not just about the events that occur but also about the emotions and thoughts that drive the characters.

Through his writing, he manages to capture the essence of the human experience, making his readers feel as if they are a part of the story.

Overall, Richard Ford's greatness lies in his ability to make the ordinary extraordinary and to show that even in the most mundane of lives, there is beauty, tragedy, and meaning.

His work is a testament to the power of literature to touch our hearts and minds and to make us see the world in a new light.

Exceptionally painstakingly written so that the style prevails over the history and somewhere the orientation is lost in an unjustifiably bulky book (700 pages). Undoubtedly a master of the word, Ford, with great depth and knowledge, however, does not avoid showing off and tires (at least me).

Ford's writing in this work is truly a display of his literary prowess. The painstaking attention to detail in the style is evident on every page. It seems as if he is more concerned with creating a beautiful and elaborate prose than with presenting a straightforward historical narrative.

While his depth of knowledge is impressive, it sometimes feels like he is showing off his erudition rather than simply telling the story. This can be quite tiresome for the reader, especially when the book is as bulky as 700 pages.

Overall, Ford's work is a mixed bag. On one hand, it showcases his undeniable talent as a writer. On the other hand, it suffers from some of the drawbacks of being overly stylized and perhaps a bit too self-indulgent.

I read this book right after a tumultuous breakup, and it truly resonated with me. You know that feeling after a major split? You feel like a middle-aged, lonely, and somewhat contemplative semi-loser, just longing to feel vital again. Well, that was exactly how I felt.

I woke up early, which is something I never do, just to read this. I really savored it. Frank complains, he whines, and he bemoans. But Ford writes in such a beautiful, smooth, Saul Bellow-y way that allows you (or in my case, me) to easily take in the sensations and situations. I could picture every single moment he describes in this story, which is usually quite difficult for me. But I was right there with him, Frank that is, as he mopes, wallows, and tries to reconnect with his son.

The dopey couple Frank tries to sell a house to, which is one of the major subplots, has the same last name as the girl who left me. So that was a nice, synchronistic pleasure. Hee hee hee.

And I might be wrong, but this book also seems to have a thin vein of political criticism running through it. His kid getting hit in the eye by a baseball in Cooperstown, his sullen and defiant black tenants, the jovial fat broke Republican hot dog vendor, Frank's fruitless attempt at getting some Emerson under his son's eyes. There's a bunch of other stuff I forget. I really liked this aspect, it was subtle and telling without being too over the top.

I'm not sure if I'll read it again, but it definitely came to my aid randomly during a time of crisis. For that, I'm giving it a lot of love and respect.

Anyway, I later found out that it was part of a trilogy, so now I've got to get to the other two books sometime.

This remarkable book achieved a significant milestone as it won the prestigious Pulitzer Prize in 1996.

Unlike most books that fail to evoke laughter within me, this particular one had me chuckling throughout.

The story delves into the realm of everyday life, highlighting the crucial lesson of not taking oneself too seriously.

Moreover, a substantial part of the book is set in Cooperstown, NY, specifically at the baseball hall of fame, which happens to be one of my all-time favorite places.

The vivid descriptions of this location added an extra layer of charm to the narrative.

Overall, I wholeheartedly give this book a resounding 5 stars. It is a captivating read that combines humor, life lessons, and a touch of nostalgia.

I highly recommend it to anyone in search of an entertaining and thought-provoking book.

I read this for my book club, and initially, I felt really bogged down during the first half. However, I'm glad that I was asked to read it. I wasn't familiar with Richard Ford before, but I've heard there's a lot of buzz about his latest installment that either came out recently or is coming out now.

The novel is set over the course of a weekend, and the level of detail, minute by minute, is truly astonishing and impressive. Ford is extremely attentive and accurate in his描绘. The dialogues, interpersonal relationships, assumptions, and the everyday American despair and hope are all masterfully captured.

Nevertheless, it's a slow-paced story, so anyone who likes to breeze through a novel, like I do, may become frustrated. Additionally, the language regarding race, gender, and sexual orientation seems dated, which I found a bit disconcerting and unpleasant. Similarly, there's an unsolved crime involving a black woman that I felt didn't receive adequate attention in the book. Maybe this will be addressed in a later sequel. The last lines of the book have left me wondering and eager to discuss it with my book club. Perhaps the sequel will provide an explanation. It'll be a while before I'm ready to take on the next book, though. I also want to talk to my book club about the various themes in this book, such as independence, marriage, parenthood, social class mobility, race, and (casual?) violence.

