This book is really 4 versions of the same story with 4 different narrators telling it, and in the end, the reader must decide whose story to trust.
It begins in NY in the roaring 20’s with a novel titled Bonds about Benjamin Rask, a Wall Street tycoon who made millions in the market and may have been responsible for the 1929 crash. So part 1 is a novel within the novel.
Part 2 is a memoir, written by Andrew Bevel, the Wall Street tycoon on whom Benjamin Rask’s character is based. Bevel wants to “set the record straight” and clear his reputation that the novel Bonds trashed. To write this memoir, he hires an Italian immigrant, Ida Partenza, as a ghost writer.
Part 3 is her story about writing his (Bevel’s) story, trying to figure out who he really is. This part shifts back and forth in time, from the late 30s when Ida first starts working with Bevel to the 80s when she visits his home that has recently been turned into a museum.
And part 4 takes place when Ida discovers–in the 80s–the words of Bevel’s wife, Mildred, who offers yet another version (through her journal) of this same story, upending much of what we know–or might know–thus far.
It’s sort of a strange book, but unique and well executed. More than anything else, it calls into question whose story we believe. Though I didn’t see this in other reviews (yet), I can’t help but wonder if the author wants us to think about how it relates to modern day and whose truth we believe, especially in this age of misinformation. Though the bulk of this story takes place in the 1920s, the central themes of money, power, control, manipulation, narcissism, and silencing of women have changed little, especially for the Benjamin Rask/Andrew Bevels of the world who simply have new names today. But they’re still out there wielding their control and hoping we believe their version of the story–the one that makes them look good.
This Pulitzer Prize winner is one I recommend–as long as you go in knowing it’s not a traditional novel, but rather a story of competing perspectives.
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Ah, glad you’d seen it! I’m with you 100% on the last part – AI tools definitely have their uses in more mundane tasks, but creative writing seems like the antithesis of AI. You can’t type “Hey ChatGPT, write me a story about an old man trying to catch a fish” and expect to be the next Hemingway.
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It does sound very contemporary in its themes, even though it’s set mostly in the 1920s. That concept of truth and who to believe is central to our time, as are those other themes you mentioned. I’m fascinated by the idea of competing versions of the same story. Sounds a bit like a novel-length version of Rashomon. Did it feel at all repetitive to be going over the same ground again from different angles, or did each section feel fresh?
By the way, it’s not really connected to Trust, but I came across this article the other day and thought you might be interested given a previous comment you left on my blog about AI and education: https://www.insidehighered.com/opinion/views/2024/11/12/burn-it-down-license-ai-resistance-opinion
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Ha ha. I read pretty much everything posted in the FB group Higher Ed Discussion of AI Writing and Use, and on the group someone posted the burn it down article from Insidehighered, which I read and loved and forwarded to our curriculum director and AI committee chair. So many people are are all about jumping on board AI writing. I’m not one of them. I’m cautious and resistent, though I’ve also brought AI into some projects. It’s a conundrum as a writing teacher. I’m not opposed to tools, but I’m opposed to offloading one’s thinking, organizing, and voicing to a robot.
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