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Revolutionary Road / The Easter Parade / Eleven Kinds of Loneliness
Three classic works--including the virtuosic "Revolutionary Road, "soon to be a major motion picture--that exemplify the remarkable gifts of this great American master.
Richard Yates's first novel, "Revolutionary Road "is the unforgettable portrait of a marriage built on dreams that tragically never come to fruition. In "The Easter Parade, "he tells the story of two sisters whose parents' divorce overshadows their entire lives. And in the stories in "Eleven Kinds of Loneliness, "we witness men and women striving for better lives amid discouragement and disillusion.
(Book Jacket Status: Jacketed)
Richard Yates's first novel, "Revolutionary Road "is the unforgettable portrait of a marriage built on dreams that tragically never come to fruition. In "The Easter Parade, "he tells the story of two sisters whose parents' divorce overshadows their entire lives. And in the stories in "Eleven Kinds of Loneliness, "we witness men and women striving for better lives amid discouragement and disillusion.
(Book Jacket Status: Jacketed)
661 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1976
19 people are currently reading
596 people want to read
About the author
Richard Yates
65 books2,287 followersRichard Yates shone bright upon the publication of his first novel, Revolutionary Road, which was nominated for the National Book Award in 1961. It drew unbridled praise and branded Yates an important, new writer. Kurt Vonnegut claimed that Revolutionary Road was The Great Gatsby of his time. William Styron described it as "A deft, ironic, beautiful novel that deserves to be a classic." Tennessee Williams went one further and said, "Here is more than fine writing; here is what, added to fine writing, makes a book come immediately, intensely, and brilliantly alive. If more is needed to make a masterpiece in modern American fiction, I am sure I don't know what it is."
In 1962 Eleven Kinds of Loneliness was published, his first collection of short stories. It too had praise heaped upon it. Kurt Vonnegut said it was "the best short-story collection ever written by an American."
Yates' writing skills were further utilized when, upon returning from Los Angeles, he began working as a speechwriter for then-Senator Robert F. Kennedy until the assassination of JFK. From there he moved onto Iowa where, as a creative writing teacher, he would influence and inspire writers such as Andre Dubus and Dewitt Henry.
His third novel, Disturbing the Peace, was published in 1975. Perhaps his second most well-known novel, The Easter Parade, was published in 1976. The story follows the lives of the Grimes sisters and ends in typical Yatesian fashion, replicating the disappointed lives of Revolutionary Road.
However, Yates began to find himself as a writer cut adrift in a sea fast turning towards postmodernism; yet, he would stay true to realism. His heroes and influences remained the classics of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Flaubert and short-story master, Chekov.
It was to his school and army days that Richard turned to for his next novel, A Good School, which was quickly followed by his second collection of short stories, Liars in Love. Young Hearts Crying emerged in 1984 followed two years later with Cold Spring Harbour, which would prove to be his final completed novel.
Like the fate of his hero, Flaubert, whose novel Madame Bovary influenced Revolutionary Road and The Easter Parade, Richard Yates' works are enjoying a posthumous renaissance, attracting newly devoted fans across the Atlantic and beyond.
In 1962 Eleven Kinds of Loneliness was published, his first collection of short stories. It too had praise heaped upon it. Kurt Vonnegut said it was "the best short-story collection ever written by an American."
Yates' writing skills were further utilized when, upon returning from Los Angeles, he began working as a speechwriter for then-Senator Robert F. Kennedy until the assassination of JFK. From there he moved onto Iowa where, as a creative writing teacher, he would influence and inspire writers such as Andre Dubus and Dewitt Henry.
His third novel, Disturbing the Peace, was published in 1975. Perhaps his second most well-known novel, The Easter Parade, was published in 1976. The story follows the lives of the Grimes sisters and ends in typical Yatesian fashion, replicating the disappointed lives of Revolutionary Road.
However, Yates began to find himself as a writer cut adrift in a sea fast turning towards postmodernism; yet, he would stay true to realism. His heroes and influences remained the classics of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Flaubert and short-story master, Chekov.
It was to his school and army days that Richard turned to for his next novel, A Good School, which was quickly followed by his second collection of short stories, Liars in Love. Young Hearts Crying emerged in 1984 followed two years later with Cold Spring Harbour, which would prove to be his final completed novel.
Like the fate of his hero, Flaubert, whose novel Madame Bovary influenced Revolutionary Road and The Easter Parade, Richard Yates' works are enjoying a posthumous renaissance, attracting newly devoted fans across the Atlantic and beyond.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 49 reviews
August 18, 2014
I've now read Eleven Kinds of Loneliness. I'm not going to bother w/ Easter Parade. And it's led me to lower my rating from a four (after reading Revol.Rd.) to a three. This is a paradox, since I actually liked the stories more than the novel (R.R.).
I did like some of these stories. But none of them are memorable (...yes, I know, 'none' is supposed to be singular...) -- and after a while, they grew tiresome.
Both his tone (that is, his style) and his worldview are so thoroughly dated (and conventional -- nowhere is this clearer than in his treatment of the 'Negro' character, Sid, in "A Really Good Jazz Piano"), that it is hard to imagine that this work will survive as anything more than as period piece.
Yates is a competent writer. But the seams show in his work. Everywhere. One can see the author putting them together plank by plank (yes, mixed metaphor -- But I've been reading Bruno Schulz today...).
At his best ("No Pain Whatsoever" or "A Glutton for Punishment"), one doesn't much mind this. But one never gets away from it.
I'm sorry to say that I think that Yates is overrated.
Previously:
This review is only for Revolutionary Road -- the only one of the three texts that I read.
Set in the early 1950's (c. 1955), and written in 1961, this is Yates' best known novel (thanks to the recent movie), dedicated to a troubling story of American-style, lived in the shadow of kitsch.
It is a fine book, though the writing shows its age somewhat - the characters are rich, the story believable and moving, while Yates himself has a hard and bitter edge to his soul.
There are passages that are very affecting. In part, perhaps, because he is describing my parents' generation (if not quite their circumstances).
Well worth reading.
I did like some of these stories. But none of them are memorable (...yes, I know, 'none' is supposed to be singular...) -- and after a while, they grew tiresome.
Both his tone (that is, his style) and his worldview are so thoroughly dated (and conventional -- nowhere is this clearer than in his treatment of the 'Negro' character, Sid, in "A Really Good Jazz Piano"), that it is hard to imagine that this work will survive as anything more than as period piece.
Yates is a competent writer. But the seams show in his work. Everywhere. One can see the author putting them together plank by plank (yes, mixed metaphor -- But I've been reading Bruno Schulz today...).
At his best ("No Pain Whatsoever" or "A Glutton for Punishment"), one doesn't much mind this. But one never gets away from it.
I'm sorry to say that I think that Yates is overrated.
Previously:
This review is only for Revolutionary Road -- the only one of the three texts that I read.
Set in the early 1950's (c. 1955), and written in 1961, this is Yates' best known novel (thanks to the recent movie), dedicated to a troubling story of American-style, lived in the shadow of kitsch.
It is a fine book, though the writing shows its age somewhat - the characters are rich, the story believable and moving, while Yates himself has a hard and bitter edge to his soul.
There are passages that are very affecting. In part, perhaps, because he is describing my parents' generation (if not quite their circumstances).
Well worth reading.
May 3, 2009
As I got into this fine novel'Revolutionary Road', I could hear playing in my head Pete Seeger's song 'Little Boxes'. This searing account of mid fifties suburban America, brings out the reality that life isn't all perfectly square corners. The lives that are lived out in these "little boxes" aren't as neat and orderly. Much as we try to encase it, life is impossible to confine.
The story itself is timeless, and will resonate with all who read it. The prose flows like a river and is a pleasure to read.
Highly recommended.
The story itself is timeless, and will resonate with all who read it. The prose flows like a river and is a pleasure to read.
Highly recommended.
May 20, 2019
In the introduction, Richard Price says that one of the characteristics of Yates's writing is the sense that the author is "as powerless as the reader in controlling the destinies of his characters." I think this is exactly what I admire about Yates - he has such a distinctive way of presenting a simple yet melancholic narrative, almost as if he wasn't the author but a middleman who is telling a sad tale in a matter-of-fact tone. This is his specialty: quotidian events and life's expected sorrows presented as a gentle unraveling.
