home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1990
/
1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
/
time
/
100289
/
10028900.039
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1990-09-18
|
4KB
|
73 lines
BOOKS, Page 88A Child of The New WorldBy Paul Gray
THE BELLAROSA CONNECTION
by Saul Bellow
Penguin; 102 pages; $6.95
Saul Bellow created a lot of excitement last March when he
allowed his novella A Theft to appear as a paperback original, thus
abandoning the hard covers that might have seemed more appropriate
for a work by a Nobel laureate. Scarcely six months later, he has
done the same thing again. Whether it makes commercial sense to
flood the market with short books by Bellow remains to be seen. But
book lovers, as opposed to bookkeepers, have every reason to cheer
his decision to come ahead with more.
As taut and stirring as A Theft was, The Bellarosa Connection
is even better. Bellow here stands squarely on the ground that he
conquered long ago: the dislocations -- wrenching, comic or both
-- of being Jewish in America. Bellow's narrator, a man in his
early 70s, never reveals his own name, but he engagingly -- and a
bit smugly -- displays the trappings of his success: "I force
myself to remember that I was not born in a Philadelphia house with
20-foot ceilings but began life as the child of Russian Jews from
New Jersey." He had earned his mansion, plus his Wasp wife Deirdre
and several million dollars, by founding the Mnemosyne Institute,
an upscale think tank designed to help government and corporate
bigwigs improve their powers of recall: "As I used to say to
clients, `Memory is life.'"
Retired and a widower, he tries to recollect the odd story of
Harry Fonstein, the nephew of his father's second wife. He has not
seen Harry and his wife Sorella for 30 years, but he finds them
disturbingly memorable. Harry had reached the U.S. through bizarre
circumstances. Barely escaping his native Poland ahead of the
Nazis, he finally fetched up in Rome, only to be arrested by
Mussolini's police. Soon, he was approached by an Italian man and
given instructions on how to walk out of jail, go to Genoa and get
on a ship bound for freedom. His adviser mentions the name Billy
Rose, which Harry hears as Bellarosa. Only later does he realize
that the person who has organized and funded the network that saved
his life is a famous, indefatigably vulgar and flamboyant Broadway
producer.
Harry, newly arrived in the U.S. and married to the
American-born Sorella, would like to thank his benefactor. But
Rose, a glutton for publicity in all other aspects, will not see
Harry or acknowledge his letters. And how does the narrator know
all this? Through the confidences of Sorella, immensely fat ("She
was biologically dramatized in waves and scrolls of tissue") and
enormously dedicated ("a tiger wife") to the well-being of her
husband. Harry eventually gives up hope of thanking Rose, but his
spouse does not.
Bellow's spokesman happens to be on the scene, at the King
David Hotel in Jerusalem in 1959, when Sorella manages to arrange
a showdown with her husband's savior. She tells all, of course. Her
description of the crucial encounter, both poignant and hilarious,
settles nothing except the certainty that Broadway Billy Rose will
do anything to avoid receiving an expression of gratitude by Polish
immigrant Harry Fonstein.
But the story does not end here; it erupts at the impasse. The
old man, recalling these events, suddenly realizes that he has got
them all wrong. He had assumed an ironic, detached amusement when
listening to Sorella. Surely his classy status has raised him above
the agonies of European Jews and the notoriety of glitz peddlers
like Rose. Wrong, he understands on looking back. Sorella had
consulted him, not because of his cosmopolitan intellect, but
because she saw him as a slightly better-mannered version of Billy
Rose and his all-American success. "You pay a price for being a
child of the New World," he decides. This crowded, unforgettable
tale handsomely settles the account.