Ragtime
by E.L. Doctorow
If ever there was a book that lent itself to a Broadway musical, it’s Ragtime. I first read E.L. Doctorow’s novel my senior year of high school; I hated it. Believe it or not, I didn’t understand one of the most American themes: racism. I know, it’s extremely hard to believe, but if you don’t even understand what’s going on, how can you appreciate the story? It’s because of my love for the musical (book by Terrence McNally, lyrics by Lynn Ahrens, and music by Stephen Flaherty) that I gave the novel another try.
Unfortunately—but I am an American, after all—by that time, I understood the story. It takes place at the turn of the century. An all-American family mingles with real historic characters and fictionally symbolic ones, and becomes entangled in an all-American crisis of conscience. Sufficed to say, the novel is rife with moral dilemmas, feminism, racism, the changing tide of the turn of the century, and cynicism. Doctorow shines a flashlight on “the good old days” and shows they really weren’t all that good.
The novel is very stylized, another aspect the younger me didn’t understand. The average American family has no names, merely titled Mother, Father, Younger Brother, etc. There are no quotation marks. Sentences that to a younger audience would appear to be throwaway lines are actually full of poignancy. My advice is to wait until you’ve developed a layer of cynicism yourself before tackling this upsetting read.
Ragtime is a classic, but I hardly think it’s fitting for every high schooler to read. It’s very traditionally tragic, and it makes me wonder had the title not already been taken, would Doctorow have titled his novel An American Tragedy. There are many wonderful, poignant phrases in its pages, and the issues he writes about are sadly still horrifically relevant today. I’m not trying to discourage anyone from reading it—although by all means, don’t see the movie. James Cagney, in his last screen role, will break your heart—but I must caution readers of the heavy material. It really is upsetting. It’s a hard book to love, but an easy one to appreciate.
Unfortunately—but I am an American, after all—by that time, I understood the story. It takes place at the turn of the century. An all-American family mingles with real historic characters and fictionally symbolic ones, and becomes entangled in an all-American crisis of conscience. Sufficed to say, the novel is rife with moral dilemmas, feminism, racism, the changing tide of the turn of the century, and cynicism. Doctorow shines a flashlight on “the good old days” and shows they really weren’t all that good.
The novel is very stylized, another aspect the younger me didn’t understand. The average American family has no names, merely titled Mother, Father, Younger Brother, etc. There are no quotation marks. Sentences that to a younger audience would appear to be throwaway lines are actually full of poignancy. My advice is to wait until you’ve developed a layer of cynicism yourself before tackling this upsetting read.
Ragtime is a classic, but I hardly think it’s fitting for every high schooler to read. It’s very traditionally tragic, and it makes me wonder had the title not already been taken, would Doctorow have titled his novel An American Tragedy. There are many wonderful, poignant phrases in its pages, and the issues he writes about are sadly still horrifically relevant today. I’m not trying to discourage anyone from reading it—although by all means, don’t see the movie. James Cagney, in his last screen role, will break your heart—but I must caution readers of the heavy material. It really is upsetting. It’s a hard book to love, but an easy one to appreciate.