-- In 1985, Yale Tishman, the development director for an art gallery in Chicago, is about to pull off an amazing coup, bringing in an extraordinary collection of 1920s paintings as a gift to the gallery. Yet as his career begins to flourish, the carnage of the AIDS epidemic grows around him. One by one, his friends are dying and after his friend Nico's funeral, the virus circles closer and closer to Yale himself. Soon the only person he has left is Fiona, Nico's little sister.Thirty years later, Fiona is in Paris tracking down her estranged daughter who disappeared into a cult. While staying with an old friend, a famous photographer who documented the Chicago crisis, she finds herself finally grappling with the devastating ways AIDS affected her life and her relationship with her daughter. The two intertwining stories take us through the heartbreak of the eighties and the chaos of the modern world, as both Yale and Fiona struggle to find goodness in the midst of disaster.… (more)
Chicago, 1985: the early years of the AIDS epidemic in the United States. A group of friends are gathered to remember Nico, who recently died of the disease. It was a scary and confusing time. The virus came seemingly out of nowhere, its impact swift and fatal. Most government institutions, employers, and society as a whole shunned the gay community. With the exception of his younger sister Fiona, Nico’s family deserted him; his friends had to keep their grief private. Yale Tischman was one of Nico’s friends and remained close to Fiona after his death. Yale and his partner Charlie have been together, and monogamous, since before the virus became known, which gives them a sense of security. Yale works for an art gallery and is currently negotiating a complicated bequest of some paintings currently belonging to Fiona’s aunt. But the losses in Yale’s circle are only beginning.
Fast forward to 2015. Fiona runs an AIDS thrift shop and is trying to locate her estranged daughter Claire, believed to be in Paris with her young daughter. While staying with an old friend who had been part of the Chicago gay community 30 years earlier, Fiona begins to process her memories and how those times shaped her and affected her relationship with Claire.
Through alternating chapters, author Rebecca Makkai shows the devastating and far-reaching impact of the AIDS epidemic. She doesn’t hold back; her depiction of the confusion and silence surrounding the disease, the lack of treatment options, and the widespread stigma and fear is both realistic and emotional. While I was completely drawn into this book, I had to set it aside several times to process my feelings. This is a profound novel, highly recommended.
What, I hear you thinking, is wrong with this old man? DNF a five-star read? Five-star a DNF? ::side-eye::
The fact is that I lived this story. I lost the love of my life to AIDS, and attended far too many funerals and memorial services before I was 30. So I really just can't
The prose is exemplary in its economy and precision, both qualities I admire greatly. Yale came fully into his manhood for me when, on the last page I read, he reflected:
...even if the world wasn't always a good place, he reminded himself that he could trust his perceptions now. Things were so often exactly what they seemed to be.
Precisely, Yale, they so often are and one is always wise to remember that fact. Occam proposed his razor for a reason. It's an incisive (haw) insight.
So while I fully support the praisemongers in their efforts to convince others to read this book, I am not possessed of the emotional horsepower to do it myself. I encourage y'all to take up the challenge and read it, tout de suite, and predict most will come away with a moving and fulfilling experience.
Makkai uses an alternating timeline, between 1985-90 and 2015, and sometimes these don't work for me, but here I thought it was perfect. Though I never wanted to leave the 1980s characters, flashing forward to 2015 helped put the crisis in perspective - sometimes deepening the sadness, sometimes showing the lasting trauma it cause for those who survived, and sometimes giving glimmers of hope.
Highly recommended - please give it a try!
Maybe because it was set in Chicago, all places I've been, so could imagine this story visually.Belmont Rocks, Lincoln Park and the zoo, Halsted, and Ann Sathers restaurant, one of my favorites in the city. In the Seventies, I hung in Old Town with a group of friends, two were gay, a couple, Jimmy and Max, they were wonderful, don't know what happened to them. I got married, had children, lost touch. I loved this novel, could fully embrace and connect with the story, a story that takes the reader fully into this time period. The political ramifications of a government that was totally unconcerned, a public that turned their heads since this only affected gays, which proved not to be true. The insurance companies, and the way they fought not to pay claims, citing preexisting conditions, so that many died in Cook County hospital. Families, who cut their children off, many never speaking to them again.
