Book Review: Ask the Dust

Ask the Dust by John Fante

I took a break from reading a 600+ page collection of Cheever stories to read John Fante's Ask the Dust. I'd heard the book mentioned many times without any real idea of what it might be like, but when I settled into it, I couldn't put it down.

The novel is, in so many ways, like things I've read before. We have the poor, destitute young writer, struggling to feed himself and occupy his time when he is not writing. And, as we know, there is a lot of time spent not writing. It was reminiscent to me of a time so far in my past, so removed from my current existence, that it is hard to believe that was how I lived. There were certainly times like these for me, when I was out of work, writing a lot, and spending a lot of time just wandering. Sometimes the wandering led me to the library; when it didn't it led to trouble.

Of course, Fante's Bandini, the novel's protagonist, wanders into trouble. Not just trouble, women trouble. A waitress, no less. It is easy to fall for them. Bandini is searching for something. Fame as a writer for sure, but something else, and he is willing to follow or chase his waitress, Camila, to find it. The trouble is that she doesn't like him, and worse, he doesn't like her. Bandini is so blatantly racist and misogynist and so hostile about it, yet Fante gives s not real motivation for this. I'll believe the best. I see how others could think that the lack of justification for Bandini's actions could mean that Fante doesn't believe they require justification. That he believes these actions are acceptable. I'll have faith that Bandini's lack of experience with women and his sense of vulnerability lead him to treat Camilla, and the other women he meets, so poorly.

What you would never guess about this novel is that it takes place in the 1930's, that it was written in that era. It could easily be in the Los Angeles of the 1970's or even last year. The surroundings and circumstances would not change in any other decade. The only thing that gives it away is the discussion of marijuana as something new (that, and the use of the term"hophead").

Ask the Dust is a tremendous book. I rarely can find the time to finish a book in one day, but this book motivated me to keep reading. The book has its faults, though, that will keep it from raking too high on my list. Bandini is so self-centered, self-absorbed, subject to flourishes that add or reveal nothing, that it is hard to like him, hard to care about him. The novel, just maybe, lacked a level of depth that would have made it more profound and simply a better book. And, I liked it nonetheless.

New Standards for Executive Pay

Many people will be lodging complaints about the Obama administration's meddling in the affairs of private companies by imposing controls on CEO pay at firms that have received TARP funds. I'm with those who say that the White House should not be involved in controlling how companies choose to compensate executives. Those companies who have taken TARP funds or bailout money have sacrificed their independence, though, and we should all be concerned about how the heads of these companies are being paid. Does it make sense to have a company that has essentially failed, made bad choices, giving excessive pay to the CEO who was in charge? Shouldn't their be a downside for these guys when they screw up?

The trouble with executive compensation derives from perverse incentives. My beef is with earnings per share. Barely "beating the street" is game companies continue to play. And it works. The street doesn't always care that beating current analysts' estimates might not be best in the long run. Compensating executives on continued earnings or stock growth can lead to short-cutting the company's long-term objectives. But this is only part of the problem. Compensating with stock options often leads management to, again, manage the stock price (or properly manage the street's expectations) and neglect the true well-being of the company.

The real problem, as I see it, is that there is little downside risk to executives. Maybe boards can argue that with enough upside, anything else is downside. We've seen enough companies fail in the last year and executives from those companies walk away with huge packages, that I'm can hardly believe that there is shared risk. A CEO's well-being should depend on the company's well-being. And not just for the current quarter. A pay scheme that allows for a measure of future performance might help align interests. It is easy to believe that some of the drastic job cuts we've seen have been out of management's need to cut costs today, to preserve today's earnings, without regard for the health of the company a year from now. Cutting mid-management professionals, those next-generation executives, will prove to have been a mistake for many companies.

We may object to a government's hand in private industry, but the Obama administration has an opportunity to set standards, essentially guidelines for boards in constructing compensation packages. If they can avoid overreach, they can establish compensation packages that are fair to CEO's and shareholders, and give boards the cover they need to reign in escalating executive pay.

