Tag Archives: American Dream

Young Hearts Crying by Richard Yates

I’ve written before about Richard Yates, a writer with an innate ability to understand his characters’ failings and self-delusions, portraying the bitter cruelty of their dashed dreams with real insight and humanity. In this, his penultimate novel, Yates offers us another riff on this theme by focusing on a young couple, Michael and Lucy Davenport, just starting out on their lives together in 1950s New York.

While Lucy’s family are very wealthy, Michael refuses to live off his wife’s money, preferring instead to pursue his ambitions as a writer, supplementing his income with a mindless job in a publishing house. At the start of the novel, Michael and Lucy seem very much in love with one another, but all too soon the marriage begins to stagnate and sour. Michael generates some interest in his work with an early collection of poems – particularly his best piece ‘Coming Clean’ – however, he struggles to repeat the success. Meanwhile, Lucy is becoming increasingly frustrated with their second-rate living conditions, knowing full well that her fortune could buy them a more comfortable lifestyle. Comparisons with their friends, the Nelsons, only make matters worse for the Davenports, particularly given Tom Nelson’s success as an artist with pieces in some of the leading galleries in New York.

By the end of the first section of this three-part novel, the Davenports’ marriage is over, leaving Michael with little idea of what to do next.

He left the house, slamming the kitchen door, and made his way up past the extravagance of Ben Duane’s flower beds. But once he was at his desk he couldn’t lift a pencil or even see straight. He could only sit with half his fist in his mouth, breathing hard through his nose, trying to comprehend that the bottom had dropped out of everything. It was over.

He was thirty-five, and he was as frightened as a child at the thought of having to live alone. (pp.116-117)

In the second and third sections of the novel, we learn what happens to Lucy and Michael following the split. Lucy fares better than Michael in this respect, pursuing various creative activities in an effort to find herself. As the months slip by, Lucy dabbles in acting, taking the role of Blanche DuBois in a local production of A Streetcar Named Desire; she joins a creative writing class, drawing on some of her own experiences to produce some promising short stories; finally, Lucy tries her hand at painting, but with limited success – in truth, her works are naïve and amateurish. There are various affairs and relationships along the way, most of which are short-lived, just like her passionate liaison with Jack Halloran (aka Casimir), the enigmatic director of the theatre group.

Later still, when she lay on her bed and gave in at last to the kind of crying Tennessee Williams described as “luxurious,” she wished she had allowed him to write down his name. Casimir what? Casimir who? And she knew now her nice little curtain-line about Stanley Kowalski had been worse than cheap and spiteful – oh, worse; worse. It had been a lie, because she would always and always remember him as Jack Halloran. (p. 181)

Michael, for his part, continues to pursue his literary ambitions, but once again with limited success. His early life post-Lucy is characterised by periods of instability and mental illness, culminating in a spell in Bellevue, a specialist psychiatric hospital in New York. In time, Michael finds some solace in the form of a new, much younger wife, Sarah Garvey, a guidance counsellor at his daughter’s school, but he never seems truly contented.

Meanwhile, the Davenports’ daughter, Laura (aged nine at the time of her parents’ separation) is becoming increasingly disconnected from the world, eventually leaving her home with Lucy to join a hippy commune in California.

The novel closes on a more optimistic note with a meeting between the two Davenports. By now, Lucy is in a good place in life, gaining fulfilment from her new role as an ambassador for Amnesty International. There is a sense that she at least has stopped chasing after the pursuit of artistic fulfilment, possibly in the realisation that it might be hopelessly beyond her talents. For Michael, the situation is more ambiguous; his imminent move to a new teaching job in Boston may lead to the break-up of his second marriage; however, he seems relaxed about the future, still harbouring ambitions of another success to rival ‘Coming Clean’. As for his relationship with Sarah, there is a sense of que será, será – whatever will be, will be.

In writing this novel, Yates gives us an insight into the frustrations and disappointments of a suburban existence, of young hopes eroded by the crushing realities of life. The sections focusing on Lucy’s experiences are particularly good, illustrating once more this author’s undoubted skills in portraying complex, flawed women in ways that feel both perceptive and humane.

While the novel lacks the dramatic tension of Revolutionary Road, it is still very much worth reading for the nuanced characterisation alone. Probably one for Yates completists rather than newbies, who might be better starting with The Easter Parade, or possibly the short story collection Eleven Kinds of Loneliness. Irrespective of the changing times, Yates is a writer whose work still stands up today; the emotions he captures in these books are enduring and timeless.

(Revolutionary Road was a pre-blog read for me, hence the lack of review – but you can find Max’s excellent post on the novel here.)

Young Hearts Crying is published by Vintage Books; personal copy.

The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit by Sloan Wilson

First published in 1955, The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit was the debut novel by the American writer and reporter Sloan Wilson. The novel performed very well on its release and was promptly adapted for the screen with Gregory Peck as the central character, Tom Rath. Even though the book may have fallen out of fashion since then, its title – The Man in the Gray Suit – remains symbolic of certain kind of middle-class conformity in 1950s America, namely the need for a man to submit to the rat race in pursuit of the American Dream. Fans of the series Mad Men and the work of Richard Yates will find much to appreciate in Gray Flannel – and yet Wilson’s protagonist is more humane than Don Draper, more likeable and fairer in his dealings with others.

The novel revolves around Tom Rath, a thirtysomething former paratrooper, who finds himself trapped in a life which seems to hold little meaning for him. With a wife, Betsy, and three children to support, Tom feels the weight of society’s expectations very deeply. The family live in the midst of suburban Connecticut, where they divide their responsibilities along very traditional lines – Betsy remains at home to manage the household, while Tom commutes to his mindless office job in the city.

