"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

The headmaster's tedium, 13 Jan 2008
Louis Auchincloss has been chronicling the antics of wealthy, perpetually dissatisfied WASPs for longer than my mother has been alive.

But it seems that he's running out of steam in "The Headmaster's Dilemma," a flaccid novella full of flat, interchangeable characters -- including the titular headmaster. Auchincloss's formal prose is still striking, but it's draped around a thin and aimless little plot that never really gets wrapped up.

Michael Sayre is the headmaster of the WASPy prep school, Averhill -- only white Protestant males allowed. But Sayre is pretty clearly (um, yeah) a radical personality, allowing girls and Jews into the school, and allowing his wife to teach a class. Much, I might add, to the chagrin of the devious trustee Donald Spencer, who hates all these changes.

Then a student is raped by another student -- until doubt is cast on whether it was consensual or not. Sayre is left teetering between the shadowy truth and the school's reputation, with Donald ready to pounce. Between the displeased trustees and the victim's bombastic mother, he might be driven out of a job.

Louis Auchincloss has made a career out of old-styled, mid-twentieth-century novels about the wealthy and aristocratic, sort of like a 20th-century Henry James (minus the clever social commentary). "The Headmaster's Dilemma" seems to be Louis Auchincloss's stab at a "modern" novel -- too bad it's a complete disaster as a novel.

The idea of a prep school rape and its possible ramifications is good, and if it were really explored it would be a brilliant one. But Auchincloss just sort of ambles around aimlessly, cramming in character backstory instead of a real plot. And to modernize his distant, formal style, he tries to toss in condoms and raunchy class banter. It's like watching a dignified matron wearing a chartreuse mini.

Worst of all, Auchincloss apparently gets tired of the story about a hundred-fifty pages in. So he whips out a quick fix from his literary hat, slaps it onto the story, and dashes off a brief epilogue. It's one of the sloppiest wrap-ups I've ever seen outside of a Laurell K. Hamilton novel.

The characters don't help matters either. Auchincloss tries hard to make Sayre an edgy, cool, radical (yet kindly) headmaster -- but frankly it's hard to tell him apart from Donald. Despite their opposing views, they're both stuffy, old-fashioned and have the charisma of a dead crab. Only the louche, aging boytoy Elias actually seems like a real person.

"The Headmaster's Dilemma" is one of those novels that seem to have been dashed off during the author's lunch hour. Limp, weak, and wrapped up on a sour note.

"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

The headmaster's tedium, 13 Jan 2008
Louis Auchincloss has been chronicling the antics of wealthy, perpetually dissatisfied WASPs for longer than my mother has been alive.

But it seems that he's running out of steam in "The Headmaster's Dilemma," a flaccid novella full of flat, interchangeable characters -- including the titular headmaster. Auchincloss's formal prose is still striking, but it's draped around a thin and aimless little plot that never really gets wrapped up.

Michael Sayre is the headmaster of the WASPy prep school, Averhill -- only white Protestant males allowed. But Sayre is pretty clearly (um, yeah) a radical personality, allowing girls and Jews into the school, and allowing his wife to teach a class. Much, I might add, to the chagrin of the devious trustee Donald Spencer, who hates all these changes.

Then a student is raped by another student -- until doubt is cast on whether it was consensual or not. Sayre is left teetering between the shadowy truth and the school's reputation, with Donald ready to pounce. Between the displeased trustees and the victim's bombastic mother, he might be driven out of a job.

Louis Auchincloss has made a career out of old-styled, mid-twentieth-century novels about the wealthy and aristocratic, sort of like a 20th-century Henry James (minus the clever social commentary). "The Headmaster's Dilemma" seems to be Louis Auchincloss's stab at a "modern" novel -- too bad it's a complete disaster as a novel.

The idea of a prep school rape and its possible ramifications is good, and if it were really explored it would be a brilliant one. But Auchincloss just sort of ambles around aimlessly, cramming in character backstory instead of a real plot. And to modernize his distant, formal style, he tries to toss in condoms and raunchy class banter. It's like watching a dignified matron wearing a chartreuse mini.

Worst of all, Auchincloss apparently gets tired of the story about a hundred-fifty pages in. So he whips out a quick fix from his literary hat, slaps it onto the story, and dashes off a brief epilogue. It's one of the sloppiest wrap-ups I've ever seen outside of a Laurell K. Hamilton novel.

The characters don't help matters either. Auchincloss tries hard to make Sayre an edgy, cool, radical (yet kindly) headmaster -- but frankly it's hard to tell him apart from Donald. Despite their opposing views, they're both stuffy, old-fashioned and have the charisma of a dead crab. Only the louche, aging boytoy Elias actually seems like a real person.

