Bright, Precious Days: A Novel (Vintage Contemporaries)

Jay McInerney’s latest novel, “Bright, Precious Days”, is the third book he has written about Russell and Corrinne Calloway, two college sweethearts from Brown that married and tried to find their way in the literary and social world of New York City. Against the backdrop of the financial crisis, this installment finds them dealing with a number of crises attendant to hitting fifty with a solid but less-than-passionate marriage, professional disappointments and setbacks, and deteriorating personal finances. For a number of reasons, I think many of the reviewers so far have missed some of the beauty of the book. One of McInerney’s greatest gifts is his ability to capture the zeitgeist of a place in time. The place always seems to be New York City – specifically, the New York City of the moneyed and artistic classes. While some reviewers have complained about the references to brand names or other indicia of wealth, I found that they enhanced the realism of the novel and rang true to the milieu of the period. I found his “ear” in this book to be spot-on. Of course, it should be. Mr. McInerney has lived his life among characters just like some of those in the book. I think he has captured their antics, anxieties and aspirations as well as any writer. In recounting Russell and Corinne’s (team “Art and Love”) struggle to try to raise two kids in downtown Manhattan while working in the publishing and the non-profit sectors, respectively, he illustrates just how difficult it has become for the “merely” upper-middle class to survive in a setting dominated by plutocrats (team “Money and Power”). Furthermore, McInerney does a fine job of examining the desperation that can accompany entering into late-middle age. This realization of fading looks and prospects can hit the most attractive people disproportionately hard. Confronted with a sagging face (at least starting to sag!) and a sagging economic situation, Corinne resumes her affair of six years earlier, this time seriously considering making a jump to the wealthy new guy. Unfortunately McInerney does less than I would’ve liked to flesh out the character of Luke, her side piece. With his ADD, generally predictable life story and somewhat ludicrous romantic gestures, he isn’t cast in a particularly positive fashion. [spoiler alert: Of course, she doesn’t leave dear Russell for a one-dimensional cut-out, and I’d find it hard to believe any reader thought she would. Perhaps McInerney intentionally made it this way, but I would’ve liked to have seen a bit more subtlety to this character.] The self-destructive artist characters all seemed out of central casting – perhaps because that’s how they really are in real life. Each comes off as the sensitive/intelligent/artistic/self-destructive drunk/drug addict that we’ve read about or met before. I would’ve preferred a bit more depth to any (or all) of them. Nevertheless, the portrayals of Russell and Corinne are truly nuanced, astute and sensitive. Perhaps the other characters were a bit more sketchy so that we focused our attentions and sympathies on the leading man and woman? I found myself honestly caring about what was going to happen next and how they were going to right the ship. In the end, I thought McInerney did a superb job in illustrating how marriages end up either enduring or blowing up, depending on the raw materials of the individual partners. Overall, I feel that McInerney has done a wonderful job in portraying the world of literary and wealthy New York City in the period surrounding the financial crisis. He has always been and continues to be a sensational storyteller. Readers who are interested in this world or are a part of it, or who simply enjoy a well-told story, will be amply rewarded for taking the time to read this fine new book. It is a worthy addition to his remarkable ouvre. Bravo!

