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March 04, 2007

Comments

j h

I totally should have spent money on your book and his book instead of a rejection letter from the Writer's Workshop.

janitorman

The plot concept behind "The Children's Hospital" is one of those dreams you wake up from in the middle of the night thinking, Oh my God, I have to jot that down in the morning because that could work up into something incredibly unique. That's just... Just wow. Adrian's secret is he actually remembers to make a note of it in the morning.

Ray Mattson

Nice to hear about other UI alums who would steal the graduates stories. Too bad Adrian was before my time.

janitorman

Oh now I'm disappointed. I just read the plot synopsis. "When the world is submerged beneath seven miles of water, only those aboard the Children's Hospital, a working medical facility and ark built by architect turned prophet John Grampus (who was ordered by God "to save the kids") survive."

It's intentional. I thought instead it was the sublime plot idea. That it was accidental, random. That it was, without particular explanation, a real children's hospital that was all that was left. Not an ark. That's just a retelling of the Noah myth. I don't discount that Adrian is probably a fine writer, but boy what a let down on the plot angle.

Julie Martin

What a grand testament to the wonder of Adrian's short stories. I remember the day that I was electrified by a New Yorker story, googled the (to me) unknown author, and pre-ordered TCH, which then couldn't arrive fast enough.

TCH is immense, and I list it with The Thin Place and The Lost Thoughts of Soliders as my fave 2006 publications. Must say, however, that the torte occasionally collapsed from a delicious density of detail, image and allusion into congealed, stolid fudge. A novel like TCH requires Straussian orchestration.

Jason

Adrian has an interesting story in this quarter's "All-Story" (www.all-story.com).

As for the Noah angle in TCH - the book is hardly thin Christian allegory. Yes the main plot points are the same - end of world, boat in water - but that's about where the similarities end.

I'm not quite done with it yet, but have found it immensely enjoyable even as I find the main character to be a bit lacking in depth.

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TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."