"The Headmaster's Dilemma" is one of those novels that seem to have been dashed off during the author's lunch hour. Limp, weak, and wrapped up on a sour note.

PENNED WITH GRACE AND PERCEPTION, 08 Aug 2002
One of America's most respected authors, Louis Auchincloss has just given us a gift - his 57th book, Manhattan Monologues. As one expects from this celebrated chronicler of upper-class society, the prose is precise and telling. He reveals rather than explains, writing with grace and perception.

This collection of ten stories opens with "All That May Become A Man," the chronicle of a son who cannot meet the expectations of his daring father, a former Rough Rider who considered Teddy Roosevelt both "god and friend."

Agnes Seward is the heroine and narrator of "The Heiress." By way of explanation we learn that in her day it was accepted "that any ambitious and impecunious young man who elected to enter an unremunerative career......would do well to avail himself of a dowry."

She did have a dowry, albeit a modest one compared to her wealthier relatives. Agnes sometimes wondered if it were not possible to be loved for herself alone rather than the financial stability she might bring to a marriage.

In "Collaboration," a revelation of a couple's differing relationships with the Nazis, our narrator is an only son who finds joy in lonely rambles through the marshland of his family's summer home. It is there that he meets Mr. Slocum, a like-minded gentleman who "...was the first adult who had ever listened to me." Their friendship will deepen throughout the years.

Each story is a mini masterpiece impeccably crafted and imaginatively told.

"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

The headmaster's tedium, 13 Jan 2008
Louis Auchincloss has been chronicling the antics of wealthy, perpetually dissatisfied WASPs for longer than my mother has been alive.

But it seems that he's running out of steam in "The Headmaster's Dilemma," a flaccid novella full of flat, interchangeable characters -- including the titular headmaster. Auchincloss's formal prose is still striking, but it's draped around a thin and aimless little plot that never really gets wrapped up.

Michael Sayre is the headmaster of the WASPy prep school, Averhill -- only white Protestant males allowed. But Sayre is pretty clearly (um, yeah) a radical personality, allowing girls and Jews into the school, and allowing his wife to teach a class. Much, I might add, to the chagrin of the devious trustee Donald Spencer, who hates all these changes.

Then a student is raped by another student -- until doubt is cast on whether it was consensual or not. Sayre is left teetering between the shadowy truth and the school's reputation, with Donald ready to pounce. Between the displeased trustees and the victim's bombastic mother, he might be driven out of a job.

Louis Auchincloss has made a career out of old-styled, mid-twentieth-century novels about the wealthy and aristocratic, sort of like a 20th-century Henry James (minus the clever social commentary). "The Headmaster's Dilemma" seems to be Louis Auchincloss's stab at a "modern" novel -- too bad it's a complete disaster as a novel.

The idea of a prep school rape and its possible ramifications is good, and if it were really explored it would be a brilliant one. But Auchincloss just sort of ambles around aimlessly, cramming in character backstory instead of a real plot. And to modernize his distant, formal style, he tries to toss in condoms and raunchy class banter. It's like watching a dignified matron wearing a chartreuse mini.

Worst of all, Auchincloss apparently gets tired of the story about a hundred-fifty pages in. So he whips out a quick fix from his literary hat, slaps it onto the story, and dashes off a brief epilogue. It's one of the sloppiest wrap-ups I've ever seen outside of a Laurell K. Hamilton novel.

The characters don't help matters either. Auchincloss tries hard to make Sayre an edgy, cool, radical (yet kindly) headmaster -- but frankly it's hard to tell him apart from Donald. Despite their opposing views, they're both stuffy, old-fashioned and have the charisma of a dead crab. Only the louche, aging boytoy Elias actually seems like a real person.

"The Headmaster's Dilemma" is one of those novels that seem to have been dashed off during the author's lunch hour. Limp, weak, and wrapped up on a sour note.

PENNED WITH GRACE AND PERCEPTION, 08 Aug 2002
One of America's most respected authors, Louis Auchincloss has just given us a gift - his 57th book, Manhattan Monologues. As one expects from this celebrated chronicler of upper-class society, the prose is precise and telling. He reveals rather than explains, writing with grace and perception.

This collection of ten stories opens with "All That May Become A Man," the chronicle of a son who cannot meet the expectations of his daring father, a former Rough Rider who considered Teddy Roosevelt both "god and friend."

Agnes Seward is the heroine and narrator of "The Heiress." By way of explanation we learn that in her day it was accepted "that any ambitious and impecunious young man who elected to enter an unremunerative career......would do well to avail himself of a dowry."

She did have a dowry, albeit a modest one compared to her wealthier relatives. Agnes sometimes wondered if it were not possible to be loved for herself alone rather than the financial stability she might bring to a marriage.

