E. L. Doctorow’s World’s Fair chronicles Edgar Altschuler’s recollections of his first ten years of existence, the growth of his childish awareness of the difficulties of life, and the personal handicaps placed on him as he attempts to acquire self-assurance and experience happiness. Edgar is a Jewish boy growing up in New York City’s Bronx during the rise of Nazism in Germany. His health is problematic. His family’s economic stability is tenuous. His parents’ relationship is combative. The younger son of the family -- a “mistake” baby, eight years younger than his brother and mentor, Donald – he is dominated by his parents and his sibling. He must forge his way through all of these difficulties to develop the self-confidence necessary to persevere against the adversities, both indiscriminate and deliberate, of his time and location.As an infant, Edgar was asthmatic, allergic to everything, a great burden to his resolute mother. “I was attacked continually in the lungs, coughing, wheezing, needing to be steamed over inhalators. I was the mournful prodigy of medicine … I was plugged regularly with thermometers and soap water enemas.” Much later in the novel he suffers a burst appendix and must survive peritonitis.Through most of the story Edgar’s father owns a record, sheet music, musical instrument, and radio appliance store in Manhattan. Later, he is forced to move his business and loses much of his clientele. Near the end of the novel he loses the store. Edgar the adult confides that “the conflict between my parents was probably the major chronic circumstance of my life. They were never at peace. They were a marriage of two irreducibly opposed natures. Their difficulties created a kind of magnetic field for me in which I swung this way or that according to the direction of the current.” Late in the novel Donald assesses his father. “Dad went off in all directions, he was full of surprises, some of them were good, some not so good. But it kept everyone on edge, Mother especially. … He was the kind of man to fool around, to philander. He was errant. He had a wild streak to him. He was generous to us … but he had his secrets and they came out of the same part of his character that made him dream big impractical dreams that he couldn’t realize.”Edgar’s assessment of his mother appears fragmentally throughout the novel. “My mother ran our house and our lives with a kind of tactless administration that often left a child with bruised feelings, though an indelible understanding of right and wrong. … There was no mistaking her meaning—she was forthright and direct. She construed the world in vivid judgments. … Everything she did was a declarative act. … My mother wanted to move up in the world. She measured what we had and who we were against the fortunes and pretensions of our neighbors.”Edgar overhears her understandable complaints to a visiting friend. “‘I have exactly three dresses that I wash and iron and wash and iron. … I haven’t bought a stitch of clothing in years. And he plays cards. He knows we need every penny and he plays cards. … He comes home at one, two in the morning. Where has he been? What has he been doing! I’m struggling here all by myself, trying to keep things going…. And when he is home he runs to Mama. [Believing her not worthy of her son, the mother-in-law is incessantly critical of her] … I’m a good wife. … I don’t think I’m all that bad a person to be with.’” The father’s retort to her criticisms is nearly always the accusation: “‘You’re a suspicious person, you’re always thinking the worst of people.’”Edgar learns early of hatred toward Jews prevalent in poor Irish and Italian East Bronx neighborhoods, “where people lived in ramshackle houses with tar-paper siding amid factories and warehouses.” He has noticed from his bedroom window “strange youths not from the neighborhood … vaulting over the fences into our yard. They climbed the retaining wall and disappeared. These were the boys who hated boundaries and straight lines, who traveled as a matter of principle off the streets, as if they needed to trespass and show their scorn of property. … They were the ones, I knew, who chalked the strange marks on our garage doors.” Swastikas. “‘They’d like to be Nazis,”” Edgar’s mother warns him. “‘They carry knives. … They rob. You come inside if you see them.’”Several years later Edgar, returning from a public library located close to an Irish, Italian neighborhood, is confronted by several such boys. He is threatened by a knife, forced to lie that he is not a Jew, and is robbed of the coins in his pocket. The incident is one of the major traumatic events of his young life, and it is the major catalyst of sudden growth of maturity and self-esteem, which he exhibits near the end of the novel.World’s Fair is not among my most favorite historical novels. My interest in the story lagged in several places. For example, I would have appreciated less detail about the exhibits of the New York World’s Fair. I did not become connected initially with Edgar and his parents. I put the book aside for an entire month before I decided to finish it. However, I recognize entirely E. L. Doctorow’s skill as a writer. His depth of characterization, his richness of historical detail, the seriousness of his themes, his use of sensory imagery (Edgar’s trip to the hospital following the rupture of his appendix and his struggle not to succumb of ether was masterful), his use of humor (Edgar was critical of The Shadow because he would not use his special power either to observe ladies undressing or kill Hitler), the poignancy of several key scenes (Edgar knows that the children in his hospital ward are dying because the toys that they receive are expensive, elaborate, and not appreciated and they have excluded him from their friendship knowing they are dying and he isn’t): all of this is worthy of a ten-page essay replete with many examples. E. L. Doctorow’s World’s Fair is better than many books I read but not one of my top ten.
