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Loading... Mrs. Ted Bliss (original 1995; edition 1996)by Stanley Elkin
Work InformationMrs. Ted Bliss by Stanley Elkin (1995)
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Sign up for LibraryThing to find out whether you'll like this book. No current Talk conversations about this book. This is one of those books that taught me about writing. Elkin crafts such perfectly formed, well-rounded characters. He also has great love for his characters, but is not afraid to punish them for their actions. It was great to read a book where the elderly were portrayed not as stereotypes or cheap devices to pull at the reader's heart, but as fully-formed, fallible characters who make the same wretched mistakes as other adults. Dorothy Bliss is an elderly Jewish widow, living out her retirement in Miami Beach. The story tells of her coping with old age, her grown children and grandchildren, her brushes with major crime figures and con men, is told in a somewhat amusing, darkly comedic vein. The narration is very Jewish, somewhat in the manner of Philip Roth. Overall, there were bright spots, although I found the story to drag. 4342. Mrs. Ted Bliss, by Stanley Elkin (read 18 July 2007) (National Book Critics Circle fiction award for 1995) A well-written, funny account of elder folk living in retirement in Miami Beach, Florida. Like much modern fiction there is no real plot and its ending is not that of older novels. I found it funny and sometimes laughed almost uncontrollably, but there is poignancy as well Another tour through the remarkable imagination of Stanley Elkin; this time we visit with Mrs. Ted Bliss, recently widowed, and what she must endure at a condo complex in Miami filled with retirees. Somehow she becomes entangled with a Colombian drug lord, a gambler who fixes jai-lai matches, and an old business partner of her husband's who hatches ridiculous get-rich-quick schemes by the minute. Mrs. Bliss and her brood and their broods and their entire family histories are revealed through backstory and reminiscences and crazy dialogues. Laugh-out-loud funny, absurd, and often dark--typical Elkin. Mrs. Ted Bliss is just ok compared to the brilliant The Magic Kingdomand The Dick Gibson Show; an ok Stanley Elkin, however, is still excellent. no reviews | add a review
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HTML: National Book Critics Circle Award Winner: This funny, poignant novel about the misadventures of a Miami Beach widow is "brilliant" (Los Angeles Times). No library descriptions found. |
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Google Books — Loading... GenresMelvil Decimal System (DDC)813.54Literature English (North America) American fiction 20th Century 1945-1999LC ClassificationRatingAverage:
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the writing, however, was phenomenal; the sentences fun to read and the descriptions at times hilarious. I would recommend this book and I will look to see other novels from this author.
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Max had been the manager of Baltimore’s largest hardware store and had a guaranteed three-quarters point participation in net profits before his stroke in 1971 from which, thank God, he was now fully recovered except for a wide grin that was permanently fixed into his face like a brand...“I don’t dare go to funerals, they think I’m laughing,” Max said.
Dorothy was overcome with a feeling so powerful she gasped in astonishment and turned in her seat and looked in the back to see if her husband were sitting there. She was thrown into confusion. It was Ted’s scent, the haunted pheromones of cigarettes and sweat and loss, his over-two-year ownership collected, concentrated in the locked, unused automobile.
Women honored the men who put food on the table, who provided the table on which the food was put, and the men saved them. That was the trade-off. Men saved them. They took them out of awful places like Mrs. Dubow’s and put food on the table and kept all the books. Women owed it to them to be good-looking, they owed it to them that the shade of their dresses did not clash with the shade of their suits, to hold their shapes and do their level best to keep up their reflections in mirrors. It wasn’t vanity, it was duty.
And gathering up her metal detector, her trowel and shovel and hoe, and taking her fine paleontologist’s brush made off down the beach on her own, passing by groups of discrete populations—couples from the hotels stretched out on bathtowels; women older than Dorothy on beach chairs of bright woven plastic, indifferent as stylites, their skin dark as scabs; men, the ancient retired, chilly in suits and ties; girls in thong bathing suits, their teenage admirers trailing behind them like packs of wild dogs; kids, overexcited, wild in the surf, their parents frantically waving their arms like coaches in Little League; waiters, kitchen help, and housekeepers on smoke breaks; small clans of picnickers handing off contraband sandwiches, contraband beer; lovers kneading lotions and sunblock into one another’s flesh like a sort of sexual first aid.
if you both only managed to live long enough your worst enemy could become one of your best friends. ( )