Review: Beautiful Ruins

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This gem of a read by Jess Walter can be summarized in a single quote from its pages—“life is a glorious catastrophe.” Beautiful Ruins is, at once, laugh out loud funny and heart wrenchingly sad; a tale that is so tragically beautiful that I was left in tears and with a heaviness that lasted long after I’d read the final page; a satire that bites with shark teeth and makes no apologies.

To layout the plot here would take hours, and it is only in that singular detail that the book falters. Walter takes on the past, blending just enough factual information that his historic recreation carries with it whiffs of truth to make believable all that is added. Additionally, this author slips from days gone by into the present as if time traveling between significant moments in the lives of his characters. It is, however, an overwhelming approach that forces the reader to work in an effort to separate plot lines as they crash together at various intersections, then veer wildly onto their own paths.

The structure aside, Beautiful Ruins is full of rich settings, startling narrative and gritty dialogue. It is these elements that bring to life a quiet Italian village, a bombastic actor in his prime and an idealistic young hotelier caught between his youth and maturity, straddling the fence as he searches for meaning in his very existence.

The themes addressed by Walter underpin his novel with not only the mundane (how did I get here? Is this where I want to be?), but also the more heady and introspective universals (why do I exist at all?). Each character is in some way chasing these answers and wrestling with his place in the bigger picture. Some find direction early, giving the reader an optimistic view of the possibilities in youth. Others live with tinges of regret not reconciled until very late in life, and it is here that the heaviness of “the road not taken” settles in and gnaws at the reader. That our choices have consequences is nothing new, but Walter’s exploration of those consequences is nothing short of genius. The bad guy doesn’t always finish last and the hero doesn’t necessarily receive the spoils. Life isn’t fair; deal with it.

Finally, chapters here take a swipe at the start of the New Hollywood era of film making, when location shooting was all the rage and the stars seemed to be virtually untouchable. Walter knocks a few of the 60s icons off of their pedestals by coaxing them from their ivory towers to give us a glimpse behind the gossamer curtain—a fictional expose that is laced with searing commentary. He does so with a forked tongue that strikes without warning and, just as quickly, retreats.

I absolutely loved this book, as I have loved everything I’ve read by Jess Walter. It is his ability to cut straight to the truth, even if he breaks your heart in doing so, that keeps me returning to his body of work. If you are young, read this as a cautionary tale. If, like me, you’ve passed the point of middle age, this piece may resonate and bring to the surface your own regrets. Either way, this is one not to be missed.

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