Valentine's Day: Three new love stories

Three couples risk it all in three great new novels

3. 'A Good American,' by Alex George

Jette and Frederick fell in love over opera in 1904 in Hanover, Germany. (He serenaded her with Puccini.) Naturally, her mother objected, but Jette, no frail Juliet, stole money and her grandfather's medal from the family safe and strong-armed Frederick into running away with her to America.

An error sends them to New Orleans instead of New York, but as Jette says, it's all “new.” In their one night in New Orleans, Frederick discovers jazz. The next day, the clarinet player he met helps them get tickets onto a Mississippi riverboat heading north. They make it as far as Beatrice, Mo., before Jette gives birth.

A Good American (Penguin Group, 400 pp.), British native Alex George's debut novel, is narrated by their grandson, James, as he chronicles the history of the Meisenheimers of Missouri. The title refers to Frederick, who flings himself wholeheartedly into his new land. After making money betting on bare-knuckle boxing, he buys the local bar and installs live music every night, ranging from ragtime piano to arias performed by mein host.

Beatrice, meanwhile, finds herself missing the home she eagerly fled. But “A Good American” never dwells long on ironies: When Frederick volunteers as a soldier in World War I, the fact that he's going to be killing his former countrymen is hardly remarked on. Instead, Frederick himself is killed.

Jette and Frederick have a musical son, Joseph, and a brilliant, chess-playing daughter, Cora, who wants a life outside of Beatrice. Joseph grows up to have four boys of his own. Thrilled, he forms a barbershop quartet and volunteers them for weddings and funerals. After the opera and the jazz, it's hard to see that as progress.

That's one of the problems with “A Good American”: The younger generation just can't compete with the outsized character of their grandparents. And the blanding down of the Meisenheimers doesn't just extend to their musical tastes.

The family opens a restaurant, with Jette offering German and Creole specialties – the latter courtesy of the clarinet-player, Lomax, who turns up in Missouri a few years later. Lomax ends up being the heart of the family before the era's racism rears its head. (Weirdly, despite giving the Meisenheimers' remarkably forward-thinking attitudes about race, George includes an episode involving a Little Person that's just distasteful.)

By the 1950s, all the spice is gone and the restaurant is a burger joint – red banquettes, paper hats, and all. Instead of Frederick's live music, there's a jukebox.

They're all-American all right, but readers may wonder if that's entirely a good thing.

3 of 3

Dear Reader,

About a year ago, I happened upon this statement about the Monitor in the Harvard Business Review – under the charming heading of “do things that don’t interest you”:

“Many things that end up” being meaningful, writes social scientist Joseph Grenny, “have come from conference workshops, articles, or online videos that began as a chore and ended with an insight. My work in Kenya, for example, was heavily influenced by a Christian Science Monitor article I had forced myself to read 10 years earlier. Sometimes, we call things ‘boring’ simply because they lie outside the box we are currently in.”

If you were to come up with a punchline to a joke about the Monitor, that would probably be it. We’re seen as being global, fair, insightful, and perhaps a bit too earnest. We’re the bran muffin of journalism.

But you know what? We change lives. And I’m going to argue that we change lives precisely because we force open that too-small box that most human beings think they live in.

The Monitor is a peculiar little publication that’s hard for the world to figure out. We’re run by a church, but we’re not only for church members and we’re not about converting people. We’re known as being fair even as the world becomes as polarized as at any time since the newspaper’s founding in 1908.

We have a mission beyond circulation, we want to bridge divides. We’re about kicking down the door of thought everywhere and saying, “You are bigger and more capable than you realize. And we can prove it.”

If you’re looking for bran muffin journalism, you can subscribe to the Monitor for $15. You’ll get the Monitor Weekly magazine, the Monitor Daily email, and unlimited access to CSMonitor.com.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.