Since Thanksgiving, I started making a dent in a stack of books I purchased last year — but rarely made time to read in 2019. They are an eclectic bunch, but borne out of a time when I was going to bookstores to browse (and purchase) titles that looked interesting. And like many people, the pandemic has made it easier to find time to read a book since, well, no one is really going anywhere. So, here are three that I recently read.
Now in his mid-60s, Bernard Sumner of Joy Division and New Order fame is getting to the point in his life where he may be calling it a career in a few years, so why not get one’s life story (thus far) down on paper. Chapter and Verse: New Order, Joy Division and Me was published in 2014 and contains many interesting tidbits about his journey from average to below-average schoolboy to the frontman of one of the most influential synth-new wave dance bands of the ’80s and part of the ’90s. While Sumner is pretty detailed about his early life with a mother who was overbearing, sometimes cruel, and always suffering from health issues, it’s clear the years with Joy Division were some of the most exciting times of his life. Ian Curtis, the tragic frontman who took his life right before the band was set to fly to the U.S. for their first tour of the states, suffered from epilepsy and depression and his death hung over the band as they became New Order and Sumner rose to be the leader. While I did enjoy most of the book, sometimes I found Sumner’s story came across as a boilerplate rock biography. That is to say, he, like many of his contemporaries, weave a tale of hard work, luck, success, substance abuse, conflict, and money issues. Not really breaking news. He’s also less forthcoming about New Order toward the end of the Peter Hook era. The relationship between Sumner and Hook (who were childhood friends) ended in a lot of acrimony over issues of money, power, and status. Hook was adamant that Sumner was holding him back, but Bernard claims he really didn’t understand where all this rage was coming from. It wasn’t until recently that it was brought to light that Sumner and other remaining members got into a dispute over royalties and ended up going to court. They eventually settled the matter, but Hook remains bitter over the fight. Granted, Sumner was fighting with Hook while writing this book, so any issues he was having with Hook would have to be addressed in a very careful manner. That’s likely why a lot of the history of recording albums like Technique and Republic tend to get glossed over in favor of long passages of going to bars or parties and getting really sloppy drunk. For New Order fans, however, Chapter and Verse is a good first-person history of the band. You’ll get a good feel for the Manchester music scene, and what it’s like to be a young musician during a period where DIY culture made it possible to start a band, gig, make records on the cheap, and get them played in clubs and the radio. Those days don’t exist anymore, but it’s interesting to see a music scene where bands as start-up companies could ply their trade in an environment where there were avenues to advance a career without a big name producer or record label behind you — well, at first anyway.
I like a lot of what Nick Hornby writes, so it was a sense of “Well, this should be good” that I bought State of the Union (A Marriage in Ten Parts). The book is more like a play than a novel or novella because it’s so dialogue-heavy — making it easily adaptable to TV, which it was. The story centers on a couple (Louise and Tom) who are starting therapy sessions to repair their marriage. However, the book takes place entirely in a bar, where the couple meets for a drink before heading into their sessions with their therapist, Kenyon. Each chapter reveals aspects of Tom and Louise’s personality as they try to understand why their sexless marriage is becoming unbearable for both. They have two children, and that on the surface is what seems to anchor them to each other. However, the children mask deeper issues that affect them that lead back to how they met some 20 years ago. The dialogue is sharp, the issues are certainly recognizable to couples who have been together for a long time, but there’s something a little too pat and sitcomy about how the book resolves itself. Still, it’s a quick read, so if you like sitcoms where things move quick and end generally on a happy note, you’ll like State of the Union.
And speaking of quick reads, Michael Chabon’s Pops is one book that you can speed through in short order. That’s due in large part to its seven main chapters were published in magazines where the word counts are generally shorter. Chabon is an observant writer who can read people’s intentions with a quick scan, and point the telescope at himself with equal amounts of criticism and self-doubt. The book, as you might have guessed, is about fatherhood — his own father and being a father to four children. It’s not a preachy, sentimental, or how-to guide for beleaguered guys. Rather, Chabon examines the effect fathers have on their children in ways that’s both profound and ephemeral. His children are an eclectic lot. One son has found his tribe in the world of high fashion. Another exhibits an all-too-common male attitude toward woman — or in this case, a boy’s reaction to a girl’s affections. Chabon doesn’t sugarcoat this attitude by calling it was it is: “dickitude.” His daughters also crave his approval for new haircuts or want to know what is weird while living in a weird bubble of Berkeley, California. He also touches on that very father-son game of bonding: baseball. Chabon and his father are huge baseball fans for all the reasons why people love the game. But he became concerned when his son didn’t continue the tradition by having an interest in the sport (either playing it or watching it on TV). Overall, Pops is a breeze of a read. However, there are times when Chabon is able to slow the pace to linger on what it’s like to be an awkward teenager, feeling insecure about one’s place in the world, or just trying to be a better parent.
