Carla, Anne, Jimmy, and Charlie are all survivors of a shooting spree in a hamburger joint in their little town. Anne and Jimmy are teenagers, who were having lunch with her father when the shooter shot him. Carla is the waitress who hid in the back, near the kitchen, trying to get her cell phone to make an outbound call as she watched the shoot kill her customers. Charlie is a driving teacher who grazed by a bullet survives almost perfectly in tact. Dr. Laraby, ER doctor and son of a now deceased medical legend had just left the store on his way to the emergency room as is attending when the victims are brought in minutes later. None of them survive.
The novel unfolds in sections named by character. Each person's life just before and in the week or so after the shooting is explored intermittantly with italicized descriptions of their experience of the shooting. The reader never gets the full picture of why each person was there and what they saw until the end of the novel. That's because the novel is about what it does to them. How do these completely disparate people react in the face of this tragedy and what about their lives to then led them to those reactions?
At first all we know is Anne found God; Jimmy went mute; Charlie ran; and Carla, at first, seems to be holding it together. What slowly unfolds is far more complicated. The teenagers have a secret and Anne deals with it by preaching the good word. Jimmy, afraid to speak lest he tells, refuses to speak at all. Charlie, feeling lucky, runs to Vegas capitalize on that luck and finally make a difference for his young family. Carla slowly loses her hold on her life and her small child, and finally, Dr. Laraby risks everything trying to atone for his failures in the operating room.
The pace of the novel is great. It moves you along, if not pulling you sometimes. The exploration of the psychological toll on each of these characters is equally riveting. How does one deal with jealousy in the aftermath of tragic events? How horrible is it to realize there is some possible gain to be had from having been there? These questions are dealt with contextually - not just as the result of one event. For instance, when the unpopular girl at school is suddenly a celebratory because her father didn't survive the shooting but she did, what does that do to a teenager? How is she suppose to process that? How is her mother?
Freirich does amazing work with each of the survivors and their post trauma pathos. He wonderfully manages to not tie up every loose end, which is entirely satisfying in this case.
The Story Sisters - Alice Hoffman
There is something insidious at the heart of all faerie tales. That's part of their appeal. In The Story Sisters Hoffman gives us three beautiful daughters living with their single mother in Long Island. The eldest Daughter Elv, has invented, for her two younger sisters, a magical world so intense that they speak their own language. They long for this world over the one in which they live daily. In their faerie tale, buried in the woods in a secret land is where all the good in the world exists. Except that, their real life ain't so bad either. The girls grandparents live pretty well in Manhattan, and they reap the benefits of wealthy benefactors. Not only that, grandma also keeps a place in Paris where the girls go each Spring. Their lives are filled with the kind of parties and events of princesses. In addition, as I mentioned, the girls are each extraordinarily beautiful and accomplished. Both worlds would seem to be a fairy tale. Except...
Semi, not-really spoiler
The underside of the fairy tale is hinted at in the opening of the story, and it's not good. The youngest sister is almost snatched on afternoon walking home from school, her older sister intervenes only to be snatched herself. The details aren't necessarily spelled out, but your imagination will fill in those gaps pretty easily. The middle sister, having been no where nearby when the events took place, has no idea. Claudine, the youngest, stays on the spot where Elv was snatched until miraculously she returns and they rush home together. Elv and Claudine keep there horrible secret for the entirety of the novel, never even speaking of it among themselves.
As adolescence kicks in, Elv becomes more and more rebellious: wearing black, keeping all hours, and having sex. Her mother loses total control over her monster of a teenager, who wreaks irreparable damage on the family, and extreme measures are eventually taken. Elv is locked away in an institution. At the institution, she meets a prince, who is anything but. They spiral together to rock bottom. Meanwhile, Elv's remaining family members do what the can to recover from the events that lead to Elv's incarceration. The family is broken and although there is a suggestion at the end that they are finding their way back there is along road to go.