In "Collaboration," a revelation of a couple's differing relationships with the Nazis, our narrator is an only son who finds joy in lonely rambles through the marshland of his family's summer home. It is there that he meets Mr. Slocum, a like-minded gentleman who "...was the first adult who had ever listened to me." Their friendship will deepen throughout the years.

Each story is a mini masterpiece impeccably crafted and imaginatively told.

"What can you gain by looking down? You might even drop.", 23 Oct 2003
Loosely paralleling Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, with its themes of love and betrayal, honor and adultery, this novel of manners is also a morality tale in which Auchincloss shines the spotlight on a prestigious New York law firm in 1953, along with its internal workings and the elite families which run it. With a smoothly elegant style, he traces the history of the law firm of Vollard, Kaye, and Duer, meticulously recreating the pedigrees and family connections of his characters--who is married to whom, which families have merged through which marriages, and whose fortunes are rising and whose are falling. As the marriages of the principals of Vollard Kaye are negotiated, consummated, and/or dissolved, the reader is brought into living rooms and board rooms to watch as the characters wrestle with their overlapping family responsibilities and business obligations, and to observe them dealing with important issues: What, exactly, is justice, and on what inalienable truths, if any, does it rest? Does the concept of right change as times change?

Auchincloss's style is refined and formal, with sentences which never lose their way, even when the sentence structure itself is convoluted. Old-fashioned in his approach to his characters, Auchincloss conveys the impression that he does not want to invade their privacy by showing them in their weakest moments. His is a buttoned-up sort of characterization, one which is appropriate to a novel in which ideas are more important than the uniquenesses of character. As a result, the characters are somewhat wooden--illustrative of traits, rather then real, breathing humans--and their actions are sometimes hard to fathom. He has a tendency to announce, rather than show through the characters' actions, the ideas he wants to convey.

Auchincloss is a confident and practiced story-teller, however, with a clear belief that fiction is capable of conveying ideas at the same time that it is entertaining. His themes are clearly illustrated, and his characters, with their foibles and worries, share many of the same concerns as the rest of us, despite their elevated social status. Though the ending is a bit melodramatic, the story is intelligent and fun to read—a fascinating reflection of life and mores of just fifty years ago.

"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

The headmaster's tedium, 13 Jan 2008
Louis Auchincloss has been chronicling the antics of wealthy, perpetually dissatisfied WASPs for longer than my mother has been alive.

But it seems that he's running out of steam in "The Headmaster's Dilemma," a flaccid novella full of flat, interchangeable characters -- including the titular headmaster. Auchincloss's formal prose is still striking, but it's draped around a thin and aimless little plot that never really gets wrapped up.

Michael Sayre is the headmaster of the WASPy prep school, Averhill -- only white Protestant males allowed. But Sayre is pretty clearly (um, yeah) a radical personality, allowing girls and Jews into the school, and allowing his wife to teach a class. Much, I might add, to the chagrin of the devious trustee Donald Spencer, who hates all these changes.

Then a student is raped by another student -- until doubt is cast on whether it was consensual or not. Sayre is left teetering between the shadowy truth and the school's reputation, with Donald ready to pounce. Between the displeased trustees and the victim's bombastic mother, he might be driven out of a job.

Louis Auchincloss has made a career out of old-styled, mid-twentieth-century novels about the wealthy and aristocratic, sort of like a 20th-century Henry James (minus the clever social commentary). "The Headmaster's Dilemma" seems to be Louis Auchincloss's stab at a "modern" novel -- too bad it's a complete disaster as a novel.

The idea of a prep school rape and its possible ramifications is good, and if it were really explored it would be a brilliant one. But Auchincloss just sort of ambles around aimlessly, cramming in character backstory instead of a real plot. And to modernize his distant, formal style, he tries to toss in condoms and raunchy class banter. It's like watching a dignified matron wearing a chartreuse mini.

Worst of all, Auchincloss apparently gets tired of the story about a hundred-fifty pages in. So he whips out a quick fix from his literary hat, slaps it onto the story, and dashes off a brief epilogue. It's one of the sloppiest wrap-ups I've ever seen outside of a Laurell K. Hamilton novel.

The characters don't help matters either. Auchincloss tries hard to make Sayre an edgy, cool, radical (yet kindly) headmaster -- but frankly it's hard to tell him apart from Donald. Despite their opposing views, they're both stuffy, old-fashioned and have the charisma of a dead crab. Only the louche, aging boytoy Elias actually seems like a real person.

"The Headmaster's Dilemma" is one of those novels that seem to have been dashed off during the author's lunch hour. Limp, weak, and wrapped up on a sour note.

PENNED WITH GRACE AND PERCEPTION, 08 Aug 2002
One of America's most respected authors, Louis Auchincloss has just given us a gift - his 57th book, Manhattan Monologues. As one expects from this celebrated chronicler of upper-class society, the prose is precise and telling. He reveals rather than explains, writing with grace and perception.