June 28, 2020
I wasn't born in the Fifties (my parents were but not until they were half-over) so through my life I've been exposed more to the idea of what the decade was like as opposed to what the decade was actually like. And, don't get me wrong, there's a lot about the idealized version I find appealing, the whole Space Age/Jet Age attitude and aesthetic, the confidence that we'd all be living in colonies on the moon in another ten years, the prevalence of tiki bars. Heck, I even like Disneyland. I think we're more aware now that the "Leave It to Beaver"/"Andy Griffith Show" version of things, with proper nuclear families all gathering around for dinner after Dad's had a long day at work and everyone living in peaceful, blissful harmony was only a reality for certain people, a reality that greatly depended on your gender, color of your skin and sexuality, all underscored by an underlying fear of dying due to an atomic bomb, the mess that was the Korean War and fun romps like all those HUAC parties. Its safe to say that a nation afraid that Elvis' thrusting and swiveling hips would completely fray our moral fabric was a nation not being totally honest with how tightly wound it was wrapped.
Needless to say, the contrast between what was happening and what everyone told themselves was happening has fueled many, many books and films that have reveled in unpacking the myriad of tensions that can only come from the joys of rigid conformity. At this point I don't think you'd be crazy if you were under the impression that the idea of the Fifties consisting of hollow suburban wastelands filled with people desperate on the inside but smiling on the outside was the prevailing perception of the decade, with attempts to paint it in a retro-happy style coming across as more comedically ironic than anything else.
But there's nothing like a critique from someone who was actually there and with "Revolutionary Road", his first novel, Yates comes after the decade he had just left (it was published in 1961) with white-hot scalpel coated in anesthetic, so that you don't feel anything at all until all the guts are laid out before you on the table.
Like a lot of people I discovered through the book via the 2008 film featuring Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet, which was well regarded but a bit on the icy side emotionally. I remember liking it but did walk away with the feeling that I was watching two people very aware they were in a Serious Movie, even as Michael Shannon proceeded to blow away everyone else unfortunate enough to share the screen with him (and he's only in like two scenes!). The movie is no doubt why I even have this book in my possession, which also includes his later novel "The Easter Parade" and a short story collection "Eleven Kinds of Loneliness" (while I am sometimes of the "more book is better book" philosophy I suspect I was trying to avoid versions of the novel with movie-based covers, which is a weird pet peeve of mine, and this was what was available) but its telling how strong the story is that even having not seen the movie for over ten years I still remember the broad outlines of the plot pretty well.
Years later, its still a precision guided descent into tragedy, with all the inevitability of a lava flow oozing its way toward your house. It concerns Frank and April Wheeler, a young couple in 1955 living in a Connecticut suburb with their two children. Recently turned thirty, Frank works in NYC at a job he doesn't find very fulfilling, a feeling that extends to most of the rest of his life, including his conformist neighbors who all seem very satisfied with their safe and cozy lives. But Frank and April are convinced that they are young and vibrant and extraordinary, meant for more than maintaining a well-manicured lawn, attending community theatre and punching a clock daily. Like a lot of people who have overly high opinions of themselves and their abilities, they're incorrect but not quite aware of how incorrect they are. Unfortunately for them, they're inhabiting a novel that is determined to let events unfold in the worst horror movie fashion to introduce them to exactly how wrong they are.
It is a depressingly bracing read. For all the studied actorly mannerisms that brought the movie to semi-life, the book feels squirmingly alive, caught in its own undertow of barely contained rage and discomfort. From the start, where we watch April and their neighbors put on a pretty bad play, there's a certain level of unease that never abates as we're all too aware of the gap between the Wheelers' opinions of how amazing they are and what they're actually like, so as it gets clearer just how deluded they are you're in a constant state of waiting to see what form the other shoe dropping is going to take.
Even anticipating that doesn't exactly prepare you for how savage this book is. While everyone seems to be lounging around in khaki pants and sipping cocktails while listening to monotonously pleasant jazz, the book in unsparing in depicting just how empty this all is, where even the infidelities are just minor distractions from a pain you can't quite define. People ask themselves in several variations as they sift through comfortable and boring routines, "Is this all we're meant for?" and the frightening answer the book seems to have is that not only would all those people ultimately answer "yes" but that they're literally not capable of living any other way and any attempts to do otherwise are going to be a disaster because everyone is broken somehow in a way that can't be fixed.
The scenes featuring their neighbor's emotionally disturbed son (Shannon's scenes in the movie) tend to get the most attention because there's something compelling about the "crazy guy who's the only one able to see the truth about society and express it" concept but what are standout moments in the film are just one more bodyblow to the stomach here (and its not even clear if John Givings is "crazy" because of society's standards or if trying to live in this world has unhinged him to the point where he can't function). On every page Yates lays out devastating observations with the dispassionate distance of someone who's already come to the conclusion you're all doomed anyway and he's more interested in dissecting where it went wrong. And the frightening takeaway from the book was that it was always going to BE wrong as soon as these two got together, with Frank dazzling April as the most interesting person she's ever met, that they're two pieces of a puzzle that only shows a sucking black hole of emptiness even as they're convinced it shows nothing but endless, boundless skies. As decent as the movie was, it doesn't hold a candle to the lacerating control Yates exerts here, with every single aspect of the novel conspiring to go nowhere good. You want it to go differently than it does but the truth is there's no way that can happen without these people transforming themselves into something radically different than what they are, and what they are are perfect encapsulations of the world around them. The end result is like giving a bunch of Douglas Sirk films to Werner Herzog to direct (or John Frankenheimer, who was set to direct before he went with the comparatively more optimistic "The Manchurian Candidate" instead).
As good as Yates was, he was never quite commercially popular even if critics loved him, with the story going that most/all of his novels (never great sellers to begin with) were out of print by the time he died in 1992. Part of his problem is that with his first novel swiftly achieving classic status among critics, he had a high bar to clear for subsequent novels and it seems like he never did top that first peak. Indeed, the other novel in the collection, "The Easter Parade" shows you the difference between a good novel and a great one. His fourth novel (after two that were met with a more lukewarm reception) follows the story of two girls as they age from children to middle-aged adults. Sarah and Emily have separated parents and live with their mother "Pookie" in the 1930s. Sarah is the more conventional of the two, pretty and social, while Emily is more introverted and intellectual. And if you think the book is going to be the story of contrasts with the shallower sister having the emptier life or something then let's not forget who the author on the cover of the book is. Yates may be a lot of things but discriminatory he's not and so it shouldn't surprise you that life sucks for both sisters.
Most of the book is told from Emily's perspective, as she tries to find fulfillment both at work and with a succession of men, some of whom she marries (or at least stays with for a while). Her sister, meanwhile, marries a man from a more well-off family who turns out to be . . . less than a stellar human being. But then the same can be said for almost everyone Emily meets, as she develops a knack for zooming in on the one person out of a hundred in a room who will emotionally devastate her. Repeat over the course of forty years and you basically have the book.
That doesn't mean it’s a bad book, but it lacks the thematic heft and intense focus of "Revolutionary Road". Maybe its because Sarah and Emily aren't as compelling as the poor, delusional Wheelers, maybe because the book's broader range in geography and time dilutes the impact somewhat, or maybe because the outcomes of Emily's choices are in line what you'd expect in someone who spends most of her life exercising poor judgment and not the telescopically tragedies that envelop his first novel. His writing is as good as ever, which the more varied locations and eras help emphasize but there's a fixed intensity missing here that keeps the novel from catapulting itself from an interesting read to one that cuts. You feel bad for Sarah and Emily but ultimately you don't feel that their fates are partially shaped by the times they live in, how those times affect their perceptions of themselves, and so it winds up reading as two women who live less than satisfying lives without ever examining why they made bad choices. There's some sense of inevitable tragedy here but by the same token they start the book in a gentle dive and throughout don't make much of an effort to pull themselves out of it (and with so much time passing its not they don't have enough time for a course correction). So while it’s a good book from someone who didn't write "Revolutionary Road", it feels a little short of what he was actually capable of, which is the eternal curse of someone who writes a masterpiece out of the starting gate.