We see the other side too, friends banding together, trying to be there for those who had nobody. A mother who stays with her son through this terrible time. So many of these characters we come to know intimately, especially Yale, who is our narrator along with Fiona. Their is a secondary plot in the eighties that concerns Fiona's aunt and some valuable artwork. It was a little drawn out but it does tie into the story and is something Yale is determined to complete. Yale's sees it as a honor to a love that never stopped. Northwestern and DePaul, places Yale works, DePaul a school my youngest daughter graduated from, know it well.
In the present Richard and his photographic exhibit will bring the novel full circle, giving the many who had died, once again a voice. Merging the past with the present.
This was Angela, Esil and my read for March. I liked this one more than they, found it both profound, touching and a story that needed to be told.
ARC from Edelweiss.
Adding another fascinating 1980s storyline, Yale and his friend Fiona find themselves central to discovering a major collection of 1920s Parisian art—possibly worth millions—hidden away with Nora (Fiona’s aunt), an elderly lady in Michigan. In the Paris of the twenties, Nora worked as a model for Amedeo Modigliani, Fernand Léger, and Tsuguharu Foujita, among others, and her payment was an occasional piece of art by the then struggling artists.
Yale works for a gallery at Northwestern University and this find could (if authentic) put them on the map. Using the Fiona connection, Yale’s team works with the generous Nora, and tries to avoid the rather hostile heirs. A curious part of the story is that there are a few simple works by a completely unknown artist (Ranko Novak) that Nora insists be displayed in any exhibition of these artists. Sadly, by the time the works are exhibited, Nora has died, and Yale—who had promised that Nora’s love Novak would be included—has been removed from the project.
The 80s crisis took a serious toll on the relationship between Yale and his lover Charlie, who worked an independent newspaper, as well as Fiona and her estranged daughter Claire. Fiona becomes more central to the 2015 story, as she returns to Paris to search for the lost Claire, who had joined a cult, and then moved on.
It will be a rare person who can read this book without remembering the anger, despair, fear, and ignorance of those times. The book is difficult to read at times, but it is stunning, and you’ll carry its story and characters with you for some time.
Makkai has done her research. I was living in Illinois in the 1980s and, while I did not live the story told through Yale's eyes very directly, I came out during that time and I was an activist in my university town a couple of hours south of Chicago. She got it right. Breathtakingly, agonizingly right. But beyond that, she tells a beautiful story. It's a story of chosen families and what happens when we manage the disappointment of our given families through bridge-burning. It's the story of maternal love in all its frail varieties and with its awesome power. It's a story of passion -- for friends, for lovers, for art, for justice -- and loyalty to all those same things, and what we will or won't sacrifice in pursuit of passion. It's the story of life's devastating shortness and the tragedy of any length of that life being wasted because of our illusion that it is long. Finally, it's the story of a very real community that experienced a very real tragedy in the latter part of the 20th century, a tragic history that is rarely understood from such an intimate perspective. The final scene is so vivid that I felt it in my gut and nearly wept for its beauty. Brava, Ms. Makkai!
In her most recent novel, The Great Believers, Makkai takes on much heftier plot lines. The book is told in alternating chapters between the mid eighties depiction of the AIDS epidemic in the Chicago gay community, and in 2015 where a mother searches for her estranged daughter in Paris. The connection is that Fiona, the mother, was great friends with Yale Tishman, thirty years ago. She was in Chicago then when her brother Nico died and when all his friends starting dying around her. She cared for them in their waning days as insurance denied the necessary drugs and the country turned a blind eye. Through Yale's story, Makkai details the life of these men, describing the difference of the time then when a fixable thing, like cheating in a relationship, something that could be forgiven and fixed, now becomes an atom bomb of possible death. How can that much anger be fixed. Makkai compares these men to the lost generation of Fitzgerald whose quote is the source for the title: "We were the great believers....I have never cared for any men as much as for these who felt the first springs when I did, and saw death ahead, and were reprieved—and who now walk the long stormy summer.”