Hoffman is brilliant, as always, in moments. Tying details about the girls' young life to tales from their faerie world informed - you eventually learn - by Elv's experience during the day she was lost to them. Those details become almost excruciating. The problem is, ultimately, the novel, intentionally or not, is such a heart wrenching illustration of how children get lost and more importantly how grown ups fail them that all the beautiful language can't save it from the ick. Faerie tales have always been about teaching a lesson, told by grown ups, to help children to understand things. This novel is a faerie tale in reverse, except none of the grown ups were listening and that failure eradicates much of the beauty of the novel for this reader.
Semi, not-really spoiler
The underside of the fairy tale is hinted at in the opening of the story, and it's not good. The youngest sister is almost snatched on afternoon walking home from school, her older sister intervenes only to be snatched herself. The details aren't necessarily spelled out, but your imagination will fill in those gaps pretty easily. The middle sister, having been no where nearby when the events took place, has no idea. Claudine, the youngest, stays on the spot where Elv was snatched until miraculously she returns and they rush home together. Elv and Claudine keep there horrible secret for the entirety of the novel, never even speaking of it among themselves.
As adolescence kicks in, Elv becomes more and more rebellious: wearing black, keeping all hours, and having sex. Her mother loses total control over her monster of a teenager, who wreaks irreparable damage on the family, and extreme measures are eventually taken. Elv is locked away in an institution. At the institution, she meets a prince, who is anything but. They spiral together to rock bottom. Meanwhile, Elv's remaining family members do what the can to recover from the events that lead to Elv's incarceration. The family is broken and although there is a suggestion at the end that they are finding their way back there is along road to go.
Hoffman is brilliant, as always, in moments. Tying details about the girls' young life to tales from their faerie world informed - you eventually learn - by Elv's experience during the day she was lost to them. Those details become almost excruciating. The problem is, ultimately, the novel, intentionally or not, is such a heart wrenching illustration of how children get lost and more importantly how grown ups fail them that all the beautiful language can't save it from the ick. Faerie tales have always been about teaching a lesson, told by grown ups, to help children to understand things. This novel is a faerie tale in reverse, except none of the grown ups were listening and that failure eradicates much of the beauty of the novel for this reader.
Halting State - Charles Stross
It's a got a groovy beat and I can totally dance to it, I'd give it a 92
It's got a groove, but it kinda slides into noise towards the end, I'd give it an 83
This is how I imagine myself rating this book to a Dick Clark who's younger than he was at my birth on a show I've only seen in reruns
This is my first Stross novel, and it's good. And, there is a lot going on. It's set in the future for starters, a really convincingly constructed future if I do say so myself. And it revolves around virtual reality games. I haven't played a video game since Atari, and other than a very hung over Saturday in 2002 when I laid on the couch and watched two friends play Grand Theft Auto for 5 hours waiting for the pain to go away I haven't seen one either (I don't get out of my box much). I can imagine if I knew more about the games in general the novel would have been even more impressive. Stross is amazingly convincing in his depiction of both the game and the future.
Stross gets a lot done with his setting alone. There is all kind of social and political commentary on our present just under the surface of his seemingly innocent references to the places in the story. The characters, at first, had me worried: pushy, loud, CEO; mousy, with potential, forensic accountant; schlubish super programmer guy; tough as nails police chick. However, Stross manages to give each one of those cut outs enough to make them human and compelling and impressively surprising in moments. There is on relationship that you know is coming but it emerges at a pace that seems suddenly rushed three quarters of the way, as if a nearing plot point required the relationship more than the characters.
I hate books that wrap up with neat little endings as a rule. And this one wraps up, but it's not necessarily neat and the information withheld until the final 20 pages doesn't drop out of nowhere, another thing I hate.
Overall I'm leaning more with side one of my brain as I finish this review, maybe it's not noise so much as just a single instrument out of key.
