Writing a novel is a balancing act: a literary high-wire act like no other, in which the writer, while trying to maintain a balance between good writing and solid plot, must not dally too long in the middle of the act lest his or her audience get bored.
It’s an artistic form of entertainment that many American novelists have never quite mastered. For every Joyce Carol Oates, who knows how to tell a ripping good yarn, there are dozens of writers who believe that another story of suburban discontent is enough to carry a reader from one side of a novel to the other.
The writing of Elizabeth Berg (“Talk Before Sleep,” “The Pull of the Moon,” “Open House”) is often some of the richest and most poetic in modern fiction, such as this description of a neighborhood garden: “There might be sugar snap peas climbing chain-link fences with curly abandon, children’s gardens with leggy printing on Popsicle sticks identifying dependable and forgiving crops…” But such writing can’t make up for a lack of real plot and strong narrative, which is why “The Year of Pleasures,” Berg’s new book, is a prime example of what a novel should not be.
The plot, the totality of which could fit in a nutshell, concerns 55-year-old Betta Nolan, whose husband, John, has recently died. Betta decides to move to a small town, scale down her life and start enjoying the beauty of everyday life and simple things: warm baths, nature, good food, good art.
During her journey from depression and sadness to semi-
cheerful state of melancholy, Betta calls on three college friends who come to her aid, offering their support while she reinvents her life, opening a small shop called “What A Woman Wants,” although one has to wonder if “antique birdcages with orchids growing in them” is really what the average, urban woman is seeking.
To really shake things up, the author has Betta befriend a not-so-bright, good-looking young handyman named Matthew O’Conner and a smart, caring, aging-but-seemingly impotent man named Tom. Eventually, encounters with these two men and the comfort of her friends help Betta realize that while it’s important to cherish loved ones, “…there is love in letting go.” Not the most profound of revelations.
Berg, who did her time in the blue-collar trenches as a waitress, among other things, knows something about life. The believable heartache and suffering of her characters is a fine testament to that fact. And as a writer, she knows the pleasures of a well-turned phrase, or beautifully constructed sentence. But as a novelist – a best-selling one at that – plot has never been one of Berg’s strong points, even in her finest novels, such as “Talk Before Sleep,” which features a self-centered protagonist who leaves her husband and her dying son. For Berg, plot has always taken a back seat to character and scenery.
Not to put too pedantic a point on it, but Webster’s dictionary, in part, defines a novel as “an invented prose narrative that is usually long and complex…” And while no writer should adhere to that one-line description, he or she should feel obligated to hold the reader’s attention with an interesting tale.
Yes, “The Year of Pleasures” is long enough to fit in the novel mold, but the plot is far too simple to sustain the form. It would have made a terrific short story. As a novel, it runs on at least 200 hundred pages longer than it should.
Dorman T. Shindler, a freelancer from Missouri, is a regular contributor to Amazing Stories, Better Homes & Gardens and Publishers Weekly.
