Lucinella by Lore Segal

I picked up this Melville House edition at the Strand during a long search for a book for my mother for Christmas. I wanted a gift for myself for the three-day trip to Philly and I knew that the one novel I had already picked out wasn’t going to last long once the train ride(s) started.

Despite my love of the publisher’s curated collection of old-timey novellas and intriguing looking new ones, I was a bit worried about my choice. Lucinella is about a writer writing, a topic that seems to produce cold, nasty little books that have may superficial delights (especially is you hang with a lot of artists), but that often lack the heart that tends to endear me to books. Luckily, this book is fun, funny and engagingly loose in its plotting. The characterizations are dead-on and I loved the main character in all her iterations—though the story becomes increasingly fantastic, Lucinella is always a strong anchor.

I am looking forward to reading more of Segal’s adult work, especially if it is as smart and upbeat as this.

Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville

Well, well, well, classics, we meet again. Luckily, this time it’s on my terms!

My edition of Bartleby the Scrivener is by Melville Publishing, published as part of their “Art of the Novella” series to bring this in-between form some recognition. As you may have surmised from my Brooklyn Book Fest entry, each book has a different color cover—arranged just so they look like modern art objects and the feel of the covers is as creamy and pleasing as the toteable size.

I’ve had an interest in reading Melville for a while now but plunging into Moby Dick just seemed unwise. This handsome volume was my chance to sample more than a short story, perhaps dashed off in financially dire times, and less than an epic. Bartleby delivers.

The story is told by the last employer of the titular character, “a rather elderly man.” Bartelby, a scrivener (a copier of legal documents) appears on his doorstep “pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, incurably forlorn.” The boss decides that he fits in well with the other three in the office, Turkey and Nipper, two dipsos with complementary alcho-clocks and Ginger Nut, a gopher. Melville uses these characters to add humor to the book in a predicable but delightful way. If you are a fan of Dickensian fools, you’ll love these guys.

Bartelby makes little impression on the mind’s eye, but this story is really less about him than about the effect of one man’s curious attitudes on another. He’s a ghost, perhaps of the boss’s lost rebelliousness—an old man; he is comfortable with the rhythms of law, industry and respectability. For, you see, Bartleby’s great distinction from the masses of pale, sickly dudes is that he “prefers not to” do most things. Melville’s choice of this phrase for Bartleby’s character is genius. Fear not, you will be flashed by that genius many times in this short work.

I was hoping to get a larger picture of 19th century New York City from the book, but though a few names, Broadway, Canal and Wall Sts. are bandied about, you really don’t get a feeling of the geography or character of the city.

I predict more Melville in the near future.