It's got a groove, but it kinda slides into noise towards the end, I'd give it an 83
This is how I imagine myself rating this book to a Dick Clark who's younger than he was at my birth on a show I've only seen in reruns
This is my first Stross novel, and it's good. And, there is a lot going on. It's set in the future for starters, a really convincingly constructed future if I do say so myself. And it revolves around virtual reality games. I haven't played a video game since Atari, and other than a very hung over Saturday in 2002 when I laid on the couch and watched two friends play Grand Theft Auto for 5 hours waiting for the pain to go away I haven't seen one either (I don't get out of my box much). I can imagine if I knew more about the games in general the novel would have been even more impressive. Stross is amazingly convincing in his depiction of both the game and the future.
Stross gets a lot done with his setting alone. There is all kind of social and political commentary on our present just under the surface of his seemingly innocent references to the places in the story. The characters, at first, had me worried: pushy, loud, CEO; mousy, with potential, forensic accountant; schlubish super programmer guy; tough as nails police chick. However, Stross manages to give each one of those cut outs enough to make them human and compelling and impressively surprising in moments. There is on relationship that you know is coming but it emerges at a pace that seems suddenly rushed three quarters of the way, as if a nearing plot point required the relationship more than the characters.
I hate books that wrap up with neat little endings as a rule. And this one wraps up, but it's not necessarily neat and the information withheld until the final 20 pages doesn't drop out of nowhere, another thing I hate.
Overall I'm leaning more with side one of my brain as I finish this review, maybe it's not noise so much as just a single instrument out of key.
End of the World Blues - Jon Courtnay Grimwood
This is a fun read.
It's a whodunit disguised as a sci-fi. And, I hafta say, the sci-fi element is key. Not that it isn't a good whodunit, but the sci-fi part is just a good trippy distraction in the places where my brain would have gotten tired of trying to follow all the little leads. That might be my problem with whodunits, I bore of the procedure quickly - but not so much when someone is traversing time.
The main character is Kit, who starts out not entirely likeable and ends the same way, even though his character evolves through the novel. I respect that about this book. Kit isn't redeemed entirely, nor is he let off the hook. He is true to character and makes some better decisions later in the book than he did early. Totally respectable in that department. The fact that those decisions tie everything about the whodunit off so neatly a little less so.
Enter:
Nijie, a street urchin in Tokyo is the other significant character and the source of all things supernatural in the book. She takes on the identity of Lady Neku as a cos-play character and manages to save Kit's life twice in the opening 50 pages of the book. Her loose ends, not so tied off. She's from the distant future - a not very bright one - and she and Kit are tied together though an object. I've read that her future is existence is too underdeveloped in places and it is ambiguous, but by the time you get to the end it works. She's a kid. What we see of her future world reflects her childish understanding of it, her memory of it and her trauma in it. It sounds exactly a lot like what my nephew sounds like trying to describe something weird that you've never seen. It totally worked for me.
It's a whodunit disguised as a sci-fi. And, I hafta say, the sci-fi element is key. Not that it isn't a good whodunit, but the sci-fi part is just a good trippy distraction in the places where my brain would have gotten tired of trying to follow all the little leads. That might be my problem with whodunits, I bore of the procedure quickly - but not so much when someone is traversing time.
The main character is Kit, who starts out not entirely likeable and ends the same way, even though his character evolves through the novel. I respect that about this book. Kit isn't redeemed entirely, nor is he let off the hook. He is true to character and makes some better decisions later in the book than he did early. Totally respectable in that department. The fact that those decisions tie everything about the whodunit off so neatly a little less so.
Enter:
Nijie, a street urchin in Tokyo is the other significant character and the source of all things supernatural in the book. She takes on the identity of Lady Neku as a cos-play character and manages to save Kit's life twice in the opening 50 pages of the book. Her loose ends, not so tied off. She's from the distant future - a not very bright one - and she and Kit are tied together though an object. I've read that her future is existence is too underdeveloped in places and it is ambiguous, but by the time you get to the end it works. She's a kid. What we see of her future world reflects her childish understanding of it, her memory of it and her trauma in it. It sounds exactly a lot like what my nephew sounds like trying to describe something weird that you've never seen. It totally worked for me.
