Subject: Return to North Bath, N.Y. - The Boston Globe
From: "Eric Schwerin" <[email-masked]>
To: "Hunter Biden" <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 27 Apr 2016 23:55:30 -0400

Return to North Bath, N.Y. - The Boston Globe

https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2016/04/26/return-north-bath/BFYnBrtzQYcCmUdWdMIujK/story.html

Richard Russo readers return to North Bath, N.Y.

PORTLAND, Maine — A few years ago, a friend told Richard Russo a story
about a cop who discovers an unfamiliar garage-door remote control in the
front seat of his wife’s car.

The police officer comes to an immediate conclusion: She must be cheating
on me. So, being a trained investigator, he investigates. He goes around
town pointing the device at his neighbors’ doors, determined to find the
scoundrel.

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“When I heard that story, I thought: Who do I know who would do something
like that?” Russo told me the other day over lunch on the edge of this
city’s downtown.

And just like that — well *almost* just like that — Russo had found his way
back to North Bath, N.Y.

“It couldn’t have been easier,’’ he said, a wide smile creasing his face.
“It was wonderful. It was like going home.’’

Russo’s readers will be going home again with him next week, when
“Everybody’s Fool’’ is published, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author’s
sequel to “Nobody’s Fool,’’ whose central character, Donald “Sully’’
Sullivan, was portrayed by Paul Newman in the film version of the 1993
novel.

Sully and his sad-sack sidekick, Rub Squeers, have moved off center stage
in Russo’s latest work to make room for Doug Raymer, who in the years since
“Nobody’s Fool’’ has risen to become North Bath’s police chief, the wielder
of that garage-door remote.

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Russo and I have something in common. And, believe me, it’s not writing.
Like me, he grew up in a mill town. His is Gloversville, N.Y., which once
produced 90 percent of the dress gloves made in the United States. It’s a
place Russo returns to again and again to explore the tensions of class and
the hilarity and heartbreak of life in a small town.

Anyone who has ever straddled a red-vinyl stool in a blue-collar barroom or
punched a time clock for the 6 a.m. shift in a red-brick factory will
recognize Russo as a masterful narrator of a world of heart-rending
poignancy and laugh-out-loud nonsense.

I’ll leave the book review to the book reviewers. But I’ll say this: Russo
fans will not be disappointed by his return to North Bath, where time has
advanced 10 years since “Nobody’s Fool,’’ and the characters who populate
Hattie’s Lunch and the White Horse Tavern still crackle with raw
genuineness.

One of Russo’s writing pals has been nudging him toward this sequel for
years. “He was always saying to me: What’s new with Sully and Rub? As if I
would know!” Russo told me. “And he kept after me and kept after me and at
some point it seemed like it would be easier to write the book than explain
why I couldn’t.’’

Russo spent the early, pre-Pulitzer part of his career in academia, where
he taught writing. It’s such a devilishly difficult skill that I asked him
whether — and how — it can be imparted.

“I think that about 90 percent of what a writer needs to learn can be
taught,’’ he said. “And when you say that, it sounds very optimistic. It
sounds like: All right. You’re 90 percent there. The problem is the last 10
percent is a perfect [expletive]. Until you get that 10 percent, you’re
going to be competent, but you’re not going to be very good.’’

Russo, better than very good, said he will read the book reviews that will
soon come his way because sometimes he learns from them. But he’s not much
of a critic himself.

“I know how hard it is to write even a not very good book,’’ he said. “Now,
some poor, dumb son of a [gun] has slaved lovingly over this book for a
long time and if I don’t like it, and I know what’s wrong with it, that
still doesn’t make we want to say it. It’s somebody’s job. But it’s not
mine.’’

On the walk home after lunch, Russo erupts in laughter, recalling one of
the new hilarious scenes he’s constructed. It involves a dog’s private
parts, Sully’s dry wit, and barroom banter perfectly rendered by someone
who’s been there.

And then, I’m back in North Bath, too, and, as usual, laughing along with
him.
*Thomas Farragher is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at
[email-masked] <[email-masked]>. Follow him on
Twitter @FarragherTom <http://twitter.com/FarragherTom>.*

Eric D. Schwerin
[email-masked]

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