The Bookworm: Empire Falls

Empire Falls, by Richard Russo. 483 pages. Vintage. 2001.

And of course Miles knew that in the twisted, grotesque way of many true things, Jimmy Minty was speaking straight from the heart. It was what he wanted. And he was genuinely mystified as to why he couldn’t seem to have it. Which did not—Miles had to admit as he got out of the car and crossed Empire Avenue—make him stupid. After all, what was the whole wide world but a place for people to yearn for their hearts’ impossible desires, for those desires to become entrenched in defiance of logic, plausibility, and even the passage of time, as eternal as polished marble? (p. 295)

To nurse a possible calf injury, I took yesterday off from all things cardio. With time to kill, I took the opportunity to finish rereading Richard Russo’s Empire Falls.

Empire Falls is a spellbinding, funny, heartbreaking, well-written, and artfully-woven tale about life in Empire Falls, a down-on-its-luck, former textile manufacturing town in Maine. It focuses on the trials and travails of Miles Roby, the manager of a quintessential American diner in the heart of town, abandoned mills looming down the street. Miles has managed the Empire Grill for nearly two decades, since dropping out of college to care for his dying mother. The diner’s ownership will supposedly devolve to him once the town’s matriarch—who owns the diner and just about everything and everybody in Empire Falls—dies. However, it seems unlikely in the near future and, Miles believes, prohibitively expensive when it happens.

Realizing he is stuck between a rock and a hard place, much like Empire Falls itself, Miles contemplates and plans for the future and makes a startling discovery about his family’s past. All the while, not only does he serve regulars at the diner, he deals with a pending divorce, a stubborn and elderly father, the mysterious life of his teenage daughter, and just about everything else concerning his family, past, and downtrodden, blue-collar hometown.

This is the second time I have read Empire Falls. The winner of the 2002 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction, it was recommended to me by my high school journalism advisor and I first read it in ’02 or ’03. Though I could only recall bits and pieces of the story, my enjoyment of the book stuck with me and I gleefully bought this used copy at The Haunted Bookshop last year.

(One thing that did stick with me from my first reading is this line on page 333: “There was no such thing as continual good fortune—or misfortune, except for the Red Sox, whose curse seemed eternal.” A year or so after I first read that, the Red Sox’s curse ended.)

Overall, Empire Falls is like a modern-day, post-industrial version of It’s a Wonderful Life. There are strong similarities between Miles and George Bailey. Much like Bailey, Miles selflessly forgoes his own ambitions to help others and his struggling hometown. Despite all his kindness and goodwill, though, life is almost always conspiring against him, or at least keeping him in place.

The detail in Empire Falls is incredible. The story is painstakingly built and it is inspiring when each piece of the puzzle fits perfectly with those around it. At times it feels like Russo is painting the picture pixel by granular pixel. There are details in the details, which are always relevant. Thinking about how much time Russo spent doing that—ensuring that every detail counts—is exhausting in itself. All of it is realistic, very probable. Needless to say, Russo does an excellent job of creating the world of Empire Falls.

Looking back now, the number of characters is dizzying; the book’s Wikipedia page includes descriptions of 23. However, they are easy to remember because Russo does an excellent job of making them unique and giving them their own, pivotal role and place in Miles’ life, much like characters in a play or movie. (Come to think of it, I suppose good characters in every kind of story, no matter the genre or medium, do that.)

The story is mostly told from Miles’ perspective, though Russo does jump from one character to another, usually from chapter to chapter, section to section. Sometimes he does it within a paragraph. Thankfully, the transitions are seamless and natural. Personally, I’m not a fan of switching perspectives often; as a writer, I prefer telling a story through one character. It’s simpler that way. Sure, it may not be as fun, but it’s simpler. (Not that I write much fiction nowadays, anyway.)

Speaking of jumping, the story often jumps from the present to scenes from the recent past and back, or it offers lengthy explanations to provide needed background information. It works well and gives readers all the information they want and need. Personally, I’m not a fan of that, either. I’m too linear; my writing style is like Wisconsin’s state motto: FORWARD! For some reason, I just can’t get myself to go back and provide important information. Doing that feels too obvious. I really need to change that and Empire Falls provides a great example of how to do it effectively.

Some chapters, though, drag on and on, especially those set in italics that recount important events in the past. There is one chapter that I thought would never end. (I suspect that I skipped or glanced over the italic chapters, including the prologue and epilogue—sections vital to understanding the story—when I first read the book. I was such a heathen back then, drinking 40s and skipping prologues and epilogues.) Though propulsive, there is one other chapter that seems very out of place, like the book in the middle of the Iliad that scholars suspect was added later.

Compared to the slow, gradual, realistic pace of the rest of the book, the ending is rushed. The events near the end did not sit well with me; given the era the book was written and set in—circa 1999—one feels like it borders on cliché. Not much is ultimately resolved, but Russo gives the reader the impression that life for Miles and Empire Falls will be different; both are on different paths than they were at the beginning. Whether or not those paths lead to good things remains to be seen, and I think that does contribute to the book’s realism. Though times change and events shape our lives, we cannot see whether they are for the better or worse until later.

All in all, Empire Falls is an amazing book and I am very happy to have reread it. Though I may not track down and devour everything else Russo has written, as my journalism advisor said he did, Empire Falls is a model for the type of fiction I want to write.

(Empire Falls was turned into a two-part miniseries by HBO in 2005, so I will need to track that down and watch it. Ed Harris plays Miles, which conflicts with my image of the character.)