Betsy in particular dreams of bigger and better things for the family; more money, a larger house and a life of opportunities and rewards. Like many of the residents of Greentree Avenue, she views the family’s current position as temporary, a mere stepping-stone on the way to a more comfortable lifestyle in the future.

Almost all the houses were occupied by couples with young children, and few people considered Greentree Avenue a permanent stop—the place was just a crossroads where families waited until they could afford to move on to something better. The finances of almost every household were an open book. Budgets were frankly discussed, and the public celebration of increases in salary was common. The biggest parties of all were moving-out parties, given by those who finally were able to buy a bigger house. Of course there were a few men in the area who had given up hope of rising in the world, and a few who had moved from worse surroundings and considered Greentree Avenue a desirable end of the road, but they and their families suffered a kind of social ostracism. On Greentree Avenue, contentment was an object of contempt. (p. 109)

Tom, on the other hand, is more troubled, burdened as he is by difficulties from the past as well as those in the present. In essence, Tom remains marked by his experiences in WW2 where he was responsible for the deaths of seventeen men, including that of his closest buddy in the forces, Hank Mahoney – the latter as a result of a terrible accident with a hand grenade. Then there is the memory of the weeks spent with Maria, the sensitive Italian girl Tom encountered while stationed in Rome in 1944. The pair lived together in an innocent dream world of their own, hoping to make the most of their time together before Tom’s departure for the Pacific War – a thread somewhat reminiscent of Alfred Hayes’ striking novella, The Girl on the Via Flaminia.

As far as Tom’s current problems are concerned, there’s the constant pressure to be moving ahead, driven by the aspirations of middle-class suburban life. While Tom is cautious and conservative, Betsy is more optimistic, willing to take risks to keep up with the Joneses. Add to this the difficulties posed by an elderly grandmother and the complexities of her estate, no wonder Tom is finding it challenging to reconcile the various aspects of his life.

There were really four completely unrelated worlds in which he lived, Tom reflected as he drove the old Ford back to Westport. There was the crazy, ghost-ridden world of his grandmother and his dead parents. There was the isolated, best-not-remembered world in which he had been a paratrooper. There was the matter-of-fact, opaque-glass-brick-partitioned world of places like the United Broadcasting Company and the Schanenhauser Foundation. And there was the entirely separate world populated by Betsy and Janey and Barbara and Pete, the only one of the four worlds worth a damn. There must be some way in which the four worlds were related, he thought, but it was easier to think of them as entirely divorced from one another. (p. 22)

Things start looking up for Tom when he is offered a new job, assisting the head of the United Broadcasting Company with a new committee on the importance of mental health. While Tom dithers over the pros and cons of risky job move, Betsy views the role as a major opportunity, encouraging her husband to make the leap. For a start, it will mean additional money in their pockets, and the project itself may lead to other more lucrative things.

Once in the role, Tom finds the internal politics of UBC rather wearying to deal with. The scenes in which Tom is driven mad by the conflicting views of his two bosses – the firm’s President, Mr Hopkins, and his right-hand man, Mr Ogden – are wonderfully amusing. While Hopkins praises draft and draft of a speech Tom has penned for him, Ogden tears each one to pieces, much to Tom’s frustration. The whole episode ends with Ogden drafting his own version of the speech, a laborious and repetitive missive containing nothing but statements of motherhood.

The first half of the novel is undoubtedly the strongest, peppered as it is with flashbacks to Tom’s time as a member of the US forces in WW2 – the scenes of military action are tense and vivid, almost certainly inspired by Wilson’s own experiences of the war. The tenderness and fragility of the relationship between Tom and Maria are also beautifully conveyed – feelings heightened by Tom’s belief that he might die at the hands of the Japanese during the next phase of the campaign. With Betsy far and away in Connecticut, Tom’s home life seems very remote, a mere memory from the dim and distant past – so he seizes the opportunity of the weeks with Maria, a little warmth and affection amidst ravages of war.

By contrast, the second half feels looser as Betsy’s and Hopkins’ backstories are explored in some detail. Hopkins himself has his own troubles, a failing marriage and a wayward daughter, almost certainly exacerbated by his workaholic nature. While interesting to a certain extent, these diversions prove to be somewhat distracting, diluting the central focus on Tom and his angst-ridden existence.

As the novel reaches its denouement, Tom’s past finally threatens to catch up with him. In a conclusion that could easily have gone in one of two ways, Tom and Betsy manage to bridge the gulf in their lives, successfully addressing the inherent difficulties of the past few years. At long last, Betsy gains an insight into the pain and suffering Tom experienced during the war, things he has never spoken about before. Tom, for his part, seems more at ease with himself – a man content to be true to his own values, no longer a slave to the whims of others. While some readers might find the ending a little too sentimental or neatly resolved, it does give a sense of closure in a way that feels heartening and uplifting. A little Hollywood in style, perhaps, but I’m not going to quibble over that.

I’ll finish with a final quote from Tom, one that seems to capture something of the essence of this hugely enjoyable book, which still feels pretty relevant to the pressures of today.

“…I was my own disappointment, I really don’t know what I was looking for when I got back from the war, but it seemed as though all I could see was a lot of bright young men in gray flannel suits rushing around New York in a frantic parade to nowhere. They seemed to me to be pursuing neither ideals nor happiness—they were pursuing a routine…” (p. 272)

This is my first contribution to Stu’s Penguin Classics month, which started yesterday – I’m hoping this Modern Classic will qualify!