In a clever plot connection, Makkai uses the story of Fiona's Great Aunt Nora, whose personal art collection from her modeling days in Paris is being bequeathed to the Northwester art gallery that Yale works for. It was Fiona's advice that Nora contact him. This allows the reader to enjoy delving into the art world of Modigliani and Foujita. This is the greatest feature about using the kindle app on the iPad ( attention fellow readers) a simple touch on the screen allows you to shoot to Google and see the artwork and read the history of these mentioned artists. This allows you to interact more and learn more about the research work that the author put into her story.
The Great Believers is a well constructed important book. Though I liked the charming narrative of The Borrower, I felt The Great Believers to be an important, more mature work of fine fiction. I would recommend both.
"an absorbing and emotionally riveting story about what it’s like to live during times of crisis. And who among us believes that, at any point in the near future, we’ll cease living in times of crisis, whatever form they may take?"
By Rebecca Makkai
There are two alternative timelines in this exuberant, moving and fascinating novel that explores friendship, trust, AIDS, and love. Such a wonderful rich book, so very hard to read at some points. But so so good!
The story begins in the Mid 1980's in
The parallel storyline is 30 years later, when Nico's sister, Fiona returns to Chicago to try to find her daughter, who has joined a mysterious cult. Fiona stays with an old friend, Richard Campo, a photographer who grew popular in the 80's photographing this Chicago community affected by AIDS. This stirs memories for Fiona of her brother, and the many friends and lovers that have been lost to the disease, or labelled by it.
"The thing is, the disease itself feels like a judgement. We've all got a little Jesse Helms on our shoulder, right? If you got it from sleeping with a thousand guys, then it's a judgement on your promiscuity. If you got it from sleeping with one guy once, thats almost worse, it's like a judgement on all of us, like the act itself is the problem and not the number of times you did it. And if you got it because you thought you couldn't, it's a judgement on your hubris."
I really fell in love with Yale Tishman, the more I read the more I liked him. His partner, Charlie not so much. I also liked Julian and Fiona and Terrance.
I found this to be amazingly honest and accurate. It successfully takes you to that time period and the community of Chicago, as well as the emotion and environment surrounding this epidemic throughout the country. The politics of a government unconcerned because it was thought to affect only the gay community, turning its head, ignoring the facts. The insurance companies denying coverage because it is considered a pre-existing condition, forcing many to die in hospitals or hospices, as well as on the street. And families who refuse to accept gay members and kick them out on the street (as my parents and family did to me, something you never get over, in many ways.).
This is a book you really should read. It is so good, such a great story, and such wonderful characters. It's shortlisted for the National Book award 2018. Essential reading.
Quotes: "Asher had a New York accent, and the way he pronounced certain words - coffee, for instance - made Yale want to mouth them in his wake."
"The most ridiculous of Yale's first loves was Clarence Darrow, as portrayed in Inherit The Wind, which he'd read in tenth grade. He'd avoided speaking in class for two whole weeks, terrified his cheeks would redden if he tried to discuss the play."
"To know that someone was longing for you was the world's strongest aphrodisiac."
"The journalist was the kind of woman who seemed entirely made of scarves."
"Ageism is the only self-correcting prejudice, isn't it?"
"I'm not an alcoholic. That was a joke.
How was that funny?
I don't know. I was drunk."
"It's been a long time since I had a day that juts cuts your life in two. Like, this hangnail on my thumb, I had it yesterday. It's the same hangnail, and I'm a completely different person."
"You'll never know anyone's marriage but your own. And even then, you'll only know half of it."
"It had been her failing with Claire all along - pretending not to love her as much as she did. Trying to steel herself against a broken heart, the way she would with a boyfriend."