This collection of ten stories opens with "All That May Become A Man," the chronicle of a son who cannot meet the expectations of his daring father, a former Rough Rider who considered Teddy Roosevelt both "god and friend."

Agnes Seward is the heroine and narrator of "The Heiress." By way of explanation we learn that in her day it was accepted "that any ambitious and impecunious young man who elected to enter an unremunerative career......would do well to avail himself of a dowry."

She did have a dowry, albeit a modest one compared to her wealthier relatives. Agnes sometimes wondered if it were not possible to be loved for herself alone rather than the financial stability she might bring to a marriage.

In "Collaboration," a revelation of a couple's differing relationships with the Nazis, our narrator is an only son who finds joy in lonely rambles through the marshland of his family's summer home. It is there that he meets Mr. Slocum, a like-minded gentleman who "...was the first adult who had ever listened to me." Their friendship will deepen throughout the years.

Each story is a mini masterpiece impeccably crafted and imaginatively told.

"What can you gain by looking down? You might even drop.", 23 Oct 2003
Loosely paralleling Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, with its themes of love and betrayal, honor and adultery, this novel of manners is also a morality tale in which Auchincloss shines the spotlight on a prestigious New York law firm in 1953, along with its internal workings and the elite families which run it. With a smoothly elegant style, he traces the history of the law firm of Vollard, Kaye, and Duer, meticulously recreating the pedigrees and family connections of his characters--who is married to whom, which families have merged through which marriages, and whose fortunes are rising and whose are falling. As the marriages of the principals of Vollard Kaye are negotiated, consummated, and/or dissolved, the reader is brought into living rooms and board rooms to watch as the characters wrestle with their overlapping family responsibilities and business obligations, and to observe them dealing with important issues: What, exactly, is justice, and on what inalienable truths, if any, does it rest? Does the concept of right change as times change?

Auchincloss's style is refined and formal, with sentences which never lose their way, even when the sentence structure itself is convoluted. Old-fashioned in his approach to his characters, Auchincloss conveys the impression that he does not want to invade their privacy by showing them in their weakest moments. His is a buttoned-up sort of characterization, one which is appropriate to a novel in which ideas are more important than the uniquenesses of character. As a result, the characters are somewhat wooden--illustrative of traits, rather then real, breathing humans--and their actions are sometimes hard to fathom. He has a tendency to announce, rather than show through the characters' actions, the ideas he wants to convey.

Auchincloss is a confident and practiced story-teller, however, with a clear belief that fiction is capable of conveying ideas at the same time that it is entertaining. His themes are clearly illustrated, and his characters, with their foibles and worries, share many of the same concerns as the rest of us, despite their elevated social status. Though the ending is a bit melodramatic, the story is intelligent and fun to read—a fascinating reflection of life and mores of just fifty years ago.

19th century satire with modern relevance, 21 Sep 2006
I am sure that most people who read this book will do so because they are studying 19th century American fiction. But I would also recommend this to others for three reasons.Firstly, and most importantly for a satire, this is actually quite a funny novel. Secondly, the targets of its satire are diverse and still relevant today: class and status, the price to be paid both by society and individuals for economic progress, the value systems of capitalism.

Thirdly, it is a worked example of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs for anyone in need of one(MBA students?).

As an added bonus a crucial plot twist is concerned with cost accounting - and how many novels can boast that?

"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

The headmaster's tedium, 13 Jan 2008
Louis Auchincloss has been chronicling the antics of wealthy, perpetually dissatisfied WASPs for longer than my mother has been alive.

But it seems that he's running out of steam in "The Headmaster's Dilemma," a flaccid novella full of flat, interchangeable characters -- including the titular headmaster. Auchincloss's formal prose is still striking, but it's draped around a thin and aimless little plot that never really gets wrapped up.

Michael Sayre is the headmaster of the WASPy prep school, Averhill -- only white Protestant males allowed. But Sayre is pretty clearly (um, yeah) a radical personality, allowing girls and Jews into the school, and allowing his wife to teach a class. Much, I might add, to the chagrin of the devious trustee Donald Spencer, who hates all these changes.

Then a student is raped by another student -- until doubt is cast on whether it was consensual or not. Sayre is left teetering between the shadowy truth and the school's reputation, with Donald ready to pounce. Between the displeased trustees and the victim's bombastic mother, he might be driven out of a job.

Louis Auchincloss has made a career out of old-styled, mid-twentieth-century novels about the wealthy and aristocratic, sort of like a 20th-century Henry James (minus the clever social commentary). "The Headmaster's Dilemma" seems to be Louis Auchincloss's stab at a "modern" novel -- too bad it's a complete disaster as a novel.