Moreover, I noticed a few mistakes or what I perceived as oversights. For example, when he refers to a "chapter" of the Declaration of Independence without explaining how he managed to get a woman-friend to a hotel when he was going to miss her at a public meeting place, especially since no one had a cell phone at that time.

Still, the fact that I have so much to say and want to write it down for book club discussion indicates that this is an important book.

The second entry in the Frank Bascombe trilogy truly lived up to the hype. This was a pleasant surprise indeed, especially after being completely let down by Sportswriter, a novel from much earlier.

It is quite evident that Ford has matured significantly as a writer, thinker, and philosopher over the intervening time. The resulting work is honest, self-aware, and even-handed when it comes to the main character/author's voice.

I found myself pleased throughout the reading experience and have no complaints whatsoever. The story seems to flow smoothly, drawing the reader in and keeping them engaged from start to finish.

The development of the characters is well done, and the themes explored are both thought-provoking and relevant. Overall, it is a great addition to the trilogy and a testament to Ford's growth as a writer.

I wouldn't recommend this book.

I came across it at a used-book store and decided to pick it up simply because it had won the Pulitzer Prize. While I did find a few things within its pages that will remain with me, overall, I deeply regret spending my time on it and wish I had chosen to read something else instead.

Frank, a middle-aged divorced real estate agent, spends an extended Fourth of July weekend showing houses and taking his mentally/emotionally troubled 15-year-old son on a road trip to the basketball and baseball halls of fame. If the book were truly boiled down to this plot in action, I would have had a great liking for it (and it would also be approximately 200 pages rather than a hefty 450).

However, instead, we are forced to spend the vast majority of the book inside Frank's head as he drives around for days, constantly contemplating, philosophizing, ruminating, musing, reminiscing, pondering, and brooding about his life and relationships up to that point. For some inexplicable reason, he also feels the need to provide us with all the intricate details of his journey, such as the names of every single road, highway, turnpike, and off-ramp he encounters along the way.

You might be thinking, "Ruminations on life and relationships - but that sounds kind of interesting..."

No. Even the New York Times has pointed out that there are numerous "unnecessary sides and digressions" in these books (this one being the second in a trilogy), and that the narrator can be "long-winded" and "irritating."

But obviously, they still gave the book glowing reviews, and it won the Pulitzer Prize and all that. So, joking aside, I would say it really just depends on your affinity or tolerance for this particular writing style, your patience level, and your willingness to skim if you get bored (I, for one, hate skimming as it causes me an inordinate amount of anxiety).

If you possess all those qualities in greater measure than I do, there are certain aspects of the book that I truly liked. There were some very humorous moments, and all of the interactions between Frank and his son Paul and daughter Clarissa were excellent. I just spent far too much of the book waiting for the good parts to begin and constantly thinking about how much the book was irritating me.

This was an outstanding discovery. I truly relished reading Richard Ford. I had postponed reading his novels as I had听闻 his writing was rather stiff and overly self-assured. I'm not sure where I obtained that information, but I was misinformed. I found his work to be extremely easy and enjoyable to read. Some authors can be overly blatant in their opinions or perspectives. With Ford, I felt that the author's perspective emerged through the actions and words of the protagonist, and thus was much more palatable and integrated with the story.

What I didn't realize when I began reading Independence Day (obviously!) is that this is the second in a trilogy. I would have preferred to read them in the correct order. However, I have also come across some less favorable reviews of the first novel. So, perhaps if I had started with the first novel, I might never have reached Independence Day.

I found the plot of Independence Day to be highly engaging. The main characters had real depth, especially the protagonist, Frank Bascombe, and his son. The issues the characters were facing seemed genuine. There was a connection between people and place that I could relate to. While I liked Frank, you never got the sense that he was perfect; in fact, he had many flaws. The story captured Frank during a few days as he broke free from the routines of the life in which he had become comfortable and entered a new stage of his life that would demand greater personal commitment and involvement. Even the people in Frank's life noticed the change he was undergoing. It was as if Frank had been stagnant, standing still, and he had found a way to move forward successfully. A story of transformation, but subtle and perhaps not permanent?

The highly lauded novel "The Bonfire of the Vanities" left me with mixed feelings.

It is a well-written book, filled with abundant humor and a central hero who remains in the reader's mind. The descriptions of the landscapes, emotions, and the socio-economic situation in the US during the 1980s are very detailed.

