Frank Bascombe’s last ride … maybe

“Be Mine” is the fifth and maybe final novel in Ford's Frank Bascombe series.

Frank Bascombe, the protagonist of five of author Richard Ford’s novels and an unadulterated observer of all that is good, bad and insignificant in American life, is taking his last road trip.   

In a conversation with Ford from Dublin, he swore his latest Bascombe novel, “Be Mine,” would be his last, but then again, the series was supposed to be a trilogy. 

He said he plans to focus on writing novellas, something he’s done before to great acclaim. That and learning to play the harmonica.

Ford, who has written numerous novels, novellas and a few collections of short stories since graduating from Michigan State University in 1966 and later the University of California, is quite like Bascombe, looking at his life in a rear-view mirror.

Bascombe made his debut in Ford’s 1986 book, “The Sportswriter,” about a failed sports writer dealing with the death of his son. In Ford’s most recent novel, Bascombe has come full circle and is once again looking at the impending “drive” to mortality with his oldest son, Paul, who’s dying from ALS.

Ford uses road trips to propel his stories forward. In his first Bascombe novel, it was a trip to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Now, Bascombe and Paul are driving from the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota around Valentine’s Day. All of Ford’s Bascombe books revolve around a holiday trip, whether it’s Christmas, Easter or the Fourth of July, which adds an underlying tension.

Despite edging toward 75, Bascombe hasn’t changed much in the intervening years. He’s still selling real estate; he’s gone through two divorces, prostate cancer and the death of his first wife; he faced down a hurricane; and he was shot in a botched robbery. We know this because Bascombe lists his travails like a shopping list on the first page of the novel.

The road trip gives Bascombe the opportunity to critique the kitschiest parts of America, like South Dakota’s Mitchell Corn Palace and Mount Rushmore, which Ford finds “underwhelming” once you get past the collector keychains and coffee mugs. Ford seems to be telling us Mount Rushmore is smaller than you imagine, much like the life of Bascombe.

“I just love that shit, all the doodads that make up America,” Ford said.

As Bascombe and his son drive the ribbons of highways in a rundown camper, their banter is not always friendly. Paul is an underachiever, most recently working as a security guard.

Many literary reviewers refer to Bascombe as the “everyman” in American literature, which Ford rails against. He doesn’t like his writing to fit into neat little boxes. To Ford, Bascombe is an ordinary guy doing ordinary things and getting by with as few ripples as possible, despite being thrown a lot of curveballs. 

Ford is a keen observer of ordinary life, and Bascombe is his messenger. As a mantra, Ford has adopted the opening sentence of Joan Didion’s book “The White Album”: “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

But he takes that maxim up a notch. On the road trip to death, he shadow boxes with what it means “to live and to die.”

“It would be nice if you could forget. I’d like to forget the death of my father,” he said. 

Ford’s father died when he was a young boy, and he was raised by his widowed mother, which he wrote a memoir about.

One thing hasn’t changed in Ford’s five Bascombe novels and the rest of his previous work: Each is dedicated to his college sweetheart, Kristina. A few years ago, as he and Kristina left a dinner at Cowles House on MSU’s campus, where they met so long ago, they walked holding hands like they did when they were undergraduates in the mid-’60s, then just a military brat and a guy who wanted to be in the hospitality industry. They’ve had each other’s back since, both superstars (Kristina Ford is an urban planner) in their own fields. A few years ago, they showed their love for MSU by creating a $10 million scholarship endowment.

Like Bascombe, they both love the thrill of buying and selling real estate. They recently sold a home on the coast of Maine and moved to Billings, Montana, where Ford can see the foothills of the Rocky Mountains from his downtown office. 

“It was Kristina’s idea — she’s a Western girl,” he said.

It’s always a joy talking with Ford, and each time I learn something new about him. This time, I learned he’s a fan of Groucho Marx and the 1950s’ game show “You Bet Your Life.” I now see some of Marx’s persona in his writing.