Nightstand Archive

The Reader By Bernhard Schlink

Lolita By Vladimir Nabokov

Where I'm Calling From By Raymond Carver

Posterity: Letters of Great Americans to Their Children By Dorie McCullough Lawson

Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game By Michael Lewis

Plays Well With Others By Allan Gurganus

Cosmopolis By Don DeLillo

Positively 4th Street: The Lives and Times of Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Mimi Baez Fariña, and Richard Fariña
By David Hadju

Middlesex By Jeffrey Eugenides

Bel Canto By Ann Patchett

The Tin Drum By Günter Grass/
Stones From the River By Ursula Hegi

The Corrections By Jonathan Franzen

House of Sand and Fog By Andre Dubus III

A Natural History of the Senses By Diane Ackerman

Invisible Man By Ralph Ellison

Confederacy of Dunces By John Kennedy Toole

The Guns of August By Barbara W. Tuchman

Midnight’s Children By Salman Rushdie

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fate of Human Societies By Jared Diamond

Reviews By

Alison Case

Nancy Williams Faris

Sarah Jensen

Chris Kane

Neal Kane

Jason M. Rubin

 




 
 



Plays Well With Others
By Allan Gurganus

His friends are now dead. Seeking to memorialize them, narrator Hartley Mims, Jr. creates a portrait of Manhattan in the early 1980s, just prior to and during the AIDS crisis. Only hinting at the magnitude of the epidemic, he focuses almost exclusively on his "dear ones" – his small clique of ambitious, attractive, talented friends. A celebration of the lives of the soon-to-be-afflicted rather than an emotional recounting of their untimely deaths, the book is a series of episodes that focus on the fun and friendship experienced by the group. The narration is engaging, and the dialog is sharp and witty, if sometimes a bit arduous. If the novel suffers, it is not from the writing, which is unique and skillful, or from the subject matter; rather, it is from the lack of sentiment. However much the novel purports to be about friendship, it is driven much more by the characters’ desire for fame and success. The main characters are vain and determined, having fled the Deep South to redefine themselves as Bohemian New Yorkers and to make a name for themselves as artists. They share an unconventional and affected manner of speaking that renders the reader an observer rather than a member of their exclusive club. They are believable, but one-dimensional. In the face of death, we are not shown fear, remorse, resistance, or any depth of emotion. Instead, we are shown their final grasps at success – frantic painting, desperate self-promotion – as though we are supposed to be more profoundly affected by the loss of the musical scores or pieces of art they might have produced had they survived than by the loss of the person. Their final days seem pathetic, not courageous, and the book kept me at an emotional distance – something that didn’t quite seem appropriate for a novel that, at its core, is about tragedy and loss. Alison Case

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