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A novel by the author of The Palace Thief and For Kings and Planets.
August Kleinman is a scrappy, self-made Jewish-American whose stubbornness is a function of his gusto. Kleinman escapes Nazi Germany as a child; grows up in Brooklyn; fights in the South Pacific during World War II; and becomes enormously wealthy as a brewer in Pittsburgh. Now a retired widower in Boston, he embarks on a trip to Japan in order to deliver (after half a century) the love letters of a Japanese soldier he killed during the war. While the core premise is undeniably sentimental, Canin wisely makes his hero alternately enthralled by, and dismissive of, his mission: "This was what his life had distilled itself intoa contest of mysticism and pragmatics." Hardheaded Kleinman meditates on art, death and faith with disarming self-awareness, a testament to the author's breathtaking lyricism. The plot of this book remains tightly-woven, even as it stretches across seven decades and several continents, compressing a remarkable amount of chronology into a relatively short novel.
Jeff Ousborne
(Excerpted Review)
The New York Times has called novelist and short story writer Ethan Canin "one of the most satisfying writers on the contemporary scene." It's an assessment Canin's many fans wholeheartedly endorse.
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December 01, 2001: Ethan Canin's third novel is an eloquent, lyrical tale about an older man's attempt to find meaning in his suffering. The author's use of tone and imagery is stirring and evocative. In addition, Canin has perfected the art of precision, using only that which is necessary. The language is spare, but not brooding. Neither is there a superfluous word or sentence in the entire work. At times comic, at others tragic, this novel is always poignant and touching.
Name:
Ethan Canin
Current Home:
Iowa City, IA
Date of Birth:
196007
Place of Birth:
Ann Arbor, MI
Education:
A.B., Stanford, 1982; M.F.A., University of Iowa, 1984; M.D., Harvard Medical School, 1991
Awards:
California Book Award, The Palace Thief, 1995; Best American Short Stories; “20 Writers for the New Millenium,” The New Yorker
Born in Michigan and raised in California, Ethan Canin entered Stanford University dead set on an engineering career. Then, in junior year he took an English course that changed the direction of his dreams. Exposed for the first time to the brilliant short stories of John Cheever, he underwent a true epiphany. He changed majors and determined there and then to become a writer.
Canin proved sufficiently gifted to be accepted into the world-famous Iowa Writers' Workshop, but between the daunting competition and a severe case of writer's block, he developed serious doubts about his abilities. Discouraged, he enrolled in Harvard Medical School shortly after receiving his M.F.A. "It was a real failure of the imagination," he confessed in an interview with Stanford Magazine. "I just couldn't think of another job."
Perversely, Canin's muse returned in medical school. A few of his stories appeared in Atlantic Monthly, resulting in a book deal with Houghton Mifflin. In 1988, the short story collection Emperor of the Air was published to glowing reviews. (Writing in The New York Times, critic Christopher Lehmann-Haupt observed "The way these stories transcend the ordinariness of human voices is ... startling.")
Canin spent the next few years conflicted over what he wanted to do with his life. He received his M.D. from Harvard and, for a while at least, successfully combined writing with the practice of medicine. But after the enthusiastic response to 1994's The Palace Thief, he found it increasingly difficult to juggle two careers. Finally, after much soul-searching, he made the decision to give up doctoring to become a full-time writer.
Although he is best known for short stories and novellas, Canin has also written full-length fiction -- most notably the deceptively small and spare Carry Me Across the Water, proclaimed by the London Daily Telegraph as "[t]he most wise and beautiful novel of 2001." This story of a scrappy, 78-year-old Jewish-American who sets out to right a tragic mistake from his past is considered by many to be the author's finest work. In 2008, Canin published America America, an ambitious novel John Updike called "a complicated, many-layered epic of class, politics, sex, death, and social history...shuttling between the twenty-first-century present and the crowded events of 1971-72." Begun in early 2001, and stalled after the tragic events of 9/11, the story underwent ten rewrites before Canin finally finished it.
Canin writes slowly and with great deliberation, polishing phrases with grace, elegance, and an accumulation of detail his hero John Cheever would surely approve. Yet, despite his success, he admits that writing for him is hard work. He has repeatedly stated that the process is "exquisitely difficult," a misery rooted in fear and self-doubt. "Fear of failure is what's hard -- it's overwhelming," he told the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. "I'll never get beyond sitting down and saying, 'This is a disaster, this will never work.' "
Yet, "work" it most certainly does! Considered one of our finest writers (in 1996, he was named to Granta's list of Best Young American Novelists), Canin crafts wonderful, mature stories that resonate with timeless, universal themes. He is especially skilled at handling the sensitive, emotional terrain of family life -- growing up, marriage, aging, and the complex relationships between fathers and sons. Small wonder The New York Times has called him "one of the most satisfying writers on the contemporary scene." It's an assessment Canin's many fans wholeheartedly endorse.
