The Bookworm: Silk Parachute
Silk Parachute, by John McPhee. 227 pages. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 2010.
New Jersey has had the genius to build across its narrow center the most concentrated transportation slot in the world — with three or four railroads, seaports, highways, and an international airport all compacted in effect into a tube, a conduit, which as acquired through time an ugliness sufficient to stop a Gorgon in her tracks. Through this supersluice continuously pass hundreds of thousands of people from Nebraska, Kansas, Illinois, Iowa, Texas, Tennessee, holding their breath. They are shot like peas to New York. If New Jersey has a secret, that is it. (Pages 226-227.)
McPhee!
This weekend, Sweet Meat employed my painting skills and we spent yesterday and today removing wallpaper from his mom’s kitchen and dining room. It was a holy pain in the ass; the stuff was meant to stick — “forever,” as his mom put it. It is all off, for better or worse, and tomorrow I will prime and paint and be done with it — “forever.” While scraping and scraping and scraping the paper’s stubborn backing, I decided this was my new rule about wallpaper: ye who put it up shall take it down; I will paint afterward.
I am straying from the subject but on purpose. Silk Parachute was — dare I say it? — lackluster McPhee, gratuitous McPhee, and I really do not have much to write about it (or so I think now). A collection of 10 pieces, all previously printed in slightly different forms in The New Yorker, Silk Parachute pales in comparison to his other books. It lacked McPhee’s customary propulsion and inquisitiveness, imparting an inessential quality. Someone was seeing dollar signs, trying to cash in on McPhee’s following (I have often thought about subscribing to The New Yorker just for McPhee). Shockingly, even the writing was mediocre.
The book’s 10 essays, though, are classic McPhee. They range from short personal nonfiction about his love for his native Garden State to a 58-page overview of lacrosse, which was interesting and, coincidentally, timely since the NCAA lacrosse tournament was played recently (I was aware of it but did not watch). Another piece covered the fact-checking process at The New Yorker and another offered a behind-the-scenes perspective of the 2007 US Open. Despite interesting asides regarding wine and caves, “Season of the Chalk” was a geological bore regarding the layer of chalk along both sides of the English Channel. McPhee also used or referenced material from his previous collections, which contributed to the book’s uninspired quality. Sadly, the whole thing betrayed a man who is running out of things to write.
Though quirky and interesting at times, Silk Parachute was a disappointment. I hope this is not a sign of things to come from McPhee.
Words I did not know: All definitions are courtesy of my MacBook dictionary. Aver: “state or assert to be the case.” Prevarication: “speak or act in an evasive way.” Nib: in this instance it means “a pointed or projecting part of an object.” Cant: as a verb it means “cause (something) to be in a slanting or oblique position; tilt.” Revetment: “(esp. in fortification) a retaining wall or facing of masonry or other material, supporting or protecting a rampart, wall, etc.” Stile: “an arrangement of steps that allows people but not animals to climb over a fence or wall.” Coombe: British term for “a short valley or hollow on a hillside or coastline.” Pate: “a person's head.” Karst: “landscape underlain by limestone that has been eroded by dissolution, producing ridges, towers, fissures, sinkholes, and other characteristic landforms.” Cru: “(in France) a vineyard or group of vineyards, esp. one of recognized quality.” Enology: “the study of wines.” Diaphanous: “(esp. of fabric) light, delicate, and translucent.” Epicontinental: “denoting those areas of sea or ocean overlying the continental shelf.” Mosasaur: “a large extinct marine reptile of the late Cretaceous period, with large toothed jaws, paddlelike limbs, and a long flattened tail, related to the monitor lizards.” Bolide: “a large meteor that explodes in the atmosphere.” Anoxic: “an absence of oxygen.” Reentrants: “(of an angle) pointing inward.” Promontory: “a point of high land that juts out into a large body of water; a headland.” Clerestory: “the upper part of the nave, choir, and transepts of a large church, containing a series of windows. It is clear of the roofs of the aisles and admits light to the central parts of the building.” Indurate: “harden.” Groyne: “variant spelling of ‘groin.’” Spicule: “a minute sharp-pointed object or structure that is typically present in large numbers, such as a fine particle of ice.” Piebald: “(of a horse) having irregular patches of two colors, typically black and white.” Piscivorous: “(of an animal) feeding on fish.” Abecedarian: in this usage it means “rudimentary; elementary.” Exeunt: “used as a stage direction in a printed play to indicate that a group of characters leave the stage.” Loupe: “a small magnifying glass used by jewelers and watchmakers.” Crepuscular: “of, resembling, or relating to twilight..” Gravlax: “a Scandinavian dish of dry-cured salmon marinated in herbs.” Legerdemain: “skillful use of one's hands when performing conjuring tricks.” Monofilament: “a single strand of man-made fiber.” Dromedary: “an Arabian camel, esp. one of a light and swift breed trained for riding or racing.”
