RichardHowe.com – Voices from Lowell & Beyond

A novel dive into masculine alienation by Marjorie Arons-Barron

The entry below is being cross posted from Marjorie Arons-Barron’s own blog.

Flesh by Hungarian-British author David Szalay was recently announced as the winner of the 2025 Booker Award. Although the Booker board called it “a propulsive, hypnotic novel about a man who is unraveled by a series of events beyond his grasp,” I found it hard to get into. At best, I saw its protagonist, then-15-year-old Istvan, as an expression of an aspect of contemporary masculinity: alienated, apathetic, inarticulate, defined by a sense of powerlessness.

Istvan lives with his mother in a large apartment complex in Hungary. He grudgingly accepts her demand that he regularly help an older resident bring home bags of groceries from the local market. The “older woman” turns out to be 42 years old, and, over time, she seduces him. His conversational skills are limited to grunts, answering questions with monosyllabic questions like “yeah?” and learning from her the tools of sex with near-total lack of agency. In this, as in others of his relationships, sex is presented solely as an animal function, never equated with love and rarely paired with introspection that leads to self-understanding.

In the earliest chapters, the reader gets no sense of Istvan’s interior life or, indeed, if he has one at all, even when he does time at a juvenile institution in the wake of the seducer’s husband’s death in a lethal fall in the apartment building. His incarceration taught him only that he was capable of being a fighter.

He later enlists in the army and serves five years in Iraq.  By now, we are getting drawn more deeply into his story. Persuaded to see a therapist to deal with what is clearly PTSD, Istvan has a vague sense that war violence and the death of a friend have changed his life but, even with the therapist, he is hard put to articulate why.

Heavy smoking, excessive use of alcohol and abundant illegal drugs are themes across the ensuing years, as his life moves propulsively through jobs as a bouncer in a sleazy pole-dance bar, an employee of a private security company, then as a bodyguard and driver for ultra-wealthy private individuals.  That role requires him to learn how to dress in suits, improve his boorish behavior, and move discreetly in different circles. But his exterior changes don’t reflect similar development of his thought processes, his understanding of why he does certain things. The reader wonders more about where his passivity – just waiting for things to happen to him – will lead him than does Istvan himself, who seems to have no regard for his future at all.

The setting lurches from Budapest to London. He gets drawn into a sexual relationship with his wealthy employer’s wife (simultaneously with a side affair with another member of the corporate titan’s staff). I won’t go into where this all takes him, his rise into the world of material wealth, or where he ends up.

In many ways, Istvan’s relationships echo that of his first sexual encounters as a 15-year-old.  In one of his rare reflective moments, he says that, with women, “It’s hard to have an experience that feels entirely new, that doesn’t feel like something that has already happened, and will probably happen again in some very similar way, so that it never feels like all that much is at stake.” Good grief!

In middle age, Istvan’s potential to be more than a rote sexual animal becomes clear when he becomes a father and, perhaps for the first time, shares a little interior emotion. He hopes that adolescence for his pre-teen son will be less stressful than the years of his own burgeoning physicality. But, when tragedy strikes, he sinks deeper into alcoholism. As he ages, he begins to understand that his life has been changed by a handful of people who have played roles in it, but he never gets to the point of being able to express, even to himself, exactly what that process has entailed.

This is a dark book. It has a way of pounding from one stage of Istvan’s life to the next, with our grasp of events revealed often after the fact. It is a world of empty people, of understanding only through often meaningless physical experiences, of loneliness and anger.

Ultimately, I came to understand the Booker board’s decision. Szalay’s writing style is minimalist, his sentences truncated, replicating how stunted Istvan himself is emotionally. The spare prose sadly captures an emptiness experienced by too many men today. Flesh fosters an understanding of what drives a large cohort of alienated  people in today’s fraught political world and is an important, if difficult, book to read.