The idea of a prep school rape and its possible ramifications is good, and if it were really explored it would be a brilliant one. But Auchincloss just sort of ambles around aimlessly, cramming in character backstory instead of a real plot. And to modernize his distant, formal style, he tries to toss in condoms and raunchy class banter. It's like watching a dignified matron wearing a chartreuse mini.

Worst of all, Auchincloss apparently gets tired of the story about a hundred-fifty pages in. So he whips out a quick fix from his literary hat, slaps it onto the story, and dashes off a brief epilogue. It's one of the sloppiest wrap-ups I've ever seen outside of a Laurell K. Hamilton novel.

The characters don't help matters either. Auchincloss tries hard to make Sayre an edgy, cool, radical (yet kindly) headmaster -- but frankly it's hard to tell him apart from Donald. Despite their opposing views, they're both stuffy, old-fashioned and have the charisma of a dead crab. Only the louche, aging boytoy Elias actually seems like a real person.

"The Headmaster's Dilemma" is one of those novels that seem to have been dashed off during the author's lunch hour. Limp, weak, and wrapped up on a sour note.

PENNED WITH GRACE AND PERCEPTION, 08 Aug 2002
One of America's most respected authors, Louis Auchincloss has just given us a gift - his 57th book, Manhattan Monologues. As one expects from this celebrated chronicler of upper-class society, the prose is precise and telling. He reveals rather than explains, writing with grace and perception.

This collection of ten stories opens with "All That May Become A Man," the chronicle of a son who cannot meet the expectations of his daring father, a former Rough Rider who considered Teddy Roosevelt both "god and friend."

Agnes Seward is the heroine and narrator of "The Heiress." By way of explanation we learn that in her day it was accepted "that any ambitious and impecunious young man who elected to enter an unremunerative career......would do well to avail himself of a dowry."

She did have a dowry, albeit a modest one compared to her wealthier relatives. Agnes sometimes wondered if it were not possible to be loved for herself alone rather than the financial stability she might bring to a marriage.

In "Collaboration," a revelation of a couple's differing relationships with the Nazis, our narrator is an only son who finds joy in lonely rambles through the marshland of his family's summer home. It is there that he meets Mr. Slocum, a like-minded gentleman who "...was the first adult who had ever listened to me." Their friendship will deepen throughout the years.

Each story is a mini masterpiece impeccably crafted and imaginatively told.

"What can you gain by looking down? You might even drop.", 23 Oct 2003
Loosely paralleling Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, with its themes of love and betrayal, honor and adultery, this novel of manners is also a morality tale in which Auchincloss shines the spotlight on a prestigious New York law firm in 1953, along with its internal workings and the elite families which run it. With a smoothly elegant style, he traces the history of the law firm of Vollard, Kaye, and Duer, meticulously recreating the pedigrees and family connections of his characters--who is married to whom, which families have merged through which marriages, and whose fortunes are rising and whose are falling. As the marriages of the principals of Vollard Kaye are negotiated, consummated, and/or dissolved, the reader is brought into living rooms and board rooms to watch as the characters wrestle with their overlapping family responsibilities and business obligations, and to observe them dealing with important issues: What, exactly, is justice, and on what inalienable truths, if any, does it rest? Does the concept of right change as times change?

Auchincloss's style is refined and formal, with sentences which never lose their way, even when the sentence structure itself is convoluted. Old-fashioned in his approach to his characters, Auchincloss conveys the impression that he does not want to invade their privacy by showing them in their weakest moments. His is a buttoned-up sort of characterization, one which is appropriate to a novel in which ideas are more important than the uniquenesses of character. As a result, the characters are somewhat wooden--illustrative of traits, rather then real, breathing humans--and their actions are sometimes hard to fathom. He has a tendency to announce, rather than show through the characters' actions, the ideas he wants to convey.

Auchincloss is a confident and practiced story-teller, however, with a clear belief that fiction is capable of conveying ideas at the same time that it is entertaining. His themes are clearly illustrated, and his characters, with their foibles and worries, share many of the same concerns as the rest of us, despite their elevated social status. Though the ending is a bit melodramatic, the story is intelligent and fun to read—a fascinating reflection of life and mores of just fifty years ago.

19th century satire with modern relevance, 21 Sep 2006
I am sure that most people who read this book will do so because they are studying 19th century American fiction. But I would also recommend this to others for three reasons.Firstly, and most importantly for a satire, this is actually quite a funny novel. Secondly, the targets of its satire are diverse and still relevant today: class and status, the price to be paid both by society and individuals for economic progress, the value systems of capitalism.

Thirdly, it is a worked example of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs for anyone in need of one(MBA students?).

