So, would now be a good time to confess that I read part two so many weeks ago that it's mostly a dim memory. And because I'm not always as smart as I'd like to be, I didn't pre-write my review to post back then. So I'm mostly going to take a backseat this week and let y'all take it away.
But before I say anything about the second section of this book that just keeps growing on me, I want to mention that the lovely & charming Melody from Fingers & Prose has written something for our readalong, despite the fact that she's not participating in it. Actually, she has written two: one of which will appear this week, and one of which will appear next week. How groovy does that make her? Her mini-essay is the new blogpost below/after this one (or just click here), so please check it out!
Okay, discuss: Who was cheering during the Gwen-gives-the-apology scene? Best non-apology since Anne of Green Gables.
Cameo appearance of Obama: cool or corny?
Why don't more people have dirigibles? I mean, obviously, aside from the dangerous combustibility. They don't seem outrageously more dangerous than hot air balloons or the various high-intensity sports that the kids these days seem into. (Called a zeppelin in the book, Chabon's term for the Dogpile airship is apparently used erroneously--since Zeppelin is a brand name, a manufacturer, and I somehow don't think it's become common usage the way the way Kleenex has for facial tissue.)
In other news, the characters overall are really starting to mesh for me, not just Julie, the kid I want to perpetually hug. I love the layers--maybe because I'm also reading a book on art right now, it's influencing the way I see things--but the story is like an old oil painting, with layer upon layer of lacquer, with the darks getting darker with each layer, and the lights getting brighter, more luminous, as the canvas reflects back through the lacquer. To the point where the craftsmanship disappears and all you're left with is a gorgeous composition.
My goodness: the whole section describing Nat's adventures frying chicken in the kitchen, whilst reminiscing of his stepmama? Priceless. Truly priceless.
What else did I love? I wouldn't say that I'm prepared to like Gibson Goode, but I thought his holding forth on the world of black music was very interesting. But oh, Archy, please think long and hard before you take that job offer.
Some favorite/interesting passages:
"An apology...it was a beautiful thing, no a miracle of language. Cost you nothing and returned so richly." (in a redux from the previous section) and then, on a related note, "Her apology was, as apologies so often are, fighting words. She was sorry only that she was not sorry at all." Both of these passages are so true.
"Archy already feeling crowded enough by the marital silence that at present filled the whole vehicle, knowing perfectly well, with all the almanack sagacity the word "husband" implied, that the present silence was more portent than aftermath. A formulating stillness. That pressure drop, brooding and birdless, right before the touchdown of a tornado."
"'You got a trio," she said to Leslie, "Plus one pregnant lady in a bowling shirt."
"This was in compliance with Aviva Roth-Jaffe's official policy on outrage, which was that, even when justified, it was an ineffective tool."
"She carried her pregnancy like a football tucked into the crook of a fullback's arm, invisibly, and with aplomb. Whereas Gwen's body was more like an Einsteinian force, warping the fabric of space-time as she moved through it."
"It was not easy, dressed in skanky b-ball shorts and a Captain EO sweatshirt with cutoff sleeves, but Archy dived down deep and hauled up all the dignity he could snap oloose from the sea bottom of his soul."