Lowell Politics: February 8, 2026

Before getting to the February 3, 2026, city council meeting, here are the results of the same day’s special primary election for the state senate seat left vacant when Edward Kennedy died last year. In the Special Democratic Primary, State Representative Vanna Howard defeated State Representative Rodney Elliott. Here are the unofficial results from each community in the district:

DISTRICT WIDE

Elliott – 2369
Howard – 3326

Dracut

Elliott – 496
Howard – 359

Dunstable

Elliott – 98
Howard – 154

Lowell

Elliott – 1499
Howard – 2159

Pepperell

Elliott – 151
Howard – 445

Tyngsborough

Elliott – 130
Howard – 219

There was no candidate on the Republican primary ballot, however, Sam Meas ran a write-in campaign. To achieve the nomination, he would need 300 votes, which is the number of nomination signatures needed to make it onto the primary ballot. It looks like he achieved that number by enough votes to withstand any challenge to the validity of the count. In other words, if someone wanted to keep Meas off the general election ballot and he had only received 301 write in signatures, if someone challenged the validity of those write-in votes and two were tossed out, he would be knocked off the ballot. I don’t know the total number of write in votes Meas received, but it was enough to safely place him on the ballot.

Returning to the Democratic Primary, Howard won a substantial victory. Because every election is different, I’m hesitant to speculate on the reasons for this outcome. I received numerous pieces of campaign literature in the mail from each candidate so there was not a disparity of mailings. In a low turnout election, it’s generally thought that the candidate who does a better job of identifying and turning out their votes will most likely win, but that kind of turnout operation is easier to pull off in a smaller district like state representative or city council districts.

It’s also possible that ideology, or perceived ideology, may have played a role. Although an active Democrat, Elliott is seen to lean conservative on some issues, whereas Howard is unapologetically progressive in her positions. In special elections across the country, we are seeing enormous swings from the conservative candidate (usually a Republican) to the progressive candidate (usually a Democrat), so that possibly played a role here. It’s long been said that all politics in local, but in the Age of Trump, all politics is national.

As for turnout in this Democratic Primary, here are Tuesday’s vote totals compared to the vote totals in the 2018 Democratic Primary which is the last time that seat was vacant after incumbent Eileen Donoghue resigned to become Lowell City Manager. That race was won by Ed Kennedy, who held the seat until his untimely death last year. In order of finish, the other candidates were John Drinkwater, Rodney Elliott, Terry Ryan and Bill Martin.

This is not an exact comparison because redistricting following the 2020 census replaced Groton and Westford with Dracut, but the other towns – Dunstable, Lowell, Pepperell and Tyngsborough – were in the district for both races and the comparison in votes cast in each community between the two elections shows how low the turnout was this time:

Districtwide turnout in 2026 was 5,756; in 2018 it was 19,594

Dunstable turnout in 2026 was 253; in 2018 it was 431

Lowell turnout in 2026 was 3,686; in 2018 it was 11,593

Pepperell turnout in 2026 was 601; in 2018 it was 1,215

Tyngsborough turnout in 2026 was 353; in 2018 it was 1,394

[Dracut turnout in 2026 was 863; in 2018, turnout in Groton was 1,624 and in Westford was 3,337.]

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Democratic nominee Vanna Howard will face Republican nominee Sam Meas in the March 3, 2026, special election. Unenrolled candidate Joe Espinola will also be on the ballot. The winner should be seated in the State Senate soon after the vote is certified. However, the winner will also have to remain in campaign mode because the seat will be on the ballot again in this fall’s election. Also, if Vanna Howard prevails on March 3, the state representative seat she holds now will be vacant, which should attract several candidates.

Here are the offices on the ballot this fall with the number of nomination signatures needed to be on the primary ballot shown in parentheses:

• U.S. Senator (10,000 signatures)
• U.S. Representative (2,000 signatures)
• Governor and Lieutenant Governor (10,000 signatures)
• Attorney General (10,000 signatures)
• Secretary of State (5,000 signatures)
• Treasurer and Receiver General (5,000 signatures)
• Auditor (5,000 signatures)
• Governor’s Councillor (1,000 signatures)
• State Senator (300 signatures)
• State Representative (150 signatures)
• District Attorney – (1,000 signatures)
• Register of Probate – (1,000 signatures)

Nomination papers should be available on February 10, 2026. Nomination signatures must be turned into local election offices for certification by April 28, 2026, then certified nomination papers must be transported from the local election office to the Secretary of State’s office by May 26, 2026.