As an added bonus a crucial plot twist is concerned with cost accounting - and how many novels can boast that?

Hardly a Classic, 03 Feb 1997
This is a little book in more ways than one: its ninety small pages of 12-point type (with very generous leading) contain 14 essays. Each addresses political aspects of heroism in a tragedy by one of the two great French classical playwrights, though Auchincloss does not (and, given the material) cannot strive for balance: Corneille dominates Racine 7:1. At least a third to a half of each essay consists of quotation (and plain prose translation) of key extracts; the rest is plot summary, "common-sense" character analysis, and rapid thematic interpretation. Inaccuracies turn up now and again in the résumés and portraits, while the "readings" are seldom more than potted commentary, echoes of French school editions and baccalauréat manuals. In short, a disappointing performance by one of our premier fiction writers and judges of writing. David Lee Rubin, French Department, University of Virginia

"The Carnochans seemed dedicated to their own permanence.", 10 Dec 2004
In his fifty-ninth novel in fifty-seven years, Louis Auchincloss continues his thematic focus on the socially prominent families of New York and how they achieved their status. Beginning with David Carnochan, an immigrant from Scotland, a "good burgher with a sharp eye for a deal," and "a granite pillar of respectability," Auchincloss traces the family through ten characters belonging to four generations, as they successively increase their fortunes and cement their places in the highest echelons of New York society.

The family's pragmatism is shown when Douglas Carnochan purchases a substitute during the Civil War, while his abolitionist brother Andrew fights. Douglas's wife Eliza imposes "standards in manners and morals" on the family, and son Bruce shows how marriages are negotiated when the family's fortunes begin to fail. The reader observes the vulnerability of the family's most idealistic members, as pressure is exerted on them to remember the interests of the family and its businesses as a whole and to ignore the sometimes unethical behavior of relatives.

Even the family's penchant for attending the same elite schools is put under the microscope, as is the tendency to keep the wealth in the family by intermarrying with distant cousins. Showing that the family's contribution "to any occupation that involved giving out rather than taking in, was minimal," Auchincloss also shows that they are sometimes to be pitied because of their limited outlooks and lack of connection to the outside (real) world.

The novel resembles a series of interconnected short stories focusing on separate individuals, each personality being obvious through Auchincloss's effective changes in tone and conversational styles as the chapters change. While the characters may not be fully rounded, they are individualized enough that the reader will remember them, as each character reveals at least one important characteristic of the family as a whole. The novel is a fascinating sociological study which shows Auchincloss's own closeness to the social milieu that he observes--honest, straightforward, and without a shred of satire.

The headmaster's tedium, 13 Jan 2008
Louis Auchincloss has been chronicling the antics of wealthy, perpetually dissatisfied WASPs for longer than my mother has been alive.

But it seems that he's running out of steam in "The Headmaster's Dilemma," a flaccid novella full of flat, interchangeable characters -- including the titular headmaster. Auchincloss's formal prose is still striking, but it's draped around a thin and aimless little plot that never really gets wrapped up.

Michael Sayre is the headmaster of the WASPy prep school, Averhill -- only white Protestant males allowed. But Sayre is pretty clearly (um, yeah) a radical personality, allowing girls and Jews into the school, and allowing his wife to teach a class. Much, I might add, to the chagrin of the devious trustee Donald Spencer, who hates all these changes.

Then a student is raped by another student -- until doubt is cast on whether it was consensual or not. Sayre is left teetering between the shadowy truth and the school's reputation, with Donald ready to pounce. Between the displeased trustees and the victim's bombastic mother, he might be driven out of a job.

Louis Auchincloss has made a career out of old-styled, mid-twentieth-century novels about the wealthy and aristocratic, sort of like a 20th-century Henry James (minus the clever social commentary). "The Headmaster's Dilemma" seems to be Louis Auchincloss's stab at a "modern" novel -- too bad it's a complete disaster as a novel.

The idea of a prep school rape and its possible ramifications is good, and if it were really explored it would be a brilliant one. But Auchincloss just sort of ambles around aimlessly, cramming in character backstory instead of a real plot. And to modernize his distant, formal style, he tries to toss in condoms and raunchy class banter. It's like watching a dignified matron wearing a chartreuse mini.

Worst of all, Auchincloss apparently gets tired of the story about a hundred-fifty pages in. So he whips out a quick fix from his literary hat, slaps it onto the story, and dashes off a brief epilogue. It's one of the sloppiest wrap-ups I've ever seen outside of a Laurell K. Hamilton novel.

The characters don't help matters either. Auchincloss tries hard to make Sayre an edgy, cool, radical (yet kindly) headmaster -- but frankly it's hard to tell him apart from Donald. Despite their opposing views, they're both stuffy, old-fashioned and have the charisma of a dead crab. Only the louche, aging boytoy Elias actually seems like a real person.

