This novel is a literary blessing for fans of
Reservation Road who felt that Schwartz wasn't "finished" with the Arno family, that he had more to say and a penetrating way of saying it. This is a follow-up to the Arno and Learner families, twelve years after a hit-and-run tragedy that shredded two families to fractious pieces. At the time of the incident, Dwight and Ruth Arno (the centerpiece family) were already divorced, and this just annihilated any redemptive force from taking shape between them. Their son, Sam, was only nine, and already packing some rage from the tragedy.
The review is circumspect so as not to give spoilers on either novel. In this case, it is highly recommended that
Reservation Road be read first, to have a more thorough understanding of the situation and characters.
As in
Reservation Road, Schwartz writes with a powerful poetic and impressionistic style. Whereas some authors' stylistic devices get in the way and distract the reader, Schwartz's form of narrative deepens the experience, gives a potent and intoxicating weight to the characters and their circumstances. This novel is more breathtaking than its predecessor.
Schwartz delivers with brief (sometimes less than a page) chapters headed by character names, and only Dwight's is written in the first person perspective. Most final sentences (of the chapters) are gorgeously, painfully beautiful, a smooth stone of a line that lodges in the reader's throat, down to the intestines, and sometimes to the groin. He is elliptical without being pretentiously showy.
Sam is now 21, a baseball star at UConn, and feels lousy after the last game of the season. His rage and self-hatred has slid to danger zones, and he is headed toward phenomenal adult problems at the start of the story. He gets on a bus to see his father after courting trouble. He hasn't seen Dwight in twelve years, but he isn't even sure of his motives. Dwight is trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered life near Santa Barbara, and Ruth is coming apart at the seams in her casually comfortable Connecticut home.
The Learner family is already on robotic mode, especially Grace, the mother, and the dad, who is primarily off stage. Emma, who is close to Sam's age, is home from Yale for the summer and on a precipice, headed either toward a fog or crucial clarity.
Schwartz's prose sets off emotional landmines without melodramatic or over-dramatic story progression. He keeps it simple, yet rarefied. And you don't have to like baseball to embrace the imagery, so subtle is he in weaving baseball concepts and terms into base-stealing metaphors and aphorisms. You don't even have to understand the game, so fertile is Schwartz's imagination and visual concepts. He doesn't press it, either. His imagery is expansive, and includes the elegance of nature--flora, fauna, and the deep green grass and brown earth and endless sky.
Each page offers a nugget or morsel of ferocious insight or incisiveness. Your emotions will slide around and feel messy, and click into nooks and crannies that are frequently uncomfortable. Schwartz illuminates shame with fierce precision, and he portrays love with electrified pathos. He'll go a step beyond what you would expect. He's the canary in the coalmine that delivers. He is a sexy writer, a sharp, clear-eyed poet. It is a quick read but a slow burn.