Now I’ll go out on a limb here and say that I think Richard Yates is one of the most underrated authors of the 20th century (along with Joan Didion – more on her in another post). Eleven Kinds of Loneliness is short story heaven – the kind of short story heaven that includes Dorothy Parker, Raymond Carver and Richard Ford so exactly my kind of heaven.

The Easter Parade is a novel, not an especially long one, that follows the life of Emily Grimes and through her eyes that of her sister Sarah, from their childhood in 1920s and 30′s suburban New York through marriage (for Sarah), a string of failed affairs (for Emily) and to their older age in the 1960s. It’s not an especially unusual story, necessarily, a seemingly blissful Arcadian marriage for Sarah that hides a darker and violent life, the casual alcoholism of their mother and later Sarah (and possibly Emily – this story fairly reeks of stale whiskey and cigarettes), and an inability on Emily’s behalf to find a satisfying relationship – or perhaps to connect to other people in a satisfying way.

What does make this novel stand out is the total believability of Yates’ voice as Emily and of this family. His timing is impeccable and there is no dancing around – the small and immaterial details of life are presented not as cyphers, but as exactly what they are – details that as a whole form the larger picture. Yates manages to marry a truly authentic voice of the mid 20th century with a meaningful “everyman/woman” voice that says “Here is life – painful … confusing …  and marred by other people”. He also seems to accurately convey the way time can suddenly pass without being noticed – the surprise of catching your suddenly old age face in the mirror.

Yes, it’s a depressing vision. But not one that is without its redeeming moments. Maybe we can find an acceptance of life if we stop trying to mold others into, not only, our vision of them, but our vision of our life. Perhaps epiphany can be found in the realisation that we can’t truly know another, but if we are truly honest with them we may be lucky enough to experience the same in return.