The last volume in the collection though, consists of his first collection of short stories "Eleven Kinds of Loneliness". Published a year after "Revolutionary Road" and presumably written around the same time, it has the best hope of recapturing some of the spirit of what made that novel great and for his part he definitely tries. Give him credit for truth in advertising because the title gives you exactly what it promises, eleven stories where losers who don't quite understand they are losers are confronted with life explaining to them exactly how they are losers. Most of them are sad in a quiet way, populated by grey people who are never going to happy except for moments where for a brief moment they can sort of grasp the shape of what happiness might look like. If you ever listened to "Eleanor Rigby" and thought "I want to be in a world where this song is happening all the time, constantly, forever," look no further.
The story titles should clue you into the experience: "No Pain Whatsoever", "A Glutton for Punishment", "Fun with a Stranger", "A Wrestler With Sharks", all of which are either titles of your LiveJournal posts circa your teenage years or invitations where people don't get what they want because that only happens in a world where people have a chance of being content. So whether it’s the lonely girl in "The Best of Everything", the lonely boy in "Doctor Jack-o'-Lantern" (for my money the most savage story here), the lonely wife in "No Pain Whatsoever" . . . you get the idea. All of them are good, if a bit monochromatic read after the other since they all hit about the same brutally despairing mood . . . the biggest surprises are when he changes the format slightly, with the military setting of "Jody Rolled the Bones" and the newsroom in "A Wrestler With Sharks" serving as backdrops to tales where the narrator is only a bystander to some real despair, the extent of which isn't even fully visible on the page. Two stories are set around schools and teachers, the second of which, "Fun With a Stranger", features a person who is so internally messed up they aren't capable of even articulating a need for a connection and every gesture just comes out wrong.
And so it goes. "A Really Good Jazz Piano" has two men struggling to grasp the myriad examples of how isolated from the world they are, "The B.A.R. Man" is just one constant snarl, while "Out With the Old" comes the closest to a vaguely hopeful note (its also one of two stories set in a TB hospital) even if you have to tread over some remarkably spiky territory to get there. It all ends on a story where a no-name writer is hired to ghost over a cab driver's stories, with the hope of something bigger always dangled just over the horizon. It lives in a world close enough that you can see the outlines from your house but it ends on a paragraph that shows the smallest glimpse of the "Revolutionary Road" Yates, the one where the weight of every word was perfectly etched. That it doesn't happen more often through the course of this is a shame but being a fine writer isn't a crime and Yates was an excellent writer that seemed to have one burst of pure genius before settling somewhere a step below, which isn't a bad place to be. That he never quite reached those heights again isn't a tragedy, and if there's some solace to be found its that throughout his career no one doubted he could get there once more. That he wasn't rewarded with anything better than fond obscurity for his efforts while he was alive is a shame but ten years after the movie of his most famous book his other novels are still in print, so if there's a progress to be found in that, for the moment it'll have to be enough.
Needless to say, the contrast between what was happening and what everyone told themselves was happening has fueled many, many books and films that have reveled in unpacking the myriad of tensions that can only come from the joys of rigid conformity. At this point I don't think you'd be crazy if you were under the impression that the idea of the Fifties consisting of hollow suburban wastelands filled with people desperate on the inside but smiling on the outside was the prevailing perception of the decade, with attempts to paint it in a retro-happy style coming across as more comedically ironic than anything else.
But there's nothing like a critique from someone who was actually there and with "Revolutionary Road", his first novel, Yates comes after the decade he had just left (it was published in 1961) with white-hot scalpel coated in anesthetic, so that you don't feel anything at all until all the guts are laid out before you on the table.
Like a lot of people I discovered through the book via the 2008 film featuring Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet, which was well regarded but a bit on the icy side emotionally. I remember liking it but did walk away with the feeling that I was watching two people very aware they were in a Serious Movie, even as Michael Shannon proceeded to blow away everyone else unfortunate enough to share the screen with him (and he's only in like two scenes!). The movie is no doubt why I even have this book in my possession, which also includes his later novel "The Easter Parade" and a short story collection "Eleven Kinds of Loneliness" (while I am sometimes of the "more book is better book" philosophy I suspect I was trying to avoid versions of the novel with movie-based covers, which is a weird pet peeve of mine, and this was what was available) but its telling how strong the story is that even having not seen the movie for over ten years I still remember the broad outlines of the plot pretty well.
Years later, its still a precision guided descent into tragedy, with all the inevitability of a lava flow oozing its way toward your house. It concerns Frank and April Wheeler, a young couple in 1955 living in a Connecticut suburb with their two children. Recently turned thirty, Frank works in NYC at a job he doesn't find very fulfilling, a feeling that extends to most of the rest of his life, including his conformist neighbors who all seem very satisfied with their safe and cozy lives. But Frank and April are convinced that they are young and vibrant and extraordinary, meant for more than maintaining a well-manicured lawn, attending community theatre and punching a clock daily. Like a lot of people who have overly high opinions of themselves and their abilities, they're incorrect but not quite aware of how incorrect they are. Unfortunately for them, they're inhabiting a novel that is determined to let events unfold in the worst horror movie fashion to introduce them to exactly how wrong they are.
It is a depressingly bracing read. For all the studied actorly mannerisms that brought the movie to semi-life, the book feels squirmingly alive, caught in its own undertow of barely contained rage and discomfort. From the start, where we watch April and their neighbors put on a pretty bad play, there's a certain level of unease that never abates as we're all too aware of the gap between the Wheelers' opinions of how amazing they are and what they're actually like, so as it gets clearer just how deluded they are you're in a constant state of waiting to see what form the other shoe dropping is going to take.
Even anticipating that doesn't exactly prepare you for how savage this book is. While everyone seems to be lounging around in khaki pants and sipping cocktails while listening to monotonously pleasant jazz, the book in unsparing in depicting just how empty this all is, where even the infidelities are just minor distractions from a pain you can't quite define. People ask themselves in several variations as they sift through comfortable and boring routines, "Is this all we're meant for?" and the frightening answer the book seems to have is that not only would all those people ultimately answer "yes" but that they're literally not capable of living any other way and any attempts to do otherwise are going to be a disaster because everyone is broken somehow in a way that can't be fixed.
The scenes featuring their neighbor's emotionally disturbed son (Shannon's scenes in the movie) tend to get the most attention because there's something compelling about the "crazy guy who's the only one able to see the truth about society and express it" concept but what are standout moments in the film are just one more bodyblow to the stomach here (and its not even clear if John Givings is "crazy" because of society's standards or if trying to live in this world has unhinged him to the point where he can't function). On every page Yates lays out devastating observations with the dispassionate distance of someone who's already come to the conclusion you're all doomed anyway and he's more interested in dissecting where it went wrong. And the frightening takeaway from the book was that it was always going to BE wrong as soon as these two got together, with Frank dazzling April as the most interesting person she's ever met, that they're two pieces of a puzzle that only shows a sucking black hole of emptiness even as they're convinced it shows nothing but endless, boundless skies. As decent as the movie was, it doesn't hold a candle to the lacerating control Yates exerts here, with every single aspect of the novel conspiring to go nowhere good. You want it to go differently than it does but the truth is there's no way that can happen without these people transforming themselves into something radically different than what they are, and what they are are perfect encapsulations of the world around them. The end result is like giving a bunch of Douglas Sirk films to Werner Herzog to direct (or John Frankenheimer, who was set to direct before he went with the comparatively more optimistic "The Manchurian Candidate" instead).
As good as Yates was, he was never quite commercially popular even if critics loved him, with the story going that most/all of his novels (never great sellers to begin with) were out of print by the time he died in 1992. Part of his problem is that with his first novel swiftly achieving classic status among critics, he had a high bar to clear for subsequent novels and it seems like he never did top that first peak. Indeed, the other novel in the collection, "The Easter Parade" shows you the difference between a good novel and a great one. His fourth novel (after two that were met with a more lukewarm reception) follows the story of two girls as they age from children to middle-aged adults. Sarah and Emily have separated parents and live with their mother "Pookie" in the 1930s. Sarah is the more conventional of the two, pretty and social, while Emily is more introverted and intellectual. And if you think the book is going to be the story of contrasts with the shallower sister having the emptier life or something then let's not forget who the author on the cover of the book is. Yates may be a lot of things but discriminatory he's not and so it shouldn't surprise you that life sucks for both sisters.
