The 70 proof staff enjoys three things above all else. And it just so happens that reading is third behind only... well, let's just say it's third.

Every few weeks we'll provide brief reviews of the books we've been reading in hopes of helping you, our valued readers, make better choices the next time you're at the library, book store, or refined brothel.

We rate books on a scale of zero to four shots, with four being a work of true genius.

Feel free to let us know if you have any books in particular you would like us to address.

June 17, 2002

"Lucy Gayheart" by Willa Cather: Here's a book right up 70 Proof's alley. It's all about love, broken hearts, death, depression, and regret. Nice!

Young Lucy Gayheart, as memorable and lovely a heroine as ever captured on the page, ventures from her hometown of Haverford to study music in Chicago. Over her three years of learning, Lucy becomes an accomplished student and an elegant pianist. Her progress not only impresses her teacher but also catches the eye of Clement Sebastian, a renowned singer that happens to be looking for a new accompanist. Despite her nervousness, due in large part to being hopelessly in love with the elder Sebastian, Lucy lands the gig. She has big dreams. A return trip to Haverford over the Christmas holiday only galvanizes her will to leave her small-town roots behind and make it in the straight world.

Of course, not everything is golden. First, there's the matter of Sebastian being a married man, not to mention his being old enough to be Lucy's father. Adultery can get so complicated. Then there's good ol' Harry Gordon, a well-to-do young lad from Haverford that always planned to make Lucy his wife. Lucy admired Harry and was rather resigned to the fact that they would one day wed, but then she met Sebastian and discovered for herself what love, and life, really is.

This is yet another amazing work from Ms. Cather. Her material is always natural and effortless. The story flows beautifully. Nothing is overdramatic or forced. Lucy's plight will find its way into the heart of anyone that has experienced the pain of lost love. And Harry Gordon emerges as a character that won't soon be forgotten, or envied.

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"Pale Fire" by Vladimir Nabokov: Now this is a tricky one. This book's got more layers than Marlon Brando's birthday cake.

On the surface it would appear that the narrator of the tale is Dr. Charles Kinbote, a proclaimed scholar and ardent devotee to the poet John Shade. Kinbote's adoration of Shade, an aging man of letters that has known his share of tragedy, is nothing short of obsessive. And it's not a manly kind of obsession, either. Kinbote's about as straight as scoliosis. Oh yeah, he's also loopy in the head. Kinbote's all oatmeal north of the eyebrows.

Anyway, Kinbote takes residence next to the poet and his wife and begins to insinuate himself into their lives. During this time Shade is working on his masterpiece, an autobiographical poem of 999 lines, entitled "Pale Fire", that examines life, love, death, and existence. The poem is completed only moments before the poet himself experiences death.

Okay, that's the general story line. Now for the fun part. The structure of this book is ingenious. It's divided into four sections. First is the Foreword written by Kinbote in which he speaks about his relationship with Shade and how he became the editor and publisher of the poet's last work.

The second section is the poem itself, written in four cantos.

Next is the Commentary where Kinbote does an almost line-for-line analysis of the poem. During his musings the above-mentioned plot takes shape. Kinbote, while always the Shade enthusiast, can't help but take credit for providing the inspiration for the great work. He nearly separates a shoulder trying to pat himself on the back. Even though the poem is clearly autobiographical, Kinbote insists that the theme of the piece was based on the stories he used to tell Shade about the king of a country called Zembla. And guess who thinks he's the king of Zembla? Oh, that nutty Kinbote.

The fourth and final installment is the Index that sheds more light on names, locations, and terms used elsewhere in the book.

It's only through careful study of all four components that one can truly understand the complex nature of Nabokov's "Pale Fire." Even then it ain't no boat ride. Who is the true narrator? Is it Kinbote? Or is it really Shade? Or perhaps a third party mentioned briefly in the mess of Kinbote's memory? Or is Shade influencing Kinbote's narrative from beyond the grave?

The truth is it doesn't really matter. Nabokov has crafted a remarkable text. It's impossible to see Kinbote has anything but an insane lunatic for his breathless scrutiny of Shade's poem. Yet Nabokov has created a work of literature so deep and consuming that readers everywhere have been transformed into wild-eyed Kinbotes.

Having said all that, this humble reviewer wasn't ensnared by the trap. I admire "Pale Fire." I respect it. I am in awe of the achievement. But it really didn't speak to me on any emotional level. Discussing it can be more enjoyable than reading it. But that's just me. I've never really had an affinity for Nabokov's work. I'm still going to give "Pale Fire" four shots for its uniqueness and imagination, but it won't find itself on 70 Proof's top ten list anytime soon.

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"The Way of All Flesh" by Samuel Butler: Written between 1867 and 1882, "The Way of All Flesh" wasn't published until 1902; years after Samuel Butler's death. But because the publication fell in the 1900s, it was eligible for the Modern Library's list of the top 100 books of the 20th century. For those of you scoring at home, "The Way of All Flesh" clocks in at No. 12. Hmm ha. Exactly who were the people that made that list? And why haven't they read 12 books better than this one?

The subject of the tale is the Pontifex family. I wish I could give you more details but it was tough concentrating with the screams of "Who cares?" echoing in my ears. This is the kind of book you used to imagine when, as a schoolchild, a teacher would frighten with the word literature. It's so dull it couldn't cut wet tissue paper. Any more boring and the pages would be too sleepy to turn. It's only made worse by a narrator relating the story after the fact. Losing the "in the moment" rush is always the kiss of death for such staid old books.

There's no questioning Mr. Butler's ability as a writer. He's quite talented in the ways of words and phrases and whatnot. And I'm sure in 1886 this sort of thing was exciting. Unfortunately, things that seemed monumental back then are nothing more than trivial in today's context. The material rarely holds up.

If you're a fan of old-school literature, then by all means give "The Way of All Flesh" a chance. I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Otherwise, if you prefer your books with a pulse, do yourself a favor and pick up some Jack Kerouac.

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