Straight Man: A Novel by Richard Russo Summary and Reviews
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Book Reviews of Straight Man: A Novel
Book Review: "For every complex problem there is a simple solution. And it's always wrong."
Summary: 5 Stars
Russo's gaspingly funny *Straight Man* affords a knowing look at midlife crisis, parent-child dynamics, marriage, and tenured life in small-town academia. As well, the novel's humor is leavened with a sense of mystery regarding political machinations on the narrator's campus and which of the novel's characters is to be thrown under the bus. That narrator, William Henry Devereaux, Jr., known to his friends and enemies alike as Hank, is an anarchist by nature who finds himself in the unenviable position of chairman of his English department. Along with the typical struggles of academic life (I've heard it said that "never have the stakes been so low"), Hank is plagued with worries. He is concerned that he might have kidney stones (an ailment that plagued his highly successful novelist-academic father whom we find in the first chapter abandoned Hank and his mother when Hank was still a kid), he wants to sleep with several of the women with whom he works (including his secretary who ends every sentence with an upwards inflection, as if she is permanently uncertain about everything), and he is plagued by the fact that he wrote only one novel as a young man and has contributed nothing else to American literature.
For all these concerns, the book is a very funny read. We find our narrator hiding in the ceiling to spy on a meeting to decide on his status as department chair. On the spur of the moment, he threatens (on live television, no less) to kill a duck (or is it a goose?) unless the university's funding situation is resolved by the state legislature. The cast of characters will be all-too-familiar to anyone fortunate enough to work in academe; it includes the violent poet whose poetry isn't all that great, the aforementioned uncertain secretary, and the young professor ("Orshee") whose specialty seems to be contradicting everyone else (a good obstructionist/deconstructionist, if nothing else) and posing as an uber-feminist at every chance.
Throughout the novel Hank repeatedly returns to his favorite philosopher, the medieval William of Occam (after whom his dog Occam is named), to find the simplest possible explanation for all the craziness that seems to be filling his life. Through the novel's wry twists and turns, Hank comes to the conclusion that life is a little more complicated, coincidental, mysterious, and perhaps even magical than he'd like to believe.
"Because the truth is, we never know for sure about ourselves. Who we'll sleep with if given the opportunity, who we'll betray in the right circumstances, whose faith and love we will reward with our own...Only after we've done a thing do we know what we'll do, and by then whatever we've done has already begun to sever itself from clear significance, at least for the doer. Which is why we have spouses and children and parents and colleagues and friends, because someone has to know us better than we know ourselves. We need them to tell us. We need them to say, 'I know you, Al. You're not the kind of man who.'" (373-4)
A special thanks goes out to Bruce Clark, who recommended that I read this book over the Christmas break, and his lovely wife Caryn Clark, whose copy I borrowed and read.
Book Review: "Who knew academic life would be so crazy?"
Summary: 5 Stars
The son of an esteemed, philandering literary critic, William Henry "Hank" Devereaux, Jr., is a tenured professor at the third-rate West Central Pennsylvania University. He boasts one well-received, seldom-read novel (albeit written two decades earlier) under the belt of his "tenured paunch," but he's "not the only who no longer considers [himself] a writer." His agent has finally struck him off her Christmas card list.
Elected interim department chair of the English department, Hank refuses to take any of his colleagues seriously. He serves as the perfect foil for academic paranoia and petty rivalries, and his wise-guy repartees just as often result in a bloody nose or having his car run off the road as they do in grievances filed against him (fifteen and counting). The parting shot from his wife, who is leaving town--ostensibly for a job interview--is, "I have this fear. I can't decide where you're going to be when I get home. In the hospital or in jail." (I'll leave it to the prospective reader to determine the accuracy of this prediction.)
Having just finished Michael Chabon's "Wonder Boys" a few months ago, I was struck by the common elements: each book features a middle-aged English male professor/novelist living in Pennsylvania, battling unspecified medical ailments that cause mental brownouts, dealing with a 20-year-old case of writer's block, barely stringing along their agents, avoiding intra-departmental feuds, balancing personal friendships and professional antagonisms with administrators, supervising would-be student writers, and flirting with disaster as soon as the wife is away (by desertion in one book and for business in the other). Dead dogs, transvestism, and seedy bars figure--bizarrely--in both plots as well.
