About One Hundred Miles from Manhattan

One_Hundred_Miles_from_Manhattan_by_Chris_Orcutt_coverOne of IndieRead­er’s Best Books of 2014.

One Hun­dred Miles from Man­hat­tan is a nov­el about an upscale  rur­al community—Wellington, NY—where the hills and the seem­ing­ly quaint vil­lage con­ceal lives of love, lust, adul­tery, tragedy and small wars.

Unlike oth­er nov­els in the pas­toral tra­di­tion, which attempt to tell the sto­ry of a place and a time through the eyes of a sin­gle char­ac­ter, this mod­ern nov­el uses 10 nar­ra­tors, a dif­fer­ent one per chap­ter, to shed light on this exclu­sive com­mu­ni­ty.

In Welling­ton, a tro­phy wife under­goes a shock­ing trans­for­ma­tion. A med­ical doc­tor attracts his own destruc­tion. A local bach­e­lor steals a dog and has an epiphany. A town Casano­va goes on a per­son­al odyssey to make amends. And a Man­hat­tan book edi­tor reveals what it’s like to be a first-time vis­i­tor to this rar­efied world of wealth, hors­es and equestri­ennes.

To this exquis­ite­ly writ­ten nov­el, Chris Orcutt brings his metic­u­lous craft and his tal­ent for writ­ing in mul­ti­far­i­ous voic­es and styles—all while expos­ing a world of mas­sive estates, rolling green hills, hill­top­pers, town­ies, celebri­ties, hopes, dreams, sex, and the fleet­ing promis­es of love…

Buy: Ama­zon

 

Excerpt from One Hundred Miles from Manhattan

Although I’d had sev­er­al authors from Welling­ton over the years, includ­ing a for­mer edi­tor pal turned best­selling mys­tery nov­el­ist, not one of them had deigned to invite me to so much as a cock­tail par­ty up here. Creep­ing through the vil­lage that Sat­ur­day morn­ing in a rental car, I passed a shiny alu­minum din­er and myr­i­ad antiques deal­ers and con­tin­ued on through a ham­let mys­te­ri­ous­ly called Rab­bitsville (although I didn’t see a sin­gle rab­bit to war­rant the name). From there, I fol­lowed sand­wich boards point­ing to Fox Hill.

The road rib­boned out in front of me, over rolling green hills and miles of black wood­en fence. The sky was a soft sum­mer blue. In the hol­lows, pock­ets of thin fog hov­ered over the grass. The whole coun­try­side had a vague­ly mys­ti­cal aura, like Mr. Darcy’s Der­byshire.

Most of the dri­ve from Man­hat­tan, how­ev­er, had been tedious. Dron­ing along the emp­ty and wood­ed Tacon­ic Park­way, still half-asleep, I had start­ed to ques­tion the wis­dom of trav­el­ing two hours upstate for a young woman with whom I had done noth­ing but have inor­di­nate sex—and that only in her favored cow­girl posi­tion. To be fair, we had man­aged to squeeze in a few sub­stan­tial conversations—about books (for a young woman of prodi­gious sex­u­al appetites she was sur­pris­ing­ly well-read, Chekhov’s sto­ries being her favorites); about tech­nol­o­gy (she embraced the use­ful, cit­ing her auto­mat­ic lights and a robot­ic vac­u­um clean­er that per­pet­u­al­ly crawled around the apart­ment); and about lifestyles (she adored sim­plic­i­ty bor­der­ing on the Spar­tan; every room in her apart­ment con­tained min­i­mal fur­ni­ture and absolute­ly no knickknacks)—but since those con­ver­sa­tions invari­ably took place before or after sex, I con­sid­ered them sus­pect, and not rep­re­sen­ta­tive of how we would relate under less sybarit­ic cir­cum­stances. For that rea­son, the week­end was a test, or, as she had put it, “a tri­al run for us.”

 

A Reading from the Novel

The fol­low­ing read­ing was per­formed at the Mill­brook Lit­er­ary Fes­ti­val in June 2014. The Mill­brook, NY coun­try­side was one of the inspi­ra­tions for the nov­el.

 

What do you mean by the term “modern novel”?