The State Primary is on Tuesday, September 1, 2026

The State Election is on Tuesday, November 3, 2026

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As for the city council meeting, two issues discussed at the prior meeting – a moratorium on data centers and a combined city and school facilities department – were back before the council this week.

Regarding the data center moratorium, recall that Councilor Belinda Juran questioned whether the initial draft from the city solicitor was overly broad in that it would capture someone using a server to operate a small business in their home. In my newsletter last week, I explained that Councilor Juran was correct to be concerned because the definition of datacenter as written would apply to something like the registry of deeds which is not the kind of operation the council seeks to prohibit. Considering that concern, the council sent the draft back to the solicitor for clarification.

Here is the relevant language from the January 27, 2026, draft:

“DATA CENTERS: a building or series of buildings that houses and supports the high-performance servers, storage systems, networking equipment, and related computing infrastructure and equipment necessary for storage, processing, and distribution of data and applications.”

Here is the same section from the February 3, 2026, revision with the added language shown in bold:

“DATA CENTERS: a building or series of buildings, with the intended primary use being commercial, that houses and supports the high-performance servers, storage systems, networking equipment, and related computing infrastructure and equipment necessary for storage, processing, and distribution of data and applications.”

Councilor Juran was skeptical that the added language fully addressed the problem, saying that a bank has a “primary use being commercial” and, because it holds servers, storage systems, etc., it, too, would be covered by this moratorium.

Juran’s criticism of the new language is well taken but for some reason other councilors seem more concerned with getting the moratorium enacted rapidly than they did with its consequences. Because of that vibe coming from the council and because the proposed ordinance must first go to the planning board for its input, Juran relented on her objection to this iteration of the ordinance in the apparent hope that the planning board will further clarify the language.

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This “need for speed” also created confusion with the combined school and city maintenance department proposal. This issue also arose at the January 27 meeting with a motion by Councilor Corey Robinson motion to draft home rule legislation that would allow the city to create a centralized facilities department. The council passed that motion but also asked the mayor to bring the issue before the school committee and to schedule a joint meeting of the school committee and city council to answer any questions the school committee may have.

At this week’s council meeting, not only did the draft home rule petition return to the council, but it did so in the form of a vote to file it with the state legislature. With varying degrees of consternation, councilors said it was premature to consider filing this and asked that it be continued for a month to allow consultation with the school committee.

To review, state law specifically grants the school committee with authority over maintenance within schools while the city council is responsible for maintenance of the school buildings. State law also allows these functions to be consolidated in a single department provided both the city council and the school committee consent to it.

When the proposal to combine maintenance departments reached the school committee last year, the committee overwhelmingly rejected it. Mayor Gitschier will now take a shot at getting concurrence from the school committee, however, if that does not happen, some councilors seem determined to go it alone with this special legislation route.

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This week in Seen & Heard, I reviewed the movie “One Battle After Another”; the Grammy Awards telecast; the email newsletter MASSterList; a Globe article about the last Patriots and Seahawks Superbowl; and a Times article about how a Cambodian dance troupe in Portland, Maine, has been disrupted by immigration enforcement activities.

Time of the End of the Season Part Two

Time of the End of the Season Part Two: Bubblz—LA–Broken Arrow

By Bob Hodge

Bob Hodge grew up in Lowell and went on to graduate from Lowell High (1973) and University of Lowell (1990). He was (and still is) one the greatest runners to come out of this region. He’s also a writer whose 2020 memoir, Tale of the Times: A Runner’s Story, is available at lala books in downtown Lowell and in Kindle format from Amazon. The following is another excerpt from his novel-in-progress. The first segment appeared on this site on January 16, 2026.

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Bub’s was a party girl so when I told her I needed to run ten miles she thought I was joking. “Listen, you can drop me here along this beach bike path I think it follows along the road and I will meet you ten miles from here in one hour.” I left all my stuff with her money too and I ran in nothing but my shorts and shoes. Bub’s didn’t let me down she was parked on the side of the road with a couple of cold Pepsi Cola’s.

Bub’s put on her bikini in the car and we walked to the ocean for a swim and then a long walk on the beach. “You must be some kind of athlete knocking off ten miles like that no sweat.” “I want to be Bub’s I am on a mission to find that out and visiting runners around the country who have been there to the Olympics and such.”