Jay McInerney's latest work of fiction is the third in his "Brightness" trilogy that started with 1992's "Brightness Falls." His second offering of the trilogy, "The Good Life" (2006) was an achingly beautiful work of fiction, set primarily in lower Manhattan in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. While I believed "Good Life" was a spectacular literary achievement (and probably the best work of fiction that framed the zeitgeist of New York in those months and few years after the attack), I was troubled by the flat, ambiguous ending, that had the charity-minded lovers Luke and Corrinne going back to their lives instead of remaining together as romantics united by their devotion to doing good during the turbulent -- what was the point of their affair, it if was just a temporary dalliance? The third book in the series, "Bright, Precious Days" picks up years later, a story that leads up to the great financial crash of 2007 (and secondarily, the election of Barack Obama). BPD differs in structure from "Good Life" in the sense that the Big Event occurs at the end of the former, rather than at the beginning of the latter. While I find McInerney's plots generally a slow burn (I've read every one of his novels), I'm always dazzled by his narrative. As a stylist, the way he puts together a sentence is exquisitely beautiful. It has been said that McInerney viewed himself in the early days of his career as a Fitzgerald, I look at him as more of an Updike of modern-day Manhattan. His powers of observation are among the very best of fiction writers, and it is a joy to read his wordplay, his exceptional way of nailing a character type in three sentences, and the sparkling wit of his dialogue. It's no secret that McInerney is no indifferent bystander chronicling the Zeitgeist. He obviously lives the life of Russell (although Russell is the head of a boutique publishing house, not a novelist), and admires the life of the Wall Streeters he invents, such as Luke McGivock, Corinne's lover. Occasionally, the narrative annoys the reader with its show-offy cataloguing of obscure wines ordered by obscenely wealthy Goldman guys at a private club (about 6 pages), their Upper West Side worldviews that have severe contempt for anyone outside their bubble (especially those from Tennessee like the writer Jack, or anyone in "a rusted out 700-series Volvo with faded GIVE PEACE A CHANCE bumper stickers"). That's a small complaint, though. The high-wire acrobatics of McInerney's prose is awe-inspiring, and he is likely the great stylist of his generation of writers. The book was worth a second reading to truly appreciate the philosophical musings of the author. BPD is, at its core, the story of four couples whose lives are intertwined. Virtually every character has cheated or will be cheating on his/her married partner -- McInerney asks us to contemplate: what does it mean? Much of the story is from 50-year-old Corinne's perspective, who is thrilled by the secret relationship she has with Luke, while knowing she's flirting with disaster on the domestic front. The story has a melancholy soft landing that is evocative, philosophical and life-affirming. It is a fitting conclusion to a trilogy that literally spans three decades in its narrative arc. This is a compelling summer read, and the latest news is that AMAZON STUDIOS will be turning the trilogy into a mini-series. Here's how they describe it: "An unforgettable New York story of glamour, sex, ambition, and heartbreak begins in the heady days before the financial crash. Russell and Corrine Calloway seem to be living the dream. But beneath the glossy surfaces, things are simmering — and the Calloways find themselves tested more severely than they ever could have imagined."

I wish I could rate this more highly since I liked McInerney's previous books about the Calloways. But this one became a slog over time, although there were a few good bits scattered throughout. The more I read, the less I liked it, but I was curious enough to finish it to see if I could figure out the author's intentions ( couldn't). It is easy reading, in the manner of New York Magazine or Vanity Fair -- stuffed with brand names and the exploits of the rich and mildly famous -- but for me, it seemed McInerney (a good writer) was "phoning it in" on this novel, taking the easy and most cliched way through his story of New York, post the financial crash. I searched in vain for signs of satire (Bonfire of the Vanities-style), but found none. The tone and style present Russell and Corrine as serious characters with serious issues -- keeping up with their vastly richer friends while maintaining their commitment to "art and love" over "power and money." Could anything be sillier? Could the characters be any more vapid and pretentious? The whole novel is really about the Calloways seeking power and money while pretending they are above it all (which should work as satire, but oddly did not). That made it impossible to like them, but equally impossible to take them seriously. As a native New Yorker, I didn't see my city in this depiction. The idea of Russell having a fit about living anywhere but Tribeca was hilarious, as was his devotion to trendy food, restaurants and big wines. Nice to have friends with money and power who can bail you out of all tough situations; a paean to the 1% yet again. Ultimately, I have no idea what the author was trying to say or do with this novel, other than put New York on display, along with its least attractive denizens. As noted, the book goes down easy -- like a rich dessert or cream puff -- but the last few bites feel treacly and you wind up sorry you bothered to eat the thing in the first place.