Most of the book is told from Emily's perspective, as she tries to find fulfillment both at work and with a succession of men, some of whom she marries (or at least stays with for a while). Her sister, meanwhile, marries a man from a more well-off family who turns out to be . . . less than a stellar human being. But then the same can be said for almost everyone Emily meets, as she develops a knack for zooming in on the one person out of a hundred in a room who will emotionally devastate her. Repeat over the course of forty years and you basically have the book.
That doesn't mean it’s a bad book, but it lacks the thematic heft and intense focus of "Revolutionary Road". Maybe its because Sarah and Emily aren't as compelling as the poor, delusional Wheelers, maybe because the book's broader range in geography and time dilutes the impact somewhat, or maybe because the outcomes of Emily's choices are in line what you'd expect in someone who spends most of her life exercising poor judgment and not the telescopically tragedies that envelop his first novel. His writing is as good as ever, which the more varied locations and eras help emphasize but there's a fixed intensity missing here that keeps the novel from catapulting itself from an interesting read to one that cuts. You feel bad for Sarah and Emily but ultimately you don't feel that their fates are partially shaped by the times they live in, how those times affect their perceptions of themselves, and so it winds up reading as two women who live less than satisfying lives without ever examining why they made bad choices. There's some sense of inevitable tragedy here but by the same token they start the book in a gentle dive and throughout don't make much of an effort to pull themselves out of it (and with so much time passing its not they don't have enough time for a course correction). So while it’s a good book from someone who didn't write "Revolutionary Road", it feels a little short of what he was actually capable of, which is the eternal curse of someone who writes a masterpiece out of the starting gate.
The last volume in the collection though, consists of his first collection of short stories "Eleven Kinds of Loneliness". Published a year after "Revolutionary Road" and presumably written around the same time, it has the best hope of recapturing some of the spirit of what made that novel great and for his part he definitely tries. Give him credit for truth in advertising because the title gives you exactly what it promises, eleven stories where losers who don't quite understand they are losers are confronted with life explaining to them exactly how they are losers. Most of them are sad in a quiet way, populated by grey people who are never going to happy except for moments where for a brief moment they can sort of grasp the shape of what happiness might look like. If you ever listened to "Eleanor Rigby" and thought "I want to be in a world where this song is happening all the time, constantly, forever," look no further.
The story titles should clue you into the experience: "No Pain Whatsoever", "A Glutton for Punishment", "Fun with a Stranger", "A Wrestler With Sharks", all of which are either titles of your LiveJournal posts circa your teenage years or invitations where people don't get what they want because that only happens in a world where people have a chance of being content. So whether it’s the lonely girl in "The Best of Everything", the lonely boy in "Doctor Jack-o'-Lantern" (for my money the most savage story here), the lonely wife in "No Pain Whatsoever" . . . you get the idea. All of them are good, if a bit monochromatic read after the other since they all hit about the same brutally despairing mood . . . the biggest surprises are when he changes the format slightly, with the military setting of "Jody Rolled the Bones" and the newsroom in "A Wrestler With Sharks" serving as backdrops to tales where the narrator is only a bystander to some real despair, the extent of which isn't even fully visible on the page. Two stories are set around schools and teachers, the second of which, "Fun With a Stranger", features a person who is so internally messed up they aren't capable of even articulating a need for a connection and every gesture just comes out wrong.
And so it goes. "A Really Good Jazz Piano" has two men struggling to grasp the myriad examples of how isolated from the world they are, "The B.A.R. Man" is just one constant snarl, while "Out With the Old" comes the closest to a vaguely hopeful note (its also one of two stories set in a TB hospital) even if you have to tread over some remarkably spiky territory to get there. It all ends on a story where a no-name writer is hired to ghost over a cab driver's stories, with the hope of something bigger always dangled just over the horizon. It lives in a world close enough that you can see the outlines from your house but it ends on a paragraph that shows the smallest glimpse of the "Revolutionary Road" Yates, the one where the weight of every word was perfectly etched. That it doesn't happen more often through the course of this is a shame but being a fine writer isn't a crime and Yates was an excellent writer that seemed to have one burst of pure genius before settling somewhere a step below, which isn't a bad place to be. That he never quite reached those heights again isn't a tragedy, and if there's some solace to be found its that throughout his career no one doubted he could get there once more. That he wasn't rewarded with anything better than fond obscurity for his efforts while he was alive is a shame but ten years after the movie of his most famous book his other novels are still in print, so if there's a progress to be found in that, for the moment it'll have to be enough.
August 25, 2010
After watching and enjoying the movie, Revolutionary Road, including the special features in which Kate Winslett reveals that it was the book that made her want to do this film, I decided I had to read the book too.
The novel is excellent! My first time reading Richard Yates, and come to find out that he's a brilliant writer of the human situation. These characters feel real and honest, not simple archetypes plugged into a story. I watched the movie & read the book within about a month or two of one another, and was pleasantly surprised to note that the movie stayed true to the novel.
This is a relatively quiet story -- no big gun fights or action sequences -- that is full of emotional turmoil and tightly strung nerves. I'm glad I read the book in addition to watching the movie; I feel that I understand and empathize with the characters even better for having read this story myself.
The novel is excellent! My first time reading Richard Yates, and come to find out that he's a brilliant writer of the human situation. These characters feel real and honest, not simple archetypes plugged into a story. I watched the movie & read the book within about a month or two of one another, and was pleasantly surprised to note that the movie stayed true to the novel.
This is a relatively quiet story -- no big gun fights or action sequences -- that is full of emotional turmoil and tightly strung nerves. I'm glad I read the book in addition to watching the movie; I feel that I understand and empathize with the characters even better for having read this story myself.
March 22, 2012
I read Revolutionary Road a few years ago and was absolutely floored by it, for all of the obvious reasons. It left me so introspective, so unable to make forthright assertions about things, that it wasn't until earlier this month that was I able to delve into the other books contained in this volume, The Easter Parade and Eleven Kinds of Loneliness. And so now, still reeling with the feeling of one who's been caught in a terrible lie, I'll try to coax anyone who cares to read on to undergo this weirdly therapeutic experience of submerging yourself in Richard Yates for 3 novels, back-to-back-to-back.
I could simply state that, as un-well read as I may be, I've never come across someone who so perfectly captures the human condition as well as Richard Yates. But that would sound conflated and untrue. So perhaps I'll refine that statement and say that I've never read someone captures women in the way that Richard Yates does. I don't mean this in a mere "gendered reading" way of looking at how he portrays women, but simply in awe of the way that he makes them so human, so humbly flawed and proud and arrogant and unsure. April's cool, aloof distance after fights with Frank, Emily Grimes being not nearly as composed as she appears, even to herself, brides-to-be questioning their very nature on the eve of their wedding - all of these women are incredibly real and Yates must have been one astute motherfucker to paint all of these brush strokes so precisely. But then again, his rendering of Frank Wheeler, a magnum opus of a character study, is so complete, rational, and raw that in reading, you become Frank. You begin to take on (or acknowledge in yourself) all of the clumsy, fumbling ways of dealing with life that torture Frank day after day. And so we're back at the beginning again. Richard Yates: Champion of Depicting the Human Condition.
I'll retract and stutter and continue to be more unsure of myself if I write any further. Just trust me in this much: you'll be a better person after reading these books.
I could simply state that, as un-well read as I may be, I've never come across someone who so perfectly captures the human condition as well as Richard Yates. But that would sound conflated and untrue. So perhaps I'll refine that statement and say that I've never read someone captures women in the way that Richard Yates does. I don't mean this in a mere "gendered reading" way of looking at how he portrays women, but simply in awe of the way that he makes them so human, so humbly flawed and proud and arrogant and unsure. April's cool, aloof distance after fights with Frank, Emily Grimes being not nearly as composed as she appears, even to herself, brides-to-be questioning their very nature on the eve of their wedding - all of these women are incredibly real and Yates must have been one astute motherfucker to paint all of these brush strokes so precisely. But then again, his rendering of Frank Wheeler, a magnum opus of a character study, is so complete, rational, and raw that in reading, you become Frank. You begin to take on (or acknowledge in yourself) all of the clumsy, fumbling ways of dealing with life that torture Frank day after day. And so we're back at the beginning again. Richard Yates: Champion of Depicting the Human Condition.
