Telegraph Avenue—Michael Chabon

From the time he went verbal - two, three years old - Julie had made it a point to appear before the bench with his arguments scrubbed and tidied. Business plan all formatted and punctuated. Scheming, deep scheming, but letting you see that he was scheming, that your consciousness of his machination was a part, maybe the key element of his scheme. (118)

Michael Chabon has been one of my favourite authors ever since I first read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay when I was a sophomore in high school. I recently re-read it in anticipation of sending it along to a friend, and I have to say, it is still one of my favourites, and probably my favourite Chabon.

I recently relocated to the Bay Area, and in preparation for that move, investigated publishing companies that might have openings. As a bibliophile, I have this (admittedly idealized) dream of working in a publishing company, just reading books all day. What could be better? It was through this investigation that I was reminded: Chabon resides in the Bay Area. I rediscovered this information when studying the McSweeney's website. McSweeney's, which publishes a fairly well-known quarterly, has several other projects, one of which is printing nonfiction works with some of their contributors, including Chabon.

Almost accidentally, I had the opportunity to attend a Michael Chabon lecture-interview. Just a few days prior, my new roommate Jessica and I had been discussing our mutual admiration for Chabon. As she found out, he was going to be appearing on the day of his new book release for a conversation with Adam Savage, co-host of Mythbusters, as part of San Francisco's City Arts lectures, and in support of 826 Valencia. I took the BART into the city, and walked leisurely to the Herbst Theatre, newly purchased, hot-off-the-presses, brand new Chabon book in my bag. Sitting outside the theatre, reading my new acquisition, I received several inquiries from fellow Chabon lovers, also attending the event. "Is that the new one?" as though an object above the need of a more descriptive noun. The conversation was interesting, inspiring. It made me want to go home and write. (Not given to Chabon's gift with prose and impressive language, however, I refrained.) Jessica, having recently completed writing her own novel, informed me she now felt a part of the brotherhood of authors; even though there is still much to be done, she could relate to the feeling of elation, the urge toward the end of writing to just be done with your characters, the realization that you didn't really know what you were writing about until you finished.

I managed to read about ten pages of Telegraph Avenue before I entered the theatre for the event that night. I knew that it was going to be a good one when I laughed out loud before the end of the second page. Even before that, I fell in love with the cover, which is a record (the book is about a music store), on both the front and back. The "tracks" of the record indicate sections of the book on the front, and on the back, praise for the book. It's set within the confines of the Oakland-Temescal-Berkeley area, or "Brokeland." As a resident of the area, Chabon related at the lecture, he indulged himself in waxing poetic on his most loved locations and happenings in the area. It's hard to begrudge him the indulgence with such beautiful exposition. This book, as with Kavalier & Clay, was much more exposition than conversation. In this way, Chabon personifies the ideal author for me, utilizing words to paint pictures, rather than lazily having his characters do the work with their dialogue. For me, his books (although modern in their subjects) are a throwback to the Romantic authors. Like Victor Hugo, who wrote pages describing Paris before beginning the story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

The book, while on the surface about a record store in the Brokeland area, at the heart is about relationships. We follow Archy and Nat, and their families, as they try to deal with the new mega-music store which will soon be moving to town and ostensibly put their already struggling record store out of business. Their wives are also partners, in a midwifery business. Typical Chabon, there is also a young man who is struggling with his sexuality, although he struggles less and less as the book goes along. Telegraph Avenue also introduced me more to the new area in which I live. (I actually read Telegraph Avenue as I traveled on a bus down Telegraph Avenue, headed into Berkeley.) Telegraph Avenue is typical, brilliant Chabon.

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