Ira Foxglove (Hardcover)

~ Thomas McMahon (Author) "Portia left me on a late summer evening..." (more)
Key Phrases: Feather Fabric, Captain Buzzard, Central Square (more...)

Editorial Reviews

Review

"This is an entertaining, eccentric and poignant story; classic McMahon." -- The Readerville Journal

Product Description

A posthumous novel by a writer who has been compared to Gabriel Garcia Márquez and Kurt Vonnegut, IRA FOXGLOVE is a tale of the heart – both real and imagined – that revolves around a talented scientist whose own heart has been broken physically and spiritually. In an odyssey to repair both Ira ventures on a fantastical journey by blimp to try and recover his fractured family.

Along the way we are introduced to a world of unique characters: Ira, who is refining his latest invention, a prosthetic heart; his friend Neptune, a blimp pilot who likes to use his airship for Icelandic fishing trips; Portia, his aquatically-obsessed estranged wife; and Peaches, the hot tomato who helps Ira realize what he really wants and how to get it.

In his unique combination of science, fantasy, humor, and a deep understanding of our constant search for love, McMahon weaves a story that deepens with each reading.

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 225 pages
• Publisher: Brook Street Press (March 1, 2004)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0972429530
• ISBN-13: 978-0972429535
• Product Dimensions: 8.9 x 6.2 x 0.7 inches
• Shipping Weight: 12.2 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 3.2 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (4 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #2,051,178 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

3 of 4 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars The Gift of Wit, Whimsy, and Wonder, March 3, 2004

By	Grady Harp (Los Angeles, CA United States) - See all my reviews (TOP 10 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

Thomas McMahon is much missed. Not only was his demise untimely in 1999, but he left a legacy of the marriage of science and art that promised much more for the future and we are the lesser for his absence. McMahon trained at Cornell, MIT, and Harvard where he was a professor of biology and is created with founding the field of biomechanics. A brilliant and creative scientific thinker, he penned books on science (On Size and Life 1983 and Muscles, Reflexes and Locomotion 1984) as well as his novels of great distinction - Principles of American Nuclear Chemistry: A Novel (1970), McKay's Bees (1979), and Loving Little Egypt (1987). Brook Street Press now publishes this novel, Ira Foxglove, posthumously and while it is the first of his novels for this reviewer, I find it hard to imagine that it is not one of his best.

McMahon's joint thinking lines of scientist and artist are not unique: Michelangelo was both architect and writer (among other gifts) and William Carlos Williams joined a medical career with writing poetry. But unlike most minds whose focus is on both the analytic and the sensual - the Apollonian and the Dionysian - Mc Mahon delves into the surreal, plays with dreams and other imaginings, and creates stories that embrace humor, fantasy, whimsy, satire cum wit, and a very human pathos. The term `magical realism' has been attached to his work and while there are similarities with the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Kurt Vonnegut, such a `classification' seems confining to his style.

IRA FOXGLOVE is the narrator of this novel - a man who has rather suddenly come to face his mortality when his heart weakens and alters his entire life. An example of Mc Mahon's wit: Foxglove is the common name for the primary heart medicine - the digitalis plant. Ira is an inventor and has had several good ideas that he allows to escape to other's hands, one of these being inflatable fabrics that never get dirty. Ira's wife Portia, who measures her life by her swimming sessions, leaves Ira and flies to Europe for adventurous escape, landing eventually in London with Dawlish Warren, a strange lover of sorts. Ira's daughter is studying in Paris with an artsy group of bohemians. Finding himself without much future Ira decides to fly to Europe in an attempt to reconcile his diasporic family. His mode of transportation: a blimp piloted by his friend Neptune who has a penchant for fishing in odd locations en route. Once in London Ira observes Portia's life, decides to visit his daughter Henley in Paris where he is oddly at one with her bohemian housemates. He surrenders to Henley's bizarre lifestyle, even participating momentarily in one of her plays. He feels an awakened passion for one of Henley's friends, Peaches, and in his becoming reacquainted with lust he "invents" an artificial heart that would not require implanting inside the body (oddly based on a tomato skin!) which promises to provide him with a solution to his own weakened heart. The pace of events speeds along disastrously resulting in his becoming truly aware of his daughter's love and wins back Portia's interest and passion and departs his European journey a resurrected man. The precise way in which the ending is brought about is left for the discovery of the reader; giving it away would lessen the joy of reading.

