The Sportswriter by Richard Ford Exceptional and complex book

 The Sportswriter by Richard Ford

Exceptional and complex book

I am not sure how I will fix this, but I have two reviews for the same book, which I did try to circumvent twice.

I think I know- I will place the new, final impressions on top of the old notes, so that I can compare later on.

The first encounter ended in a disaster, which was all my fault, proof being this second approach, which has left me enchanted.

No doubt, the Sportswriter is a reference point- the book has been included on the lists of best books of the century.

The doubts come when I come to think that I cannot trust my own judgment when it comes to some books.

If I start on a good mood or just well disposed, or I no longer know in what state of mind the book can mesmerize me.

When I first started to read The Sportswriter I was turned off by the gloomy, tragic atmosphere of the novel.

It is a serious shortcoming that grows worse- fearing unhappiness and even fear itself, I avoid books that depict gruesome phenomena, even I know this is life and often these are worthy books- another example is The Confessions of Nat Turner.

Indeed, the family of Frank Bascombe is affected by the death of the younger son- Ralph and the complications that follow.

Frank ids divorced and what I missed out on the first superficial approach is that he is still upbeat and says that

-          If I would have the possibility to change, I would only have Ralph live and avoid the divorce

Or something similar which goes to prove that he is a man grateful for what life has given him- a beautiful, smart wife and two other great kids.

On second thought, I am not that thrilled by the wife, albeit Frank will love her not just here, in this first book in the trilogy, but even later in Independence Day.

Because I missed out on the great opportunity to enjoy this book from the first try, I had to have the chance to stumble upon the second part.

Only while reading Independence Day I slowly came over, adding two and two together and eventually understood that the wonderful book I was reading was just an integral part of a bigger scheme and I blew it on the first attempt.

Well, second time lucky.

Having said that I loved the two books by the excellent Richard Ford that I have read this far, I must add that I still do not get Frank.

And I disagree with his choices.

I did not like Vicky and hardly understand how he loves his ex-wife so much, albeit this may be down to the eternal truth that a character from a novel is necessarily better than a real man- I have serious problems forgiving my spouse- and others for that matter- when they wrong me and keep grudges quite often.

There are other personages that act weird, from the outlandish African from Ghana- Bosobolo- now that is a very interesting name- to people like Walter, who comes across as so rough – to me at least- only to end up so weak.

Many events, characters are arcane for this reader, but they are very exciting and intriguing, even fascinating.

I reject some, as the family of Vicky and the girlfriend herself, who seemed affected and somehow precious and haughty- although this is just one of those impressions and rejections I have just on a whim.

I am considering if I should start on The Lay of the Land by the same author as soon as possible, to keep the personages fresh in my memory.

The fact that it has so many pages- 700 or more??- is an added nuisance, for I avoid dedicating so much time to a work that could end up not being my cup of tea.

The Sportswriter is a complex great book.