'We Need to Talk About Kevin' by Lionel Shriver. This is a book where the narrative voice threw me off: so cold and esoteric; I thought it might be the character, but then I read the author's notes at the back of the book and realized that Lionel Shriver is sort of a pretentious prick. Also, I had to keep turning on my computer to use the dictionary to look up the most random words - it really disrupted the flow of the text for me. I can handle stone-cold women narrators, but Eva, the protagonist (or anti-protagonist?) is odd, high-strung and so unlikeable in her relationships. Ultimately, the redemption at the end feels minor, almost a careless after-thought.
'The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks' by Rebecca Skloot. There's nothing wrong with this story - it's fine. It just didn't move me or surprise me in the way I thought it would. Perhaps some of this is because a lot of my personal interest already resides in marginalized narratives, and I've spent a lot of time reading about histories similar to this (unfortunately), that this particular story didn't resonant as loudly as it might for someone who doesn't have a solid understanding of how history, as a framework, operates.
'Room' by Emma Donoghue. A big 'meh' from me. I thought the entire story would be about being stuck in a room, but actually only half the story is; the latter half is about adjusting to the outside world. All of it is from the perspective of a little kid who's never been outside and while that's a new perspective, I didn't care enough about each character to see them through what's supposed to be a harrowing transition. Also - the way they escape from the room is pretty crazy and unbelievable.
'Portnoy's Complaint' by Philip Roth. Trust me, this hurts. I love Philip Roth. But this was too much like when I was 15 and reading 'Notes From the Underground.' No. Whenever people tell me that (or, 'On the Road') is their favorite book, I silently bang my head against something. At some point, Peter Pan, you have to grow up. But, to Roth's credit, this book is funny and aware in a way that 'Notes' isn't. I just really can't read an entire book about masturbation and parents.
'1q84' by Haruki Murakami. Oh jeez. This one... gave me carpal tunnel. It's 1000 pages of re-hashing the same love story that Murakami has written before, and better. The translation is stilted, the story didn't pack the urgency that his stories usually have and... I don't know. It was a hot mess.
'The Marriage Plot' by Jeffrey Eugenides. This book broke my heart. I mean - it was so mediocre and not comparable to his previous books that I think I became distraught and started questioning whether 'Middlesex' was really good, at all. Plus, he gave a lot of interviews during his promoting period about how his contemporaries really didn't have any effect on his writing style - he was "already formed." To which I call bullshit, sir! Are you really ever formed as a writer? I really like this Slate.com round up article on how a lot of writers, not just Eugenides, have been fascinated by Wallace (who committed suicide a few years back, and was close friends with Franzen).
Anyway, these are the books that pulled at my book-strings and then chewed and spit them out back at me. So sad.
T
3 comments:
i saw the movie of the first. it was creepy. and then i saw ezra miller answer questions about how creepy he was after. and he's only nineteen, this kid. that was the most depressing part.
i'd recommend it.
i just read 'the marriage plot' - and although i admit it's not of the same caliber as 'middlesex' - i don't think it was really meant to be, and i thoroughly enjoyed myself. i found myself laughing on every page for the first half of it. and then it had the one touching chapter his books always have.
i wasn't disappointed, and i'm glad he can write so differently on the same essential subject: coming of age..
See http://anattitudeadjustment.com/2011/12/12/bizarre-love-triangle-a-maladjusted-book-club-post/.
I was totally reminded of Felicity!
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