3.75/5While this book was enjoyable overall, certain aspects yielded mixed feelings. My only other Doctorow novel prior to this was Ragtime, which easily secured a place among my favorite books of all time—intricate and gorgeously written. It was through this novel that I discovered Doctorow’s dazzling flair for historical fiction, for reimagining vivid panoramas of the past and immersing one in the sight, sounds, and smells of a bygone era. I can’t sing enough praises for that novel. So, when I read on the cover flap that World’s Fair was hailed by the LA Times as “something close to magic,” I wanted to be there for the show. I’m not disappointed, but this novel definitely pales in comparison to the magic of Ragtime, which converges intriguing storylines toward a central plot driven by a cast of provocative characters and events.To be fair, the comparison isn’t justified since the two books have different concerns. World’s Fair blends fiction with memoir in recollecting Edgar Altschuler’s childhood in the 1930s Bronx. It is interspersed at irregular intervals with narrative interviews (the alliteration here=unintended) from Edgar’s mother and brother. While I can understand the rationale behind including other older voices to perhaps lend credence to the adolescent or adult’s memory of childhood, providing something of a frame for his account of things, and to provide more dimensions to the other important people in Edgar’s formative years, I found this format/strategy somewhat clumsy and unnecessary in that these interpolations did little to flesh out the other characters and enhance my reception of them beyond what is already well-rendered by the protagonist. I found Edgar’s to be a level-headed, objective enough perspective that I didn’t really see a need for these seemingly haphazard departures from the main narrative voice. The exclusion of any narrative sections from the father, whom Edgar adored and who I found particularly interesting, did have me wondering what happened to him, why he didn't make an appearance.I give this book 3.75 stars. The general attitudes of GR reviewers who give this book between 2-4 stars would be a fair assessment of my own feelings toward this book. I don’t require a plot if the writing possesses other meaningful, insightful, or entertaining elements to its merit. World’s Fair makes up for its lack of plot—unless you count the unfolding of childhood as plot—by pulling one into the world of 1930s New York through a child’s eyes. Like the Westinghouse Time Capsule that was created for the 1939 World’s Fair, this book itself is something of a time capsule. Not much in the way of plot but packed with details—WW II looming ahead; the crash of the Hindenburg; when radio was king, and swing and programs like The Shadow, The Lone Ranger, and The Green Hornet entertained over the airwaves; the Trylon and Periscope as symbols of that hopeful, characteristic American ambition to soar toward the future—which some may find tedious, but, MAN, I eat this stuff up! I’m fascinated with Americana of the past, particularly ranging from the turn of the century to the sixties, so this book was up my alley. While the novel as a whole does leave a tepid, lukewarm impression—as any account of a vastly ordinary childhood from infancy to age nine would—I never found myself bored and wanting to stop, and it’s definitely in the details (not everyone’s cup of tea). Because of the chronological structure of this semi-autobiography, the titular World’s Fair doesn’t appear until towards the very end at the culmination of the book and of a decade. You obviously don’t need to reside in New York in order to appreciate this book, though I suspect some familiarity with the layout of the Bronx and surrounding boroughs might enhance the experience, as Doctorow often drops names of streets, most of which are meaningless to me. A couple of things I picked up: 1.) transferring images onto wax paper, and 2.) amateur ventriloquism. I am now available for parties.After reading about how Edgar transferred comic strip pictures onto wax sheets by rubbing a tongue depressor or ruler back and forth over the wax paper overlaying the desired images, I immediately rummaged for a grocery circular, ruler, and sheet of wax paper. Voila!—Beautiful waxy images of Prego sauce, an assortment of meats, and a selection of junk food ready to be framed.And would you like to hear my rendition of “The Sidewalks of New York” on the [deep breath] vhig fiano?
What do You think about World's Fair (1996)?