"The Headmaster's Dilemma" is one of those novels that seem to have been dashed off during the author's lunch hour. Limp, weak, and wrapped up on a sour note.

PENNED WITH GRACE AND PERCEPTION, 08 Aug 2002
One of America's most respected authors, Louis Auchincloss has just given us a gift - his 57th book, Manhattan Monologues. As one expects from this celebrated chronicler of upper-class society, the prose is precise and telling. He reveals rather than explains, writing with grace and perception.

This collection of ten stories opens with "All That May Become A Man," the chronicle of a son who cannot meet the expectations of his daring father, a former Rough Rider who considered Teddy Roosevelt both "god and friend."

Agnes Seward is the heroine and narrator of "The Heiress." By way of explanation we learn that in her day it was accepted "that any ambitious and impecunious young man who elected to enter an unremunerative career......would do well to avail himself of a dowry."

She did have a dowry, albeit a modest one compared to her wealthier relatives. Agnes sometimes wondered if it were not possible to be loved for herself alone rather than the financial stability she might bring to a marriage.

In "Collaboration," a revelation of a couple's differing relationships with the Nazis, our narrator is an only son who finds joy in lonely rambles through the marshland of his family's summer home. It is there that he meets Mr. Slocum, a like-minded gentleman who "...was the first adult who had ever listened to me." Their friendship will deepen throughout the years.

Each story is a mini masterpiece impeccably crafted and imaginatively told.

"What can you gain by looking down? You might even drop.", 23 Oct 2003
Loosely paralleling Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter, with its themes of love and betrayal, honor and adultery, this novel of manners is also a morality tale in which Auchincloss shines the spotlight on a prestigious New York law firm in 1953, along with its internal workings and the elite families which run it. With a smoothly elegant style, he traces the history of the law firm of Vollard, Kaye, and Duer, meticulously recreating the pedigrees and family connections of his characters--who is married to whom, which families have merged through which marriages, and whose fortunes are rising and whose are falling. As the marriages of the principals of Vollard Kaye are negotiated, consummated, and/or dissolved, the reader is brought into living rooms and board rooms to watch as the characters wrestle with their overlapping family responsibilities and business obligations, and to observe them dealing with important issues: What, exactly, is justice, and on what inalienable truths, if any, does it rest? Does the concept of right change as times change?

Auchincloss's style is refined and formal, with sentences which never lose their way, even when the sentence structure itself is convoluted. Old-fashioned in his approach to his characters, Auchincloss conveys the impression that he does not want to invade their privacy by showing them in their weakest moments. His is a buttoned-up sort of characterization, one which is appropriate to a novel in which ideas are more important than the uniquenesses of character. As a result, the characters are somewhat wooden--illustrative of traits, rather then real, breathing humans--and their actions are sometimes hard to fathom. He has a tendency to announce, rather than show through the characters' actions, the ideas he wants to convey.

Auchincloss is a confident and practiced story-teller, however, with a clear belief that fiction is capable of conveying ideas at the same time that it is entertaining. His themes are clearly illustrated, and his characters, with their foibles and worries, share many of the same concerns as the rest of us, despite their elevated social status. Though the ending is a bit melodramatic, the story is intelligent and fun to read—a fascinating reflection of life and mores of just fifty years ago.

19th century satire with modern relevance, 21 Sep 2006
I am sure that most people who read this book will do so because they are studying 19th century American fiction. But I would also recommend this to others for three reasons.Firstly, and most importantly for a satire, this is actually quite a funny novel. Secondly, the targets of its satire are diverse and still relevant today: class and status, the price to be paid both by society and individuals for economic progress, the value systems of capitalism.

Thirdly, it is a worked example of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs for anyone in need of one(MBA students?).

As an added bonus a crucial plot twist is concerned with cost accounting - and how many novels can boast that?

Hardly a Classic, 03 Feb 1997
This is a little book in more ways than one: its ninety small pages of 12-point type (with very generous leading) contain 14 essays. Each addresses political aspects of heroism in a tragedy by one of the two great French classical playwrights, though Auchincloss does not (and, given the material) cannot strive for balance: Corneille dominates Racine 7:1. At least a third to a half of each essay consists of quotation (and plain prose translation) of key extracts; the rest is plot summary, "common-sense" character analysis, and rapid thematic interpretation. Inaccuracies turn up now and again in the résumés and portraits, while the "readings" are seldom more than potted commentary, echoes of French school editions and baccalauréat manuals. In short, a disappointing performance by one of our premier fiction writers and judges of writing. David Lee Rubin, French Department, University of Virginia

The Warden, 02 Oct 2008
An indictment of what it is to be good, or to be seen to be good. Plenty of good characters whose motivations are dissected and laid bare by the authors gently mocking voice. A surprisingly modern novel, I loved this and look forward to the next one in the series.

