Bound to honor its favorite son

William Saroyan is one of the great conundrums of 20th century literature. He was among the most famous American writers of the '30s and '40s, a versatile prose stylist who was conversant in many genres, and yet Saroyan hasn't been widely read in this country for decades. At one time, the Armenian American writer was mentioned in the same breath as Hemingway and Steinbeck. Now it's hard to find his books in stores.

Fresno has not forgotten, however. Saroyan's hometown wants the world to reconsider the accomplishments of its most prominent cultural export. To mark the 100th birthday of Saroyan, who died in 1981 in Fresno at age 72, the city is hosting a yearlong celebration of the writer's life and work.

The centennial features readings, screenings, lectures from Saroyan experts, exhibitions of photographs and paintings created by Saroyan as well as productions of his plays. A collaboration among 40 local and state organizations, it will continue until November.

Larry Balakian, the chairman of the Saroyan Centennial Committee, said he was not sure why Saroyan had fallen out of favor. "Perhaps it's because he's not modern enough," Balakian said. "I certainly don't think his style has become outdated. That's why we're trying to revive his reputation, to show readers that his work remains as fresh and relevant as it's always been."

Saroyan was born in Fresno in 1908, the son of an Armenian vineyard owner. His father died from peritonitis when Saroyan was only 3, and the future author and his brothers were shunted into an Alameda orphanage until his mother could find work to support the family. Saroyan relocated to San Francisco in 1929 with his family, and began furiously producing stories while supporting himself with odd jobs.

His breakthrough came with the publication of "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze," a quietly devastating portrait of a struggling writer's privations in Depression-era America that was published by Story magazine in 1934. "In the gutter he saw a coin which proved to be a penny dated 1923," Saroyan wrote, "and placing it in the palm of his hand he examined it closely, remembering that year and thinking of Lincoln, whose profile was stamped upon the coin. There was almost nothing a man could do with a penny."