A Splendid Madness Thomas Froncek
(Sheridan House, 208pp, $23.95) Written in the spirit of a confession, this oddly humble narrative recounts the rapid descent of a mild-mannered business man into full-blown addiction (well, maybe pre-occupation is a better word). The author is middle aged, unsuspectingly ripe for the big crisis. Burdened with the obligations of suburban life�hearth, home, mortgages, tuition, job and social life, he surprises himself by responding to an ad in the local newspaper and furtively scuttling off to a multi-week sailing class�discount given for the April session�on the nearby Hudson River.
Surprised that he was neither frozen to death nor inordinately discouraged, Froncek perseveres. At first shy but game, he has a wily teacher who is unflappably matter-of-fact. Over time he meets and sails with other novice sailors and a smattering of some more skilled. Another season, he ventures as crew with weathered veterans in the local races and is amazed by the leap in knowledge afforded by that experience. A year or two down the road, he screws up his courage and buys his first sail boat with an unexpected windfall. (His wife, no doubt went shopping, although that�s not mentioned in the book).
As he grows more skilled he ventures further, experiences rougher weather, becomes more skilled, more enthused, mildly castigating himself the while for his obsession. �It was pathetic. Apparently by acquiring a boat I had doomed myself to a permanent state of anxiety.� Sound familiar? It is just that combination of ingredients�Froncek�s abundance of both imaginative and domestic detail combined with his ingenuous, reluctantly admitted pleasure which floats the reader along on the froth of the cautious enthusiasm he considers rash. I bet even his forbearing wife, Ellen, to whom the book is dedicated, calls it sweet.
A Splendid Madness
Over time he meets and sails with other novice sailors and a smattering of some more skilled. Another season, he ventures as crew with weathered veterans in the local races and is amazed by the leap in knowledge afforded by that experience. A year or two down the road, he screws up his courage and buys his first sail boat with an unexpected windfall. (His wife, no doubt went shopping, although that�s not mentioned in the book).
Apparently by acquiring a boat I had doomed myself to a permanent state of anxiety.� Sound familiar? It is just that combination of ingredients�Froncek�s abundance of both imaginative and domestic detail combined with his ingenuous, reluctantly admitted pleasure which floats the reader along on the froth of the cautious enthusiasm he considers rash. I bet even his forbearing wife, Ellen, to whom the book is dedicated, calls it sweet.
