Jesse Ball

Lucia, the protagonist of Jesse Ball's How to Set a Fire and Why, is such a lovely, complicated, aggravating, but ultimately endearing misfit of a teenager. She's grieving, she's lonely, she's scared, she's way more adult than she should be - but she's still a kid at heart. Ball does an admirable job with the complications of teenage years while still telling a compelling story.

Our fearless (not really) heroine (hardly) has had a lot to deal with in her life. Her father is dead, her mom has show more serious mental health issues that have landed her in a long-term care facility, and she's living in a garage with her Great Aunt. Lucia aches for acceptance and love, as do most teenagers. Her obsession with fire puts her in good company and before we know it, she's making new friends, a possible love interest, and some really poor decisions.

This book was unsurprisingly compared (mostly favorably) to The Catcher in the Rye, which I get, because, you know - first-person cynical teenager and all. But this book was a lot less annoying to me. I like Catcher pretty all right, but Holden is a privileged kid who's got a lot of time on his hands. Lucia's character may be similar in other ways, but this is not a girl who's been handed everything in life. This is not a girl with the luxury to walk around lamenting phonies. She's seen real heartbreak and pain and she's handling her grief in the best way she knows how. This was a lovely, funny, compelling story. I already miss Lucia's sharp wit and false bravado. show less

There is something about literary fiction which attracts me and repels me at the same time. I love it for the way it typically evokes a strong emotional response, the strong character development, and slow pace that allows the story to fully build, and yet while reading it I cannot help but feel like I am not intelligent enough to catch every nuance. I always envision intellectuals sitting around over drinks talking about the philosophical themes and the sociological implications of the show more novel’s events, referencing classical literature or philosophers that are unknown to me. In other words, literary fiction is intimidating as hell.

In his latest novel Census, Jesse Ball creates an approachable literary novel that any person can understand because it is not about esoteric philosophies but rather about the one thing everyone can understand – love, grief, and the memories that surround those emotions. Everything that occurs to the narrator and his son on their journey is nothing but the impetus for memories to arise. There is no action, no real plot. It is nothing more than the memories of a person at the end of his life remembering the love and affection for and from others that graced his life and his wishes for his son. It is powerful and poignant and compelling.

To go into Census without preparation does mean struggles in the beginning. For one, much is made of the census for which the narrator begins his journey. Much is made of it but no one ever explains it. At the same time, there is no world-building. We are left with nothing but geographic areas identified by a single letter, a nebulous journey north, and an indication that the world of the narrator is not our world. There is no time stamp nor any hint whether the world is post-apocalyptic or simply an alternate universe. It would be easy to get caught up in these lack of details if only because inquiring minds want to know but also because the narrator expects us to know. There is no world-building because the narrator understands we are from his world and therefore already know all about his world’s history and the history of the census. To focus on that though is to miss the point of the story.

The point of Census is not the census. Nor is it the journey the narrator takes with his son. Rather, the novel is nothing more than an ode to his son. Once you realize that, you can become the active reader the story requires you to be as you go along with the narrator through his memories and get to know both men through them. Once you stop fighting the lack of world-building, you are swept away on a tide of emotions.

Little is actually made about the fact that the narrator’s son has Down’s Syndrome. In fact, I am still trying to remember if the narrator ever directly mentions it or whether this is a piece of information we know from the synopsis and the author’s note at the beginning of the novel. What we do see is how the narrator has structured his life around making sure his son experiences as little pain and grief as possible, and we especially see the joy his son brings him. There are dark moments when we are reminded of people’s cruelty, but the majority of the novel focuses on the positive – on the little joys his son brings to every moment and the subsequent joys his son brings him as a result. When our world is falling further into chaos and negativity, the narrator’s stories are a reminder that love trumps hate every single time.

Census is not flashy, and it will not generate the loud buzz that some other spring books are already receiving. Yet, it is going to be a success because it is so very lovely, and we all need a little beauty and joy in our lives right now. It is one that will mean different things to different people but will affect everyone who reads it. In the author’s note, Mr. Ball mentions he set out to write a love story about his brother who passed away several years ago. In that, he more than succeeded, for Census is a love story about everyone who has ever been loved, about anyone who has been considered different or not normal. Census is a balm to heal the wounds from which we all suffer caused by the hatred and vitriol being spewed by all sides on a daily basis. show less

Accessible yet not conventional, absurdist author Jesse Ball's latest novel takes on the voice of a teenage girl who should be broken and diminished by her tragic life, yet looks to find hope and acceptance in fire, madness, death and friendship. In first person narrative and prose alternately simple and florid, teenage Lucia's voice is clear and constant, sharp, funny, and sarcastic with a beautiful intelligence that, like the fires she plans, will never be contained.

Sometime in the future, juries work differently. From a large selection pool, the jury is whittled down to one person in a 3-day process. People may themselves me taken away for crimes that are found during this process, or their status may be down-or up-graded depending on how they do and how long they last in the process. The chosen jury person then gets to see the crime from the accused's perspective--in the repeat room, and to sentence them to death or let them go. It is all on that one show more person.

First we follow Abel through the jury selection process. Then we learn what he saw in the repeat room.

This book is excellent. I have a few questions, but just asking them would be spoilers. A fascinating look at a potential future of social status, job assignment, and jurisprudence in a society with dreams of perfection and the technology to do this.

I wasn't sure about the narration at first--it felt very AI-ish (not unlike google maps). But then I decided it actually fits this story so well. show less