Although his parents lived in Iowa City, Canin was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, while his mother and father were on vacation.
Canin's father was an accomplished violinist who performed and taught throughout the East and Midwest before accepting the position of concertmaster for the San Francisco Symphony.
Canin was mentored by his high school English teacher Danielle Steel, who read several of his stories and encouraged him to continue writing.
In 1998, Canin joined the faculty at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, the scene of his own literary meltdown. He enjoys teaching and finds the environment far kinder and more supportive than it was in his own student days.
Along with fellow authors Po Bronson and Ethan Watters, Canin cofounded the San Francisco Writers' Grotto, a collective workspace for writers filmmakers, and narrative artists.
Canin's novella The Palace Thief was filmed as The Emperor's Club, a 2002 movie starring Kevin Kline.
Some fascinating outtakes from our interview with Ethan Canin:
"I love woodworking and remodeling houses. Our basement looks like a hardware store, and my car is a truck with a ladder rack. I've remodeled three old houses myself, as well as built the backyard office where I write, and I like to do every job at least once, from framing to plumbing to wiring to finish carpentry. It's easier than writing, and the results don't take years."
"In medical school I loved surgery (similar to remodeling houses); in fact, I wanted to be a surgeon rather than an internist but was (reasonably, I think) afraid of the five-year surgical residency with its every-other-night call schedule. Since then, residencies have gotten easier; I sometimes think that if I'd started medical school a few years later than I did, I would have been a surgeon; and if I'd been a surgeon, I'd never have quit to become a writer."
"Playing softball is perhaps my favorite thing to do in the world. Since my childhood summers, which I spent from dawn to dusk on the local baseball diamond, I've always been more glove than bat. I've just always loved fielding, its most graceful combination of thought, luck, and intimate cooperation. Baseball metaphors have been overdone by writers, but there really is nothing like the pivot moment of a double play, or a rising, one-hop relay to the plate, or-in that most graceful of executions-the tightening noose of a three-fielder, choreographed, role-revolving run-down."
"I've always been a pragmatic and physical thinker, starting even before I studied engineering in college. One of my concerns with our culture at the moment is the way in which we've detached ourselves from a physical understanding of our essential inventions. I know nothing more about the operation of a microchip than that it works, and that if it breaks it has to be replaced. Almost nobody does; and nobody can repair one without a set of machines that are themselves built from microchips. I can't picture its gears; I can't, in a pinch, substitute something else in its place, the way as a teen-ager once, on a car trip over the Sierras, I substituted a sock and two pieces of string for a broken engine hose.
Likewise, I'm concerned that our culture has detached itself from our common social purposes. Money, once the reward for achievement, has become the achievement itself. This, in my opinion, is as dangerous a trend as any we face.
"I started America America in early 2001. After 9/11, I stopped working on it for a full two years, and when I came back I was motivated to make it a more overtly political story. History, politics, the nature of power and its costs-all these subjects were occupying my mind.
This novel was brutally difficult. But they all are. That's not news. I nearly gave up any number of times. I wrote a good ten drafts, but it wasn't till perhaps the seventh or eighth that, while teaching at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, I had a student turn in a story he'd re-written in such a way that I realized exactly what I needed to do on my own novel."
What was the book that most influenced your life or your career as a writer -- and why?
In college, I began as an engineering major. I was taking physics and math and not much else. I thought that the humanities, and certainly the arts, were for the soft-minded; I certainly would never have strayed near an English class. Then one day I happened upon a big red book called The Stories of John Cheever. I was waiting for someone and just found the book on a shelf; I sat down and read the first story, called "Goodbye, My Brother." From that point on, I wanted to be a writer.
What are your ten favorite books, and what makes them special to you?
I could never list my favorites, but I could list some of the ones that have been most influential to me as a writer. In no particular order:
The Stories of John Cheever. The book that first made me want to write. The elongated rhythms of the sentences. The landscape-like beauty of the prose. I don't know if any other prose writer has equaled Cheever's pure talent for sound.
What are some of your favorite films, and what makes them unforgettable to you?
Sunshine, directed by Istvan Szabo. A major work, following the story of three generations of Hungarian Jews, from the early 20th century through the rise of Communism. Ralph Fiennes plays the scion of each generation.
