An American story
Richard Russo was already the patron saint of small-town fiction, but with his new novel, "Bridge of Sighs" -- his first since the Pulitzer Prize-winning "Empire Falls" -- he's produced his most American story. Once again he places us in a finely drawn community and with insight and sensitivity he describes ordinary people struggling to get by. But more than ever before, Russo ties this novel to the oldest preoccupations of our national consciousness by focusing on the nature of optimism and the limits of self-invention.
The story takes place over many decades in Thomaston, N.Y., where the tannery slowly laid off and poisoned residents until most have died or moved away. But not nice guy "Lucy" Lynch, who grew up here, never left and is now nearing retirement. He acquired that embarrassing nickname in kindergarten when the teacher called for "Lou C. Lynch." All this and much more is explained in a history he's writing of the town and his life, a project inspired by an upcoming trip to Italy, where he hopes to see an old friend.
"Bridge of Sighs" crosses through many subjects and themes, but the story revolves around Lucy's relationship with his father, the man he adored. Big Lou was a slightly goofy, sentimental man who grew up during the Depression but emerged convinced "that we were living a story whose ending couldn't be anything but happy." Lucy's mother, on the other hand, is a sharp, realistic woman, who finds her husband's unbridled optimism exasperating.
Lucy spends much of the novel negotiating these opposing points of view, aware that he always took his father's side against his mother's deflating realism. This is not a particularly dramatic story -- a racially charged beating provides the only real fireworks -- but Russo's sensitivity to the currents of friendship and family life, the conflicts, anxieties and irritations that mingle with affection and loyalty, make "Bridge of Sighs" a continual flow of revelations.
The most interesting relationship in the novel is Lucy's unlikely friendship with Bobby Marconi, a tough kid who despises his abusive father as much as Lucy adores his own. Their friendship is one-sided, but Lucy is too infatuated to notice, and Bobby is just kind enough to resist telling this nerdy kid to get lost. Even after Bobby and some other ruffians stuff him in a trunk and traumatize him, Lucy remains determined to believe that his friend wasn't involved.
It's peevish to complain about anything in such a lovely, deep-hearted novel, but I couldn't help letting out a few sighs of my own as the plot continued to branch out. There's simply too much here.
Yet, I was continually seduced by Russo's insight and humor. Toward the end, before a trip to Boston, Lucy writes, "We will leave this small, good world behind us with the comfort of knowing it'll be here when we return." One sets down Russo's work with the same comforting reassurance.