Tag Archives: New orleans

All This Could Be Yours: Jami Attenberg

“Some people are just bad forever.”

Author Jami Attenberg is back in familiar territory in All This Could Be Yours. While The Middlesteins explored a family driven to dissolution by one member’s eating disorder, All This Could Be Yours focuses on the Tuchman family as they gather, expectantly, for 73-year-old patriarch Victor’s death. Yes you read that correctly. Expectantly. So what sort of man is Victor if his family hope he hurries up and dies? Here’s daughter Alex, who can’t “wait until her father died,” calling her brother Gary with the news that their father is in hospital:

and she was so breathless with the news about their father’s heart attack she sounded almost joyful, which anyone else might have found inappropriate, but he didn’t, he was on her team, and she was on his. 

Victor’s wife, 68 year old Barbra, after a lifetime of her husband’s infidelity and desultory physical abuse, visits his bedside, speed walks around the hospital floor, and ruminates over the past. Once upon a time Victor and Barbra lived in a Connecticut mansion, but Victor lost his ill-gotten criminal money hushing up an epic sexual harassment scandal. As a result, Victor and Barbra lost their mansion and moved into a condo in New Orleans. But Victor isn’t just a nasty man, he’s a disease, so where he goes he spreads trouble. Victor and Barbra’s son Gary, who’s based In New Orleans, seems mostly to avoid his home and wife Twyla these days. Bad idea. Gary’s divorced sister, lawyer Alex, arrives in New Orleans hoping that her mother will finally offer an explanation of her father’s shady business deals and exactly WHY she stayed with him all these years.

Her mother would have no one to hide behind, nor a reason to keep any secrets from her any longer. Her mother had been loyal all these years, often acting more like her husband’s consigliere rather than like his wife, and Alex knew Barbra wouldn’t say a bad word about Victor before he passed. 

As the story unfolds, and Victor hovers on the brink of death, gradually pieces of his shady life float to the surface, and it’s clear why his children loathe him. Barbra is the epitome of the trophy wife, but those years are over, and Victor and Barbra’s now diminished lifestyle has led to acrimony.

Once she had been the grand prize. He had won her, he thought, like a stuffed animal at a sideshow alley.

The narrative extends back to Victor’s courtship of Barbra (I’m using the term ‘courtship’ loosely here), and while Barbra once loved her brutish spouse, now all the “payoffs” and affluent lifestyle that somehow balanced the negatives in her married life are gone.  While Alex puzzles over the enigma of her parents’ relationship and wants the truth about her father’s deeds, Gary has had a much worse childhood and bore the brunt of his father’s twisted machismo. Gary “spent his whole life caring, in contrast to his father, who’d spent his whole life not caring. “ Meanwhile Gary’s daughter Avery who’s become a companion of sorts to her grandfather has confused feelings about the man who has recently appeared in her life. “She knew there was something off about” him but she can’t quite place what is wrong.

All this could be yours

Victor may be on the brink of death but he oozes through the pages in scenes and memories. This is a chronic sleazy womanizer, a gambler, a criminal who never changes but only becomes more embittered as he loses his looks, his physique and his money.

This would have been the precise moment to acknowledge the crimes of his life that had put them in that exact location. His flaws hovered and rotated, kaleidoscope-like, in front of his gaze, multi-colored, living, breathing shards of guilt in motion. If only he could put together the bits and pieces into a larger vision, to create an understanding of his choices, how he landed on the wrong side, perhaps always had. And always would.
Instead he was angry about the taste of  bottle of Scotch, and suggested to his wife that if she kept a better home, none of this would have happened, and so would she please stop fucking around with the thermostat and leave the temperature just as he liked. And she had flipped another page, bored with his Scotch, bored with his complaints. 

Given the title, inheritance is under examination–not the inheritance of worldly goods, although that does appear, but how we are shaped by our families. Alex’s daughter Sadie must align love of her father with the fact that he uses women, lies to them and throws them away. How does a child incorporate love for a parent with the fact that he or she is a shitty human being? How does that twist the perception of marriage and relationships? Finally a shout out to Barbra’s mother Anya, who made tremendous sacrifices to protect her grandchildren and who is arguably the moral compass of the novel even though she’s long dead and buried.

I recently read Ann Patchett’s The Dutch House which looked at the impact of toxic familial relations. All This Could Be Yours is the same territory–except since this is written by Jami Attenberg there’s a lot of humour. The situation on the surface, a dying arsehole of a father, isn’t exactly funny, so the result is an affirmation of the quirkiness of dysfunctional family life–how we become so used to the weird and unacceptable that it eventually becomes normal.

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New Orleans: a quote from Gary Krist’s book, Empire of Sin

A quote from Empire of Sin: A Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder and the Battle for Modern New Orleans by Gary Krist:

According to one early historian, “Disorderly soldiers, black sheep of distinguished families, paupers, prostitutes, political suspects, friendless strangers, unsophisticated peasants straying into Paris–all were kidnapped, herded, and shipped under guard to fill the emptiness of Louisiana.”

French jails and hospitals were ransacked for potential colonists, while men with an opportunistic bent were enticed with promises of free transportation, free land, and the fabulous riches derived from a  region of unimaginable abundance. To deal with a chronic shortage of women, prospective wives were also imported from the Old Country, among them eighty-eight inmates from a Parisian house of correction known as La Salpêtrière. As a result, the town was–already famous as a den of iniquity, a place “without religion, without justice, without discipline, without order, and without police.”

My kind of town….

