The Art of Fielding

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 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 show more 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 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 show more 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 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 show more 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.

In this book, the lives of five different characters - - three boys on a baseball team, a college president, and the college president's daughter - - intersect in interesting and unexpected ways on a college campus.
Harbach takes on some really big themes in this book, and I think he does it well - - especially when he addresses success and how different people view it and the pitfalls that can occur as one tries to achieve it. He also does a terrific job with the concept of what it means to be true to oneself. Love, death, and grief are all touched upon as well, and in my mind, somewhat less successfully. My point here is that the book is more than a story about baseball, a lot more.
However, at it's heart, is the game of baseball, and show more it certainly would help to have a basic working knowledge of the game before reading it. If you love baseball (and I do), you can really appreciate the author's understanding and love of the game and it's strategies and what players who play it face. That being said, the book is NOT about baseball - - it's about relationships and the human spirit - - so a non sports fan can certainly partake of it and still get a lot out of the book.
Someone else here at PBT (Michelle??) said the writing style was very Johnathan Franzen, and I have to say she is completely right on that point. However, I would go on to say that despite being a new author, Harbach takes Franzen and does him one better. He evokes Franzen's engaging style and intersecting characters and strong character development, BUT he also writes much more likable characters. Characters that are flawed, but that you find yourself rooting for. Characters who do bad things, but who are at their hearts good people. For me, Franzen's characters are ones I personally "love to hate", but I fell in love with Harbach's - - all of them - - and I sympathized deeply with their flaws.
My only quibbles with the book (and what probably prevented me from giving it a heart) is that there really are some moments where you must suspend disbelief. For example, Henry, a young promising shortstop, is recruited for the college baseball team by another player. And that player basically trains him and works with him and manages to control the team in good measure. Yeah, sure. That's not how recruitment works, and it is hard to envision for me. Also, the one female character really strikes me as a woman designed by a man - - as opposed to a real woman. A woman that a man would truly love to have, but that I have trouble envisioning in the real world. She's pretty much completely empathetic, will sleep with you when you need a lift, and yet not in the least bit clingy, and will totally love you even if you are gruff, sweaty, live in a hell hole, and have no money, because of course she sees through all that to your true heart. In five minutes. Ok, let's just say that she's no one that I know and leave it at that.
All in all, I really can see why critics were crowing happily over this book. It's totally engaging to read, addresses important themes in a strong way, and gives you some great characters. I'm very anxious to see what else this author does, but in the meantime, you can't really go wrong giving this book a try. show less

This book is slow to reveal its intelligence. It begins as if it will be a reverie on the zen of meeting your full potential - in this case, playing baseball. It continues as a comparison of relationships, and in particular, how the age divide can affect the outcome. And it reaches its apotheosis as a metaphor for T. S. Eliot’s great poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” that paean to ineffectuality that so typifies the human condition.

The story concerns five people whose lives become intertwined at Westish College in northeastern Wisconsin. One of them, Henry, is a baseball shortstop whose hero is the fictional shortstop Aparicio Rodriguez (presumably inspired by the the real-life shortstop Luis Aparicio). In the story, show more Rodriguez is the author of a vade mecum on playing baseball called “The Art of Fielding,” and Henry studies it religiously, just as he has studied the play of the shortstop:

"What he could do was field. He’d spent his life studying the way the ball came off the bat, the angles and the spin, so that he knew in advance whether he should break right or left, whether the ball that came at him would bound up high or skid low to the dirt. He caught the ball cleanly, always, and made, always, a perfect throw.”

Mike Schwartz, the catcher for the baseball team, takes Henry under his wing and helps him train and refine his skills. Mike is a natural coach, and basically takes over the job: "All you had to do was look at each of your players and ask yourself: What story does this guy wish someone would tell him about himself? And then you told the guy that story.”

Mike and Henry become close, but each thinks that the other’s perception of his own infallibility forms the basis of their friendship. For a while though, both the friendship and the infallibility work.