A good old-fashioned story, 07 Jan 2008
I stumbled on Trollope's novels by sheer coincidence, until very recently he was to me what he apparently is to many: a largely forgotten Victorian novelist (one, however, who seems to be enjoying a well-earned revival lately). I decided to go about things in an orderly manner and start with his Barchester-chronicles of which 'The Warden' is the first novel.

And a delightful novel it is too! Contrary to what we've perhaps come to expect from a present-day 'good' novel nothing much really happens: Mr. Harding, an elderly priest and warden of an almshouse in (the fictional cathedral town) Barchester, suddenly finds himself in the eye of a public storm when a leading newspaper - instigated by his own future son-in-law - claims he is misappropriating funds meant for charity. What follows is the profound soul-searching of Mr. Harding as to whether or not he is guilty of such a fact.

'The Warden' throws you right back into an age with completely different mores and morals, and yet has a relevancy for our current day and age. Mr. Harding is - to our 21st century eyes - so utterly innocent, naive and well-meaning as to seem almost a dinosaur, but on the other hand you cannot help but think that the world would probably be better of if there were a few more Mr. Hardings around.

The writing is delightful, though what happens to Mr. Harding is not, and there is that undefinable something in Trollope's style and handling of the subject that draws you in and keeps you turning pages, sympathizing with Mr. Harding's plight (at least, that's what I felt) and wishing him well.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and will definitely continue with the next novel in the Barchester-chronicles.

No doom and gloom in this Victorian novel., 02 Nov 2004
Although its principal character, Mr Harding, the Warden of Barchester, suffers abject misery and extreme anxiety during most of this novel, the reader of "The Warden" will enjoy one of the happiest, richest and warmest experiences to be gained from the whole of English Literature.

Untypically short, yet three years in the making, "The Warden" has a simple structure that Trollope utlized again and again. Take a moral dilemma of some sort, one that provides endless pros and cons to be argued, one that possibly takes many hundreds of pages to resolve, explore is social, political and financial implications, and show how it touches the lives of characters not too unlike ourselves.

The dilemma here concerns the income of Septimus Harding, the Warden of Barchester. Under the terms of a will, dated 1434, twelve superannuated woolcarders were to be accommodated in an almshouse, receiving one shilling and fourpence per day. A residence was to be provided for a warden who was to receive the income from the remainder of the testator's property. Now, more than 400 years later, there seems to be an imbalance in these depositions. The almshouse inmates continue to receive only one shilling and fourpence, while the warden, living on the proceeds of some valuable properties, receives eight hundred pounds annually and the use of the warden's house.

The dilemma faces a young Barchester surgeon, John Bold. If he allows the imbalance to continue, the wishes of the original benefactor, he believes, are being nullified. If he succeeds in having the warden's comfortable living discontinued, he will lose forever the possibility of making the warden's daughter his wife. And so the issue is taken up, argued and publicized.

As Anthony Trollope reveals in his autobiography, this tiny novel was successful enough (it earned him twenty pounds) to lead him to consider writing more of the same, and he soon began "Barchester Towers".

English actor Sir Nigel Hawthorne, brilliant as Archdeacon Grantly in a memorable TV adaptation of this novel, revisits Trollope's Barchester to provide a robust, opulent, complete and unabridged reading that no Trollope enthusiast should miss hearing.

The Warden - the introductory novel to a great series, 09 Jul 2003
The Warden follows the story of Mr Harding, a cleric who is warden of Hiram's Hospital, a charitable home for twelve men who are no longer able to work. A local man, John Bold, is campaigning against corruption in the Church of England. He challenges the high income that the warden receives from the hospital (as a result of increased profits over the years from the estate which supports it, the hospital has more income than the gentleman who set up the charity ever envisaged). He feels more of the money should go to the twelve men themselves. Mr Harding is a good man caught up in a scandal not of his own making, and wrestles with his conscience, his loyalty to the church, and the defensive stance taken by the Archdeacon, his son-in-law.

The Warden is the first, and certainly not the best book in the Barchester Chronicles series, but it does display Trollope's easy to read style of narration, and the subtle humour that underlies it. The storyline is perhaps a bit slower than in the later books, and some of the interesting characters have yet to appear. The series is written in such a way that you could probably pick up any of the books and enjoy them as a single novel. Having said that, I think you would miss something special if you don't read the whole series. It is the characters that he creates in their own unique setting that makes Trollope's work worth reading, and to follow their development through each book makes the whole series far more satisfying than just one book.

The other books in the series are Barchester Towers, Dr Thorne, Framley Parsonage, The Small House at Allington and the Last Chronicle of Barset.