It’s more than fitting that this witty, off-beat, and entertaining ride of a novel begins in–and sets more than a few scenes in–a bar. As the protagonist, Charley Hull, tells the often-hilarious, sometimes downhearted, always adventurous tale of searching for his next act in life, it’s like being seated next to the best storyteller at the local pub.
The reason Charley is searching for his next act becomes clear from that bar-set opening scene, which is a kind of wake for himself and several of his colleagues at the Memphis newspaper from which they’d just been fired. For Charley, a seasoned reporter who’d devoted years of his life to the paper, his work there wasn’t just a job; it was–and remains–a core part of his identity. And given that newspapers everywhere are in crisis, making drastic cuts in staff or closing altogether, the chance of him continuing his career as a reporter is practically nonexistent, setting him far adrift from life as he’d once known it. And that drifting takes him, and readers, to some interesting–and very funny–places.
As one example, after months of unemployment, Charley spends a brief spell as an apprentice to a jukebox repairman, another job that, even by the repairman’s admission, is well on its way to the employment graveyard. (Here and in many other scenes, we feel Charley’s love of music, and the importance of music in his beloved hometown of Memphis. Throughout, the novel has a strong sense of place.) When Charley announces his job to a bartender where he and the repairman (or, more accurately, just the repairman) are at work, the bartender remarks, “[C]ould you not get hired on with the stagecoach?”
Charley’s drifting also takes him on something of a revenge tour, leading him to the home of his former editor-in-chief, who might also be considered the downsizer-in-chief. There, he pisses on the editor’s flowers. But the editor turns out to be a complicated villain, and in a surprising turn, he eventually invites Charley in for drinks. The reason? He seems to want Charley’s honest opinion of him, which he gets in great detail. Near the end of their drinking session, the editor asks Charley:
“As bad as the worst of them?”
“Yes. I guess.”
“Well, I never drank bourbon with the others.”
Neither the quest for work–so much as Charley really applies himself to it–or for revenge seems to deliver to him the sense of purpose he’d had for so many years as a reporter. And the desire for purpose and meaning seems to haunt him throughout the book, leading him circuitously (and, for readers, entertainingly) to new understandings about himself, and about what a post-newspaper life might look like.
Although Charley is a loner, with few friends outside of his former newspaper colleagues and no romantic partner, he has a close bond with his cousin, Emily, and with Emily’s husband, Wick, who offer him both friendship and moral support. Two other things bond Charley and Emily: the fact that they’re both writers, and that they share a long history together. This includes an experience, dating back to their childhood, featuring a gun and a potentially dangerous outcome for Charley. Charley’s reflections on this experience, which are threaded through the book, underscore the power of storytelling–including the stories he tells himself to make sense of things.
When it comes to making connections to others, Charley’s reporting instincts put him on the trail of a former colleague, an also-fired and talented young reporter who’d been absent from the post-layoff wake. In a likely case of projection, Charley wonders if the young man, out of despair over losing a job for which he’d shown great promise, responded to the news in the worst possible way. What Charlie discovers about the young man is unexpected, and it leads him to strike up new relationships, one of which might break his long spell of being romantically unattached. Again, Charley’s path is amusingly circuitous, bringing new revelations as he travels it.
One other intriguing story within the larger story concerns a major, news-worthy confession that an old friend delivers to Charley–at a bar, of course. But given that Charley is no longer a reporter, and that the confessor is a friend, the question of what–if anything–to do with this information becomes difficult and fraught.
Does Charley ultimately rediscover meaning and purpose, and love? I’ll leave readers to discover the answers for themselves. But I want to end with some observations he makes near the end of the novel, which to my mind capture his (and the novel’s) larger truth. Charley reflects that “we live in a world of doom and joy and all that’s between.” He goes on:
Indeed. This fine novel is a fitting tribute to good storytelling–and to good storytellers, reporters included, everywhere.
Would My Pick be Your Pick?
If you're interested in ________, the answer may be "Yes":￭ Humorous fiction
￭ Stories with a strong sense of place
￭ Stories about turning points, and second acts, in life