One Hundred Miles from Manhattan by Chris Orcutt

Review by Perrin Lovett

Your reviewer owes the late, great Tom Moore for helping discover the subject matter of today’s critique. I’m not sure if Tom ever read anything by Chris Orcutt, but I know that if he had, then he would have enjoyed it. As I have written before, Tom was an extremely good friend and my adopted big brother. He also served admirably as my mentor en écriture de fiction, wingman, and general conspirator. Sometime after his death, I stumbled across Orcutt’s website while randomly looking for new authorial inspiration. The first thing I read was his essay, “Being a Novelist Isn’t a Job, It’s a Lifestyle”. I approved. Tom would have approved. Read it yourself and you’ll catch a glimpse of an artist as dedicated to the craft as may be found anywhere. Now it is my honor to briefly examine one of his many novels, the fun, daring, and masterfully written One Hundred Miles from Manhattan. 

(Stately, eclectic cover design by Elisabeth Pinio.)

*Orcutt, Chris, One Hundred Miles from Manhattan, “Wellington”, NY: Have Pen, Will Travel, 2014 (2017 2nd Kindle edition)

One Hundred Miles from Manhattan has been occasionally deemed a collection of short stories. And it is. But isn’t every novel chapter a short story? Probably. So by linking a series of these things together, especially if they are well-linked, a legitimate novel—however we define “legitimate”—is born. Orcutt describes his book as a “modern novel”, see the cover above. That is true in the sense it is contemporary fiction and that it innocently defies certain conventions or preconceptions in a manner to make Gustave Flaubert or Julian Barnes proud. The ten stories or chapters offer ten different perspectives on a series of independent yet related tales. Orcutt sets up a fine plot of points, which are then connected by the reader’s immersed mind.

The book reminded me of a few other works. Orcutt’s stories, all of them vivid and engrossing, take place in the fictional town of Wellington, New York. That geographic commonality at once suggested, in my mind, Mary Morrissy’s Prosperity Drive. (You leave the Aussies intact, Lassie?) Characters reappear and themes recur here and there. And Wellington itself becomes a perpetual personality in much the same form and fashion as the titular character in H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Street”. And just like Morrissy’s Prosperity Drivers and Lovecraft’s Lane, albeit in distinctive locution, Wellington and its population are adroitly, entertainingly, and guardedly presented as offbeat.

Who doesn’t love to hate the rich? Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 24:19. Confucius said, “Wealth and honor are what people want, but if they are the consequence of deviating from the way, then I would have no part of them.” It’s not necessarily that the wealthy are wicked. Or it’s not that, in a sense of totality, money is evil. Part of the stigma of the well-to-do is that their fortune allows them the opportunity to engage in behavior inherent to all of us with unfettered ease and unadulterated excess. That alone might explain much of the universal caution against the trappings of great opulence. 

Forewarned or not, Wellington is overrun with wealthy people, both of the generational landed gentry and the nouveau riche Manhattanite yuppie kinds. Much of the narration involves horses. Horses are fine and noble beasts, yet horse people are about as weird as they come. If one knows, then one knows: from California to Kentucky to Florida, it’s the same pattern. Wellington’s “hilltoppers” are sterling examples of horse and general monied eccentricity. However, safely confined within the pages of a book, their various follies make for excellent fiction. 

Orcutt opens with a quote by Anton Chekhov. He then proceeds with a story about an unusual “shooting party”, one led by a rather determined woman. Her self-imposed exile at the end appears happier and less taxing than, say, tenure at a standard labor camp. Another tale delves deeply into the lethally neurotic absurdity of fighting over a literal pile of trash. Perhaps you, dear reader, have heard of or imagined such things? Yet another story reminds us that little to nothing will come between the hobby engineer and his model train set layout. Assorted cautionary themes run the length of the book. In a sense, perhaps an inverted sense, One Hundred Miles from Manhattan might be considered an American ode to the Russian village fiction of the twentieth century. Lavish as it is, there is a certain pastoral romanticism associated with Wellington. And in keeping with the spirit of Valentin Rasputin, et al, a level of hardship is keenly examined—though it is volitional hardship, not so much on the local peasantry but, rather, on the peculiar affluent residents. Some of the presented rural fascination is coupled with criticism of modernity, subtle yet palpable criticism delivered with ranged emotion. 

Orcutt’s writing is crisp, evocative, and arresting. He balances, very well, a technical precision with great relatability. Somewhere, he mentioned he writes stories he would like to read. He succeeds with aplomb, which is a testament to several factors (that I can think of): a deeply contemplative philosophical outlook, high creativity, and an ability to accomplish that hardest and most critical aspect of writing—being able to jot it all down in such a way that the reader not only understands but mentally makes the story his own. He’s noted in several places his admiration for different great authors of the past. If he ever tried to emulate some of their manners or tack—and all of us try that to some extent—then he has succeeded in channeling the best as required and where necessary; but, he has also developed a most unique and enjoyable style all his own. More of Orcutt’s rare distinctiveness is on humorous, insightful display in his 2017 book, Perpetuating Trouble: A Memoir, which is part biography, part story-telling, and part poignant writing guide. I highly recommend it, to writers and all, along with, of course, One Hundred Miles from Manhattan.

I’m also looking forward to 2026 and the coming first segment of Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome, a nine-episode novel, twice the heft of War and Peace, about Gen X and our glory in the greatest of all decades, the 1980s. Grab the Swatches and pop those collars! Evidently, Orcutt spent the past decade locked in the last functioning Aladdin’s Castle mall arcade researching and refining the chronicle. If dedication equals perfection then… Okay, honestly, I was there. Did that and all. Part of me really wants to relive the majesty. But part of me is a little wary that once pulled back … I won’t want to leave again! Rad.