I am not sure if sixth-time novelist Seth Greenland set out to write an Obama-era version of The Bonfire of the Vanities, the WASP Wall Street characters replaced by equally rich but culturally very different Jewish New Yorkers, the plot complicated (as any modern version of a classic has to be) by technology.
But the points of congruence with Tom Wolfe’s 1980s saga are so numerous, a re-imagining of Wolfe must surely have been in Greenland’s mind — a hyper-wealthy protagonist, an infidelity, a car accident in ambiguous circumstances involving a young black pedestrian, a District Attorney with political ambitions, a stellar career and reputation utterly, wincingly shredded to the point where you feel a bit, but not very, sympathetic, for him.
But not only is Greenland up to the task of being the new Wolfe. I think he might actually be better. The Hazards of Good Fortune is a slab of a book and I am a slow reader, but it consumed a couple of recent weeks of aeroplane journeys and nights in hotels.
Larry David, no less, commends it as a page-turner and it totally is. The plotting, the twists, the toying with your emotions are all exemplary.
David describes it as funny and, as the patron saint of funny, he should know. I am not sure about funny; my ribs remained mostly untickled, although I suspect I missed a lot of the basketball jokes and references. But that hardly matters when the writing is so brilliant.
The main character, a property mogul called Jay Gladstone, owns a basketball team along with a few other things like most of the Bronx. Do not be put off by the basketball theme, even if, like me, you know nothing or couldn’t care less about this form of netball for boys.
The meat of the book is the eye-opening portrayal of the racial tensions underpinning New York, which, despite being a part-time resident these days, I never quite get. The two veg — or perhaps it is this which is the meat — is the getting under the skin of a modern Jewish liberal establishment family.
The Gladstones’ reputation for philanthropy and financing good causes could not be higher but, behind the scenes, there’s a profound iciness — they are less likeable than the Sopranos.
There is only one slightly sympathetic Gladstone, Jay’s older sister Bebe but, again, you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her. Or even have a conversation with her at a simcha.
One of the high points of the novel, cringe-wise, is a Seder done to perfection by Jay’s Gentile, ex-model, second wife, but which goes horrendously pear-shaped when Jay, a liberal Zionist, tangles with his daughter Aviva’s black girlfriend over Israel.
A special plaudit to Seth Greenland, by the way, for his naming of characters. Novelists barely ever come up with plausible names, and mostly, Greenland doesn’t even try; instead he goes for cartoonish names, which sounds awful, but just works.
I didn’t laugh, but smiled a lot, when, for example, the lawyer Herman Doomer, was introduced, likewise the PR man Bobby Tackman and the tabloid television journalist Fred Panzer of — I so loved this — Lynx TV.
Fabulous stuff. Please, Hollywood, don’t make a film of The Hazards of Good Fortune and ruin it.
Jonathan Margolis is a Financial Times columnist