The fact that not many things happen during Sherman McCoy's journey requires the reader to get into that rhythm. However, once you do get into that rhythm, I think there are some exaggerations.

Sherman McCoy, who is going through an existential period of his life (according to his own words), is sometimes critical of everything (even himself) and sometimes cynical.

In the end, all of these thoughts of his create a feeling that we are reading more than is necessary and that we are simply waiting for the pages to pass to reach an ending that doesn't add much. I would give it 3.5 stars if they existed because, aside from the other positives, the translation and annotations in this edition are very good.

In a better world, Paul would've snagged a line drive bare-handed off the bat of one of the ersatz A's. He would've gone trooping off to the Hall of Fame with a proud, satisfyingly swollen mitt. There, he could've had a satisfactory but not overly good time nosing around through Babe Ruth's locker, taking in the Johnny Bench 'out at second' video and hearing canned crowd noises from the Thirties. Later, they could've walked out into the shimmery sunshine of Sunday, caught-ball in hand. They might have gone for a Gay Nineties malt, found some aspirin, and had their caricatures drawn together wearing vintage baseball suits. They could've had some well-earned laughs, played Frisbee, and set off bottle rockets along a deserted inlet of the lake. Finally, they could've ended the day early, lying in the grass under a surviving elm, with Frank explaining the ultimate value of good manners and that a common sense commitment to progress (while only a Christian fiction) can still be a good, pragmatic overlay onto a life that could get dicey and long.

This book has a very specific rhythm to its narrative that demands full immersion for full appreciation. It focuses on the relentless inner dialogue of Frank Banscombe, a divorced father of two who has transitioned from being a sportswriter to a realtor. The book's destination is somewhat unclear. Is it just a coincidence that Frank spends so much time stuck in traffic or constantly has to reroute his journeys? There is an undeniable allure to the narrative, and Frank's voice definitely lodges itself in the reader's head.
Throughout the book, Frank refers to living in his 'Existence' period, which I inferred to mean he feels a degree of emotional detachment, not only from his life but also from the relationships within it. However, after 451 pages of being privy to Frank's mental processes, which are so alive to detail and the nuance of personality and so prone to sharing ten details when one or two would suffice, I'm not sure I would describe him as detached. Instead, he seems inundated with awareness and analysis.
Frank lives in Haddam, New Jersey, in his former wife's house. He also owns two other small rental houses and a root-beer stand. In the course of the book, he attempts to find the right property for a difficult couple called the Markhams. Details about houses, such as their construction, styles, and market values, are a constant theme, and Frank is not oblivious to their emotional significance either. His ex-wife's new husband is an architect, which one could psychoanalyse if they so desired. In fact, I was never entirely sure how much of this book was meant to be read symbolically or metaphorically. It often feels dense with meaning, not just because of its penchant for elaborately detailed sentences.
There are three women in Frank's life, and all of the relationships are unresolved in some way. The first is with Ann, his former wife. Although they have been divorced for several years, it's evident that Frank is still attached to her in various ways, not just because of the children they share (two living and one dead). Then there is his girlfriend Sally, to whom he is considering making a commitment on some level. Finally, there is his former girlfriend and fellow co-worker Clair Devane, whose unsolved murder is a mystery both in the town of Haddam and in this book.
What does it all mean or add up to? I was never entirely certain. At times, I was charmed by the writing, while at other times, I was frustrated by it. Is this meant to be just a three-day'slice' of the life of a middle-aged, middle-class American man? Is Frank's life meant to be read as a parallel story of the United States, as the title implies? Is this story an identity crisis or an endurance test? A comedy or a tragedy? Suffice it to say, Frank Banscombe's visit to the Baseball Hall of Fame with his teenage son Paul, which was meant to be an opportunity for father-son bonding and a wholesomely American one at that, does not unfold in the 'ideal' way imagined in the quoted paragraph. Instead, the two end up in the hospital because Paul deliberately puts himself in the direct path of a ball machine, although it's likely that, while he intended to hurt himself (or at least his father), he was still surprised by the outcome. That might seem like an apt metaphor for Frank Banscombe's life, although his loquacious first-person narrative doesn't explicitly state so. Ford presents Frank's life to us as a richly textured, glorious mess of a tapestry, and then leaves it to the reader to judge for themselves. 3.75 stars. For at least half the time, I struggled to read this book. And yet, after finishing it, I found myself eager to read its prequel, The Sportswriter. Go figure.