What types of music do you like? Is there any particular kind you like to listen to when you're writing?
I grew up in a highly musical family. My father was a professional musician, as were most of my uncles, and there was rarely quiet in my house. Perhaps that's why I listen to less music now than most people. But when I'm working on a particular book, I'll sometimes focus on a single piece and listen to it over and over. It's usually classical. For my novel Carry Me Across the Water, it was Berlioz's Romeo and Juliet. For America America, it was the Bach Cello Suites. When I write, I can't listen to anything with lyrics.
What are your favorite kinds of books to give -- and get -- as gifts?
Believe it or not, I like reference books. Visual dictionaries are a particular favorite of mine (and are invaluable references for writers). I also love historical timelines, biographies, and how-to books on wood-working and building.
Do you have any special writing rituals? For example, what do you have on your desk when you're writing?
Above my desk I keep a 4' X 8' sheet of extruded polystyrene foam (also known as pink rigid insulation), which I use as a pin-board to display the index cards that I make for each scene. It's the only way for me to keep a complex novel comprehensible. I color-code the plot lines.
I also make sure to write in the morning because I fear writing. This way, fear only ruins the first part of my day.
Many writers are hardly "overnight success" stories. How long did it take for you to get where you are today? Any rejection-slip horror stories or inspirational anecdotes?
This is my sixth book, and anybody who's written six books, published or not, has struggled. In my twenties, after writing perhaps half a dozen short stories, I came to the conclusion that I'd failed as a writer. Since I'd already had a great deal of scientific education, I decided to go to medical school. When I finished medical school, I did an internship in internal medicine and earned my physician's license in the state of California. But then, after a great deal of thought, I decided to go back again to writing. At that point, I was if anything even more aware of the difficulty of a writing life, and of its long odds-but I'd also been reminded, by my time in medicine if nothing else, that life is a tenuous bet anyway.
What tips or advice do you have for writers still looking to be discovered?
What I sometimes tell my students is that for every new writer struggling to be discovered, there's also a young editor, freshly arrived in New York, struggling to discover a new writer.
His wife dead, his health fading, August Kleinman knows that his life is dwindling away. As he contemplates his fate, he mourns his beloved spouse, and relives his childhood in prewar Germany. His thoughts drift over his boyhood escape from the Nazis, his military service with the Allies, and his successful business career. But a single image absorbs this 78-year-old man more than all the rest: The face of one enemy soldier. A striking novel about reliving the past and attempting to repair it.
“Take the advice of no one,” August Kleinman’s mother says to him while August is still a young boy in Germany, and with these words to guide him, he escapes Nazi Germany and goes on to build a fortune, a family, and life on his own terms in America. At the defining moments that reveal character and shape fate — a shocking encounter with a Japanese soldier in a cave during World War II, the audacious decision to start a brewery in Pittsburgh and a violent reaction against threats to its independent success, a vacation in Barbados, during which his beloved wife mysteriously wanders off, the birth of his grandson — August’s instincts are determinative in a way that illuminates how lives unfold at the deepest levels. This is a brilliant, suspenseful, surprising novel by one of America’s finest writers. Publisher’s Weekly called Ethan Canin’s For Kings and Planets “Masterful … a classic parable of the human condition,” and the same can be said about Carry Me Across the Water.
August Kleinman is a scrappy, self-made Jewish-American whose stubbornness is a function of his gusto. Kleinman escapes Nazi Germany as a child; grows up in Brooklyn; fights in the South Pacific during World War II; and becomes enormously wealthy as a brewer in Pittsburgh. Now a retired widower in Boston, he embarks on a trip to Japan in order to deliver (after half a century) the love letters of a Japanese soldier he killed during the war. While the core premise is undeniably sentimental, Canin wisely makes his hero alternately enthralled by, and dismissive of, his mission: "This was what his life had distilled itself intoa contest of mysticism and pragmatics." Hardheaded Kleinman meditates on art, death and faith with disarming self-awareness, a testament to the author's breathtaking lyricism. The plot of this book remains tightly-woven, even as it stretches across seven decades and several continents, compressing a remarkable amount of chronology into a relatively short novel.
