A book cover with the title of light years.

Light Years, James Salter, 1975 

Salter, who died late last year, wrote a relatively small number of novels, and is regarded as one of America’s great modern novelists.  The blurbs at the beginning of this book, reissued in 1995 rave about his ‘icy logic and steaming carnality” (Ned Rorem), ‘passion and precision of language’ (Peter Matthiessen),’brilliant, moving and full of truth’ (Edna O’Brien), ‘rare and shining prose’ (John Irving).  It’s going to be hard for me to top those accolades, but I certainly join in them.  This is a wonderful book which made me smile, nod in agreement, dilate my pupils in beauty, and finally sob like a baby.  The story of the Benard family, Viri, Nedra, Franca, and Danny, is told in an unconventional way with the five parts of the novel taking us from 1958 to 1973 as the daughters grow into women, the parents divorce, and then inexorably age.  The passage of time, the loss of friends, the erosion of dreams, the ultimate loss of capacity and life are beautifully etched.  As Nedra says at the beginning of the final section:  “Where does it go, where has it gone?  She was struck by the distances of life, by all that was lost in them. She could not even remember….It was all leaving her in slow, imperceptible movements, like the tide when one’s back is turned: everyone, everything she had known.  So all of grief and happiness, far from being buried with one, vanished beforehand except for scattered pieces.”   As Viri says after Nedra leaves him:  “The feast was ended.  Like the story he had read to them so many times, of the poor couple who were given three wishes and wasted them, he had not wanted enough.  He saw that clearly. When all was said, he had wanted one thing, it was far too small:  he had wanted them to grow up in the happiest of homes.”   I was sad to come to the end of this book but look forward to re-reading it soon.