I stayed with Bub’s and her roommate Suzy and we had a great time talking, listening to some far-out surfer music and playing around with a nice Gibson a gift from a former boyfriend. In the mornings they both headed off to work while I slept in until the sun got warm and then went for runs on Mt Tamalpais in the forest and in the evening on the beach.

I wanted to hang there forever but summer was ending and it was almost cross-country season time to get serious. My funds were running low the pile of Travelers checks growing thin horror of horror’s I might have to get a job.

Bub’s dropped me off at the station next stop City of Angels.

I awoke at the cabin remembering last night how I got excited with the writing I was back in LA that summer of Willy about to meet my mentor Jack and the words came in a torrent. I would read them later as was my custom. Awake coffee and a nibble, putter around cleaning then sit and read the local news, poetry a novel. 

Okay I’m ready let’s look this over.

I arrived in the LA bus station at midnight after we were delayed due to mechanical issues. I had no desire to stay in LA I was passing through and would catch the next bus to San Diego but first I had to kill about twelve hours. I changed into my running gear in the Men’s room and checked my bag with a clerk who gave me a claim check.

I hit the hard-dark streets of the city at night. It took me a while to get my body going it now being around three o’clock in the morning. I figured to go straight out and back but that wasn’t possible. I was lost until I saw a road sign on the freeway down below me as I ran over a bridge.

I ran down the entrance ramp onto the freeway breakdown lane and almost immediately a California State Trooper pulled over ahead of me. “Son, what are you running out here for are you nuts?” “Sorry sir, I’m lost.” “Let me see some ID.” “Uh, I left at the bus station where I checked my bag.”

“Get in.” And so, I went for a little ride in the police car lights flashing and everythang like I was a major criminal. Once they looked over my ID and listened to my story they calmed down and even gave me a ride to Griffith Park where I promptly fell asleep under a tree after eating some donuts and coffee.

When I awoke I made my way back to the bus station and called Jack from a pay phone. He said he had arranged for someone to pick me up and bring me to his house where I planned to stay for a month and train with his guidance. We had a lot to talk over when I finally got there.

Jack was now in his thirties and married with a young child. He was a coach and a teacher at a Junior College and was continuing to compete at the highest level. He had just run in the World Cross Country Championships in March helping the US Team to a third-place finish.

I was a huge fan of his and had corresponded with him by letter and he had agreed to meet with me and possibly coach me if I came out there but he wanted to meet me in person and discuss things first.

I arrived in San Diego in mid afternoon and Scotty a member of Jacks cross country and track teams picked me up. Scotty was the same age as me and he was nonplussed by my adventures I guess he lived a sheltered life.

When we got to Jack’s place we were welcomed into the kitchen of the well-kept little cottage where Jack his wife Jenn and their young son Tyler were preparing for lunch. I was in awe meeting one of my idols he was wearing a beat-up t shirt was unshaven and had a few grey hairs but looked fit as a stallion.

Jenn wore a t-shirt, running shorts and some little sandals and was a stunner my jaw just dropped and I was embarrassed when Jack noticed and said “That’s okay Willy, everyone has that reaction when they meet my Jenn. You will love her even more when you get to know her a little.” Jenn just smiled and said “You hungry Willy?”

We talked about my running routine over the last six weeks for a bit and I handed over my running log. “Pretty impressive Willy, very consistent even with all the hoboing around.” “You run any races?”

“Only the mountain race with Pablo who I believe you know.”

“Ya man, Pablo and I were teammates on World Cross and afterward him and I traveled in Italy and France and ran two more races. I’m happy to hear he is still fit and doing well.” “Jack, Pablo has five kids and another on the way.” “Wow, way ahead of me.”

“If you could hang with Pablo on Pat’s Peak that is a good sign you have to be fit.”

Jack and I talked for hours. “One thing Willy, you need to get a job.” “I know Jack I don’t have much money left anyways.” Jack handed over a job application.” “Willy, you ever done laundry?”

I moved into a room above the garage finally living large my own place for at least a month. In the morning I filled out an application for a job in the college athletic department athletics department gym.