This tale may seem slight but it is in the telling that the magic abounds. Mc Mahon writes with a singing poetic voice ("We talked her whole childhood away.") that hints of his informed scientific mind yet soars beyond, as though knowing how things `work' allows him the luxury of disregarding facts in favor of fantasy.
This novel secures Mc Mahon's permanent place in the realm of great American writers. Would that there were more!

2 of 3 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars A blast from the past, January 9, 2005

By	Kevin Killian (San Francisco, CA United States) - See all my reviews (TOP 100 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

Thomas McMahon's novel comes to us after the author's death courtesy of the admirably intrepid Brook Street Press. It's a fun romp which mixes elements of McMahon's other widely acclaimed novels with the sexual daring and wit of someone like Vladimir Nabokov. The hero is Ira Foxglove, a memorable name which signals the author's intention to write a not=quite=realistic book. His wife has left him, and he's trying to re-establish a connection with his lovely young daughter.

He's not much of a stylist, and some of the racier elements of the 70s seemed to have bored a hole in McMahon's libido. As Foxglove watches a play rehearsal, he notices that: "All three were in faded blue jeans like Henley's, but through a split in one of the men's pants it was possible to verify that he wore no undershorts." And a few pages later, " Her arms were thin and languid in the long sleeves. Certain kinetic effects verified that she wore no bra."

His ingenue snaps, "You big mother-grabbing bully."

"You said it," Wolf came back. "Grabbing you is like grabbing somebody's mother."

I don't remember "mother-grabbing" as a word with any currency, but maybe in the scientific community it had a sort of lingua franca that escaped laymen. "Peaches lay still and breathed deeply. She held the wrist of my anal hand in a tight grip." It's almost as though it was a translation from some other language--"my anal hand"--excuse me?

That said, IRA FOXGLOVE is a romp through autumnal ardor by a respected author, and will please many.

2 of 3 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars The Inventions of the Heart, March 2, 2004

By	Debbie Lee Wesselmann (the Lehigh Valley, PA) - See all my reviews (TOP 50 REVIEWER)    (REAL NAME)

This slender book, published posthumously after the author's death in 1999, is an excellent example of a small press taking on a worthy publishing venture despite the financial risks. IRA FOXGLOVE is a unpretentious and emotional story about a man who appears to have lost it all: his wife, his daughter, his work, and his health. A heart attack survivor, Ira lies around much of the day in his Massachusetts home worrying about the pain in his chest and the reasons his wife Portia abandoned him for London. Their daughter Henley, who studies mime in Paris, seems just as distant. But Ira is also an inventor, a man of ideas whose demos always seem to fall short of his hopes, and so he embarks for Europe on borrowed money and transportation with no expectations. What he discovers there is nothing short of life.

The publisher notes that this book was written thirty years before its publication; however, although there are certain things such as fashion and monetary values which are firmly rooted in the 1970's, this novel reads as a timeless story about love and its bewildering turns. At times humorous and others, heartbreaking, McMahon has fashioned a story that should appeal to a wide range of readers. His language and turns of plot are unassuming and honest. His characters are just quirky enough to be lovable. The plot is straightforward, and the imagery, while sometimes verging on the heavy-handed, manages to steer clear of the maudlin. Readers will find themselves rooting for Ira as he makes his circuitous way from the darkness of his depression into the brightness of the real world.

Maybe because I read this novel with no expectations myself, I found it a pleasant discovery. Some readers might find the lack of complexity disappointing, but this novel does not pretend to be more important than it is. Although I found the final scene a little forced, I can forgive the author this one failing in an otherwise delightful book.