Sacrificing Personal Space for Books

Returning back to the library book sale on Sunday, bag day, I came away with some good finds despite crowds. You absolutely have to forego any sense of personal space to do this. The good news is that I don't think I'm competing with too many people on the books I'm looking for, and the professionals were mostly absent this time.

Two heavy bags of books, in no particular order...

Giliead - Marilynne Robinson
Brazil - John Updike
The Good Wife - Stuart O'Nan
Son of the Morning - Joyce Carol Oates
Everyman - Philip Roth
Gertude and Claudius - John Updike
The Ghost Writer - Philip Roth
Veronica - Mary Gaitskill
The Coup - John Updike
Competitive Advantage - Michael Porter
An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England - Brock Clarke
Ten Days in the Hills - Jane Smiley
Haunted - Joyce Carol Oates
An Unfinished Life - Mark Spragg
The Keep - Jennifer Egan
Moo - Jane Smiley
Faithless - Joyce Carol Oates
In the Night Season - Richard Bausch
A Thousand Acres - Jane Smiley
The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
The Fortress of Solitiude - Jonathan Lethem
The Story of Lucy Gault - William Trevor
The Feast of Love - Charles Baxter
Plainsong - Kent Haruf
On With the Story - John Barth
A Random Walk Down Wall Street - Burton Malkiel
The Poorhouse Fair - John Updike
Pigeon Feathers - John Updike
The Haunting of Hill House - Shirley Jackson
The Nick Adams Stories - Ernest Hemingway
The Good Soldier - Ford Madox Ford
Too Far To Go - John Updike
The Art of Reading the Novel - Philip Freund
The Quiet American - Graham Greene
Sweet Thursday - John Steinbeck
Pale Fire - Vladimir Nabokov
A Separate Peace - John Knowles
The Amityville Horror - Jan Anson

A White Farmhouse - An Excerpt

"Here." Paul pulled the tiles from his tray and carefully laid them out on the board. First the C, then O, D already there from her word dread, and then the Y on the triple word score. He looked to the concrete apartment ceiling to begin adding the score in his head.

"Cody?" Ann cocked her head.

"I thought we said names were okay. You know, Buffalo Bill?"

"Or, Cody, Wyoming?"

"Ha." He shook his head. "Or like that." He paused purposefully. "Forty-two points." He was content in believing that he might win for once.

She calmly added his score then looked at her own tiles. The board was now crowded with words, leaving few options.

"Do you think much about that trip?" He had thought about withholding his question, but for the wine.

"I really try not to."

"I guess I don't think about it much. I mean, I did. Sometimes, when I get sick, I remember."

"It makes me sick to remember." She didn't look at him.

"It's really…."

"It's strange," Ann finally took her eyes off her tiles to look at Paul. "No, it’s just wrong that things like that can happen."

"If I hadn't been sick."

"If I'd have just told you to suck it up." She was not smiling.

"But you're so damn sweet. Here we are in a strange town, and I eat something bad—"

"You didn't. It was from being in the car for nine hours."

"And you decide to go out and get me something."

"I could have—I should've just stayed and listen to you moan."

"Probably so."

Paul watched Ann as she went back to studying her tiles, gently clicking them together as she struggled to form words. It was about twenty-five years ago and he didn't think of it much, but when he did a world of things came flooding back. After this time it wasn't a thing to be contemplated; it was a part of the fabric, the rebar in the concrete ceiling. Questions, or rather suspicions remained for Paul. He poured the last of their bottle of wine into their two glasses, cradled his in his two hands and leaned back in his chair, surveying the room, and thinking about how much things had changed since that summer trip. Or because of it. They now sat together at their small dining room table situated behind their couch in the large living room. Bookcases filled with books, pictures, and various artifacts of their life together lined one wall. Windows made up the wall in front of the couch, overlooking Cheesman Park and Denver's skyline. Paul had never really thought he would end up in the city. He always imagined himself moving back to the country, from where his parents had ripped him when he was a youth, transplanting him to this squalid city. Instead, he had stayed, not by force, but not by will, and lived a city life. The city is good place for a young adult, first on his own, but in the back of Paul's mind he had always held a vivid image of his future.