I'll retract and stutter and continue to be more unsure of myself if I write any further. Just trust me in this much: you'll be a better person after reading these books.
November 8, 2015
Revolutionary Road: This is one of the most moving, revealing books I’ve read. I started it, prepared to hate it based on the soulless movie version that came out a few years ago.
Much has been written about the book and the story. All I can add is that this is one only three books I can recall that has moved me to tears, despite my knowing exactly what was going to happen (thanks to the aforementioned movie version).
The Easter Parade: Heartbreaking. Yates' characters move through life realistically. One can see the heartbreak coming and wish it couls be avoided, but of course it isn't.
Eleven Kinds of Loneliness: Perfectly collected short stories reminiscent of Raymond Carver's works in their depth and profundity.
Much has been written about the book and the story. All I can add is that this is one only three books I can recall that has moved me to tears, despite my knowing exactly what was going to happen (thanks to the aforementioned movie version).
The Easter Parade: Heartbreaking. Yates' characters move through life realistically. One can see the heartbreak coming and wish it couls be avoided, but of course it isn't.
Eleven Kinds of Loneliness: Perfectly collected short stories reminiscent of Raymond Carver's works in their depth and profundity.
August 6, 2009
I only read Rev Road. Not the other two- the library wanted it back. Pfft.
HOLY CRAP! Read this NOW. If you like getting punched in the guts. Then puking and crying. Then having a baby and trying to shoving it back in. Then reliving every moment of your childhood of your parents fighting. Then hating your significant other. Ugh. Tears. Drama. PUKE! My top 5 books ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HOLY CRAP! Read this NOW. If you like getting punched in the guts. Then puking and crying. Then having a baby and trying to shoving it back in. Then reliving every moment of your childhood of your parents fighting. Then hating your significant other. Ugh. Tears. Drama. PUKE! My top 5 books ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
May 5, 2025
I haven't read the stories at the end yet, but the two novels kick ass. Specifically white, middle class, suburban ass. And they kick it until it bleeds and hurts and comes back for more. As I will.
January 10, 2024
How do you describe what you have just experienced when you've just finished reading a perfectly-written book? Richard Yates' masterpiece, Revolutionary Road, is a modern classic in the true sense of the word. He captures life in the fifties and the ennui and longing that lay hidden behind the grey flannel suits and the white aprons. This book works on every level, just one being the way he successfully creates a central couple as protagonists and is able to provide, in a theme and variation style, two other couples whose lives in different ways mirror those of the central couple, the Wheelers - Jack and April. Yates uses motifs with superb subtlety to provide a continuity that lasts throughout, even surviving the climactic finale.
What amazes me even more is that this was a first novel - it is unusual for the first novel of an author to be his best. I also find interesting that this novel was bested by Walker Percy's The Moviegoer, a book that I personally like, for the National Book award in 1962 (Heller's Catch 22 was also a finalist). That suggests the quality of the competition in that year was very high (I wish I could say the same about every year). I found this to be a book that works well on many levels and one that I strongly recommend be read by all.
What amazes me even more is that this was a first novel - it is unusual for the first novel of an author to be his best. I also find interesting that this novel was bested by Walker Percy's The Moviegoer, a book that I personally like, for the National Book award in 1962 (Heller's Catch 22 was also a finalist). That suggests the quality of the competition in that year was very high (I wish I could say the same about every year). I found this to be a book that works well on many levels and one that I strongly recommend be read by all.
November 13, 2015
I've already reviewed Revolutionary Road previously. This brief review is focused on Yates' novel, The Easter Parade. This is the story of two sisters and their lives in an odd, somewhat dysfunctional family. A novel, in three parts, that revolves around the feelings of loneliness, despair, denial, and even the love between Sarah and Emily Grimes. Sometimes painful, sometimes grim, reading this novel always felt real. There's something about this novel that just sticks with the reader long after you've set the book down. This is a solid 4 of 5 stars for me.
May 12, 2011
In your face reality!
December 14, 2012
Richard Yates is quickly becoming a favorite author of mine, he captures the tragedy of being a human being like no one else I've ever read, equal to Cheever and Updike, possibly better.
September 12, 2014
I loved this book. The writer has a profound knowledge of human nature in the hidden desires , dark thoughts, and delusions of the book's characters. Poignant stories that you will want to re-read.
March 16, 2025
The first novel in this book, Revolutionary Road, considers April and Frank Wheeler, a married couple who live on that road, in a suburban town in western Connecticut. April is in a local theater production, and it goes badly. They are both approaching thirty. They argue by the side of the road while their conventionally-minded friends, Shep and Millie, watch. They continue to argue.
RR tackles the emptiness and regret of a marriage that is not going well, in an environment of suburban routine. Neither Frank nor April have any remaining family connections, and they spend time with Shep and Millie, who live in the next neighborhood over. They like to have a few highballs and go for drives to the pictures and such.
Several things affect their routine: (1) April and Frank decide to move to Europe soon, and (2) the son of the Wheelers' real estate agent starts to come around on some weekends, when he is released from the mental hospital and (3) Frank starts an affair with a secretary. Things get tense.
The second book follows two sisters as one descends into alcoholism and the other into isolation. The descent lasts for many years. Some of this book seems autobiographical: one of the sisters' partners is a writer in residence at the University of Iowa, as Yates was. One of the sisters is also institutionalized for a spell, an experience that Yates also had.
Visiting with the institutionalized is one of the scenes that recurs across both novels and many of the stories. Yates has compassion for those who must be separated from society, whether as a result of alcohol abuse, TB, or insanity. The inside of those institutions are drab and stultifying. People with TB back in the 1940s and 1950s would have surgeries that were several months apart and would be in those wards for years. The boredom and routine of those places make the boredom and routine of suburban childlessness portrayed in other settings seem like a walk in the park.
The short stories are masterful, and they're distinct one from the next. I don't know if I find the title all that reliable. The last story of the eleven, Builders, is about a writer who has a beautiful wife with whom he has no problems, and who writes dime-story like stories for a cab driver at $5 per story. He gets a kick out of writing these stories and impressing a renowned child psychologist. This story is not a downer; it's funny.
In the other stories, most of the characters are trapped in one way or another. A couple of the stories are about losing work. A couple are about TB. A few have soldiers from World War II, and what happened next in their lives. Most everyone has a highball or two, and that doesn't necessarily make things right. Very few of the characters have parents; they are orphaned and spread across the landscape in newish communities with no roots.
The prose is wonderful and straightforward. He picks the most dramatic parts of the story to reduce to dialogue, and it's sharp. He knows how to write men and women together, and show how those relationships are affected so dramatically by the society-created constructs of the 1940s and 1950s.
RR tackles the emptiness and regret of a marriage that is not going well, in an environment of suburban routine. Neither Frank nor April have any remaining family connections, and they spend time with Shep and Millie, who live in the next neighborhood over. They like to have a few highballs and go for drives to the pictures and such.
Several things affect their routine: (1) April and Frank decide to move to Europe soon, and (2) the son of the Wheelers' real estate agent starts to come around on some weekends, when he is released from the mental hospital and (3) Frank starts an affair with a secretary. Things get tense.
The second book follows two sisters as one descends into alcoholism and the other into isolation. The descent lasts for many years. Some of this book seems autobiographical: one of the sisters' partners is a writer in residence at the University of Iowa, as Yates was. One of the sisters is also institutionalized for a spell, an experience that Yates also had.
Visiting with the institutionalized is one of the scenes that recurs across both novels and many of the stories. Yates has compassion for those who must be separated from society, whether as a result of alcohol abuse, TB, or insanity. The inside of those institutions are drab and stultifying. People with TB back in the 1940s and 1950s would have surgeries that were several months apart and would be in those wards for years. The boredom and routine of those places make the boredom and routine of suburban childlessness portrayed in other settings seem like a walk in the park.
The short stories are masterful, and they're distinct one from the next. I don't know if I find the title all that reliable. The last story of the eleven, Builders, is about a writer who has a beautiful wife with whom he has no problems, and who writes dime-story like stories for a cab driver at $5 per story. He gets a kick out of writing these stories and impressing a renowned child psychologist. This story is not a downer; it's funny.