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Empire of Sin: A Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder and the Battle for Modern New Orleans by Gary Krist

Some cities have an aura of glamour–Paris, Venice, Vienna, St Petersburg, Budapest … perhaps that disappears when you live there, but for this armchair traveler, the city of New Orleans also makes the list of glamorous cities. Of course, the images of New Orleans took a hit with Hurricane Katrina–a natural disaster which lifted the lid on some very ugly behaviour. I’ll never go to Mardi Gras, and I’ll never go to New Orleans, but I’m interested enough in the history of the city to pick up Empire of Sin: A Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder and the Battle for Modern New Orleans by Gary Krist.

I expected an extraordinary history of this city. I expected a lot of vice & crime, and in this, the book, although occasionally dry, did not disappoint. Author Gary Krist presents a convincing portrait of a unique city built on vice. Eventually, as the title suggests, the powers within the city split into two camps–those who wanted to clean the place up (partly for tourism, partly for business reasons, and partly for the moral crusade), and those whose vested interests lay in Vice, and who knew that at least a large portion of the tourists were there to party!

Empire of sinThe prologue begins in 1918 with the mysterious axe-man murders (which are returned to later in the book), and then it’s back to the 1890s. A large part of the book explores the city’s history of Vice with some of the most infamous names of the day: Josephine Lobrano, one of the more successful brothel owners who’d been “driven into prostitution as an eleven-year-old orphan,” Lulu White, & entrepreneur, restaurateur and brothel owner Tom Anderson whose rise and fall mirrors the ascent and curtailing of the vice elements within the city. Josephine Lobrano seems to be one of New Orleans more colourful characters who decided to “turn over a new leaf” not by retiring but by upgrading her brothel to attract higher end clients. This was considered “going respectable” which says a lot about the place and the times.

Krist explains that this was the “era of High Victorianism” and that not even New Orleans was “impervious to the stringent ideals of the day,” and argues that “in nineteenth-century New Orleans, however, respectability was arguably more difficult to achieve and maintain than in almost any other place on the continent” as “threats to decency were everywhere, and the city’s lax cosmopolitan ethos hardly conformed to mainstream American norms of behaviour.” This seems to be the book’s main thesis–what passed as normal in New Orleans was certainly not normal elsewhere in most of America (San Francisco was pretty wild, I’d argue), and that due to the “unique history” of New Orleans, the city “scarcely seemed American at all.” Krist states that the city at the time was “largely Latin, Catholic

a strange and disturbing place to many–a place where married white men attended ‘Quadroon Balls’ to find mixed-race concubines, where macabre voodoo rituals occurred in shanties and back alleys, and where even prominent politicians might meet in City Park to duel with pistols or épées at dawn. In the city’s notorious tenderloin districts, brothels specialized in all manner of interracial mixing and arcane sexual practices, while narcotics, alcohol, and loud degenerate kinds of music filled the salon’s and dance halls, promoting deviant behaviour of all kinds.

The city was founded as a “French outpost in the early 1700s” but by the “latter half of the eighteenth century” was under Spanish rule. There’s a brief history sketched of the city’s shifting population, and I would have liked more, but the point is well made that New Orleans was a “confluence of races and ethnicities” that was decidedly different from other protestant, Lutheran or Baptist cities in America. I recently read 10 North Frederick by John O’Hara, and The Murder of Dr. Chapman, and even though both books (one fiction, the other non-fiction) were set in different centuries, the very fundamental protestant nature of the setting (Pennsylvania) was made quite clear.

Krist argues that by the end of the nineteenth century “respectability had become [such] a burning preoccupation among the ‘better element’ in New Orleans.” And although “gambling, prostitution, street violence, and bawdy entertainment had been a prominent feature of the city’s life for its entire history” many citizens wanted things to change. Part of the problem was that post-Reconstruction, “vice areas” had spread to both residential and commercial neighbourhoods, and it was not unheard of for a family to buy a home in a ‘decent’ neighborhood, but then wake up one day to find a brothel had sprung up next door.  By the “late 1880s, criminality of all types in the city seemed virtually out of control” with blacks and Italians frequently “scapegoated” for the rampant spread of crime.  Crime and Vice added to a corrupt city government burdened with debt left New Orleans, with open sewers and only a few homes with running water, “hopelessly backward, at least in terms of urban development.” The election of Joseph Shakepeare voted in on promises of reform began the “equivalent of an all out civil war” for the city.

There were plenty of casualties in the war, including police chief David Hennessy who’d cracked down on the wave of crime amongst Italians. This led to the infamous Parish Prison lynching–an incredible event–not only in its execution but in its complete lack of consequences in this so-called “spontaneous uprising of the people.” This is hardly the first or the last instance of vigilante justice in American history, but it’s certainly an extraordinary tale for the sheer number of people involved and the lack of anonymity in the face of frustration with the legal system.

Another large portion of the book, and for this reader the most interesting section of the book, follows the history (and the more famous inhabitants) of Storyville–an eighteen block area in which prostitution wasn’t legalized as much as it was made illegal outside of these limits. Also covered quite extensively is the rise of Jazz. Louis Armstrong’s memories of playing music in the brothels of Storyville are wonderful. Other salient sections include the exploits of the Black Hand and the crime spree of Robert Charles.

These are wild times, and of course, we know as we read the book that the wild times had to end. The demise of Storyville was celebrated by many, but there’s still a pervasive sense of desperation when we read about the secondhand dealers who flocked to Storyville to pick up antiques and opulent furnishings from “distressed prostitutes and madams.”

Louis Armstrong was there to witness the exodus. “It sure was a sad scene to watch the law run all those people out of Storyville,” he wrote years later. “They reminded me of refugees. Some of them had spent the best part of their lives there. Others had never known any other kind of life.”

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