The Long Take

Shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, this insistent novel in verse from Robertson (Sailing the Forest) captures a D-Day veteran’s tortured reckoning with the postwar hollowing out of downtown Los Angeles. Back from Europe, Walker is mesmerized by L.A., “the city/ a magnesium strip; a carnival/ on one long midway.” That romantic view is tempered by the city’s underbelly of violence, racism, and poverty, which he encounters as a cub reporter. Dismayed by Skid Row, he pitches a feature on homelessness that sends him up to San Francisco and its “play of height and depth, this/ changing sift of color and weather.” Walker returns to find downtown L.A. being “demolished and rebuilt” into highway interchanges and parking lots. “The drumfire of falling/ buildings” calls back Walker’s war memories, and Robertson skillfully intermingles imagery of battles in France and L.A.’s demolished blocks to powerfully contend that “cities are a kind of war.” Less convincing is when Robertson exchanges his magnificent depictions for pedantry, including the declaration that “they call this progress, when it’s really only greed.” Still, this novel succeeds in bringing life to a crucial moment of urban history; Robertson’s vision of Los Angeles under siege is simply indispensable.[em] (Nov.) [/em]