They were hiring a couple of people so I liked my odds of getting something at least part time, nothing glamorous, washing the team’s uniforms, cleaning the locker rooms, checking student ID at the door and that type of thing.

The pay was minimum wage about $4.00 an hour.

Jack gave me a tour of the small campus where I honed in on the library. I also registered for a course on human anatomy. The course would be in the evening school with mostly adult learners.

In the late afternoon I met Jack at the track with the rest of the team. I would not be training with them regularly as Jack didn’t want to upset the team dynamic with an outsider. I would do long runs with them on Sundays, the only exception.

The team headed out on one of their regular routes for a moderate run and Jack had me do a two-mile time trial on the track. “Willy, I know it has been a while since your last track workout so just feel it out and shoot for 70’s, I don’t want you getting out ahead of your skis.”

I went out and did the first quarter in sixty-five seconds “slow the fuck down” Jack yelled. Well being the little pin head I hit the half at two ten and shortly after something hit me on the back. Jack had thrown his watch at me and chased me down and pulled me from the track.

“Willy, I ain’t gonna say this again, you friggin wise up and follow my instructions or pack up and hit your hobo trail.” “Jesus Jack I’m sorry.” “Good, now start over and do it right.”

That night at dinner Jack was silent and I knew I had upset him. Jenn asked about my day and I helped clean up the dishes. I grabbed a couple of books from Jack’s running library which he had invited me to borrow from. A two-volume autobiography by Ron Hill caught my eye and I holed up in my little room reading immediately caught up in this incredibly moving and forthright story.

I got the job in the athletic department, started my class in anatomy and trained according to Jack’s precise instructions. Soon we would plan a fall racing schedule and I had a decision to make whether to make this my home base or head back to New England.

Life was good a solid routine just what every athlete needs but I felt a little lonely thinking about home and my recent dalliances with Penny, Mo, and Bubblz. I learned some things about Jack that were unsettling and I was trying to put those things aside telling myself that we all end up with a few skeletons in the closet.

Jack had swagger and the guys on the team started to open up on our Sunday runs together about Jack’s abusive manner. I was appalled but also as I had suspected Jack was having an affair with a co-ed which really had me angry “how could he do it, Jenn was everything any man could ever want.”

Jack didn’t even really try to hide it he somehow put himself above it all on some kind of pedestal. He was a great coach and my running was going very well but I knew I could not stay with him so I planned to leave when the semester ended in December.

In the next few months I would race a few local roads and cross-country races pretty low key and then run the Senior AAU Nationals in Durham NC. My ultimate goal would be the Junior International Cross-Country Trial in Gainesville in February a qualifier for Worlds in Auckland New Zealand in March.

My first race came in October a four miler over some dirt roads and trails where I would line up against my coach and mentor. It was a small field of locals mostly from the club Broken Arrow, a great group of guys most with native American roots. I had joined their club at Jack’s insistence and would compete on their team at Senior Nationals.

The first mile was a modest pace around five minutes and Jack and I were cantering. Jack said “Willy work the hills.” We ran together the entire way and I figured we would tie but going around a tight curve Jack ran me into a tree and got three steps on me as I tried to chase him down then changed my mind and jogged across the line in second.

I was initially upset with Jack but that night at dinner he looked at me and laughed, “Willy, you got to be prepared for moves like that, cross-country is a contact sport sometimes.”

After dinner I went to a get together a house party with the Broken Arrow guys. I had not been drinking beer at all after being a binge drinker through my brief college days and sometimes on the hobo trail. Tonight, I look forward to having a few and getting to know the guys a little better.

These guys had some hair-raising stories. Their lives were not easy and yet they were happy go lucky , unlike Jack’s college team. College for the Broken guys was not really on the radar. Most of them hadn’t graduated from high school no matter the schools here were low quality anyway. But they were smart and had to be to survive and not wind up in jail.

I bought a six pack of the cheapest beer I could find. Axel, one of the leaders of the club, an older guy who acted as kind of a manager for the team looked at me closely, “Willy I can’t believe you’re gonna drink that skunk piss.” “Watch me.”

