Norwood

Norwood by Charles Portis (1966) I read this one because the two books I read by Charles Portis last year have partially, possibly, inspired me to write a “road” story, and when I was looking up other “road novels” for inspiration I came upon this, his first book. The danger is that you might emulate, too much, someone you’re inspired by, but then… there are more dangerous things in life. This is a relatively short book about a brief, transitional episode in the life of Norwood Pratt, an ex-Marine who has a less-than-intense ambition to be a country and western singer. Everything he does is a bit half-assed and off-kilter; he makes some bad choices and doesn’t necessarily follow things up, but he’s still the hero of this book because you’re along with him. If you choose to keep reading (and for me, the reading was compelling, effortless, and fun), you’re implicated, even when you know better. There’s an ill-advised trip to New York, and then back to “Ralph, Texas” (near Texarkana), and some great characters along the way, including Grady Fring the Kredit King and Edmund B. Ratner, the world’s smallest perfect man. There was a movie made based on this book, which you can watch on YouTube, but I’d recommend the book over the movie because what’s special about the book is the subtleties of language, the balance of smart and stupid, honorable and reprehensible—rather than the plot. The movie (which is both too close and too different from the book) has some charms, in its own way, but I didn’t even watch it all because I’d rather re-read the book—because its sense of effortlessness is inspiring to me, as writing.

8.1.24