In the other stories, most of the characters are trapped in one way or another. A couple of the stories are about losing work. A couple are about TB. A few have soldiers from World War II, and what happened next in their lives. Most everyone has a highball or two, and that doesn't necessarily make things right. Very few of the characters have parents; they are orphaned and spread across the landscape in newish communities with no roots.
The prose is wonderful and straightforward. He picks the most dramatic parts of the story to reduce to dialogue, and it's sharp. He knows how to write men and women together, and show how those relationships are affected so dramatically by the society-created constructs of the 1940s and 1950s.
June 4, 2020
Just because a master of his craft writes pointedly and elegantly about all the ways we can screw up our lives doesn't make it the truth. Revolutionary Road was just one terrible mistake and bad decision after another. The fact that his characters so casually practice their infidelity and proceed to blame one another every step of the way is beyond tragic.
The Easter Parade was my favorite of the two novels in this volume. It had a few lighter moments, although the characters were also doomed to a downward spiral of disappointment and alcoholism. In my opinion, it helped that Yates himself was slightly more removed here by virtue of focusing the story on the perspective of a female protagonist.
Had I read only Eleven Kinds of Loneliness, this would have been a five-star review for sure. This is really the form that allows one to enjoy Yates without becoming overwhelmed. Each story was still heartbreaking, but then it was over. I could handle the small doses of co-dependent drunks better than the mega-tragedies of the novels.
I was curious enough to Google it, and yes, Yates did spend time in a TB ward, so I suppose it makes sense that two of these stories have that setting.
The Easter Parade was my favorite of the two novels in this volume. It had a few lighter moments, although the characters were also doomed to a downward spiral of disappointment and alcoholism. In my opinion, it helped that Yates himself was slightly more removed here by virtue of focusing the story on the perspective of a female protagonist.
Had I read only Eleven Kinds of Loneliness, this would have been a five-star review for sure. This is really the form that allows one to enjoy Yates without becoming overwhelmed. Each story was still heartbreaking, but then it was over. I could handle the small doses of co-dependent drunks better than the mega-tragedies of the novels.
I was curious enough to Google it, and yes, Yates did spend time in a TB ward, so I suppose it makes sense that two of these stories have that setting.
December 20, 2018
Absolutely stunning book. Two novels, both of which are written in the most engaging prose - sharp, concise, and jolly clever - and a set of short stories. Revolutionary Road is well known, and worthy of the praise it has received, but The Easter Parade is equally as good - a domestic tale that hits so many spots. As for the short stories, I can see why people don't like them - they make one feel uncomfortable, and many people do not like that in a book, they want escapism. But I was quite moved by them, so scarily true to life and brilliantly told. A real treasure, all three sections.
March 16, 2011
Since I reviewed each title separately this is going to be insanely long. You've been warned.
Revolutionary Road (4 stars)
Part of my "re-reading in 2011" challenge. I believe I first read this in 2007, and was completely blown away. This time was no different.
It loses a bit of intensity on a second read-through, since you know what's going to happen. You wait for it. But the build-up to that is was really makes this genuine. Frank & April Wheeler are your typical suburban couple—a nice little home in Connecticut; she a housewife and he commuting to Manhattan; two little kids. But they have so many issues, and they think they're the only ones.
They're both stuck-up and delusional, which makes the story sad. They think they're better than everyone else on Revolutionary Road, and have these grand plans to break free of it and move to Paris. But you know they'll never follow through with it, because that's the kind of people they are. They talk a lot, and drink a lot, and only care about themselves despite what they say.
The only character that makes a bit of sense is John Givings, who's committed to the asylum. Everyone else is typically suburban and two-faced, presenting a pleasant exterior but hating everything on the inside.
Yates makes even the typical housewife seem grand and important, amidst her washing dishes and scrubbing the bathroom. April is obviously meant to do more than just iron Frank's shirts, but she's presented in such a way that she's trapped.
It also says a whole lot about life's purpose. Isn't this what everyone wants, after all? A nice spouse, some kids, a house in the 'burbs. But they realize too late that there's nothing for them after achieving the "American dream," and they're stuck in a lifestyle they don't necessarily want. But that's a discussion for a later time.
The Easter Parade (2 stars)
In Easter Parade, we follow the lives of two sisters—Sarah and Emily—as they grow throughout their lives. It details the paths they chose for themselves, and the various situations they found themselves in.
Sarah, the elder sister, was a virgin until her wedding night and ultimately bore her husband, Tony, three sons. They lived in an estate on Long Island, which they inherited from Tony's parents. Emily, the younger, chose the path of a career woman, living in Manhattan and having dozens of men find their way into her bed. Some were boyfriends, some were not. But they were both miserable and drank too much.
The first half of the book sped through their early lives, which I suppose was necessary but not very well-written. In a matter of an hour, they had grown from five years old to at least twenty. It wasn't even that interesting. Their parents get divorced, they have high school boyfriends, Sarah gets braces. All right, let's get to something interesting.
The rest of the story had the potential to be good, but I couldn't get over how terribly stereotypical the sisters were. The virginal housewife; the city-dweller who slept around. Their characters were too easy to figure out, and the situations they found themselves in came as no surprise. I had zero sympathy for either of them, and it made it difficult to enjoy anything at all about it.
After Revolutionary Road, I was highly disappointed in this one.
Eleven Kinds of Loneliness (3 stars)
Eleven Kinds of Loneliness is exactly that—eleven different stories focused around different people, each with their own special breed of being alone. Rather than discuss every story in the collection, I'm touch upon a few of my favorites.
Doctor Jack-o'-Lantern is the first to appear, about one Vincent Sabella, a kid who transferred to a new school. Because he's not the popular type and pushes everyone away, he spends the majority of his time alone. His teacher, Miss Price, tries too hard to get him to belong, and I was just embarrassed for her. You could feel Vincent's anguish; he wants to fit it but at the same time doesn't want people talking to him. It's the same sad story—being the new kid sucks.
Fun with a Stranger is also about the loneliness of the classroom. The third grade is divided between Mrs. Cleary's class—the young, fun teacher—and Miss Snell, who is strict and proper. The differences between the teachers is so stereotypical and comical at times (Snell's class is doing schoolwork as Cleary's is having a loud Christmas party across the hallway), but you know the pain of Miss Snell's students. They stare longingly at the other classroom, but they're stuck with the non-fun teacher (who suffers a sort of loneliness herself).
A Really Good Jazz Piano follows two friends, Carson and Ken, in their travels around France. They meet women and hang out in clubs, but they both feel something missing from the experience. Ken at some point has to go home to a job, but Carson has an endless supply of money and wishes to do nothing but wander Europe. They're both a sad picture, but they wallow in their misery together.
There are more I enjoyed but you get the gist of it. These stories say a lot about people in general, and the different sorts of internal suffering we experience—most of the time alone, even if we're amongst others.
Revolutionary Road (4 stars)
Part of my "re-reading in 2011" challenge. I believe I first read this in 2007, and was completely blown away. This time was no different.
It loses a bit of intensity on a second read-through, since you know what's going to happen. You wait for it. But the build-up to that is was really makes this genuine. Frank & April Wheeler are your typical suburban couple—a nice little home in Connecticut; she a housewife and he commuting to Manhattan; two little kids. But they have so many issues, and they think they're the only ones.
They're both stuck-up and delusional, which makes the story sad. They think they're better than everyone else on Revolutionary Road, and have these grand plans to break free of it and move to Paris. But you know they'll never follow through with it, because that's the kind of people they are. They talk a lot, and drink a lot, and only care about themselves despite what they say.
The only character that makes a bit of sense is John Givings, who's committed to the asylum. Everyone else is typically suburban and two-faced, presenting a pleasant exterior but hating everything on the inside.
Yates makes even the typical housewife seem grand and important, amidst her washing dishes and scrubbing the bathroom. April is obviously meant to do more than just iron Frank's shirts, but she's presented in such a way that she's trapped.
It also says a whole lot about life's purpose. Isn't this what everyone wants, after all? A nice spouse, some kids, a house in the 'burbs. But they realize too late that there's nothing for them after achieving the "American dream," and they're stuck in a lifestyle they don't necessarily want. But that's a discussion for a later time.
