Onwards to chapter 2!  This is another fairly short chapter (there are some beastly long ones later in the book; be warned!), in which we learn a little bit more about Peter Lake.  Primarily, we get a good view of his current situation, and a decent look at his personality.  We don’t get much of his backstory, but that will come soon enough.

We open where we left off, with Peter atop the white horse, opening up some distance between him and the Short Tails:

Leaving the Short tails behind would be easy, because not one of them (including Pearly, raised in the Five Points just like the rest) knew how to ride.  They were masters of the waterfront and could do anything with a small boat, but on land they walked, took the trolley, and jumped the gates of the subway or the El.

This is a big deal for Peter, because he’s been Public Enemy #1 to Pearly and the Short Tails for three years.  This is partly Peter’s own fault, because he’s incapable of leaving their domain of Manhattan for any length of time:

It was necessary for him to be in Manhattan because he was a burglar, and for a burglar to work anyplace else was a shattering admission of mediocrity.

Peter also can’t help but flirt with danger, even when it’s not necessary, as we’ll see shortly.  But for the moment, at least, he feels not merely safe but invulnerable on the horse.

But now, with a horse, it would be different.  Why hadn’t he thought of a horse before?  He could stretch his margin of safety almost immeasurably, and put not yards but miles between himself and Pearly Soames.

Exhilarated by this seemingly magical horse, Peter can’t help but show off and gallops down the thoroughfares of Manhattan, attracting police attention.  He eventually ends up stuck behind a traffic jam, and the horse leads him into a theater, where Peter (and the horse) end up sharing the stage with Caradelba, the Spanish Gypsy.  Ever gallant, Peter apologizes for disturbing her act by presenting her with a hat he grabbed off a policeman’s head.

Upon leaving the theater (which, although it’s not named, is called the Coheeries Theater, which comes up again in part 2 of the book), Peter comes up with a plan.  He would temporarily leave Manhattan, allowing the police and the Short Tails to fight it out:

Were both organizations to come up face to face in search of their vanished prey, the shock of collision might provide Peter Lake with three or four months of freedom.

Peter decides to remove himself to the Bayonne March, home of the Baymen, aboriginal clamdiggers, and the people who

had found Peter Lake and raised him (for a time) much int he style of benevolent wolves.

Therein hangs a tale, and we will get it in another chapter or two.  For now, it’s enough to note what Helprin tells us about the Marsh and the Baymen.

not only were they extraordinary fighters and impossible to find, but their realm was only hafl-real, and anyone entering it without their approval was likely to vanish forever into the roaring clouds which swept over the mirrorlike waters.

The Bayonne Marsh isn’t the only half-real place in this book; we’ll visit another such community later in part 1 when we travel to the Lake of the Coheeries.  For now, just take note that Peter was raised in such a place.  But before he can get there, his attention is captured by a burning ferry , which, apparently, is quite the tourist attraction in turn of the century Manhattan.

There were also vendors, anticipating the thousands who would arrive only after the ferry was a sulking trap of drifting charcoal, and then feed their curiosity on chestnuts, roasted corn, hot pretzels, and meat-on-the-spit.

Peter stays to watch, going so far as to ignore the presence of a Short Tail informant.  Instead, he watches, transfixed by the efforts of the firemen trying to board the ferry.  Why are they trying, when all the passengers are either dead, or already rescued?  Peter knows – and it’s something that drives him , too:

They took power from the fire.  The closer they fought it, the stronger they became.  The firemen knew that though it sometimes killed them, the fire gave them priceless gifts.

Just as the Short Tails do for Peter, even as they try their best to capture and kill him.  And, sure enough, they make their appearance in a pair of automobiles.  Again, however, the horse is far too swift for them, and he carries Peter away with

strides so powerful that he almost flew.

What have we learned so far?  Peter was raised by the Baymen, but can’t bear to leave Manhattan for any length of time.  He draws strength from the efforts of the Short Tails to kill him, even as he looks (but not too hard) for a way to get them off his trail permanently.

But why do they hate him so?  And how did Peter come to be raised by a group of clamdiggers in a half-real world across the river from Manhattan?  We’re about to find out…

 

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Onwards to the first chapter of “Winter’s Tale” – but, first, a brief comment about the movie adaptation that came out earlier this year.  If you’re coming to the book after having seen it, please forget about everything you saw.  There is very little in common between book and film.

