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TIME: Almanac of the 20th Century
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TIME, Almanac of the 20th Century.ISO
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1990
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90
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oct_dec
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<text>
<title>
(Dec. 31, 1990) Books
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Dec. 31, 1990 The Best Of '90
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
BOOKS, Page 55
BEST OF '90
</hdr>
<body>
<p>FICTION
</p>
<p> The Burden of Proof, by Scott Turow. The blockbuster novel
of the year is also one of the better, more intelligent reads.
As he did in Presumed Innocent (1987), the author-lawyer hurls
the human impulse to make trouble straight at the bloodless
statutes designed to keep the peace. The impact is shattering,
and the echoes remain long after the explosion is over.
</p>
<p> Friend of My Youth, by Alice Munro. This collection of 10
shimmering stories should put to rest, at least for a while, the
old canard that nothing interesting ever happens in Canada. The
author, who lives near Lake Huron, writes about the lives, times
and loves of her country-men and -women with grace, precision and
memorable generosity.
</p>
<p> The General in His Labyrinth, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The
last months and days of Simon Bolivar, the brilliant and
thwarted liberator of South America, are imaginatively
reconstructed by the acknowledged master of magic realism. As
the general flees from his progressive illness and ungrateful
people, he trails, in his turbulent wake, a hyperactive tale of
grandeur and disillusionment.
</p>
<p> My Son's Story, by Nadine Gordimer. For nearly 25 years,
those who have wanted to burrow beneath the headlines from South
Africa have consulted the fiction of Nadine Gordimer. Her 10th
novel, which deals with a "colored" schoolteacher caught up in
his country's racial strife, offers another inside view of
people who are trapped and defined by the fatal abstractions of
black and white.
</p>
<p> Philadelphia Fire, by John Edgar Wideman. This fiction
revolves around a fact: the May 1985 fire bombing (ordered by
a black mayor) of a Philadelphia house occupied by a black
organization called Move. But that is only the starting point
for a prolonged, dramatic monologue on racism in the U.S. and
the possibility that the birth of the nation was accompanied by
a genetic disorder.
</p>
<p> Possession: A Romance, by A.S. Byatt. Two contemporary
British scholars, one male, one female, try to collect evidence
about a presumed love affair between two Victorian poets, one
male, one female. Antonia Byatt, who until recently has been
known chiefly as Margaret Drabble's older sister, comes into her
own as a novelist (and romancer) of dazzling inventiveness.
</p>
<p> The Quincunx, by Charles Palliser. Roughly half a million
words long, this extravagant narrative is a faithful re-creation
of the 19th century British novel--lots of them, including
Bleak House, Great Expectations and Jane Eyre. Miraculously,
this bald-faced imitation works wonders. The author makes the
distant world of Victorian fiction, with its careful plotting
and moral punctiliousness, as gripping as tomorrow's whodunit.
</p>
<p> Rabbit at Rest, by John Updike. Rumors of his death have been
greatly exaggerated; Harold C. ("Rabbit") Angstrom is in awful
shape at the end of this novel, the victim of piggy habits and
a massive coronary, but Updike has left himself free to have a
second opinion. If Rabbit really is finished, in this fourth
book, then so too is a luminous, encyclopedic saga of postwar
America.
</p>
<p> Symposium, by Muriel Spark. Ten guests assemble for a
fashionable London dinner party, with no idea of just how
murderously interesting the affair will turn out to be. The
author here approaches the sinister elegance of her The Prime
of Miss Jean Brodie (1961). She introduces fundamental issues--salvation and sin, inspiration and insanity, free will and
destiny--through the medium of light but lethal comedy.
</p>
<p> Vineland, by Thomas Pynchon. Devotees waited 17 years for the
author to outdo his apocalyptic Gravity's Rainbow (1973). What
they got instead was a kinder, gentler Pynchon. This saga of
wilting '60s flower children, circa 1984, on the lam from
federal narcs, displays much of the author's old virtuosity:
stunning erudition and terminal paranoia coupled with the
hard-edged loopiness of cartoons. That is not surprising; the
happy ending is.