The Easter Parade (2 stars)
In Easter Parade, we follow the lives of two sisters—Sarah and Emily—as they grow throughout their lives. It details the paths they chose for themselves, and the various situations they found themselves in.
Sarah, the elder sister, was a virgin until her wedding night and ultimately bore her husband, Tony, three sons. They lived in an estate on Long Island, which they inherited from Tony's parents. Emily, the younger, chose the path of a career woman, living in Manhattan and having dozens of men find their way into her bed. Some were boyfriends, some were not. But they were both miserable and drank too much.
The first half of the book sped through their early lives, which I suppose was necessary but not very well-written. In a matter of an hour, they had grown from five years old to at least twenty. It wasn't even that interesting. Their parents get divorced, they have high school boyfriends, Sarah gets braces. All right, let's get to something interesting.
The rest of the story had the potential to be good, but I couldn't get over how terribly stereotypical the sisters were. The virginal housewife; the city-dweller who slept around. Their characters were too easy to figure out, and the situations they found themselves in came as no surprise. I had zero sympathy for either of them, and it made it difficult to enjoy anything at all about it.
After Revolutionary Road, I was highly disappointed in this one.
Eleven Kinds of Loneliness (3 stars)
Eleven Kinds of Loneliness is exactly that—eleven different stories focused around different people, each with their own special breed of being alone. Rather than discuss every story in the collection, I'm touch upon a few of my favorites.
Doctor Jack-o'-Lantern is the first to appear, about one Vincent Sabella, a kid who transferred to a new school. Because he's not the popular type and pushes everyone away, he spends the majority of his time alone. His teacher, Miss Price, tries too hard to get him to belong, and I was just embarrassed for her. You could feel Vincent's anguish; he wants to fit it but at the same time doesn't want people talking to him. It's the same sad story—being the new kid sucks.
Fun with a Stranger is also about the loneliness of the classroom. The third grade is divided between Mrs. Cleary's class—the young, fun teacher—and Miss Snell, who is strict and proper. The differences between the teachers is so stereotypical and comical at times (Snell's class is doing schoolwork as Cleary's is having a loud Christmas party across the hallway), but you know the pain of Miss Snell's students. They stare longingly at the other classroom, but they're stuck with the non-fun teacher (who suffers a sort of loneliness herself).
A Really Good Jazz Piano follows two friends, Carson and Ken, in their travels around France. They meet women and hang out in clubs, but they both feel something missing from the experience. Ken at some point has to go home to a job, but Carson has an endless supply of money and wishes to do nothing but wander Europe. They're both a sad picture, but they wallow in their misery together.
There are more I enjoyed but you get the gist of it. These stories say a lot about people in general, and the different sorts of internal suffering we experience—most of the time alone, even if we're amongst others.
January 1, 2019
This Everyman Library volume joins Richard Yates’s two superb postwar novels Revolutionary Road and The Easter Parade with the story collection Eleven Kinds of Loneliness, naturalistic portraits of urban life in the mid century.
June 29, 2022
The Master at his peak.
February 2, 2025
This collection consists of two excellent books and one collection of short stories - well, 11 short stories, hence the title. This is a great way to save money by buying one book and not three. Yates's books tend to not be too big, so compiling three works into one isn't a great feat.
December 14, 2025
That’s bleak as hell and I loved every minute of it.
September 30, 2010
Fashioning Himself a Hero: Death of Another Salesman
The Laurel Players is an amateur theater group with high hopes of establishing a loftier cultural standard in their Connecticut suburb, but their short-lived attempt to put on a play is an utter failure. This sets the tone for the rest of the book, and the author's exploration of the themes of social aspirations, the desire the project oneself, and role-playing to meet or consciously balk social expectations.
Like the Laurel Players, everyone in the story knows that they are merely putting on a performance. They resent the trappings of middleclass life. Frank and April Wheeler get together with friends Shep and Milly Campbell to drink and put on a veneer of sophisticated and jaded ennui as they rail at the failure of the American dream and its lack of "authenticity." So long as they can scoff at society and speak of it with derision, they can remain above it and be untouched by it. But no one really remains untouched or unaffected.
The story is told from Frank's perspective and he is the master of play-acting and self-image. Yates adeptly uses imagery to convey this. One of the prevalent images is that of mirrors. Frank is constantly checking his reflection in the mirror and adjusting his expression so that it reflects what he wants to project. The book also contains extensive descriptions of Frank's clothes and how he feels in them. Apparently, in this case, the clothes DO make the man. Frank literally fashions himself into the image he wants to project, always conscious that his projection in insincere. He feels that his scorn is heroic, that he can see things to which others are blind, he can understand things that are beyond their comprehension. His understanding, however, is limited to the extent to which he can control his world.
The façade of toughness hides the fact that he has a basic need. What Frank seeks most of all, from his father, from his wife, from society, is affirmation of his manhood. April is aware of this and when she suggests her plan make it possible to move to Paris so that he can realize his dream of the artistic, intellectual life he has always claimed to want, she appeals to the logic that means the most to Frank: "It's your very essence that's being stifled here. It's what you are that's being denied and denied and denied in this kind of life… You're the most valuable and wonderful thing in the world. You're a man." He accepts this argument and is buoyed by it, feeling that "Never before had elation welled more powerfully inside him; never had beauty grown more purely out of truth; never in taking his wife had he triumphed more completely over time and space… He had taken command of the universe because he was a man."
Frank's elation, however, is short-lived. Although he had always purported to want to move to France to pursue the dream of the intellectual and cultured life, in fact he is horrified because actually trying to succeed would leave him vulnerable to failure. April unwittingly comes to his rescue again, when it turns out that she is pregnant. Frank now has the excuse he needs not to go ahead with the plan. April is devastated, and the events that unfold as she tries to keep their dream alive spiral into tragedy.
Richard Yates's writing style is rich in images and character contrasts. Revolutionary Road explores a lot of the same themes as Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman: the sham of the middleclass dream, the ordinary man as hero (at least in his own mind), infidelity, entitlement, social convention and morality, rejection of and by family, a lack of affect. The difference is that whereas Willy Loman embraces the American Dream, Frank Wheeler attempts to disavow it, even as he is being sucked into it. Both eventually end up being destroyed by it. This is the sort of future that one could foresee for Willy Loman's sons. In fact the timing would be about perfect, with Death of a Salesman being written in 1947 and Revolutionary Road coming out in 1959.
Even a lot of the imagery that Yates uses is a tactic nod to Miller's original. Both works contain symbolic references to: seeds (DOAS), plants (RR); diamonds (DOAS), golden (RR), the rubber hose (DOAS), the rubber syringe (RR).
For all that is borrows from Miller's masterpiece, Revolutionary Road stands up on its own as an independent piece that is still relevant today. The book's Revolutionary Road leads to the suburbs, and there is no escape.
The Laurel Players is an amateur theater group with high hopes of establishing a loftier cultural standard in their Connecticut suburb, but their short-lived attempt to put on a play is an utter failure. This sets the tone for the rest of the book, and the author's exploration of the themes of social aspirations, the desire the project oneself, and role-playing to meet or consciously balk social expectations.
Like the Laurel Players, everyone in the story knows that they are merely putting on a performance. They resent the trappings of middleclass life. Frank and April Wheeler get together with friends Shep and Milly Campbell to drink and put on a veneer of sophisticated and jaded ennui as they rail at the failure of the American dream and its lack of "authenticity." So long as they can scoff at society and speak of it with derision, they can remain above it and be untouched by it. But no one really remains untouched or unaffected.
The story is told from Frank's perspective and he is the master of play-acting and self-image. Yates adeptly uses imagery to convey this. One of the prevalent images is that of mirrors. Frank is constantly checking his reflection in the mirror and adjusting his expression so that it reflects what he wants to project. The book also contains extensive descriptions of Frank's clothes and how he feels in them. Apparently, in this case, the clothes DO make the man. Frank literally fashions himself into the image he wants to project, always conscious that his projection in insincere. He feels that his scorn is heroic, that he can see things to which others are blind, he can understand things that are beyond their comprehension. His understanding, however, is limited to the extent to which he can control his world.