There is a movie that’s a lot closer in spirit to the book, a 1948 film called “Portrait of Jennie”.  I’d highly recommend it for its own sake, but I think it’s a wonderful match to “Winter’s Tale.”  Honestly, I would be shocked if Mark Helprin had not seen it, because there are a lot of elements in the film – both larger thematic and philosophical points, and specific images and dialogue – that show up in the book.  Starting with a slow journey through the clouds, accompanied by a voiceover which informs us that:

Since time began man has looked into the awesome reaches of infinity and asked the eternal question: What is time? What is life? What is space? What is death? Through a hundred civilizations, philosophers and scientists have come together with answers, but the bewilderment remains… Science tells us that nothing ever dies but only changes, that time itself does not pass but curves around us, and that the past and the future are together at our side for ever. Out of the shadows of knowledge, and out of a painting that hung on a museum wall, comes our story, the truth of which lies not on our screen but in your hearts.

Keep those words in mind as you read the book, and see if you don’t agree that they apply here, too.  And with that, here we go…

We open with Part 1 of the novel, titled “The City” and chapter one, “A White Horse Escapes.”  And we open directly with the horse, who is nameless for now (that will change in a couple of chapters).  He has escaped from his master’s stable, and he’s roaming the streets of Manhattan, having crossed over the Williamsburg Bridge from Brooklyn.  Bridges are a matter of great importance, and in Helprin’s world, even the horse knows why:

And he was seldom out of sight of the new bridges, which had married womanly Brooklyn to her rich uncle, Manhattan; had put the city’s hand out to the country; and were the end of the past because they spanned not only distance and deep water but dreams and time.

This may sound like nothing more than flowery language, but it’s not.  Helprin means every word literally, especially the part about spanning dreams and time.  Remember this passage as the story progresses.

The horse continues on, and we get some very nice imagery, setting us firmly in 1910’s New York.  As he trots along the just-awakening streets, the horse catches sight of the incredible colors of New York Harbor:

At the end of this polar rainbow, on the horizon, was a mass of white – the foil into which the entire city had been set – that was beginning to turn gold with the rising sun.

Remember how Helprin talked about color in the prologue?  We see it again here, and particularly take note of gold.  The golden light enraptures the horse, and he determines to get to it.  But his way is blocked by a heavy iron gate.  And no matter which way he goes, he finds his way similarly blocked.  He cannot get to the golden light, to the other world that is so close at hand and yet impossibly far away.  Again, remember this for later; it will come up again.

The horse finds one final gate, also locked, and as his hope of reaching that other world fades, he becomes aware of something else, and we’re about to meet our first human character.  The horse spies a lone man running through the snow, pursued by a dozen armed men who are trying to kill him.  The man makes it to the gate shortly ahead of his would-be assassins, jams the lock and then proceeds to slip and fall, right in front of the horse.

Had it not been for the horse peering at him from behind the woodshed, the downed man might have stayed down.  His name was Peter Lake, and he said to himself out loud, “You’re in bad shape when a horse takes pity on you, you stupid bastard.”

The horse does take pity on him, and bends down to allow Peter to mount him.  Once atop the horse, Peter laughs and rides off, leaving his pursuers – now named as the Short Tail Gang, firing their pistols futilely at him and cursing as he leaves them behind; and that’s where the chapter ends.

Peter Lake is one of our main characters, and we don’t learn much about him here, other than that a gang called the Short Tails wants to kill him; and that he establishes a strong and instant bond with the horse.  But we do have two of the major themes of the book – or, really, two aspects of the same theme – laid out very clearly.

The desire – need – to return to another, better world (perhaps to gain readmittance to Heaven?), is on full display here.  We see it in the discussion of bridges and their ability to connect not only two geographic points, but two different worlds (dreams and reality, if those even are two different things, which is debatable in Helptin’s world), and different times as well.

And we see it in the way the horse cannot find his way past the iron gates to get to the golden light.  Every street is blocked; there is no route he can travel to get where he wants – needs – to go.  Or, at least, there is no physical, corporeal, tangible route.  No route that can be seen with mundane eyes.  But that isn’t cause for despair, because there may be other routes, which can be seen if only you look at things the right way.  Helprin will return to this again and again over the course of the novel, in a variety of ways, as we’ll see.

