‘The Last Chairlift’ is said to be John Irving’s last big novel
When I received an email from a publicist offering me an advance copy of John Irving’s “last novel,” I jumped at the chance.
John Irving has been an important writer in my life, as a reader and as someone who writes himself. “The World According to Garp” was one of the first “adult” novels I read when I was still pretty young (maybe 14 years old), that helped me understand the gap between my kid life and the concerns of grownups. The only paper I wrote in college that was anything other than a regurgitation of what the professor already told me was about “A Prayer for Owen Meany.”
I borrowed the structure of Irving’s earlier, lesser-known novel, “The WaterMethod Man” for a book of my own.
Normally, I don’t put huge stock in being able to read books ahead of the general public, but in this case, I envisioned being one of the first public commentators to talk about “The Last Chairlift” and put it in the context of a lifetime of deeply meaningful and enduring work.
And then I heard the literal thump of the package on my doorstep as “The Last Chairlift” was dropped off by the FedEx delivery person, and when I opened the package and saw the nearly 900-page manuscript, I realized that my dream of being one of the early reviewers of Irving’s last novel was unlikely to come true. I would have to drop every other reading assignment in order to even have a shot at finishing “The Last Chairlift” in time.
I went back to that publicist’s email and saw that in my excitement I had misread. “The Last Chairlift” isn’t John Irving’s “last novel,” but his “last long novel,” which makes more sense. Irving published his first novel, “Setting Free the Bears” in 1968 at age 26, and has not stopped publishing since. It has been seven years since his previous novel, “Avenue of Mysteries,” but looking at the size and scope of “The Last Chairlift,” it’s clear the man hasn’t been twiddling this thumbs.
I have started reading “The Last Chairlift,” immediately falling into Irving’s storytelling rhythms, rhythms which always struck me as very conscious that a story is being told, but because I have not read it to completion, I will not offer any kind of assessment or review beyond what the early pages tell me, it appears very much to be a John Irving novel.
What this means for readers in general is a sprawling story in terms of action and incident married with close attention to the specifics of the human heart. Lots of bad things befall Irving’s characters in his books, and the world around them is often hostile to their pursuit of happiness, but there has also always been something fundamentally optimistic in his works as people try to be good to each other.
What this means for me, personally, as a reader in specific is a connection to an author that feels almost personal, though I have never met the man. How strange that is to believe you are connected to another human being simply because you have read the stories they have invented.
Strange, as in mysterious and inexplicable, but also not at all uncommon. I’m imagining many of you good folks reading this have authors of your own who fit the bill.
In truth, this probably make me the wrong guy to assess “The Last Chairlift” as a reviewer from the appropriate critical distance.
My relationship with Irving’s work is too deep to be anything like objective.
I’m glad to take my time.