The façade of toughness hides the fact that he has a basic need. What Frank seeks most of all, from his father, from his wife, from society, is affirmation of his manhood. April is aware of this and when she suggests her plan make it possible to move to Paris so that he can realize his dream of the artistic, intellectual life he has always claimed to want, she appeals to the logic that means the most to Frank: "It's your very essence that's being stifled here. It's what you are that's being denied and denied and denied in this kind of life… You're the most valuable and wonderful thing in the world. You're a man." He accepts this argument and is buoyed by it, feeling that "Never before had elation welled more powerfully inside him; never had beauty grown more purely out of truth; never in taking his wife had he triumphed more completely over time and space… He had taken command of the universe because he was a man."
Frank's elation, however, is short-lived. Although he had always purported to want to move to France to pursue the dream of the intellectual and cultured life, in fact he is horrified because actually trying to succeed would leave him vulnerable to failure. April unwittingly comes to his rescue again, when it turns out that she is pregnant. Frank now has the excuse he needs not to go ahead with the plan. April is devastated, and the events that unfold as she tries to keep their dream alive spiral into tragedy.
Richard Yates's writing style is rich in images and character contrasts. Revolutionary Road explores a lot of the same themes as Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman: the sham of the middleclass dream, the ordinary man as hero (at least in his own mind), infidelity, entitlement, social convention and morality, rejection of and by family, a lack of affect. The difference is that whereas Willy Loman embraces the American Dream, Frank Wheeler attempts to disavow it, even as he is being sucked into it. Both eventually end up being destroyed by it. This is the sort of future that one could foresee for Willy Loman's sons. In fact the timing would be about perfect, with Death of a Salesman being written in 1947 and Revolutionary Road coming out in 1959.
Even a lot of the imagery that Yates uses is a tactic nod to Miller's original. Both works contain symbolic references to: seeds (DOAS), plants (RR); diamonds (DOAS), golden (RR), the rubber hose (DOAS), the rubber syringe (RR).
For all that is borrows from Miller's masterpiece, Revolutionary Road stands up on its own as an independent piece that is still relevant today. The book's Revolutionary Road leads to the suburbs, and there is no escape.
August 12, 2011
Though I've read Revolutionary Road a handful of times before, it's been a while and I was jazzed to find an Everyman's copy at Book Buyers, which comes with a timeline of the author's life and concurrent events. So I didn't know Yates was a big old alcoholic before (not shocking, I guess) or that he was broke and lived terribly at the times when he writing his most prolifically. Also not shocking. But thumbing through the timeline really did give a new perspective on how awful his life was in some ways, and how that might have colored his books. RR continues to be one of my favorite all-time novels and I won't re-review it again here, just suffice to say please read it if you haven't. The Easter Parade: Though RR frequently gets labeled "depressing", this book knocks it out of the park. I vacillated between thinking it was misogynistic or simply a downcast representation of the times and personal circumstance, but either way it's fantastic. There's simply no redemption for these women, at all, and it would be a lesser novel if there was. This was kind of a funny choice of books to read right after getting married and still having wedding drizzle on my brain, but it was sort of perfect for that reason too. Yates is an excellent reminder of the shlump that is modern life, how we're all just fooling ourselves. After I finished the stories in Eleven Kinds of Loneliness I listened to a podcast I'd been saving that talked about Yates and Shirley Jackson and how they're both widely under-appreciated, and how Yates esepcially only allows any kind of hope for those in his stories who understand wholly that they're nothing, simpletons, with or without aspirations. That's probably why it's easy to dismiss his books as depressing, but it's why he's brilliant and why I'll keep re-reading RR, and now the others too, over and over again as the years pass.
October 15, 2014
Revolutionary road deserves to be regarded as one of the great American novels. The historical depiction of a not so quaint 50s America is cutting, and breaks down false illusions of happiness. What's more interesting is the work's continuing relevance to today. Technology and certain norms of human interaction have changed somewhat, but besides this the dread, tediousness and conformity of suburban life continues to this day. Yates showed that realism was still a powerful genre that could communicate midst all the tangents many of his American contemporaries took to try and mask bitter realities. Yates showed it whole and raw.
The Easter Parade is good and has one of the greatest opening lines in American literature: "Neither of the Grimes sisters would have a happy life, and looking back it always seemed that the trouble began with their parents' divorce". But the work doesn't resonate as much as events zoom by the main character who before she realizes it is old and alone with nothing to look forward to.
Then the short stories are mostly incredible with my personal favorite being "The Best of Everything" relating evident disappointment to come in marriage on the day before the wedding day. "Doctor Jack-o'-lantern", "The B.A.R Man", "A Really Good Jazz Piano", and "Builders", which is likely the funniest of Yates stories(which isn't saying much), are also among the best.
The Easter Parade is good and has one of the greatest opening lines in American literature: "Neither of the Grimes sisters would have a happy life, and looking back it always seemed that the trouble began with their parents' divorce". But the work doesn't resonate as much as events zoom by the main character who before she realizes it is old and alone with nothing to look forward to.
Then the short stories are mostly incredible with my personal favorite being "The Best of Everything" relating evident disappointment to come in marriage on the day before the wedding day. "Doctor Jack-o'-lantern", "The B.A.R Man", "A Really Good Jazz Piano", and "Builders", which is likely the funniest of Yates stories(which isn't saying much), are also among the best.
June 10, 2009
So I already wrote about how depressing this book was. I did like it in an odd, twisted way. It was very understated--smoothly written. I tried reading the other two books that were included in the Modern Reader edition, but they didn't grab me.
Funny passages about working in cubicles in an office in Manhattan. "Each [floor:] was a big open room, ablaze with fluorescent ceiling lights, that had been divided into a maze of aisles and cubicles by shoulder-high partitions. The upper panels of these dividers, waist to shoulder, were made of thick unframed plate glass that was slightly corrugated to achieve a blue-white semi-transparency; and the overall effect of this, to a man getting off the elevator and looking out across the room, was that of the wide indoor lake in which swimmers far and near were moving, some making steady headway, some treading water, others seen in the act of breaking to the surface or going under, and many submerged, their faces loosened into wavering pink blurs as they drowned at their desks."
Funny passages about working in cubicles in an office in Manhattan. "Each [floor:] was a big open room, ablaze with fluorescent ceiling lights, that had been divided into a maze of aisles and cubicles by shoulder-high partitions. The upper panels of these dividers, waist to shoulder, were made of thick unframed plate glass that was slightly corrugated to achieve a blue-white semi-transparency; and the overall effect of this, to a man getting off the elevator and looking out across the room, was that of the wide indoor lake in which swimmers far and near were moving, some making steady headway, some treading water, others seen in the act of breaking to the surface or going under, and many submerged, their faces loosened into wavering pink blurs as they drowned at their desks."
September 15, 2009
i'll admit i saw the movie and then picked up the book. i was so intrigued by the story that i thought i would love the reading. but, what is up with the misogyny? does he have to mention april's hips and cankles at every turn? seriously. no mention of how frank is aging poorly. i'm becoming a yater (yates hater) unless someone can help me out---am i missing something about yates?
update: couldn't finish it. never thought i'd say this but screenplay was way more beautiful and moving.
update: couldn't finish it. never thought i'd say this but screenplay was way more beautiful and moving.
March 4, 2010
SO Good. I read these books in installments, which was nice since his novels are a tad depressing. We can all relate to the isolation and captivity of everyday life which he effortlessly portrays. His stories transcend time though they were written fifty years ago. His rich character portraits resonated with me for their sadness, truth, and beauty. The central question in all his books still remains, how can we find happiness?
February 20, 2010
Beautiful. Understated but profound. Sad and uplifting all at once. The two novels in this volume will make you stop and think 1000 times, if you're willing. I was and am richly rewarded for it. I'll get to the stories later, for now I am just sitting and thinking about Easter Parade -- it made me sit down and pause on the subway.
August 30, 2010
Reading Easter Parade...hello again, friend.
Easter Parade--so real and relatable. His characters ring true and Yates steps out of the way, letting the story move forward, but with such a distinct voice. He's a master of structure without seeming too planned; it's so natural. I'd recommend him to anyone.
Easter Parade--so real and relatable. His characters ring true and Yates steps out of the way, letting the story move forward, but with such a distinct voice. He's a master of structure without seeming too planned; it's so natural. I'd recommend him to anyone.
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