About this guide
The discussion topics, author biography, and bibliography that follow are
meant to enhance your group's reading of James Salter's Light Years. We
hope that they will provide you with new ways of looking at--and talking
about--a novel that has engrossed readers since its original publication
in 1975 and that has contributed to its author's reputation as one of
the most radiant prose stylists at work in the English language. Even
the most cursory reading of this book makes it clear that Salter is also
a supernaturally acute observer of the subatomic fields that flicker
between men and women as they fall in and out of love. He is a novelist
with the unblinking gaze of a scientist.
Light Years is not so much the story of a marriage (it may not be a story
at all, in the familiar sense of that word) as it is a time-lapse
portrait of one, the kind of portrait that might have been painted by
Seurat. Its protagonists, Viri and Nedra Berland, are observed over a
period of some twenty years. We see them hosting dinners at their house
in the Hudson River valley, shopping at the finest stores in New York,
playing with their children on the beach at Amagansett, in bed with each
other and with their lovers. Salter follows them through contentment,
disillusionment, and bereavement, and into the black hole of divorce.
From that hole Nedra emerges energized, traveling, taking lovers and
shrugging them off, basking finally in the true love of her children
before her early death. But Viri never fully surfaces; without Nedra he
becomes the failure he always feared he might be: gets humiliatingly
drunk at the home of friends who once envied him, marries, badly, an
Italian woman who can hold him only through guilt and pity.
This is not to suggest that Viri is Nedra's victim, any more than Nedra
is someone else's. Salter's view of marriage is informed by an aesthetic
that is utterly at odds with fashionable psychologies of blame. Each
protagonist's life is "mysterious, it is like a forest; from far off
it . . . can be comprehended, described, but closer it begins to separate,
to break into light and shadow, the density blinds one" (p. 23). And that
life may be changed in a moment, as Nedra's is when she reads a single
paragraph in a biography of the painter Kandinsky and decides to leave
Viri. Given such a view of life, how can we attempt to weigh its actions
on any moral scale? Light Years does not invite judgment or even easy
empathy with its flawed human beings. It asks us to watch them with the
sort of compassion that Nedra herself feels one night, as she surveys
herself in bed with the husband she no longer loves: "If they had been
another couple she would have been attracted to them, she would have
loved them, even--they were so miserable" (p. 125).
For discussion
- From its opening description of the Hudson River valley, Light Years
is very much a novel of place: the west bank of the Hudson, New York
City, Amagansett, Rome. What sort of details establish these various
settings? How does the author endow each location with a different mood
and associate it with a different phase or aspect of his characters'
lives?
- James Salter has written screenplays, so it's no coincidence that
Light Years is a highly cinematic book. It is filled with the prose
equivalent of montage, wide-shots, and jump cuts, as in the scene on
pages 60-66, in which alternating paragraphs depict Jivan dining with
the Berlands and--later?--earlier?--making love with Nedra. How do such
cinematic techniques contribute to the novel's effect? How do they
heighten or play against Salter's unabashedly poetic language?
- How does Salter develop the characters of his protagonists? Contrast
the description of Nedra on page 8 with the one of Viri on page 14. In
what ways do they parallel each other? (We are told, for example, that
Nedra has "mint on her breath" while Viri's breath is "faintly bad.")
How are these initial impressions reinforced or contradicted by what we
later see of Viri and Nedra's behavior?
- Are the Berlands a well-matched couple? In what ways do they seem
compatible? In what way are their personalities at odds? How would you
compare them to couples such as Peter and Catherine Daro, the
Marcel-Maases, or Eve and Arnaud? Why might Salter have included these
other couples in his narrative?
- Viri is haunted by the fear of obscurity and failure. Nedra dreads age, poverty,
and, above all, ordinariness. ("The only thing I'm afraid of are the words 'ordinary
life'" (p. 174). How central are these fears to their characters? Does Salter
give us any clues about their origins? In what ways do they help bring about Viri and Nedra's divorce?
- Are you surprised to learn that the Berlands are unfaithful to each
other? In what way do their extramarital liaisons--and, particularly,
the manner of their ending--foreshadow their divorce and the different
directions their lives take in its aftermath? Does Salter give us any
evidence that Viri and Nedra know about each other's affairs? Is
infidelity the thing that tears them apart? Paradoxically, might it be
the thing that holds them together for so many years?
- What other indications do we have that Viri and Nedra are heading toward a breakup?
Why do so many years elapse between the time that Nedra acknowledges
that her marriage is dead (p. 107) and her decision to leave it?
- Ultimately, is there an explanation for the Berlands' rupture? Is
either partner to blame and is "blame," in the sense of moral
responsibility, an appropriate term within this novel's context? Are we
meant to judge either Viri or Nedra? Ought we view their marriage as a
"failure"?
