April 28, 2008
A major BEA galley to grab, this debut from retired California private school headmaster Edwards pulls a Back to the Future
on the Vienna that produced The Interpretation of Dreams
and, eventually, Mein Kampf
—with a little Bill & Ted
thrown in for good measure.
The Little Book
Selden Edwards
. Dutton
, $25.95 (416p) ISBN 978-0-525-95061-5
The subtitle of Edwards's Twain-indebted debut, written over the course of 30 years, might be “A California Yankee in Doctor Freud's Court.” Following a physical assault, Stan “Wheeler” Burden is precipitated into the past—1897 Vienna, to be exact—from 1988 San Francisco. Wheeler has been a teenage baseball star and famed rock 'n' roller, but he's dreamed of Vienna since his prep school days, where his teacher, Arnauld Esterhazy, instilled a love of the city's gilded paradoxes. Vienna of 1897 is indeed hopping: Freud is discovering the Oedipus complex, Mahler is conducting his symphonies, and the mayor, Karl Lueger, is inventing modern, populist anti-Semitism—which the young Hitler will soon internalize. Making this a true oedipal drama, Wheeler's father and grandparents come to town, too, all at different ages, and with very different agendas. Edwards has great fun with time travel paradoxes and anachronisms, but the real romance in this book is with the period, topped by nostalgia for the old-school American elite, as represented by the we-all-went-to-the-same-prep-school Burdens. This novel ends up a sweet, wistful elegy to the fantastic promise and failed hopes of the 20th century.
Starred review from August 15, 2008
Thirty years in the making, this debut novel is a tale of time travel in which main character "Wheeler" Burden, a 1970s rock star, baseball prodigy, and philosophical thinker, finds himself whisked from 1988 San Francisco to 1897 Vienna. At that time, Vienna was at is cultural apex, and as the beloved home of Wheeler's favorite prep school history teacher, it had been described to Wheeler in much detail. While there, Wheeler meets up with an assortment of people, some personal to him (his father, Dilly Burden, for example) and some of future international acclaim (e.g., Sigmund Freud). As Wheeler grapples with revelations concerning his own heritage, he also is confronted with the pressing political/social realities then emerging in Central Europe. In particular, he witnesses the disturbing rise of anti-Semitism, and, though he knows he must not tamper with destiny, both he and his father struggle with the desire to confront an Austrian boy who will grow up to kill millions of Jews and tyrannize the entire world. Again and again, Wheeler faces the conundrum of knowing a future he doesn't dare disturb, and he reacts with both frustration and compassion. These dilemmas make for a good and compelling read. Recommended for all public libraries. [See Prepub Alert, "LJ" 4/1/08.]M. Neville, Trenton P.L., NJ
Copyright 2008 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
August 1, 2008
Wheeler Burden one day finds himself mysteriously transported from 1988 San Francisco to the Ringstrasse of 1897 Vienna. This strange occurrence begins a tale that sprawls over91 years, two continents, two world wars, and a century of intense intellectual, cultural, and political change. Readers also get a great saga about Boston Brahmins, wealthy yet with a morass of tacky little secrets. The author adds to this tasty little ragout cameo appearances by Freud, Mahler, Schoenberg, Wickstein, Mark Twain, Buddy Holly, and Winston Churchill. A leisurely tale, the plot unfolds slowly through a complex structure of multiple viewpoints and narrators. Its very talky, but the dialogue usually drives the plot forward and is often leavened by touches of ironic humor. Readers may find the overabundance of coincidences maddening, but that wont keep them from reading on to the shocking climax and the thoroughly satisfying and elegant resolution.Myriad readers will enjoy this bookespecially historical-fiction buffs and family-saga devoteesso stock up.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2008, American Library Association.)