Elroy Nights, by Frederick Barthelme.
Counterpoint Press, October 2003.

Perhaps these are some of the primary fears that come with reaching middle age: That poor decisions and regrets will pile up and become a daily burden, permanently leaving fresh imprints on our consciences. That our relationships will never be perennially successful. That couplehood can be defined in a concrete chronology, a wax and wane, where the intense elements of falling in love -- sights, smells and locations -- will eventually become disintegrating tapestries whose shreds we will be forced to collect alone. Frederick Barthelme rather wanly illuminates these fears in his PEN/Faulkner nominated novel, Elroy Nights.

The plot follows the tale of Elroy Nights, a middle-aged art professor at a small college in Biloxi, Mississippi. Elroy has typical problems for an older male: He's recently separated from his wife Clare, is relatively disconnected with the rest of the world, and has taken a keen interest in Freddie, a 22-year-old female student of his that also happens to be close friends with his stepdaughter. In an attempt to return to the more exciting aspects of youth, Elroy picks up drinking and smoking with renewed vigor, starts partying with his students, and embarks upon the inevitable yet somehow dispassionate affair with Freddie. All seems to be going along fine in this tale of mid-life crisis and generation gap breaching until it results in a tragedy, forcing the characters to take a harder look at themselves and the fragility of life. Unfortunately, the second half of the novel suffers from a strange disjointedness, with Elroy and company seemingly casting aside their mourning and sadness like a magazine they've suddenly become disinterested in. While the younger characters embrace aimlessness like a security blanket, Elroy ruminates on how simple things were when he was a child and largely spends his time wishing that he could change the past. The supporting characters' unexpected apathy is never given a plausible reason or motive, which is simultaneously a source of confusion and an interruption in the novel's pacing.

Although the subject matter fails to tread fresh ground, Barthelme (who coincidentally teaches at University of Southern Mississippi) has approached his topic in a decidedly minimalist manner, moving the plot quickly along with staccato sentences. Descriptions of the environment, while spare, convey richly painted backdrops for the novel's characters. Perhaps the most visceral moments of Elroy Nights can be attributed to Barthelme's mastery of minimalist style:

However, the sparseness that can be found within Elroy Nights is certainly a double-edged sword at best. Quite often, Barthelme chooses to eschew the heavy-handed inadequacies of dialogue in favor of a more subtle form of communication between his characters that is manifested in brief gestures and the atmosphere of moments. A simple change of facial expression ends up reflecting volumes about a character's mental state, negating the need for the individual to waste any breath. But while it's certainly possible that Barthelme's characters (nearly all afflicted with the artistic temperament) might find conversation to be an unreliable and unnecessary means of communication, the dialogue that they actually do engage in is often quite fractured and confusing. Although awkward conversations between Elroy and his younger counterparts effectively reveal the generation gap, one gets the creeping suspicion that not all the jarring exchanges were necessarily intended.

As a result of the muddled discourse found throughout the novel, Barthelme's college students fail to reveal much more personality beyond that shown by the average DMV employee.

Aside from these stylistic shortcomings in Elroy Nights, the story sheds light on the universal reluctance to grow old. Denying the inevitability of age is certainly a romanticized ideal, and in Elroy, Barthelme has created a character that has no qualms with capitalizing on his direct contact with college students. The protagonist embraces all that comes with renewed youth, including a certain naiveté that causes him to forget the consequences that come with his actions. Elroy's various imperfections and (at times) impassive attitude make him a very human character, and perhaps the most redeeming element of the novel.

While Elroy Nights won't attract a widespread audience beyond those who actually enjoy brooding upon the pain of growing old, portions of the novel provide lasting melancholic imagery that will undoubtedly resonate with readers for years to come. Although the stilted pacing and mangled character conversations probably handicapped the novel considerably in its bid for the PEN/Faulkner award, Elroy Nights remains a sparse and poetic tale that reminds its readers of the infinite value of aging gracefully.

NOTE: Frederick Barthelme's Elroy Nights was nominated for the 2004 Pen/Faulkner Award for Fiction. John Updike will accept the award for his Early Stories at the presentation ceremony on May 8.