Mark Helprin

Wow, this is just one big messy pile of "um, wha?!" Magical realism, as you may remember, is super not my jam, mostly because I am a firm believer in the notionthat if you introduce magic or any other out-of-the-ordinary elements into an otherwise-normal setting, you're gonna need to explain and justify it. But this novel goes so far beyond breaking that rule that it pushes over into utter nonsense. So we have a steampunk-ish, old-timey, yet sort-of-quasi-futuristic NYC, a street rat orphan show more who's wise beyond his means, a magical (and in no way explained) flying horse, a street gang that's meant, I think, to be menacing but comes off 100% comical and which is, I think, supposed to be the main Big Bad, but disappears for most of the book only to POOF back into the action at the end, again, with no explanation, and a super-rich and super-brilliant (or maybe just totally bananas) young woman who's dying of TB. Oh, and a cloud bank that's somehow deadly and surrounds NYC but also moves but also people come and go from the city unharmed with - you guessed it - no explanation. But wait - there's more! Helprin apparently gets bored of these main characters, so he abandons them for a new set, but their actions and circumstances aren't any less lacking in logic. Just...wooof. And it doesn't read as if all these logistical problems are the point; instead it reads like a sloppily-written fevre dream, or a toddler telling you about the dream they had last night and getting sidetracked many, MANY times along the way. Yeah, it's that agonizing and exhausting. show less

Jules Lacour is 74 years old. He is incredibly fit for his age, spending considerable time running, swimming, and rowing on the Seine. A cellist, he composes music and teaches part-time. Widowed for many years, he deeply mourns the loss of his wife Jacqueline but finds solace in the company of his adult daughter Catherine and her family. Jules’ parents were killed during World War II, and Jules (irrationally) feels responsible for their deaths as well other losses in his life. He is show more determined to reverse this “trend” with his grandson Luc, recently diagnosed with leukemia.

Seemingly out of nowhere, three events dramatically change the course of Jules’ life: he receives a lucrative commission for an original composition, meets and experiences strong mutual attraction with a much younger woman, and is involved in a serious crime. What follows from these events inspires Jules to live increasingly in the moment, while also laying the groundwork to take care of those who will be left behind when he dies.

On the surface, this novel takes the form of a “caper” as Jules works feverishly to ensure his schemes come to fruition. There’s a bit of suspense and I couldn’t help cheering for the underdog. But the writing is sublime, and there’s something deeper going on here, from Jules’ experiences as a French Jew from the war to the present, to his ruminations on aging and a life well lived: “You learn to see with your emotions and feel with your reason. If at its end the life you’re living takes on the attributes of art, it doesn’t matter if you’ve forgotten where you put your reading glasses.” Highly recommended. show less

This is neither urban fantasy nor magical realism, occupying its own niche between the two. It is dreamy realism, an alternate version of reality overlapping our own where most things are recognizable but with fantastic elements scattered among them. A wall of clouds plays with time, pornography burns through the floor, police applaud in their sleep, an indefatigable horse can fly... Some people in the story are shocked and don't know what to make of it, while others hardly blink, and show more therein lies the clue and the difference. Perhaps the author's greatest invention lies outside of the city: the Lake of the Coheeries, an upstate backwoods Shangri-la. Another layer of unreality is added since its 1983 publication, in presenting a millennium without the Internet, cellphones etc. and events that never happened.

New York provides the perfect setting for the majority of this novel. It is one of a handful of cities that pervade the western cultural conscience even of those who will never lay eyes on it. Many of its citizens no doubt love and appreciate their city, but for distant admirers who aren't exposed to the day-in, day-out experience of living there that can take the shine off of anything, New York projects an aura of myth and legend like a distant land of Oz.

While it is not a difficult novel to read, it is also not straightforward. Characters we're introduced to in part one are set aside for the entirety of part two as we move significantly forward in time. It didn't bother me, personally. I can see how the passage of time is mirrored in the interval we must wait before Peter Lake returns (multiple clues are dropped to assure us that he eventually will.) We're introduced to several other engaging characters who can be made three-dimensional, rather than rushing their introduction all at once. And we can share Peter's disorientation upon his rejoining the story, now an outsider among the characters we've been following in his absence.

The novel's ending becomes clearer upon noting the underlying unreality to our reality, and that this novel is populated by characters with the ability to see it. Pearly Soames is fascinated by colour, the Baymen predict the future, Beverly's father opines that she has seen what he cannot, etc. - and then there is Peter Lake, in a class of his own. It is due to these characters that lines between worlds have been blurred in the telling, thus the 'magical realism' elements. In that underlying reality, justice is ultimately served and all things must be balanced. Someone who understands that balance like Peter Lake (he is a master mechanic in every sense) knows how he must proceed if he is to maintain it. He knows the sacrifice he must make in order to obtain his desired victories.

The descriptive passages in this novel must be mentioned. Mark Helprin is a writer's writer, not necessarily for the words he uses but for the sound they make. I expect he read every page aloud to himself and then fine-tuned it like a piano. Of course all that would be lost when the story is translated to film. It's a shame the 2014 movie is apparently so terrible that it couldn't renew much interest in this intriguing, mystical novel. show less

I really wanted to dislike this book after being annoyed by Helprin's sometimes pompous (and even empty) writing style (i.e. too many of his descriptors mean nothing but the sound of their words on the ear), but, my goodness, I loved this book. Against my better judgement, I found myself mesmerized by the main character, the landscape, the war, and the consistently engaging conversation about beauty, truth, life, and God. This is one of those books that needs to be over 700 pages, so you can show more spend quality time with the character and story. I was very upset to finish it. show less