Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon: A review

I have admired and enjoyed the writing in two earlier books by Michael Chabon that I have read - The Yiddish Policemen's Union and Gentlemen of the Road. I've never gotten around to reading what is supposedly his best book, the Pulitzer Prize-winning The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, but I will one day. I had high hopes for Telegraph Avenue as well, but I have to say I was a little bit disappointed in it. It was a difficult read for me.

Reading the book was a chore mainly I think because so many of the musical references were unfamiliar to me. I think I got the gist of their meaning in most instances, but not without more work than I like to do when I'm reading for pleasure.

The action of the book takes place in Oakland, California, and has its roots in the Oakland of the 1970s during the heyday of the Black Panther movement and of blaxploitation films. I am old enough to remember those days and the cultural vibe of the period, but, as for the vinyl records of the period that are at the heart of protagonists Archy Stallings' and Nat Jaffe's story, well, they are less familiar.

Nat and Archy own a second-hand - they would say "vintage" - record store in Oakland on Telegraph Avenue, called Brokeland Records. Archy is black, Nat is white and a Jew. Telegraph Avenue is a place of cultural diversity where people of many backgrounds come together to create a unique community.

That community and the record store are threatened by the possibility of the coming of a big box store, a chain enterprise of a former star footballer named Gibson Goode. This big store would have its own vintage record department and would likely drive the already marginal Brokeland out of business.

A local landlord and entrepreneur and a city councilman have an interest in the plans and Archy and Nat hope to get their support for stopping the building of the big store.

Things get really convoluted with the plot as we learn that Archy's absentee father, a former blaxploitation kung fu film star, may have information that could be used to blackmail the councilman and the old man (Archy's father) may be in danger because of it.

Meanwhile, we learn that Archy himself is an absentee father. Fourteen years before, he got a girl pregnant and she went home to Texas to have the baby and live with her grandmother. Now, both the mother and grandmother are dead and the son has turned up in Oakland looking for his father.

I think part of my problem with the book was that I didn't like its main characters very much. Both Archy and Nat seemed like jerks to me and I couldn't work up too much empathy for their troubles.

On the other hand, I really liked their wives, Gwen Stark and Aviva Roth-Jaffe.

Gwen and Aviva are partners, also, in a midwifery enterprise. They deliver babies for their clients, who are mostly poor and disadvantaged, either in their homes or in the hospital. These are strong women, strong characters who give the book coherence and social relevance. I found their stories much more compelling than those of the male "main characters." Is that merely sexist of me? Maybe.

Chabon had obviously done his research on the vintage jazz vinyl record artists. Some of the names referenced throughout the book were familiar to me, many of them were not, but I assume the references were legitimate. He also recreated what seemed to me at least to be the true historical atmosphere of excitement and occasional violence that existed in the Black Panthers in the Oakland of the 1970s.

Chabon is a very talented writer and many passages in the book really grabbed me. Unfortunately, those would often be followed by long passages that sort of pushed me away again. While I didn't NOT enjoy the book, I just didn't enjoy it as much as I'd hoped to.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

Search This Blog