- What kind of parents are the Berlands? What do we learn
about their feelings for their daughters and their children's feelings
for them? At what points in the novel do their relationships with their
children change? How do Franca and Danny react to their parents'
divorce? Does Salter give us any reason to believe that the girls' later
lives are shaped by their parents' example?
- In an interview (in The Paris Review, CXXXIII, p. 81), Salter has
said, "In my books, the woman is always the stronger." In what ways is
Nedra stronger than Viri?
- In Nedra, Salter has created not only a
convincing woman character but a convincing feminine subjectivity. How
do Nedra's imagination and perceptions--and particularly her
sensuality--differ from Viri's?
- Even as the threads that hold Viri and Nedra together fray, people
around them are dying: the little girl whose father once towed her on
the ice; Nedra's father; Peter Daro (of a bizarre ailment that literally
turns his flesh to wood). Even the dapper and irrepressible Arnaud Roth
is maimed during a mugging, after which he vanishes from the Berlands'
circle. What role does death play in Light Years? What relation does
Salter posit between the death of love and death itself?
- Light
Years covers a span of almost twenty years, beginning when Nedra is
twenty-eight (p. 8) and ending with her death at the age of forty-seven
(p. 296): the reckoning is easy to make, since Salter regularly updates us
on the year or the ages of his characters. Why might he do this? In what
other ways does he mark the passage of time?
- Against these precise chronological reckonings Salter establishes
another sort of time, one that is impressionistic, almost pointillistic.
As Viri observes of life at the novel's end, "It happens in an instant.
It is all one long day, one endless afternoon, friends leave, we stand
on the shore" (p. 308). Where in Light Years is time dilated or
compressed and to what end? How might the theory of relativity--which posits that
time passes more swiftly as one approaches the speed of light--inform
this novel, beginning with its title?
- At different points in the narrative we see Nedra consulting a dream book,
reading Arnaud's tarot
cards, and reading her own palm. How accurate are these readings? Where
in this novel does Salter deliberately mislead the reader, introducing
characters who appear significant but disappear from the action,
signaling turns of plot that never materialize? Is the future in Light
Years something that can be predicted? Do events in this novel feel
inevitable or arbitrary? If we accept the idea that a novel's plot
consists of the causal relation among its events, can Light Years be
said to possess a plot?
- The characters in Light Years communicate obliquely. Nedra doesn't
tell Viri that she wants to leave him; she says, "I don't want to go
back to our old life" (p. 200). In spite of Viri's entreaties, she never
explains what she means by that old life or if she does, we do not hear
her. What other things in Light Years remain unsaid, both by the
characters and by the author? How does this silence determine events in
the novel?
- The narrator announces that he will reveal Nedra's life
"from the inside outward" (p. 7), but what follows is a description of the
house where she and Viri live and the objects with which they have
furnished it. What do these people's possessions reveal about them? To
what extent can we read Light Years as a novel of property and
possessions or, more broadly, as a novel of surfaces?
- "There are really two kinds of life," Salter writes. "There is...the
one people believe you are living, and there is the other. It is this
other which causes the trouble, this other we long to see" (p. 24). And:
"Their life was two things: it was a life, more or less--at least it was
the preparation for one--and it was an illustration of life for their
children" (p. 69). In what way is the Berlands' life divided? How might it
be described as the "preparation" for a life? What is hidden beneath its
appearances, and how do their life's hidden aspects contribute to the
destruction of the façade? Is the notion of a hidden life obsolete in an
age when people air every wish, fantasy, and resentment, not only in
their bedrooms but on daytime talk shows?
- When Viri tries to see
the blemishes in his contentment, its surfaces blind him (p. 197). Yet
earlier Salter writes: "Life is weather. Life is meals. Lunches on a
blue checked cloth on which salt has spilled. The smell of tobacco.
Brie, yellow apples, wood-handled knives" (p. 25). Do the domestic surfaces
that fill this novel, and which Salter describes with such evident love,
conceal some mysterious inner truth? Or do they constitute that truth
itself? Is that truth any less mysterious for being made up of
surfaces?
Suggestions for further reading
Willa Cather, A Lost Lady, The Professor's House*; John Cheever,
Collected Stories; Anton Chekhov, The Lady With the Dog and
Other Stories; Colette, The Pure and the Impure, My Mother's
House; Marguerite Duras, The Lover; F. Scott Fitzgerald, The
Beautiful and the Damned, Tender Is the Night; Andre Gide, Strait Is
the Gate; Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms, The Garden of
Eden; Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer; Alice Munro, Friend of
My Youth; Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory, Ada;
Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient*; John Updike, The Maples
Stories, Couples; Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse, Mrs.
Dalloway.
* Reading Group Guide available.
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