Dealing with the Unexpected

In The Burgess Boys by Elizabeth Strout, the thoughtless act of a friendless teenager brings the two groups together with an impact that upends their lives.

Alienation and loneliness are emotions not only the Somalis feel, but also the Burgesses when they move to New York, don’t like their work, get divorced, can’t stand one another, or disapprove of the other’s lifestyle.  Common problems are magnified by the long-lasting burden of the childhood loss. But family ties remain and when trouble comes, they draw together.

Juxtaposed with the Burgess family are the Somalis who also draw together in this land of confusion and strangeness where they have been forced to flee for their lives.  Americans tend to think immigrants should be grateful to be here, but the homesick immigrants often see things differently.  Americans are so individualistic (selfish). Children speak confidently (entitled and disrespectful). Strangers look you in the eye and smile (rude).  This section reminded me of Homeland Elegies by Ayad Akhtar where the Muslim immigrants had similar observations.

Strout’s strong point is her ability to bring her characters to life.  When the novel was over, I felt that I knew the Burgess family very well.

Lamarr was born in Vienna and raised in a cultured middle-class family of Jewish descent who navigated the politics of Austria between the wars.  As a child, she loved to tinker with mechanical things and was stunningly gorgeous.  Which of those characteristics would dominate? It was interesting to see what in the culture, the times, her personal circumstances brought her beauty to the fore first, and then as opportunity shifted, her suppressed scientific interests reemerged.

Benedict struggles to hold the three distinct parts of the book together as the first section deals with the rise of the Nazis, the second, Hedy’s time in Hollywood, and the third her scientific achievements.  I found the book mediocre but was very interested in the questions it raised about historical fiction.  How much latitude is an author allowed in fleshing out facts to make a good story?  Is it disconcerting to have the made-up information woven so seamlessly we can’t tell fact from fiction?  I might prefer a Hamnet, where there is a starting fact (yes, there was a Shakespeare who wrote Hamlet) but the other personal information is obviously made up.  Maybe historical fiction works better if it is written about someone who lived centuries ago rather than decades.

Benedict is interested in women whose technological accomplishments have been marginalized. In Hedy Lamarr, she finds someone who is ignored not only because she is female, but also especially beautiful and a movie star besides. Three prejudices in one.

Susan Sarandon has produced a documentary, Bombshell, The Hedy Lamarr Story, covering similar material plus emphasizing that Hedy’s patented information underlays the development of cell phones and Bluetooth.

But a different tune is sung, and Joe discovers in the tiny town of Llanffugiol the discordant notes of arson, murder, drugs, and pedophilia. When he heroically rescues a young woman from a burning house, his involvement is guaranteed.

Joe thinks to himself in metaphor and cliché and rambles when he speaks to others. “You played the cards the dealer gave you… knocked back by what felt like a Pearl Harbor attack out of a clear blue sky… unsteadiness of a round-the-world sailor finally hitting home.”  But when he thinks about his case, he succinctly gets to the point and helps the local constabulary solve the mystery.

It takes an alert reader to follow him and to keep track of the many characters in this intricate mystery.  Easy-to-like Joe heads a large, varied cast.