Chad Harbach

As the dark coolly draped over the heat-soaked desert foothills, I concentrated on the radio call for the San Francisco Giants series opener against the Rockies. The cool air outside the window where I sat and listened was no match for the crispness of the mile-high air in Coors Field. The stands sounded full, echoing just over the announcers banter, a tribute to the Rockies’ overachievement in the early weeks of the season. Maybe Tulowitzki is stealing signs, maybe not; maybe the team show more sneaks a non-humidor ball into the ump’s pouch at a critical time, maybe not. Even though I couldn’t see, I held my breath a little with each pitch, hoping Bumgarner, with his crane-like pivot, could sweep a 93 mph fastball over the corner of the plate. Or would the ball hang up just enough for the batter eye’s to widen with lust. As the final outs approached, the Giants were on top by a run thanks to a double that snaked into the left field corner, hit by a player that wore Rockies’ gray and purple last year. The Giants closed within one strike of victory. But the slight, wiry closer, the one with the beard sculpted to a gnome-like point, slotted a slider that a Rockies’ batter sent to the top of the wall in left field, scoring two. It’s only May. The Giants lead their division with one of the best records in baseball. It’s only one game. But listening to the excited voices of the announcers describing the path of the ball down the left field line turned my stomach. What is it about this game?

[The Art of Fielding], Chad Harbach’s debut novel, ponders the pull of the game, and how it mirrors life, transcending sport in so many ways. Not everyone sees that. Not everyone understands the game’s dichotomy: the routine interrupted by flashes of brilliant excitement and agony; the repeated failure broken by dizzying moments of success. Does that not describe life?

The book follows the life of Henry Skrimshander, a shortstop phenom, graceful and lithe on the field of play, but empty in all other ways except the pursuit of perfection. Playing college ball for a small, liberal arts college, ‘the Skrimmer’ develops an errorless streak that threatens to break records, only to see a rare errant throw destroy the face of a teammate. In that split second of failure, the minute slip of a finger, human fragility descends and consumes Henry. The doubt and confusion that follows, reflects the struggles of the people in Henry’s life: Schwartz, the captain of the team who suddenly loses his own single-minded path in life, Guert Affentlight, the college president who begins to pursue a love affair that will destroy his career; Pella, Guert’s daughter who is floundering from an abusively manipulative marriage. All of these obsessively single-minded people are confronted with the folly of life, the inability to control the ball as it teeters over the foul line, rolling independent and unmindful of everything around it, like life.

Harbach’s novel isn’t perfect, but even the most perfect of games often carries a blemish. Harbach occasionally loses his way in the narrative, almost working too hard to cobble a plot that carries his themes. Similarly, in Henry and Schwatz, he’s created such single-minded and obsessed people that their credibility as real humans comes into question – their workout routines, eating habits, and sleep schedules really push the boundaries of plausibility. But outside of these faults, Harbach presents an addictive read.

Baseball isn’t life; I know that somewhere in my rational brain. But in my heart, I see so much of life reflected on the field. Maybe that’s why I can’t stand to see the Giants to lose even one game, why I want every pitcher to pitch the perfect game, even though I know that the reality of life is that they will fail more often than they succeed. It is the search for perfection, the hope of permanent brilliance that keeps the heart alive. Harbach taps into that elusive knowledge with [The Art of Fielding], bringing a brief moment of brilliance into the routine of life.

Bottom Line: A baseball book that beautifully taps into the connections between the game and life.

4 ½ bones!!!!! show less

Full disclosure: This novel forced me to acknowledge that I really had no idea what a shortstop was, beyond it being some sort of baseball position. Because, WHY WOULD I KNOW. So, that tells you something about me.

And I mention this because, for me, the very best works transcend what may be uninteresting subject matter. For instance, while I am aggressively disinterested in the sport of wrestling and don’t read memoirs, John Irving’s memoir of his life in wrestling (Trying to Save Piggy show more Sneed) was brilliant. I thought that The Art of Fielding was a fantastic debut novel, but it never transcended the baseball. There’s a lot of baseball, and I’m a girl who doesn’t know what a shortstop is.

Fortunately, this is not a novel about baseball, it’s a novel about character. Specifically, the tale revolves around an ensemble cast of five central characters. The first two (surprise, surprise) meet on a baseball diamond. The novel opens:

“Schwartz didn’t notice the kid during the game. Or rather, he only noticed what everyone else did—that he was the smallest player on the field, a scrawny novelty of a shortstop, quick of foot but weak with the bat. Only after the game ended, when the kid returned to the sun-scorched diamond to take extra grounders, did Schwartz see the grace that shaped Henry’s every move.”

On the day of their meeting, Henry Skrimshander is contemplating the end of his baseball career. He’s graduated from his small South Dakota high school, and there’s no college on the horizon. But Mike Schwartz sees the talent that others have missed. And he takes action. (“He knew how to motivate people, manipulate people, move them around; this was his only skill.) With no authority, he promises Henry a place at Westish College, where he’s about to enter his sophomore year—and delivers on it. By sheer force of will, he changes the course of Henry’s life.

At Westish, Henry meets the other major players… “My name’s Owen Dunne. I’ll be your gay mulatto roommate.” And then there’s the college president, Guert Affenlight, and his 25-year-old daughter, Pella. “When they spoke they spoke in monosyllables, more like characters in a Carver story than real live Affenlights.”

I’m concentrating on the characters more than the plot because while a whole lot happens, this truly is the very best kind of character-driven fiction. These five are appealing, fallible, and so very human. In the end, it’s not about the big game, it’s about lives, relationships, and coming of age—no matter your age. Yeah, I could have done with a little less baseball, but even with all the sports, this book was a joy from start to finish. And it augurs a career that many of us will be watching for years to come. show less

I am not a fan of baseball. I think it is boring, tedious and have never enjoyed a single game. I only downloaded a sample of this book on my Kindle because I had heard such good things about it that I decided that I should at least give it a "sample."
Oh my, I was hooked from the first paragraph. It is beautifully written, deeply moving and actually gave me an appreciation of baseball that I did not see coming. There is the whole "game as a metaphor for life" thing but it is so subtle and show more there is so much more. Harbach weaves the relationships of player, parent, child, mentor, lover and loyal friends so beautifully that the whole book was enjoyable and moving and I would fervently recommend it to anyone who loves a gently told story with characters that they will come to love and respect. I was sure that each character had stumbled into a tragic circumstance that he/she would never be able to recover from. And yet Harbach managed to resolve each crisis perfectly. Not always happily, but perfectly! Loved this book. show less

Wonderful. I couldn't give two bleeps about baseball, but this a powerhouse of a character study. The world of that small Midwestern school, through the eyes of the baseball team and the President and his family, is wonderfully evoked. I felt each character's pain. Fabulous.