Yet, surprisingly, these similarities are entirely superficial; Chabon and Russo have written two very different--but equally hilarious--books. Chabon focuses on the relationship between teacher and student, while Russo lampoons university politics; in "Wonder Boys," Grady Tripp descends almost willingly into a private maelstrom, while in this book Hank Devereux attempts to remain above the fray. Arrogant, aloof, antagonistic--Hank is not always the most likeable hero, but his integrity is rarely in doubt.
And the humor is different as well. Russo's forte is rapid-fire banter, the perfect riposte, and convincing caricature; he depends far less on slapstick or situation comedy than many academic parodies. Yet Russo delights in the occasional set piece: Barely a day after his wife's departure, Hank ends up on national television in a Groucho Marx nose-and-glasses, threatening to kill a duck a day (while holding a goose) if he doesn't get his department budget "in unmarked bills by Monday morning." Then there's the scene in which, almost inadvertently, Hank is hiding in the ceiling crawl space, spying on the proceedings of a departmental meeting below.
"Like most academics," Hank's colleagues are "fascinated by childish, unprofessional conduct," which, oddly enough, makes him the perfect candidate for department chair. Or as the college's chief executive confirms, "Who knew academic life would be so crazy?" It's apparently crazy enough to inspire two wickedly brilliant satires. I, for one, can't decide which I enjoyed better.
Book Review: "The truth is, we never know for sure about ourselves."
Summary: 5 Stars
Ah, middle age. Some gray around the temples. Occasional regrets about missed opportunities. Finding one's self, to his or her embarrassment, thinking out loud. Plumbing that either stops up, or slows to a frustrating dribble.Thus we enter the world of William Henry Devereaux, Jr., through the pages of Richard Russo's wonderful novel, STRAIGHT MAN. Henry, or "Hank," is the interim chair of a delightfully dysfunctional English department at a small Pennsylvania college. Because he doesn't want to turn out like the moody and disgruntled professors he works with, Hank refuses to take life seriously; whenever an earnest statement is uttered, Hank counters with an off-the-cuff witticism--in essence, every person who comes in contact with him becomes a "straight man." His demeanor has worn thin with his colleagues, even with his family, and over the course of a very eventful early spring week the midlife trials and tribulations of Hank Devereaux will come to a hilarious, yet endearing, fruition.
Russo writes a relaxed, comfortable prose; his humorous timing--while simultaneously keeping the main character's first-person point of view on target--is marvelous. Yes, Hank is a smart aleck, but he's a lovable smart aleck, thanks to Russo's powerful storytelling ability. Yet despite all the humour and wit, there is also a deep underlying theme of melancholy and angst, all of which makes STRAIGHT MAN a compelling and highly recommended read.
--D. Mikels
Book Review: 'The Straight Man' by Russo is Updike's 'Centaur' revisited.
Summary: 4 Stars
How is Hank Deveraux, Jr. not George Caldwell? Both are academics teaching in New England. Both have their counterpoint references: Caldwell's is the myth of Chiron, Deveraux his Occam's Razor. And, both men are consumed by conflicts generated from tenacious humor, perceived sexual opportunities, and their familial infrastructures. It works. Richard Russo has captured John Updike's voice from 'The Centaur' which I have missed and enjoyed revisiting. I know I will read Russo's other novels, and urge others to enjoy 'The Straight Man.'Book Review: 3 1/2 stars...
Summary: 3 Stars
This book was, as most of Russo's are, a snap shot of time in the life of a small town guy. I enjoyed it. However, usually the snap shot encompasses a climactic event, and in this case I didn't feel like that was the case.While Hank was struggling with his school, friends, and children, I didn't feel like there was a real story underneath.
Hank was well developed (as a character), and as usual, Russo's writing is more than noteworthy, but the other characters were slightly underdeveloped and you never got a feel for his daughter, his wife, or even his colleagues.
I think that this time, Russo didn't do enough to develop the characters, and he spent a lot of time describing scenery and places ... I'd rather he had done more people, and fewer objects - in terms of description.
If you want to start reading Russo, read Nobody's Fool or Empire Falls - those are each a better indicator of what Russo is really capable of.