I was looking forward to reading this one and thought I would love it. After all, A Gentleman in Moscow, by the same author, was simply terrific, one of the better novels I’ve read in recent years. The Lincoln Highway does have much to offer–but it just doesn’t have that same magic. It’s not as good as A Gentleman in Moscow; to be fair, few books are.

It’s strong on characterization. Emmett Watson, 18, recently discharged from a juvenile work farm, is a terrific character–thoughtful, smart, and possessed of his own inner logic. His friend Sally is someone I wish I knew–resourceful, independent, and of a generous spirit. His younger brother Billy is perhaps a bit too precious, but a likeably quirky kid, determined as only likeably quirky kids can be. The friends from the work farm were also well done and believable in their specificity: Duchess, a young con man traumatized by his past and Woolly of confused mind (today he’d be diagnosed as neurodivergent, most likely).  

The Lincoln Highway is weak on plot, however; it starts as a road story, and it’s got a great premise–as their father is deceased, their farm repossessed, and they’re no longer welcome in their Nebraskan hometown, Emmett and Billy take off in a Studebaker to find their long-lost mother in California. Things go quickly awry, with a long detour to New York, and they have some interesting escapades on their road trip, meeting colorful (and finely-drawn) characters along the way. It’s light-hearted and fun to read; so far, so good, shades of Charles Dickens and Mark Twain, remarkable coincidences and improbable plotlines. But it ends with an incredibly disturbing (and very abrupt) shift in tone, as their adventures turn rather horrific, as well as morally ambiguous. While some characters meet with brutal ends, the fates of the others remain frustratingly unknown.

Perhaps it’s a mistake to focus on the unsatisfying plot. It’s a novel bursting with ideas–too many ideas, perhaps. Everyone here is a deep and perceptive thinker–a moral philosopher, or a wayward saint, or a self-justifying sophist, or a savant; they’re sages with unique ethical codes. Sally is a proto-feminist theologan. No one leads an unexamined life. The book is a brilliant depiction of a place and time, with all of the wealth and optimism of 1950s America, along with all of its outcasts–hobos riding the rails, grifters, seedy vaudevillians, prostitutes, WWII veterans damaged in mind and body. The character of Ulysses comes dangerously close to what Spike Lee calls a “Magical Negro”; we don’t find out his fate, either, but we do know he’s off on an adventure with Professor Abacus Abernathe and we can hope for the best. (Don’t get me wrong–I love the character, but, well, the trope fits.) 

Although I was disappointed by the ending, I would still like to spend more time with Emmett, Billy, and Sally, and I hope that Amor Towles returns to them in a future work. Until then, we can imagine them on the open road, and wish them well in their quest.

NOVEL: The Lincoln Highway

AUTHOR: Amor Towles

YEAR OF PUBLICATION: 2021

IMAGE: book cover, Viking