Henry’s roommate at Westish is Owen Dunne, a bright, somewhat posturing and effete intellectual who also, in an out-of-character turn, is the baseball team’s right fielder. Owen self-identifies as a “gay mulatto” and one almost gets the impression that he is gay for the same reason he likes to smoke pot and sit in espresso shops reading poetry. It is important to him to be seen in all of his arty manifestations.

The Westish baseball team begins to reap the benefits of the influence of Mike and Henry, and the wins start piling up. The team is called the Harpooners (Melville became the guiding spirit of this college after an important cache of his papers was discovered in its library).

Guert Affenlight, the president of Westish, is the one who discovered the Melville papers while working on his dissertation. Guert’s daughter Pella skipped college to get married, but now she returns to Westish to get her degree. (Pella’s mother died when Pella was three.)

Together, these five characters – Henry, Owen, Mike, Guert, and Pella - come to form a tightly interlocked matrix of hope, desire, disappointment and love that drives the second half of the book, and pulls us into its web by the tendrils of emotions that wind around the matrix.

Some of Harbach’s best writing about relationships concerns those early moments when insecurity vies with excitement for the obsessions of the actors. That nervous energy is exhibited in the following scene, when Pella has slept over a male’s house, and the next morning, sees all the dirty dishes and wants to wash them, but isn’t sure about the message it will send:

"It was a nice gesture, to do somebody else’s dishes, but it could also be construed as an admonishment: ‘If nobody else will clean up this shithole, I’ll do it myself!’ In fact, some version of that interpretation could hardly be avoided. She turned off the water. Even if [they] had been dating for months, unprovoked dishwashing might be considered strange. Meddlesome. Overbearing. Unless she dirtied the dishes herself: that would be different. Then the dishes should be done, and the failure to do them might pose its own problems. But the dishes weren’t hers, and [they] weren’t dating. Therefore the doing of dishes could only seem weird, neurotic, invasive.”

And that buildup of awe and happiness that comes with new love is shown ably in this observation: "Everything that floated through his life’s width…seemed loaded with such poignance that he found himself on the verge of country-music tears…”

Love ties the characters together, yes, but baseball provides an even sturdier glue. Schwartz sees baseball as a test of individual glory – not a melee sport dependent on team coordination, but as: "...a series of isolated contests. Batter versus pitcher, fielder versus ball. … When your moment came, you had to be ready, because if you fucked up, everyone would know whose fault it was. What other sport not only kept a stat as cruel as the error but posted it on the scoreboard for everyone to see?”

But for Schwartz, whose métier was coaching baseball, the contests were all vicarious: "He had no art to call his own. He knew how to motivate people, manipulate people, move them around; this was his only skill.”

He claims he’s not sick of coaching itself, yet he "just didn’t want to wake up in twenty years and see behind him a string of lives he’d changed, stretching out endlessly, rah rah go team, while he himself stayed exactly the same. Stagnant. Ungreat. Still wearing sweatpants to work. He who cannot, coaches.”

T. S. Eliot’s Prufrock’s lament could easily have been Schwartz’s:

"No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."

Evaluation: Harbach takes on the existential challenge of the insignificance of man, expressed via the metaphor of playing baseball. Even as his characters struggle to make a mark in the world, most must resign themselves to the more common outcome of a quotidian life of mechanical repetition. Can love and companionship make it bearable? That’s the question the book leaves you to ponder, long after you turn the last page. show less

I read this book three months ago and have been thinking about it ever since. We've all heard the saying that "baseball is a metaphor for life." The Art of Fielding is more illustrative of the proposition that "baseball is a metaphor for what it means to be human." All of the characters in this novel make stupid, life changing, mistakes, some of them on the field and all of them off the field. How they cope with those mistakes is a lesson that can be learned from baseball. Dwell on your mistakes and they will paralyze you forever. Getting beyond those mistakes takes personal tenacity and courage as well as acceptance and trust from other members of the "team."

This book made me a baseball fan! (and the Red Sox won the world series!!)