Independence Day, by Richard Ford

A review of Independence Day, by Richard Ford

Published July 21st, 1995, in The Minnesota Daily’s Nightly Magazine

Turning Point

Independence Day Chronicles an American Mid-Life Crisis

Independence Day

By Richard Ford

Knopf, $24

When Richard Ford’s wife asked him why he never wrote about happy people, he responded with Frank Bascombe, the “dreamy” protagonist of the 1986 novel The Sportswriter. Bascombe was proclaimed by critics and readers alike as one of the few truly decent characters in modern fiction, and now he’s back in a new novel, Independence Day, and he’s still happy.

In the first novel, I had difficulty understanding why Bascombe was so satisfied. His marriage had failed, he had a rotten love life, and his occupation as a sportswriter was profoundly ill-suited to his sharply progressive world-view, and still he was optimistic. I attributed this to a kind of early-’80s pragmatism in which real values took a backseat to dreamy contentedness. Like the rest of the nation, he had fooled himself into believing that everything was fine and that his own financial success signified a kind of peace.

In Independence Day, however, Bascombe seems to be coming out of his trance both personally and politically as he confronts the consequences of his successes and failures. After five years (the setting is 1988), he’s still unmarried, his love life still stinks, and he’s become, of all things, a realtor. To top it all off, his ex-wife has remarried, and his son, Paul, shows signs of becoming a delinquent.

In an attempt to deal with some of this, Bascombe takes an Independence Day excursion with Paul in which they “visit as many sports halls of fame as they can in two days.” Along the way, he blunders through the motions of fatherhood, trying to figure out who his son really is and rescue him from his imminent descent into adolescence.

There’s a feeling of impending doom in the background (the escalating battle between Michael Dukakis and the grimly laughable George Bush), as well as in the foreground (Bascombe’s floundering personal life), but Ford never lets his hero give in to nihilism or despair. Instead, Bascombe comes to terms with what he calls his “existence period,” in which he’d largely ignored reality. This is only part of the answer to his problems, though, and the novel portrays his small revelation as more of a turning point than a triumph. There is no evidence that things will get better for Bascombe, his family, or his nation as it opts for a four-year extension of the ’80s, but they’re all learning, slowly.

One of the most interesting aspects of the novel is how Ford portrays real estate as the philosophy of the Reagan era. Everything can de divided, defined, and sold, including the American Dream, which close scrutiny reveals to be more like a nightmare. As Bascombe reflects on the meaning of the America around him, he finds himself appraising it rather than contemplating it. “Buy low, sell high” has replaced any meaningful kind of American ideology, and Bascombe seems to have become a living battlefield in which profits and humanity collide as he struggles to recognize his clients as something more than commissions.

Ford insists that The Sportswriter and Independence Day are two separate and independent books; that the first is not a prerequisite to enjoy the second—and he’s right. This novel stands wholly on its own. It’s funnier and maybe even a little wiser than its predecessor—which is a feat—and the richness of Ford’s prose evokes the very fabric of an America in search of true independence. This is a great novel.

—David Wiley