"The first time she and Damian had gone to couples therapy, the therapist had finally said, "What are you afraid will happen if you open yourself up to him completely?" And Fiona had shouted, "He would die!" It clearly wasn't what the therapist had expected to hear. He hadn't been a very good therapist."
"It's always a matter of waiting for the world to come unraveled. When things hold together, it's always only temporary."
"If we could just be on earth at the same time and same place as everyone we loved, if we could be born together and die together, it would be so simple."
Alternating chapters follow 2 interconnected timelines. The first, 1985-1990, looks at a
I thought Nora was a great character--an elderly woman who lived through the chaos of being in Paris as WWI started, and who fled back to the US, losing her love, her friends, her school, her dreamed-of future. As the older family member to accept her great-nephew Nico, she understood what it meant to be "the arty one", and she gave Nico and Fiona the mental support she could to help them. And her art from that time tied the characters together in 1985/1986. But these chapters are rough. Some are so hopefully, others so painfully sad and difficult.
Then the 2015 chapters are surprising. How the survivors' lives turned out--how the choices they made after the late 80s/early 90s reflected what they went through--but how their later choices affected others who were not even alive, or were children.
These characters are all so well done, they feel like real people. And many of the places and events mentioned were real, or stand-ins for real places, as mentioned in the author's note and Acknowledgments. People who survived Boystown in the 80/90s were some of Makkai's early readers. Makkai does not mention her connection, or how she came to write this book.
I won't say much about the plot, but will mention that there are two timelines here. The first is in the AIDs killing fields of the 80's. The story revolves around a group of friends, gay men, who are decimated by the disease, and the woman around whom they swirled. The second is 2015 when that same woman is dealing with life in the aftermath of the pain and fear of losing her people. I often hate dual timelines, but this absolutely worked. The reader gets to see the pain doesn't end when the lives flame out.
Makkai's characters are rich and complex. I loved Yale and Fiona so much, and wanted good things for them. I was mostly not rewarded with good things, but there was such truth to their journeys I knew there was no other way for them to play out. In the end this is a book not about death, but about love and grief, and about how completely worth it it is to invest in people, to trust, even when it ends in scorching pain. So far its my fiction read of the year I think. I find I am reading a lot of really great books about grief these days, but mostly they are memoirs. They are wonderful too, but this book made me remember that there are things a writer can do in fiction that sometimes get us to more universal truths than non-fiction can manage. I don't know what to say, except, read it!
The last sentences of the novel won’t mean much (and probably won't spoil for those who haven’t read it yet), but they’re the saddest sweetest sentences I’ve read in a long time and I want to save them for myself:
I had some misgivings about this book, despite the good things other people have said - I wasn't really keen to go back to all that emotional trauma, and I didn't altogether like the idea of belonging to a generation that has become
The answer seems to be: not all that much. Makkai's heart is clearly in the right place, and she's a competent, if rather long-winded, storyteller, but in the parts of the story where she's talking about what it was like to be in the middle of the Chicago gay community with your friends dying all around you, it's just as though you're back in a slightly more generic version of a 1980s novel by Edmund White, Paul Monette, David Feinberg, or one of the many others who wrote about that time from the front line. It works, and it was quite moving to read it, but it didn't give me any sort of lightbulb moment. What can there be to say that hasn't already been said? The real story of AIDS, seen in the longer perspective, should surely be the many millions of people still affected by the disease in Africa and elsewhere, a point Makkai buries in a single brief passing mention. However much the early casualties in the gay community affected us personally, when we look back now we have to see them as only the tiniest tip of the iceberg.
I should say that there were some unfortunate editing slip-ups in the early part of the book that probably prejudiced me against it from the start. One sentence that is going to haunt me for the rest of my life is "They sat in Denver Airport with bags under their eyes."
It flips back and forth from 1985 Chicago and 2015 Paris. The Chicago portion follows a group of young gay men as they become infected with AIDS. The
(For my development friends, there is an interesting sub-plot where one of the main characters works in a university advancement office for an art gallery, specifically on a contested planned gift.)