I call it a “mod­ern nov­el” for a cou­ple of rea­sons. First, the nov­el is told by 10 dif­fer­ent nar­ra­tors, one per chap­ter. Sec­ond, the time­line is seg­ment­ed.

For exam­ple, in the movie Pulp Fic­tion, the sto­ry is chopped up and the scenes are pre­sent­ed out of order. That’s what I do with this nov­el. It’s the sto­ry of one year in Welling­ton, but the events are pre­sent­ed out of order. The book starts with a chap­ter that begins in the late spring/early sum­mer, then goes to the ear­ly spring, then mid-sum­mer, etc. It is not in chrono­log­i­cal order.

seasons

I felt that this would enhance the read­er’s expe­ri­ence because s/he would read of a fall event ear­ly in the book, then, lat­er in the book, dur­ing anoth­er chap­ter that takes place in the fall, s/he would have that event to look for or to reflect on.

With each chap­ter, we see a small part of Welling­ton through that char­ac­ter’s eyes. Many char­ac­ters over­lap between the chap­ters, and so do the events. The POV char­ac­ters include a tro­phy wife, a med­ical doc­tor, a sin­gle moth­er, a contractor/local Casano­va, and a Man­hat­tan book edi­tor.

 

Why have 10 different narrators or points of view?

As much as I admire the sin­gle POV novel—e.g., Pride & Prej­u­diceThe Catch­er in the Rye, and The Great Gats­by—in today’s ultra­mod­ern soci­ety, where every­one is a star (or con­sid­ers him­self one; e.g., Face­book, Insta­gram, Twit­ter, Snapchat), every­one’s sto­ry or POV con­tributes to the sto­ry as a whole. Nowa­days, it does­n’t make sense that any one per­son would be capa­ble of telling the com­plete sto­ry of a town.

 

How is Wellington unique?

Actu­al­ly, I don’t think Welling­ton is unique (def­i­n­i­tion: “being the only one of its kind; unlike any­thing else”) as much as it’s icon­ic or sym­bol­ic.

"Rape Seed Field" by Les Haines

Pho­to by Les Haines. *See cred­its at bot­tom.

There are lots of wealthy com­mu­ni­ties out there with big estates, rolling green hills, coun­try clubs, peo­ple dri­ving Range Rovers, exclu­sive rod and gun clubs, pheas­ant farms, a live­ly but most­ly unno­ticed eques­tri­an scene, and a low sim­mer­ing of con­flict between hill­top­pers and town­ies. Welling­ton is meant to be an amal­ga­ma­tion of sev­er­al of those places, and it’s also meant to be more of an idea than an actu­al place—mythical, if you will.

Imag­ine if the world of Mr. Dar­cy’s Der­byshire could be trans­plant­ed to mod­ern-day Upstate New York. That’s Welling­ton.

 

What was your inspiration for the novel?

I first got this idea of writ­ing a nov­el about a wealthy com­mu­ni­ty over 20 years ago, when I was a reporter in Mill­brook, NY. But at the time, I could only envi­sion the sto­ry being told from the POV of the local reporter. I’m so glad that I wait­ed to write this book, because I think that the use of 10 nar­ra­tors gives the read­er a rich­er, broad­er expe­ri­ence of the town, and because back when I was a reporter, my writ­ing skills weren’t even close to what they are now.

I was also deeply inspired by my favorite clas­sic authors of pas­toral fic­tion includ­ing Chekhov, Tol­stoy, Hardy and Austen.

 

* The author has per­mis­sion and/or Cre­ative Com­mons rights to use the fol­low­ing pho­tos from Flickr on the cov­er of this book: “Hunters Wellies CARNABY BOA…” and “Turquoise and Brass Ear­rings and Neck­laces…” by Mae­gan Tin­tari; “DSC_1255” (the fox hunt) by Bethany; “Fall Foliage” by Kim­ber­ly Varde­man; “Rape Seed Field” by Les Haines; “Man­sion on a Hill” by Lucas Wihlborg; “Just a Per­fect Day” by Ali­son Chris­tine. The pho­to “Welling­ton Sign” is by Karen Krusch­ka.