Curtis Harnack (1927–2013)

5356. Limits of the Land, by Curtis Harnack (read 7 Mar 2016) This novel is the seventh book by Iowa-born Curtis Harnack I have read. It was published in 1979 and tells of August and his wife Maureen and their at times nutty daughter Sheila. To open the story Maureen's half sister is killed, maybe accidentally, by her no good husband who quickly sells his land to August and goes to California. August stupidly lets himself be seduced and blackmailed by the killer's mistress, causing August to lose the land he acquired from the killer. A lot of time is spent concerning Sheila's at times crazy behavior. The story takes twists and turns which seem very unlikely and sometimes pointless. But one keeps reading and eventually the story comes to a fairly decent conclusion--even though one would like to see August suffer more for his dumb behavior.… (mere)

5352. Under My Wings Everything Prospers, by Curtis Harnack (read 23 Feb 2016) This is a book of seven short stories, few of which have any connection to any of the others. It is the sixth book by Harnack I have read. I long ago was attracted to his writing because he was born in Iowa and his cousin was a secretary in our office. Some of his books pertaining to Iowa settings resonated with me, including We Have All Gone Away, which poignantly talked of bygone time in Iowa and which I read 13 Dec 1980. However, this volume has three or four stories laid in Iowa, the best of which is "Mentor" involving a professor at a small Iowa college (Westmar?) and his puzzling and not explained behavior. The longest story, "White Blood", is a repulsive story of young misbehavers in eastern United States who do bizarre things and come in contact with,intra alia, a straying group of sisters in a convent on the Hudson. I found nothing edifying or entrancing in any of the stories.… (mere)

A fascinating, but spiritually hollow, book. The author uncritically embraces the middle-class American narrative of progress, in which participation in status-driven consumer society serves as the primary index of success and fulfillment: the bigger the city, the better the shopping, the loftier the colleges, the more successful and fulfilled the person. The book really is, as the title suggests, a story of escape to glittering cities, but that story has a somewhat tacky quality, like the conversation of a namedropper who tediously mentions the famous people he has met, the degrees he has earned, the big cities he has lived in, and so forth. The book is filled with interesting detail and poignant moments, but undergirding it all is a disdainful rejection of the lifestyle it documents.… (mere)