Tomorrow's Never There - An Excerpt

The letter was stashed between a repair manual for the 1968-1976 Dodge Duster and another for the 1986-1987 Ford Taurus leaning against one another on a shelf over his workbench. Harrison knew it was there as he walked out the side door of this house towards the garage. He had known it was there while he sat at the table eating grapefruit with his wife earlier that morning. He had known it was there the night before when he lay next to his wife in bed. He knew it was there since he put it there yesterday.

The letter came in the mail on Saturday. Harrison was working in his garage, sitting on a stool, trying to fix the fast idle cam on a carburetor when the mailman passed. He was glad to quit struggling with the thing and get the mail. He was in his late forties but already his hands felt blunted and shaky and looked perpetually swollen, calloused and dirty. Too much of his life had been spent underneath hoods trying to loosen rusted bolts that hid out of sight and nearly out of reach. His hands and back paid the price for that labor.

The telephone bill, the utility bill, two credit card applications, a new JC Whitney catalog and the letter. He recognized the handwriting immediately. Thirty years hadn’t changed it much since he’d first seen it, the words to “Rebel Rebel” written on the cover of a spiral notebook. But he hadn’t heard from Randy in probably a year, and certainly had never heard from him by mail. They had probably only talked a couple of times in the last few years. It wasn’t the author of the letter, though, that made him hide it. It was the source. The return address was of a state prison.

Another book sale (darn professionals)

Friday was the opening day of our county library's spring book sale (never mind that it's really summer now). I stood in a line of probably a hundred people, waiting for them to open the doors. Once inside, we all scattered to our various corners. I went to what they called "adult fiction."

Now, I like used books as much as any book lover would, but I was not pleased to realize that so many in that line were professionals, booksellers (on eBay or elsewhere) with their little hand-held scanners scanning any book that looked valuable. Not only was stepping over these people a pain, but I can't help but resent that these people are trying to capitalize on this book sale in order to resell the books and make a profit. I'm a good capitalist, too, but a book sale is for book lovers, for those looking for a good find, looking to complete a collection, looking to find new reads. If it were up to me, I'd ban those damn scanners and let make those folks scan the books with their eyes like the rest of us.

Despite this frustration, I came away with a decent haul. And I'm looking forward to going back on Sunday, when they charge by the bag.

Here's part one of the haul:
Ask the Dust - John Fante (I've seen this book come up in many discussions, so I'd better add it to my list)
White Teeth - Zadie Smith (Award winner, right?)
The Confessions of Nat Turner - William Styron (Another one that appears on all "the best" lists)
Delta Wedding - Eudora Welty (It's Welty and I haven't read it, so I'd better)
The Sportswriter - Richard Ford (Probably already have this one)
The Tortilla Curtain - TC Boyle (could've grabbed about a dozen TC Boyle books, so just one this time)
The Easter Parade - Richard Yates (this one's supposed to be more depressing than Revolutionary Road, so it's definitely on my list)
Like Life - Lorrie Moore (short stories by a modern master)
Nausea - Jean-Paul Sartre (my other New Directions edition is so well-worn it's lost its cover)
In Our Time - Ernest Hemingway (Scribners paperback)
Ulysses - James Joyce (classic Vintage paperback)
Hunger - Knut Hamsun (another one it's hard to believe I've never read)
The Trial - Franz Kafka (the cover keeps falling off my other copy--I say that's why I haven't read it yet)
Goodbye, Columbus - Philip Roth (some day I'll have and have read the entire Roth collection)
The Human Stain - Philip Roth (add another one)
For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway (another old Scribners paperback)
Winner Take Nothing - Ernest Hemingway (and again)
The Colossus - Sylvia Plath (a 1968 paperback)
Walden - Henry David Thoreau (with a handwritten inscription: Readings in Am. Lit., Denver University, Winter Qr '59)
Built to Last - James Collins and Jerry Porras (the one business book -- I don't really like Jim Collins, but this one's now a business classic)