Tournament of Books discussion
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Tournament of Favorites
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2023 ToF zombie round A: Hamnet vs. LaRose
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I would have made the same choice, but I adored both of these books, they were my favorites and I’m so grateful to TOF for pushing them in front of me.



We are immensely lucky that Maggie was willing to launch this parallel tournament and that so many of you are willing to share your insights and judgment with all of us - your fellow lovers of contemporary literary fiction.
I like the ToB (in no small part because it introduced me to all of you), and I enjoy this Tournament of Favorites every bit as much -- and then some!

Me, too, Elizabeth! I was getting quite *verklempt* myself. STELLAR recaps in this wonderful judgement. This brought both books back to me clearly and with that emotional punch.
I just attended an author event with Ann Patchett promoting Tom Lake and someone asked her who were her favorite authors. The first name she gave was Louise Erdrich and the person next to me whispered, "Who?" (Others that AP mentioned were Percival Everett and James McBride, plus Alice McDermott someone I've yet to read and now bumped to top of my tbr)
All that to say THANK YOU for feeding my Literary Conversations monster and helping me find wonderful novels to read and share. Such fun here!

"Charming Billy" by Alice McDermott is a beautiful book. I'd recommend starting with that. I am very much looking forward to her latest, "Absolution", which is set during the Vietnam War. I would love to see it in the ToB, but she's not the kind of "au courant" writer that the organizers usually favor.


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Go ahead, ToF, break my heart. Ask me to pick between two of my favorite books ever--touching, beautifully written five-star reads that were also critical juggernauts. Both Hamnet and LaRose received the National Book Critics Circle Award, and Hamnet also won the Women’s Prize. LaRose is the concluding volume of Louise Erdrich’s so-called justice trilogy, following The Plague of Doves, which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, and The Round House, which won the National Book Award.
I had loved Hamnet on first reading, but I found LaRose to be on a whole other level. Erdrich’s writing and storytelling were so powerful I remember wondering, only half facetiously, if she had worked some Ojibwe magic on me. So, when I got my ToF assignment, I decided to reread LaRose first and see if it held up. Spoiler alert: it did. But could Hamnet be the Zombie that would vanquish it?
LaRose is a story of two closely connected families after the father of one accidentally kills the five-year-old son of the other. In sentences both plain and hypnotic, Erdrich recounts the shooting and its aftermath. She describes a course of action that is shocking to Western sensibilities--you’re giving your son to the family of the boy you killed; wait, WHAT??? Yet she situates things so perfectly within the context of spiritual beliefs, family relationships, and community values, and plays it out in such a matter-of-fact fashion, that she had me following right along on the path she lays out for us.
Erdrich works with multiple timelines and a large cast of unforgettable characters. There’s Nola, the angry, suicidal mother whose son was killed. There’s the wickedly funny elders, the scheming Romeo (who’s still seeking justice for wrongs he felt Landreaux had done to him during their boarding school years), and LaRose’s sisters by both birth and informal adoption. Have any teenage girls been portrayed in literary fiction with as much affection and humor as Josette, Snow, and Maggie? Damn, I love those girls!
Then there’s LaRose himself: this sweet, determined little boy who becomes the holy figure at the center of his two families’ efforts to hang on after Dusty’s death. He’s also a pint-sized wreaker of vengeance when his families are threatened, for example, when he learns that a group of boys has assaulted Maggie.
Erdrich reaches back into tribal history, using the lives of earlier LaRoses to provide further context for the current LaRose. In addition to suggesting some of the sources of his near-saintliness and keeping him from becoming someone we just roll our eyes at, this material elevates the novel into an important story of American history. It illustrates past tragedies that have never been atoned for, including mass deaths from tuberculosis, damage done by tribal schools, and the theft of ancestors’ remains in the name of science. By the time we’ve come to the graduation picnic that closes the book (after having seen how the children’s quiet actions have forestalled further tragedies), Erdrich has woven the disparate strands of her complex story into a moving portrait of healing and strength. She did it with such warmth and humor, I was verklempt.
Then, it was on to Hamnet. This was a book that caused me to ask in my initial review: Can a book be quiet and spectacular at the same time?
Like LaRose, Hamnet centers the death of a child and creates a gorgeously written story of grief and sorrow. But Maggie O’Farrell’s focus is on one woman’s experiences. She interleaves the backstory of Hamnet’s parents--William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway, whom O’Farrell refers to as Agnes--with the attempts of their young son to get help for his twin sister and then falling ill himself. She tells the story not just of Hamnet’s death, but also of his dying. This interleaving takes the first two-thirds of the book, up to the point where Hamnet actually passes, and it keeps us anxious and off base.
O’Farrell is audacious in her conception of Shakespeare, whom she never actually names. We see him grow from a squirrelly, underachieving Latin tutor under the thumb of his abusive father, to a successful playwright and manager of an acting troupe living in London. We watch Agnes survive a childhood that calls to mind the wicked stepmothers of Grimm’s fairytales and come into her own as a healer. By the time the book is over, Will has transmuted his despair and his longing for his son into one of his major plays. And it seems that Will and Agnes’ marriage will survive the grievous injury the two of them have suffered.
In telling the story of Agnes, Will, and Hamnet, O’Farrell has crafted an impressive work of feminist historical fiction. She rescues Agnes from the negative view that Shakespeare scholars have traditionally had of her and recasts her as a brilliant woman and a worthy partner to her genius husband. She offers a detailed look at the daily lives of women in the late sixteenth century, including family roles, healing rituals, and death conventions.
O’Farrell infuses the book with her own experiences of illness and near death, using them to deepen our understanding of Hamnet’s and Judith’s suffering and to show how tiny, seemingly random events can spell the difference between life and death. For instance, she shows, in the flea chapter, the long string of events that lead to Hamnet’s death--and that will produce the obsessive “if onlies” that O’Farrell says will shadow Agnes for the rest of her days. (If you haven’t read O’Farrell’s memoir, I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death, I highly recommend it. I read it in 2020, and it still haunts me.)
LaRose and Hamnet are ultimately optimistic books. They show that even in the wake of tremendous loss, healing is possible, and even the creation of timeless art.
Hamnet is a worthy Zombie. But armed with the breadth of Erdrich’s storytelling, the power of her writing, and the love she shows her characters, LaRose fends off the attack and marches to the final round.
Winner: LaRose