I’ve been searching for an adequate image to describe the process whereby Elizabeth McCracken constructed “Bowlaway.” Certainly, it is a chronological tale that starts with the discovery of a corpulent middle-aged woman in the Salford Cemetery by a young man and a colored physician.
We learn that the woman is Bertha Truitt, the discoverers, Joe Wear and Dr. Leviticus Sprague. Bertha says she is the inventor of candlepin bowling and presents a small ball and candlepin to proved it; Joe, who works as a pin setter, says no. He cites an alley in Worster. ” I have never been to Worster,” Bertha replies.
With this odd set of characters, McCracken adds several more: a quartet of female bowlers, a pin-setter named Jeptha Arrison, and as time goes by, an orphan nursemaid named Margaret Vanetten, an artistically precocious daughter named Minna, a hellfire and brimstone preacher claiming to be Bertha’s rightful heir, Nahum Truitt.
And the years roll by. And the decades.
McCracken’s strong suit is the lovingly constructed image developed and extended into a paragraph and finally, often, into a philosophical statement or social observation.
One can pick up Bowlaway” anywhere and find such gems. Here, for example:
“People began to dream of her. . .they dreamt of Bertha Truitt sneaking into their beds, lowering the mattress, raising the temperature, dissolving in the daylight. . .One man swore he saw her fly through the air on her back, naked as a piglet, using her impressive breasts as wings.
Really,
Well, maybe more like rudders, he allowed. Otherwise, I stand by it.”
But as far as the construction of the tale, McCracken hip hops from character to character, image to image propelling the years and the bloodlines forward, with little emotional attachment to anyone in particular.
Is she stringing beads on a necklace with occasional repeats of color or bead shape? We end our tale with at least one of the characters with whom we started.
The subject is bowling and the place where it takes place. Bowling is something to think about besides your regrets, McCracken writes.
On the other hand, so is bicycling.
About skayoliver
The blog name "flaneuse" refers to my peripatetic lifestyle and the cultural gadfly nature of my posts. I've toyed with several other names: "I Beg to Differ" is one I like. Also "Walking Around." (But since half my year is spent in Phoenix, AZ, "hiking around" or "driving around" might be more accurate.) Anyway, I'm an ex-journalist, film reviewer and public relations specialist who is well-read, is a bit of a know-it-all and would like to communicate her observations, her critical reviews and her experiences of living in two very different cities: Portland, Oregon and Phoenix, Arizona. Welcome aboard!
Flaneuse 
A critique of “Bowlaway,” by Elizabeth McCracken
I’ve been searching for an adequate image to describe the process whereby Elizabeth McCracken constructed “Bowlaway.” Certainly, it is a chronological tale that starts with the discovery of a corpulent middle-aged woman in the Salford Cemetery by a young man and a colored physician.
We learn that the woman is Bertha Truitt, the discoverers, Joe Wear and Dr. Leviticus Sprague. Bertha says she is the inventor of candlepin bowling and presents a small ball and candlepin to proved it; Joe, who works as a pin setter, says no. He cites an alley in Worster. ” I have never been to Worster,” Bertha replies.
With this odd set of characters, McCracken adds several more: a quartet of female bowlers, a pin-setter named Jeptha Arrison, and as time goes by, an orphan nursemaid named Margaret Vanetten, an artistically precocious daughter named Minna, a hellfire and brimstone preacher claiming to be Bertha’s rightful heir, Nahum Truitt.
And the years roll by. And the decades.
McCracken’s strong suit is the lovingly constructed image developed and extended into a paragraph and finally, often, into a philosophical statement or social observation.
One can pick up Bowlaway” anywhere and find such gems. Here, for example:
“People began to dream of her. . .they dreamt of Bertha Truitt sneaking into their beds, lowering the mattress, raising the temperature, dissolving in the daylight. . .One man swore he saw her fly through the air on her back, naked as a piglet, using her impressive breasts as wings.
Really,
Well, maybe more like rudders, he allowed. Otherwise, I stand by it.”
But as far as the construction of the tale, McCracken hip hops from character to character, image to image propelling the years and the bloodlines forward, with little emotional attachment to anyone in particular.
Is she stringing beads on a necklace with occasional repeats of color or bead shape? We end our tale with at least one of the characters with whom we started.
The subject is bowling and the place where it takes place. Bowling is something to think about besides your regrets, McCracken writes.
On the other hand, so is bicycling.
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About skayoliver
The blog name "flaneuse" refers to my peripatetic lifestyle and the cultural gadfly nature of my posts. I've toyed with several other names: "I Beg to Differ" is one I like. Also "Walking Around." (But since half my year is spent in Phoenix, AZ, "hiking around" or "driving around" might be more accurate.) Anyway, I'm an ex-journalist, film reviewer and public relations specialist who is well-read, is a bit of a know-it-all and would like to communicate her observations, her critical reviews and her experiences of living in two very different cities: Portland, Oregon and Phoenix, Arizona. Welcome aboard!