Oh, Play That Thing!
Roddy Doyle
This book, the follow-up to A Star Called Henry and midpoint of Doyle's The Last Roundup trilogy, makes a worthy companion to its predecessor even if it lacks the same sense of verve that so successfully drives the preceding novel. Here, we see Henry on the run from, well, almost everyone, caught up in the glamour and glitz of Jazz Age New York and Chicago. It is interesting to see Henry outside of his homeland, and though he remains resourceful some of his youthful irreverence has faded into more sober reflection. The narrative here is packed with winks and hints, to varying success- at times, Henry's implication of outcomes has an emotional effect, drawing the reader into Henry's own "what if" mindset; at others, readers may just want to get on with the story. This effect, then, is slightly overused and is coupled with occasional whirlwind narration that may capture the era well but which nonetheless makes no sense. There are several parts of the novel that must be re-read to glean any sort of meaning, let alone the correct one; this is not a regular enough occurrence to assume that it's supposed to reflect Henry's own uncertainty and it instead falls in perfectly with Doyle's more reflective, self-referential style to varying degrees of success.
That is not to say, however, that the book is particularly onerous or even anything less than an excellent read. Doyle frequently recalls passages from A Star Called Henry, inserting them whole into the current narrative to elaborate and reflect, and also assist the reader's memory. This proves an effective method, used sparingly and illuminating the text as well as Henry's own inner thoughts. Historically, however, this novel also falls a bit short of (admittedly high) expectations set by the first book. Doyle often does powerfully evoke the sights and sounds of the Jazz Age (his descriptions of musical performances are outstanding and worth seeking out), but the plot leaves much to be desired. Following a tendency to simply insert Henry into important historical events, Doyle puts Henry through some believable motions (the immigrant arrival, the Mob, the Dust Bowl) but also launches him into simply outrageous heights of stardom and self-importance. It seems as though the author is stretching the historical record a bit too thin at times, though the centrality of Louis Armstrong does provide an interesting examination of race relations. Too often, Henry is bragging ("I was there!") and, unlike in his previous adventures, the swagger does nothing but raise skepticism and doubt.
This is, however, a book well worth reading for its moments of brilliance. Often, the plot seems to stand still or re-trace familiar steps, but suddenly Armstrong plays his trumpet (Doyle's ability to capture the inner effects of music is simply astounding) or Henry provides unforeseen insights or observations. The book can seem a bit uneven as a result, but the tricky and confusing passages are far from unbearable and it is obvious that Doyle rarely has Henry act without serious deliberation and purpose, clouded though it may be for the reader. Oh, Play That Thing! is an effort to provide a summation of 1920s and 1930s America that, despite a tendency toward the sensational, paints interesting portraits of this compelling (though fading) character and an inescapable era of change, corruption, and pioneering work in the world of music.
Grade: A-
Roddy Doyle
This book, the follow-up to A Star Called Henry and midpoint of Doyle's The Last Roundup trilogy, makes a worthy companion to its predecessor even if it lacks the same sense of verve that so successfully drives the preceding novel. Here, we see Henry on the run from, well, almost everyone, caught up in the glamour and glitz of Jazz Age New York and Chicago. It is interesting to see Henry outside of his homeland, and though he remains resourceful some of his youthful irreverence has faded into more sober reflection. The narrative here is packed with winks and hints, to varying success- at times, Henry's implication of outcomes has an emotional effect, drawing the reader into Henry's own "what if" mindset; at others, readers may just want to get on with the story. This effect, then, is slightly overused and is coupled with occasional whirlwind narration that may capture the era well but which nonetheless makes no sense. There are several parts of the novel that must be re-read to glean any sort of meaning, let alone the correct one; this is not a regular enough occurrence to assume that it's supposed to reflect Henry's own uncertainty and it instead falls in perfectly with Doyle's more reflective, self-referential style to varying degrees of success.
That is not to say, however, that the book is particularly onerous or even anything less than an excellent read. Doyle frequently recalls passages from A Star Called Henry, inserting them whole into the current narrative to elaborate and reflect, and also assist the reader's memory. This proves an effective method, used sparingly and illuminating the text as well as Henry's own inner thoughts. Historically, however, this novel also falls a bit short of (admittedly high) expectations set by the first book. Doyle often does powerfully evoke the sights and sounds of the Jazz Age (his descriptions of musical performances are outstanding and worth seeking out), but the plot leaves much to be desired. Following a tendency to simply insert Henry into important historical events, Doyle puts Henry through some believable motions (the immigrant arrival, the Mob, the Dust Bowl) but also launches him into simply outrageous heights of stardom and self-importance. It seems as though the author is stretching the historical record a bit too thin at times, though the centrality of Louis Armstrong does provide an interesting examination of race relations. Too often, Henry is bragging ("I was there!") and, unlike in his previous adventures, the swagger does nothing but raise skepticism and doubt.
This is, however, a book well worth reading for its moments of brilliance. Often, the plot seems to stand still or re-trace familiar steps, but suddenly Armstrong plays his trumpet (Doyle's ability to capture the inner effects of music is simply astounding) or Henry provides unforeseen insights or observations. The book can seem a bit uneven as a result, but the tricky and confusing passages are far from unbearable and it is obvious that Doyle rarely has Henry act without serious deliberation and purpose, clouded though it may be for the reader. Oh, Play That Thing! is an effort to provide a summation of 1920s and 1930s America that, despite a tendency toward the sensational, paints interesting portraits of this compelling (though fading) character and an inescapable era of change, corruption, and pioneering work in the world of music.
Grade: A-
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