</p>
<p>NONFICTION
</p>
<p> C.S. Lewis: A Biography, by A.N. Wilson. Comic novels, essays
and biographies waft from Wilson with Mozartean ease. Each book
seems better than the last, or at least different in some
incomparable way. Such is the case with his approach to Lewis,
the British writer and celebrator of Christian thought who
delighted both adults (The Screwtape Letters) and children (The
Chronicles of Narnia). Fans should be warned that Wilson's
portrait of the saintly don contains some fleshy demons.
</p>
<p> A Hole in the World, by Richard Rhodes. Child abuse was not
discovered by if-it-bleeds-it-leads TV-news editors. Suffering
innocents can also be found in literature, extending from Medea
to Oliver Twist. Set in the Midwest during the '30s and '40s,
this memoir of how Rhodes and his brother survived mistreatment
by a hateful stepmother should become a minor classic.
</p>
<p> In All His Glory: The Life of William S. Paley, by Sally
Bedell Smith. Paley, the founder of CBS and a Manhattan
socialite, died not a moment too soon to avoid seeing himself
debunked in this best-selling biography. "Paley," says the
author, "was as spoiled as a man could be." By the end of her
razor-edged narrative, Smith has cut her subject down to where
he would have trouble filling a 12-in. screen.
</p>
<p> Legacies: A Chinese Mosaic, by Bette Bao Lord. When Lord went
to fetch her father's ashes from a Red Chinese prison, she was
told that his ears had been torn off. It was all she had to hear
to know that the official report of suicide was a lie. The
author, wife of the former ambassador to China Winston Lord,
confronts 40 years of cultural distortion in the People's
Republic.
</p>
<p> Means of Ascent, by Robert A. Caro. The second installment
of what promises to be the longest and liveliest American
political biography of modern times finds Lyndon Johnson
transforming what were certainly not his finest hours into
tarnished triumphs. To wit: avoiding World War II combat for as
long as possible and then parlaying a few minutes under fire
into a Silver Star; and stealing the 1948 Texas senatorial
election with 87 questionable votes--enough to earn him the
nickname Landslide Lyndon.
</p>
<p> The Politics of Rich and Poor, by Kevin Phillips. Twenty
years ago, the Nostradamus of Washington correctly predicted the
emerging Republican majority. Now Phillips foresees a populist
backlash to the greedfest of the Reagan '80s. A provocative
analysis based on social science and a cyclical view of history.
</p>
<p> The Polk Conspiracy, by Kati Marton. One of the mysteries of
the early years of the cold war has been, Who killed George
Polk? He was a CBS correspondent in 1948 who, shortly after
threatening to expose corrupt officials of the Greek Royalist
government, was found floating in Salonika bay with a bullet in
his head. The Royalists blamed the communists. Not so, according
to Marton. Her investigations reveal a right-wing conspiracy and
a Washington cover-up aided by columnist Walter Lippmann.
</p>
<p> The Prize: The Epic Quest for Oil, Money and Power, by Daniel
Yergin. If you ever had any doubt about what makes today's
political pole greasy, read this documentary history of the
petroleum industry. Yergin leaves no promising source undrilled
in this story of how the U.S. has gone from being the world's
leading exporter of oil products to a nation of worried
petroholics.
</p>
<p> Vladimir Nabokov: The Russian Years, by Brian Boyd. The late,
great novelist once defined biography as "psycho-plagiarism,"
the unauthorized use of another's mental states. It is nearly
impossible to think how an outsider could enter Nabokov's
baroque imagination, let alone leave with its mysteries intact.
Boyd's brilliant biography is a sort of literary cyclotron,
accelerating streams of His Nabs' life and work until they
collide in ways that leave traces of his genius.
</p>
<p> What I Saw at the Revolution, by Peggy Noonan. Presidents are
accustomed to having words put in their mouths. Ronald Reagan
was spoon-fed by speechwriter Noonan, who also flavored George
Bush's minced syntax with "a thousand points of light." As a
woman with a lower-middle-class background and a degree from a
third-rate college, she was largely ignored by bosses she calls
"Harvardheads." Their mistake. Noonan's witty memoir of her time
at conservatism's red-hot center proves that the way to spell
revenge is b-e-s-t s-e-l-l-e-r.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>