Exit Ghost - Philip Roth
Sometimes I read a book and regardless of whether it's any good or not, or I liked it or not, there is an image that stays with me. Sometimes for months. When the narrator describes his young son playing the in the sprinklers in Marilyn Robinson's Gilead, the tooth pulling scene delivered so matter-of-factly in Listening for Small Sounds, and Temple Drake's skin inching up her frame in Sanctuary come to mind. And for me, in this novel, I'm just going to want Jamie to have never spoken at all. If only. There is something about her voice that is so jarringly false - to the point of distraction - that for this reader it went a long way towards ruining a perfectly enjoyable read.
Exit Ghost is Nathan Zuckerman's swan song of sorts. A virtual recluse for the last 10 years, he returns to New York city to have a procedure done that is meant to control his post-prostate cancer incontinence - it's a return likened to Rip Van Winkle (I kid you not - this is Roth right?) In the city, Nathan, on a whim, answers an ad for a house trade for a year. Two young authors, one of whom is rattled in post 9/11 New York city, are looking to escape for a year. Nathan, feeling invigorated and hopeful answers the ad and meets the two young authors. Ridiculous, puppy-dog loyal David, and his ever-so-lovely, 30 year-old, more talented (although one publication 5 years prior is the only evidence of this) wife, Jamie.
Nathan becomes involved - more so imaginatively than really - with this couple, the "friend" of theirs who hopes to write a biography on a now-deceased friend of his, and a couple of one-time friends in the city. An author himself, Nathan imaginatively reconstructs many of his exchanges in NY in an effort to work on (most probably) his final novel. As the novel progresses, we learn that Nathan's facilities, mental as well as physical, are less and less reliable. With the introduction of the young seductress, Jamie, Nathan laments the loss of his youth anew.
There are moments where the story fires on all cylinders. There is a secret, a new look at the past, a possible untapped potential - elements that propel the story convincingly. Nathan is sympathetic and compelling. His interactions, while occasionally somewhat polemic, are nonetheless entertaining. At moments the dialogue is so good you feel like you're in the middle of the conversation. This is especially true with Nathan and Amy, or Nathan and Kliman. But then there is Jamie.
I don't know if the author fell in love with the character himself or what, but nothing about her rang true for this reader after the first introduction. She is so idealized that even the moments that are suppose to flush her out as a "regular" girl on some level fail miserably. By the middle of the novel, it felt as though there was a cardboard poster with "insert perfect fantasy woman here" filling the space from which we should have been able to hear Jamie's voice. It's reasonable that Zuckerman fell so in love with her, was blinded by need, want, desperation etc. and in his memory of her we understand that. However, in the real time exchanges, his POV can't account for "That's how we got so devoted so quickly - they provided us with delightful tales of horror and mirth" or "I told you: he is adventurous. He's drawn to daring ventures. What's wrong with that?" All I can think is, who talks like this. Really. Or rather, what tolerable person talks like this, let alone one who would inspire the cloying adoration of a husband, an ex and an old man who figured himself well past the point of being interested in much of anything at all?
Ultimately, the story kind of peters out at the end. I felt like there was more build up than delivery, but at the same time I did really enjoy parts of the novel. That must be what the problem is for me, I so enjoyed the parts I enjoyed that it made all of the Jamie business so damned disappointing. I actually groaned aloud driving home from the mountains when a particularly infuriating Jamie scene followed a phenomenally strong one with Amy. I wanted to punch her out, just so she'd shut the fuck up.
Exit Ghost is Nathan Zuckerman's swan song of sorts. A virtual recluse for the last 10 years, he returns to New York city to have a procedure done that is meant to control his post-prostate cancer incontinence - it's a return likened to Rip Van Winkle (I kid you not - this is Roth right?) In the city, Nathan, on a whim, answers an ad for a house trade for a year. Two young authors, one of whom is rattled in post 9/11 New York city, are looking to escape for a year. Nathan, feeling invigorated and hopeful answers the ad and meets the two young authors. Ridiculous, puppy-dog loyal David, and his ever-so-lovely, 30 year-old, more talented (although one publication 5 years prior is the only evidence of this) wife, Jamie.