The group treated me like one of their own and I suppose It was because we runners’ athletes who if nothing else in common always had our next fix to look forward to. We also had a solid team for nationals and I was looking forward to competing and traveling to NC.

I explained to Axel and a few of the guys how Jack had run me into the tree. Axel smiled and stroked his chin, the others shook their heads and I could tell that they were very hesitant to be forthright in their feelings about him. No one said a thing.

It was time to call it a night. I had walked the two miles over to the party but when I left I immediately began to run home to my room over the garage, drunk as a fart.

Older and wiser thought I, I finished up my longest run in many years on a hot evening sun setting I grabbed the garden hose and dowsed myself and drank in huge gulps then I went into the house grabbed two beers and the ice bag and towel and took up a seat on the porch in my rocker.

The writing was starting to come around and go someplace though I wasn’t sure where. I was knacker ed but it was a good tired. Maybe I could escape my dreams tonight and just get a restful sleep, though the dreams were feeding the writing, that and all the jumbled thoughts coming together while out running for two plus hours. You have lived a long-life Willy and there are some things that you just never completely overcome.

One weekend Jack took the team to the regional championships an overnighter. Jenn and I and little Sammy had dinner and then Jenn put Sammy to bed while I cleaned up. As I was about to leave Jenn said “Hey Willy, you want to watch a movie with me? I’ll make some popcorn.” “Sure Jenn, what movie did you get?” “Dances with Wolves” I borrowed it from the library.” “It’s a long one about three hours.”

I sat down on the couch with Jenn with the popcorn bowl between us and as the movie started I reached into the bowl and then Jenn’s hand was in mine. My heart is ready to explode all these years later remembering what happened next. I never did see that movie, I heard it was a good flick.

I was nineteen years old then not too good about covering up my feelings. When Jack got back he was ecstatic that his team had won the region. Each day I had to see Jenn usually wearing those little Ellie Mae shorts and a tank top and my arousal nearly made my heart explode.

I started to skip meals with them and eat at the cafeteria at school and then stay late until the library closed telling Jack and Jenn I needed to study for my final exam. My training progressed and I ran an 8:45 for two miles with one of Jack’s team pacing me through the mile.

I ran one cross country invitational hosted by Jack on his home course, as an unofficial entrant. I ran the five-mile course in 23:08 over a minute faster than the course record. Jack and I had a great working relationship but I knew all the drama going on behind the scene would eventually blow up in my face.

I couldn’t be around Jenn, I was in love with her.

I would go to the nationals with Broken Arrow at the end of November and then come back for a few more weeks until school ended.

After that I had no idea what I might do.

LA Woman:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMiAQPABgHA

Copley Square Winter

COPLEY SQUARE WINTER

Terry Downes

The wind blew low and mournful cold
Across the heating grate
The granite building shielding him
He prayed from cruelest fate.

Across the square the grand hotel
Drew rev’lers by the score,
Who passing barely noticed him
Collapsed at Reaper’s door.

His stomach ached for warming food
To help him wage the fight
To cheat the summons claiming him
For death’s roll call that night.

While under gleaming chandeliers
Guests ate and drank their fill
Of New Year’s lavish offerings,
Immune from winter’s chill.

Aroma drifted out the door
Towards him across the street
A friendless being, cold and sick,
Wrapped thin in tattered sheet.

From steeple near the hour boomed
Midnight’s count struck slow,
Every tolling counting down
A spirit ebbing low.

Until at dawn two trucks appeared
One carried food that day,
The second paused aside the grate
And hauled a corpse away.

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Terry Downes is an attorney and retired District Court Clerk/Magistrate who went on to found and direct the MCC Program on Homeland Security, and long served as an adjunct professor at Suffolk Univ. Law School and UMASS-Lowell. He lives in Lowell with his wife Atty. Annie O’Connor.

He explained that this poem tries to capture a haunting scene he witnessed one bitterly cold and windy December night in the mid-1990s while attending an event at the Boston Public Library in Copley Square. When he arrived, he noticed a group of homeless people under blankets on top of the heating grates behind the library. When he left the library several hours later, the individuals were still there. He included the poem in his 1996 chapbook When Winter Takes A Stroll: Reflections on Life & Baseball. Our present arctic weather made it seem relevant today.