A unique perspective that stems from the left yet does not cater exclusively to the partisan crowd — this is the distinct character of the newsletter, enriched by the intricate dance of power that peppers the city and state, perceived as the silent artisans of political finesse in the realm of Machiavellian strategy. Yet, there’s a side to Barkan, the author, that the readers might be unaware of. Barkan has also earned a reputation as a competent novelist, utilizing ‘Glass Century’, his latest and arguably most publicized novel, to pivot towards the realm of fiction. It’s an ambitious endeavor that thrums with a familiar energy reminiscent of his investigative reports while unravelling layers of human complexity and creative depth.
The timeline of the narrative spans from the 1970s to the life-altering year of 2020 when the COVID-19 pandemic swept the globe. At the epicenter of this tale are Mona Glass and Saul Plotz. Mona, the Brooklyn-born offspring of middle-class Jews, is a local tennis champion, while Saul, a seasoned lawyer turned political science lecturer and Marxist, is serving as the Queens borough director for liberal Republican Gov. Nelson Rockefeller.
A memorable day in their lives dawns when the freedom-loving Mona steps into Saul’s academia at the City College, triggering a romantic spark between the two. Their bond isn’t filled with fairy dust, but dotted with the mundane yet solid echoes of modern romance; however, a significant complication overshadows their relationship: Saul is a decade Mona’s senior and embroiled in an existing marriage, complete with a family residing in Long Island.
In the novel’s initial segments, Mona and Saul grapple with their secretive affair, even conducting a sham wedding to mislead Mona’s parents. Their life together is marked by its absence of traditional marital signs such as a home shared by both, a life lived together, or a wedding ring — unless they’re expecting Mona’s parents when the facade is meticulously maintained.
Their peculiar lives are deeply entangled, much like the winding city streets that serve as their backdrop. This narrative unravels during the peak of 1970s crime wave, a time of thriving businesses. Al, an aspiring artist, lends his creative touch to the narrative while Mona finds herself achieving recognition through photographs of ‘Vengeance’, a masked vigilante on a spree of sensational crimes.
Securing an exclusive interview with the elusive vigilante propels Mona into the limelight once again, implying that fame, like time, is fleeting and ever-changing. While Saul juggles between his dual lives, Mona raises their joint progeny Emmanuel in the Bay Ridge neighborhood. Compelled by the appeal of regular working hours and an improved pay scale, Mona leaves her tryst with the crime world, taking up political reporting at the Daily News.
During this phase, Liv, Mona’s close friend, finds love in Grayson Moegenborg, an heir to New York’s elite. Grayson opens the doors to a dazzling world of rooftop luxury for Liv, giving readers an initial glimpse of the impending overlap between history and the ‘glass century’.
‘Counter-life’ and ‘counter-realities’ are coined by the novel to refer to the perplexing parallel lives led by its characters. The proclivity towards the ordinary, juxtaposed against the relentless pace driving the characters towards their destinities, reminded me of the renowned author’s U.S.A. Trilogy, channeled in Glass Century.
The realm of unrelenting efforts and relentless strivings define the aura of Glass Century, reflecting in its characters. The narrative relies heavily on rhythm, building a cumulative effect that overshadows minor quibbles. Even surprising turns of events, such as a late emerging twist in the vigilante arc, are presented with an unapologetic defiance of conventional narrative depth and regularity.
Repeatedly, the narrative circles back to the themes of resilience, bravery, devotion, and risk-taking, usurping the comfort of safety and respite. While the obsession with spectacle culture has been emphatically critiqued, the narrative makes an unusual association with the tabloid industry, effectively connecting fantasy, flash, and the stark reality of blood.
As the characters delve deeper into the city’s heartbeat, they explore their boundaries, pushing through physical and mental capacity as if such toiling makes them stronger, their fatigue merely steeling their resolve. This inclination implies an underlying poetic narrative that conjures ironies.
Liv’s belief in the protective powers of the Twin Towers extends beyond their physical presence, adding an uncanny quality to the narrative, leaving readers to wonder about its deeper implications. The book steadfastly retains the perception passed on from eminent authors like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Stephen Crane — illusions possess their own truth and they cannot be fully effaced.
The authenticity of this uniquely American novel, in essence, does not reside in its beginnings or its endings. Its truth is integral to the continuum in which resides life — the constant ebb and flow that doesn’t cease, the relentless march forward that paves the way for transformative journeys.