Jeff Ousborne
(Excerpted Review)
August Kleinman, the protagonist of Canin's (For Kings and Planets) latest novel, is 78 years old, rich and wise from a life filled with accomplishments and heartache. Yet as this spare, beautifully realized story opens, he is marveling at the fierce force he discovered in himself one afternoon when he was 18. That day, on his way to watch a friend from his Orthodox Jewish neighborhood in Queens practice football at Fordham University, Kleinman slipped into the locker room and impulsively donned a uniform. He can still feel the way he soared through the air and the jolt of the tackle he landed before he was caught. Looking back, Kleinman can clearly see that it has been the sudden flare of this instinctive intelligence and fight, this drive to persist and assert his existence, that has shaped his life, bringing both abundance and loss. Canin deftly laces together the defining stories of Kleinman's life from fleeing Nazi Germany as a child with his mother to fighting the Japanese in World War II, building his fortune, enduring the death of his beloved wife and then his difficult relationship with one grown son. Each story contributes another instance of the fighting spirit and impulse to soar that so characterizes Kleinman. However, what is finally galvanizing and moving about Kleinman's life is not his individuality but his complexity. He is capable of being touched, and he yearns to protect and nurture what he finds good. This work has a resonance and precision that can come only when native storytelling ability and craftsmanship search out the deepest truths. Canin deserves a wide readership because he shows that truth even the truth that comes with age and experience is not boring. (May) Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Living alone in a Boston apartment after his wife's death, 78-year-old millionaire beer magnate August Kleinman reviews the defining moments of his life: escape from Nazi Germany as a child, marriage to an Italian Catholic, and the reckless decision to start his own business. But mostly his thoughts turn to World War II and a tragic encounter he had with a young Japanese soldier. For the past 50 years, Kleinman has kept the soldier's letters and drawings and decides to return the keepsakes to the surviving family members in Japan personally. More of a character study than a history lesson, Canin's latest novel (after For Kings and Planets) mentions major postwar events only in passing, instead focusing on family relationships and the simple satisfactions of domesticity. In deference to the values of the World War II generation, the prose style is self-consciously old-fashioned, without a trace of irony or narrative duplicity. This is a well-crafted and frequently affecting novel that only misses the mark in its familiarity. We have heard this story countless times before. Still, Canin's many fans will not be disappointed. Recommended for most fiction collections. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 1/01.] Edward B. St. John, Loyola Law Sch. Lib., Los Angeles Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
A richly detailed, intriguingly fragmented chronicle of the personal history and turbulent inner life of a prosperous German-American businessman. The story begins teasingly, with the text of a letter from a Japanese soldier written but never sent to his wife during WWIIa letter that, we soon learn, is in the possession of 78-year-old August Kleinman, more than a half-century after August had fought on Okinawa before returning home to make his fortune as a brewery owner. We learn all this and more as Canin (Blue River, 1999, etc.) explores various times in August's past (escaping from Hitler's Germany with his mother, who remarried in America; fending off gangsters who attempt to muscle in on his business; meeting LBJ at the White House and frankly criticizing the bombing of North Viet Nam; watching helplessly as his beloved wife Ginger sickens and dies) and his present (when he combats boredom by working as a supermarket bagger and befriending a young unmarried mother; bonding awkwardly with his younger son's family). Ticking away in the background is that episode on Okinawa that prompts Kleinman's journey in old age to Japan, to right an old wrong (whose full details are revealed only in the emotional closing pages) and to give himself peace. Too much of the story's (impressive) wealth of personal-historical information seems summarized rather than dramatized, and there are odd little outcroppings of verbal imprecision not explained by Kleinman's gradual mastery of English. Nevertheless, Canin's protagonist is a fascinating character (not unlike Bellow's Artur Sammler), and the full range of his emotions is movingly exploredfrom stoical remoteness through a passionateyearning to remain connected to things and people he fears he's leaving behind, while reliving " . . . the events of his life, which he now thought of broadly as the Flight, the Battle, the Riches, and the Decline." Imperfect but interesting fiction that might also be compared to Steven Millhauser's Pulitzer–winner, Martin Dressler. It signals a newand very promisingstage in Canin's career. Author tour
Loading...1. In Carry Me Across the Water, Ethan Canin gives equal weight to extraordinary events and everyday occurrences in the life of August Kleinman. How does this technique help shape the way we view Kleinman’s character, and what is its impact on the overall scope of the novel? Did this way of looking at life present an alternate lens through which you might reflect upon your own?
2. Tracing the life of German-American business tycoon August Kleinman, Carry Me Across the Water may be described as “epic” on many levels. Canin even frames the story by claiming to follow his protagonist through “the flight, the battle, the riches, and the decline, ” all terms that bring to mind the legends of the great men, cities, and nations that have made history. The book itself, however, is often referred to as a novella, by author and critics alike. In what ways does Canin evoke ideas and themes of an epic scale, and how are those notions reconciled with the length of the work and subject matter that can, at times, be considered quite ordinary?