That’s my take on this short opening chapter; please feel free to share your thoughts!

 

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I’ve mentioned before that Mark Helprin’s “Winter’s Tale” is my favorite novel of all time (and also the best novel I’ve ever read).  Every year, once the weather starts getting cold and the days shorter, I reread it, and it’s about that time.

This year, I want to share my love/obsession with the world (or at least the regular visitors of this blog).  I’m going to read two chapters a week, and post my thoughts and feelings about them.  And I’m encouraging any and all of my visitors to join me, both in reading the book, and in discussing it.

I’ll kick things off right here, talking about the very brief prologue.  Even before that, Helprin starts us off with a quote that sets the tone for all that’s to follow:

“I have been to another world, and come back.  Listen to me.”

That sentiment could apply to many of the characters in the story about to unfold, and it prepares us to jump across both worlds and eras (and different times ARE other worlds; as the famous quote has it, “the past is another country.”).

The prologue showcases Helprin’s gift of prose; it’s gorgeous from the very first word.  As he opens things:

A great city is nothing more than a portrait of itself, and yet when all is said and done, its arsenals of scenes and images are part of a deeply moving plan.

He goes on to talk about New York City specifically, where our story is set, and, really, the book is one long love letter to the greatest city in the world.  We’re told about the mass of white clouds that surround the city, about which we’ll learn much more as the novel progresses.  We  also get our first reference to the the city as one great machine, about which, again, much more later.

And then we are told:

…our swift unobserved descent will bring us to life that is blooming in the quiet of another time.

This is important, as we’ll see very shortly in chapter one.  The prologue ends with an invitation:

As we float down in utter silence, into a frame again unfreezing we are confronted by a tableau of winter colors.  These are very strong, and they call us in.

Colors, both wintry and otherwise, play a large role not only symbolically, but very literally in the story, as we’ll discover early on.

So the stage is set.  We’re about to embark on a journey that will span worlds and centuries.  I hope you’ll come along with me; our first steps will be onto the snow-covered streets of pre-World War I Manhattan, which is where chapter one begins…

 

Chapter Index

I’ll keep an updated list of links to the individual chapter discussions here, so it’ll all be easy to find…

Part 1, Chapter 1 (“A White Horse Escapes”)

Part 1, Chapter 2 (“The Ferry Burns in Morning Cold”)

Part 1, Chapter 3 (“Pearly Soames”)

Part 1, Chapter 4 (“Peter Lake Hangs From A Star”)

Part 1, Chapter 5 (“Beverly”)

Part 1, Chapter 6 (“A Goddess in the Bath”)

Part 1, Chapter 7 (“On the Marsh”)

Part 1, Chapter 8 (“Lake of the Coheeries”)

Part 1, Chapter 9 (“The Hospital in Printing House Square”)

Part 1, Chapter 10 (“Aceldama”)

Part 2, Chapter 1 (“Four Gates to the City”)

Part 2, Chapter 2 (“Lake of the Coheeries”)

Part 2, Chapter 3 (“In the Drifts”)

Part 2, Chapter 4 (“A New Life”)

Part 2, Chapter 5 (“Hell Gate”)

Part 3, Chapter 1 (“Nothing is Random”)

Part 3, Chapter 2 (“Peter Lake Returns”)

 Part 3, Chapter 3 (“The Sun…”)

Part 3, Chapter 4 (“…and The Ghost”)

Part 3, Chapter 5 (“An Early Summer Dinner at Petipas”)

Part 3, Chapter 6 (“The Machine Age”)

Part 4, Chapter 1 (“A Very Short History of the Clouds”)

Part 4, Chapter 2 (“Battery Bridge”)

Part 4, Chapter 3 (“White Horse and Dark Horse”)

Part 4, Chapter 4 (“The White Dog of Afghanistan”)

Part 4, Chapter 5 (“Abysmillard Redux”)

Part 4, Chapter 6 (“Ex Machina”)

Part 4, Chapter 7 (“For the Soldiers and Sailors of Chelsea”)

Part 4, Chapter 8 (“The City Alight”)

Part 4, Chapter 9 (“A Golden Age”)

Epilogue

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