Jay McInerney’s first novel, Bright Lights, Big City, burst onto the book world in 1984. It received mostly the strongest of accolades, while others seemingly felt the need to brush it aside as rather sophomoric. Often viewed as a time piece of New York City in the 1980s, The New Yorker perhaps summed it up best - “(Bright Lights, Big City) relies far less on the timeliness of its material than on the energy of its prose”. With that said, I don’t think one can “see” NYC in that time period without reading Bright Lights and Tom Wolfe’s Bonfire of the Vanities. In the decades that have passed since he was hailed as “the new Fitzgerald” McInerney has shown a proclivity to live in the amped-up world of his fictionalized characters. Perhaps it was this lifestyle, perhaps his early success, or perhaps even a genuine dislike of his (now) eight novels that have seemed to make reviewers revel and either equivocating on whatever his newest novel is or, rather, to simply pan it. I share neither the predisposition nor the distain. Sure, some of his characters are vapid. Many people are vapid. He writes best of New York City; I find no harm in that. He knows it as well as any author I have read. Bright, Precious Days, is an incredible book, the last of his trilogy begun in 1992 with Brightness Falls, followed on in 2006 with Good Behavior. Ten years later we are treated to the last of the three, Bright, Precious Days. Perhaps it is a good time to say goodbye to Russell and Corrine Calloway who we have known from the Crash of 87, thru 9/11, and this final one with the Great Recession of 2008. I will miss them but understand why they must leave us. As with his better received works of Bright Lights, Big City and Last of the Savages, one needn’t look more than every two or three pages to find a gem of a line. Or paragraph. He writes as few other contemporary authors could and, at the same time, reflects nearly perfectly on the society in which he is writing. In speaking of marriage as a binding institution, he writes “and the sadder truth was that possession blunted desire, while the unattainable lover shimmered at the edge of the mind like a brilliant star, festered in the heart like a shard of crystal”. In describing a New York hot summer’s day, “the blasts of heat from the subway grates, the tarry smell of the melting streets like a base note beneath the acrid tang of urban compost, the animal, vegetable, and human waste decomposing and fermenting in the heat, invariably carried him back to his earliest, happiest days here, before they had enough money or vacation days to escape the summer heat, when the city, having been abandoned by the geezers, belonged to them and their kind”. Jay McInerney put out Bright Lights when he was 29. He is now 61. I have grown up with him. I hope he has at least a few novels left in him. I hope we grow old together. He is truly a literary treasure.

I wrote a pretty bad review a few days ago and now am changing it to a way better review. I hadn't finished the book when I wrote my first review and now am way into it. The guy can write! McInerney is the real deal. There is no doubt of his talent, he is amazing. And the book is very good. I think the opening is slow, but hang in there as it gets a lot better. Corinne is the weakest character but I think its hard for guys to really get girls right. Emotionally, I don't buy some of her reactions to her guy suitors, but that's not a deal breaker at all. I love his writing and the book is very smart. Very sophisticated. I am loving it.

Sinclair Lewis once received a letter from a Midwestern woman who wanted to become a writer, who wondered if it was necessary “to come to New York, live in Greenwich Village, get a job in a publishing house.” Was it possible to write only of what she knew, an existence bounded by her town and nearby farms, familiar only with growing up, marrying, mothering, suffering widowhood and poverty, “and longing to do something beyond Main Street”? Lewis commented that any genius who could “fully and passionately” write of such experiences, even set in the Midwest, “could sit down beside Flaubert forever content.” Russell Calloway, one of the main characters in Jay McInerney’s Bright Precious Days, grew up in Michigan loving books, and after his Ivy League undergraduate education and a year at Oxford settled in Manhattan, “the shining island of letters,” determined not to be the next Hemingway or Fitzgerald but the next Max Perkins, one day hoping to serve writers as editor and publisher. His belief that literature still matters carried me through from beginning to end and merits the five stars I’m giving. But it was not an entirely pleasant trip. McInerney salutes a couple of times the fiction of Edith Wharton, arguably the early 20th century’s most eloquent chronicler of New York days, and to whom Sinclair Lewis dedicated his 1922 masterpiece Babbitt. Neither Wharton nor Lewis ever dragged readers as McInerney does through the specifics of so many adulterous liaisons, and even Fitzgerald’s writing is not as alcohol-soaked, never mind the cocaine and heroin. Enough already, I complained but kept reading, since excess in its many varieties is much of what the times before the bubble-bursting of 2008 were all about. In 1936 Lewis identified what he called “the enemies of book-buying”: the movies, the automobile, bridge, “and, most of all, the radio.” Eighty years later, McInerney’s Russell Calloway, head of a small but plucky publishing house, faces on several fronts adversity of much greater magnitude. Bright Precious Days is also a love story, of college sweethearts Russell and Corinne Calloway still together in their early 50s. The lyrics of “September Song,” which include the phrase “precious days,” resonate here, part of what makes this a great book.

I did not realise that this was the third part of a trilogy until I had started reading. Then of course had to go back and get the others! They all read well, even though the first two are a bit historical now - fun to remember those times, in the 80s-90s and 2000s. Good characters and excellent writing,

Mc Inerney is a big of the romance of the American society and here he has important news in his approach for an our reflexion. New York is changed respect 10 years ago, when the 11/9 was happened, Obama had won the elections, many banks were failed. But Russel and Corinne live the usual life, following the world of fashion probably with less success, but with the same hope. The text of the author becomes less obvious in the references, here we can find important events from art and literature. A great writer who knows how to innovate his style and the arguments. A lecture never obvious, which is always able to interest the reader.