Esta es la historia de un niño, Edgar, y de una ciudad, Nueva York. ‘La feria del mundo’ transcurre en los años 30 en una Norteamérica azotada por la Gran Depresión, y la vivimos a través de la mirada de Edgar. Pero lejos de parecer un relato infantil, Doctorow nos regala una extraordinaria novela, con ciertos tintes autobiográficos, en la que resalta la calidad estilística del autor, su sencillez a la hora de narrar, y, sobre todo, ese mundo visto a través de los inocentes ojos de Edgar.Con libros como este, estoy acostumbrado a encontrarme con escritores que se pierden en disquisiciones y recuerdos, que van adelante y atrás en una trama de la que terminas por perder el interés. Este no es el caso de ‘La feria del mundo’, que Doctorow lleva con mano firme, sin apenas flashbacks que interrumpan el hilo narrativo y temporal de la historia, algo de agradecer.Siguiendo las andanzas de Edgar, conoceremos a su familia: su madre, Rose, su padre, Dave, su hermano mayor, Donald, su abuela materna, y su tío Willy, además de la familia de su padre, destacando su tía Frances. La historia está plagada de descripciones de la vida familiar de Edgar, de momentos entrañables y melancólicos, al igual que momentos más tristes. Las enseñanzas de su hermano Donald, del que Edgar siente devoción; la escucha de seriales radiofónicos, desde noticiarios, salpicados por los comentarios irónicos de su padre, hasta las aventuras de La Sombra; las calles del Bronx; los juegos del tío Willy; las sorpresas de Dave; los viajes de compras con su madre; los primeros amigos en la escuela; los deportes, el béisbol, el fútbol americano; las tareas escolares; las primeras lecturas, desde cómics hasta manuales de ventriloquia; la experiencia con la enfermedad y la muerte; el primer amor... Todo ello narrado desde la distancia, con un cierto tono elegíaco y nostálgico, sin caer en elementos sensacionalistas y sensibleros. Todas estas vivencias crean un pequeño universo formado por miríadas de detalles.La Exposición Universal de Nueva York (1939)Y después está Nueva York. El Nueva York de Edgar (Doctorow), un mosaico de momentos históricos, de vidas, que casi puedes palpar y sentir: los efectos de la Gran Depresión; la llegada del increíble dirigible Hindenburg surcando los cielos; las primeras noticias de la guerra en Europa, cuyas consecuencias empiezan a sentirse en las calles; el gran recibimiento otorgado a Lindbergh; la Exposición Universal de Nueva York y todas sus maravillas...El Hindenburg surcando ManhattanDoctorow era un escritor con oficio, y se nota. 'La feria del mundo’ es su obra más autobiográfica, y una de las más conseguidas.
—Oscar
1985Really good book. I can even imagine wanting to read it again. The only parts I skipped were where he goes on and on about some comic action hero, things like that.Good 2011 review of it in The Guardian by Tom Cox,http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/serie...[as you might expect, only 2 of the 10 books Cox reviews are by women...sigh...]New York 1930s from persp. of kid 4 to 10 yrs old, mostly secular Jewish family, 2nd gen. E Europe. Sold as a novel, but surely it is mostly autobiogr? He calls the kid Edgar, his own name. The details are amazing indeed – D seems to have a photographic memory of house interiors and objects, in addition to how people were dressed and behaved. The last few chapters do in fact detail visits to the NY World’s Fair of 1939. Very very strong on family dynamics.Cox notes that D's mix of memoir and fiction, criticized at the time, would not raise an eyebrow today...I will now read other Doctorow books.
—Rita
Meh. What's to like? Maybe the chapters at the end about the kid's actual visit to the fair with his young girlfriend, although I found it creepy that he watches the girl's mother do an erotic act with a mechanical octopus. Other than that bit of bluster, nothing much happens. I was puzzled by some of "young Edgar's" vocabulary; I had to read some sentences twice and still wasn't sure what Doctorow was getting at. And they don't teach about comma splices in the Bronx? Also, the sections narrated randomly by Mama Rose and older brother Donald as they were remembering the past threw me off. Was Old Edgar interviewing them, asking for their contributions to clarify his own memories? If that was the case, then why does Young Edgar talk like an 80-year-old man? The World's Fair was the coolest thing about this book. Too bad Edgar couldn't live there and have an adventure in Jungleland. Then, something might have happened worth reading about.
—Melinda
