Meticulously and compassionately observed, audaciously conceived, and infused with a dry wit, Walton's first novel (after two collections of short stories, Waiting in Line
and Evening Out), is a small gem. It's a glimpse into the life of Ray Maddas, a middle-aged ex-college professor, now reduced to a trial period as a caseworker for a public agency in Pittsburgh that cares for the mentally handicapped. During the week that Ray gently attempts to teach his four "clients" to ride the public bus system to their menial jobs in a factory, nothing much happens, but the voices and personalities of the retarded men and women become memorably clear. Ray is not much better equipped to deal with modern life than his charges are. Determined to avoid materialistic goals, he has been fired from his job and divorced by his wife. Highly intelligent, decent, considerate, and conscientious, he reads the New York Review of Books
and volumes of history to feed his interior existence, meanwhile looking after his widowed mother and two elderly neighbors. His daily routine takes him through the seediest part of Pittsburgh—observed with almost cinematic prevision—and, during a brief affair with a nubile dancer, into the marginal artistic community as well. These mundane events are infused with heightened clarity, for Walton is a connoisseur of the incongruity and incoherence of daily life. His moral vision, though essentially bleak, flowers into beauty through his laser-like perceptions of character and atmosphere, and his refreshing approach to narrative. (Oct.)
Forecast:Praise from E.L. Doctorow and Richard Ford, and a grittily urban black-and-white cover could catch readers' eyes if bookstores give this deserving title some display space.