3. The function of memory is more than theme in this novel; it can be considered a structural force. Canin formulates a picture of Kleinman’s life without a sense of linear chronology. While the core of the novel takes place during one week in which Kleinman visits his son Jimmy, we are transported through his youth, middle, and old ages through a series of scenes and nonlinear moments in Kleinman’s memory. How does this literary technique reflect the nature of memory itself?
4. Just as actual life experiences influenced Kleinman’s actions and helped define his character, thememories of those same experiences years later truly shape how Kleinman grows into the man we leave at the novel’s end. In many cases, Kleinman’s memories are the only descriptions of events to which we, as readers, have access. Focus on the specific ways in which memory is recalled or distorted, interpreted or misinterpreted. Are there points in the book where memory compels Kleinman to action or impedes him from recognizing a particular truth? Find examples in which an actual event, and then the memory of that event, affect Kleinman in very different ways.
5. It is interesting to note that in German the word klein means “little, ” so that the name Kleinman might mean “Little Man”; yet his first name, August, with all the implications that this name holds, runs quite contrary to that definition. What does the protagonist’s name reveal about the nature of his character? Where else in the novel, and in what other ways, does Canin explore the dichotomous nature of August Kleinman?
6. A prominent theme that runs through Carry Me Across the Water is the reflected nature of the human experience, and Canin conveys this by weaving events throughout the novel that gently echo one another. For example, as a young man looking at his newborn, jaundiced stepbrother, Kleinman felt that he was, himself, “in part the father, the protector of the family.” Then, while reading to his wife near the end of her life, he recalls always having felt like a father toward her, his role to guard and protect. Find other examples of these sorts of repetitions. What might Canin’s purpose be in using this literary device, or what is he saying about the way a life is shaped and lived? How does Kleinman view himself in the context of “the big picture”?
7. Canin has said that a title should “add to the mystery, deepen it.” In the most literal sense, the title can refer to Kleinman’s journey across the Pacific. In what other ways can we interpret the title?
8. The character of the Japanese soldier whom Kleinman encounters in the cave near Okinawa is noteworthy on several levels. Though Kleinman rationalizes his actions as a consequence of war, he is nonetheless plagued by guilt about this particular act of violence. What is it about the character of the Japanese soldier that is so haunting to Kleinman years later? Can we view the soldier as a sort of mirror image of Kleinman in a parallel world, and if so, how?
9. Violence figures prominently in this novel. Canin described this prominence as an “organizing principle” for a book that became “a meditation on the handful of incidents of violence in a man’s life.” From an event as fleeting as a football tackle to the frightful confrontation with Meyer Sharp, August Kleinman both experiences violence and acts violently. How do these events shape his character as we meet him in the beginning of the novel, and how do they, ultimately, transform him into the man we leave at the end? What does the novel tell us about the nature of aggression and violence?
10. The recurrence of father-son relationships seems to provide a thematic infrastructure for the novel. Besides Kleinman and Jimmy, who form the literary centerpiece, identify other pairs in the book and consider how these duos reflect or highlight aspects that are either present or lacking in Kleinman’s relationship with Jimmy. How do Kleinman’s experiences as a son, stepson, father, and finally grandfather shape his development as a character and reinforce his status as a sort of “everyman” figure?
11. In addition to being a complex character study, Carry Me Across the Water also ruminates on important issues in everyday life such as work, wealth, and identity. In today’s work-obsessed culture, how can we view Kleinman’s rise to riches, his decline into obscurity, and his ultimate recognition of selfhood and fulfillment? What notions can you draw from this fictional life and incorporate into your own?
12. Canin’s narrative explores the world of art in very interesting ways. The Japanese soldier is a painter, and hopes his son will capture the world around him in drawings. Identify other parts of the book in which the arts figure prominently. What might Canin’s purpose be in incorporating this thematic digression, especially when juxtaposed against the motifs of violence and work? The novel itself can, structurally, be linked to the visual arts. Each moment is drawn, out of chronological order, with the detail of a photograph. Every memory becomes a snapshot of its reality. How does Canin explore ideas about art?
13. The impulse toward religion and a religious life has mystified Kleinman during his youth and most of his adulthood. He has only a marginal idea of what his stepfather gains from his observant religious practice, and with no remorse he marries outside his faith. Does the fact that Ginger, at the moment of her death, claims that Kleinman has converted affect how he sees his Judaism afterward? What do you think of Kleinman’s skepticism and of how it evolves over the stages of his life?
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