E.L. Doctorow
This novel is truly that in the most basic sense of the word: its mode of storytelling feels new and vigorous while retaining enough of the classical mode to hold readers' attention and interest. Ragtime is a fast paced and ever-moving story of a country and a world moving through a period of rapid change and to have its story told through a conventional narrative structure would diminish its power. Initially I was put off by its lack of concrete characters or sensible, tangible plot points; by reading the book, however, I was drawn further and further into its tangled web and the swift current of its portrait of America between 1900 and World War I. Doctorow reveals himself to be an immensely skilled author, able not only to deliver a well-paced and continually interesting postmodern look at our not-so-distant past but also to realize when it is proper to take a step back and allow the reader to get their bearings. It would be easy to be swept away entirely in the constant flood of information that distinguishes and characterizes this novel, but Doctorow nimbly links his stories, his real-life and imagined characters and situations, and creates a story that draws its readers effortlessly into the tune of a different era.
Readers may be at first concerned about the fluidity of plots and hasty character sketches; the use of historical figures such as Emma Goldman and Harry Houdini does, at times, seem like a gimmicky way to give the novel a kind of credibility. What the novel does, however, is draw a large and complex portrait of its setting at its outset, gradually narrowing its focus and refining its plot. At the end of each section, the plot has moved considerably closer to the familiarly-named family that holds the book together. Though its narrator is never revealed and often moves from almost first person (referring to said family as "Father", "Mother," and the like) to an over-arching third person in the span of a sentence or two, the story feels familiar and intimate. Its spell is only broken in its fourth section, where it is revealed that portions of Houdini's story are, for example, drawn from his personal papers. Thematically, however, this drastic break from the book's reverie is particularly poignant as the plot moves into the times of Woodrow Wilson and the impending shellacking that World War I will give to the early century's semblance of 1800s normalcy. The over-arching plot of the novel, intertwined successfully with a multitude of side-plots that reflect the diversity of their New York settings during the period, zeroes in unexpectedly on a subtle yet vibrant discussion of the institutional racism that consistently mars America's record as a bastion of justice and democracy. This topic, however, is handled with remarkable care and calm and presented ironically- and, miraculously, without overt comment- alongside an immigrant success story that somehow only seems stereotypical in retrospect.
Ragtime is a novel that must, as its epigraph suggests, be read slowly and preferably in as few sittings as possible. It succeeds only when the reader allows it to throw them headfirst into its incredibly realistic and richly detailed world, the realism of which is accomplished through masterful use of simple, direct sentences and through a surprisingly effective lack of quotation marks. This novel is a beautiful presentation of the thunderous cachophony that hides beneath our conceptions of the early 20th century. Doctorow manages to take relatively straightforward, time-tested narratives of the maligned but dignified minority, the immigrant working their way up from the Lower East Side tenements, and the WASP-turned-revolutionary and weave them together in a way that is unapologetically realistic and utterly compelling. It is only evident afterward that the plot itself of Ragtime relies on stereotypical reconstructions of its era; this itself is even forgivable given what Doctorow adds to these stories to make them personal and to make them come alive in his chosen and perfectly rendered era. New York itself is the true main character of Ragtime, in which all its other figures operate and with which they interact, and which comes splendidly alive in this unique and compelling book. Ragtime will hook you in without your knowledge and is an invariably exciting portrait of America just after the turn of the last century.
Grade: A
Readers may be at first concerned about the fluidity of plots and hasty character sketches; the use of historical figures such as Emma Goldman and Harry Houdini does, at times, seem like a gimmicky way to give the novel a kind of credibility. What the novel does, however, is draw a large and complex portrait of its setting at its outset, gradually narrowing its focus and refining its plot. At the end of each section, the plot has moved considerably closer to the familiarly-named family that holds the book together. Though its narrator is never revealed and often moves from almost first person (referring to said family as "Father", "Mother," and the like) to an over-arching third person in the span of a sentence or two, the story feels familiar and intimate. Its spell is only broken in its fourth section, where it is revealed that portions of Houdini's story are, for example, drawn from his personal papers. Thematically, however, this drastic break from the book's reverie is particularly poignant as the plot moves into the times of Woodrow Wilson and the impending shellacking that World War I will give to the early century's semblance of 1800s normalcy. The over-arching plot of the novel, intertwined successfully with a multitude of side-plots that reflect the diversity of their New York settings during the period, zeroes in unexpectedly on a subtle yet vibrant discussion of the institutional racism that consistently mars America's record as a bastion of justice and democracy. This topic, however, is handled with remarkable care and calm and presented ironically- and, miraculously, without overt comment- alongside an immigrant success story that somehow only seems stereotypical in retrospect.
Ragtime is a novel that must, as its epigraph suggests, be read slowly and preferably in as few sittings as possible. It succeeds only when the reader allows it to throw them headfirst into its incredibly realistic and richly detailed world, the realism of which is accomplished through masterful use of simple, direct sentences and through a surprisingly effective lack of quotation marks. This novel is a beautiful presentation of the thunderous cachophony that hides beneath our conceptions of the early 20th century. Doctorow manages to take relatively straightforward, time-tested narratives of the maligned but dignified minority, the immigrant working their way up from the Lower East Side tenements, and the WASP-turned-revolutionary and weave them together in a way that is unapologetically realistic and utterly compelling. It is only evident afterward that the plot itself of Ragtime relies on stereotypical reconstructions of its era; this itself is even forgivable given what Doctorow adds to these stories to make them personal and to make them come alive in his chosen and perfectly rendered era. New York itself is the true main character of Ragtime, in which all its other figures operate and with which they interact, and which comes splendidly alive in this unique and compelling book. Ragtime will hook you in without your knowledge and is an invariably exciting portrait of America just after the turn of the last century.
Grade: A
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