Nathan becomes involved - more so imaginatively than really - with this couple, the "friend" of theirs who hopes to write a biography on a now-deceased friend of his, and a couple of one-time friends in the city. An author himself, Nathan imaginatively reconstructs many of his exchanges in NY in an effort to work on (most probably) his final novel. As the novel progresses, we learn that Nathan's facilities, mental as well as physical, are less and less reliable. With the introduction of the young seductress, Jamie, Nathan laments the loss of his youth anew.
There are moments where the story fires on all cylinders. There is a secret, a new look at the past, a possible untapped potential - elements that propel the story convincingly. Nathan is sympathetic and compelling. His interactions, while occasionally somewhat polemic, are nonetheless entertaining. At moments the dialogue is so good you feel like you're in the middle of the conversation. This is especially true with Nathan and Amy, or Nathan and Kliman. But then there is Jamie.
I don't know if the author fell in love with the character himself or what, but nothing about her rang true for this reader after the first introduction. She is so idealized that even the moments that are suppose to flush her out as a "regular" girl on some level fail miserably. By the middle of the novel, it felt as though there was a cardboard poster with "insert perfect fantasy woman here" filling the space from which we should have been able to hear Jamie's voice. It's reasonable that Zuckerman fell so in love with her, was blinded by need, want, desperation etc. and in his memory of her we understand that. However, in the real time exchanges, his POV can't account for "That's how we got so devoted so quickly - they provided us with delightful tales of horror and mirth" or "I told you: he is adventurous. He's drawn to daring ventures. What's wrong with that?" All I can think is, who talks like this. Really. Or rather, what tolerable person talks like this, let alone one who would inspire the cloying adoration of a husband, an ex and an old man who figured himself well past the point of being interested in much of anything at all?
Ultimately, the story kind of peters out at the end. I felt like there was more build up than delivery, but at the same time I did really enjoy parts of the novel. That must be what the problem is for me, I so enjoyed the parts I enjoyed that it made all of the Jamie business so damned disappointing. I actually groaned aloud driving home from the mountains when a particularly infuriating Jamie scene followed a phenomenally strong one with Amy. I wanted to punch her out, just so she'd shut the fuck up.
A Spot of Bother/mark Haddon
I dare say I can't even begin to say anything about this book without first saying: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is a tequila book. You know how when you say the word tequila, at least half your listeners will go "awww" caught momentarily in some horrific tequila memory? It's almost universal. This book elicits a similar response with the exception that the memory is no NO WAY horrific. It's just that good.
So, for a girl who prides herself on her expectation management skills, having just finished some stellar Garland, I truly feel like I am tempting the fates. So, I really hunkered down and told myself as long this book did anything short of sucking I would be happy.
For anyone whose ever felt darkness coming (and who hasn't?) this is your novel.
A Spot of Bother is a novel about George, his wife Jean, their son Jamie, daughter Katie, and the necessary peripheral people that come with each. Jean is having an affair, Jamie is a (gasp) homosexual, Katie is about to marry a man she doesn't love, and George is slowly, relatively gracefully going insane. Which among them is craziest is totally a matter of opinion.
The novel covers about an eight week period after George first discovers his "cancer" at a suit fitting for the funeral of a friend. George, of course, keeps his cancer (and his crazy) secret, which really isn't that difficult when you are surrounded by some of the most self-absorbed people on the planet. To the point where I am a little surprised I was not more wholly annoyed with all of them, George included.
It's the humor that saves it. Haddon's story is damn funny. The perspective changes seamlessly between each of the family members. Often times specific events are narrated from Jean's perspective, only to be completely repeated from Katie's or George's in the very next pages. Initially, it highlights the total self-absorption of the characters, but as the novel progresses it demonstrates the evolutions of the various characters and at the same time illustrates how easy it is to miss the point - for all of us.
As the book progresses, each of the characters has to come out of themselves, to varying degrees. Jamie is probably the funniest and most methodical about it. After a anti-climatic break up and the requisite self-serving wallowing, Jamie decides he wants to fix it. He does so mostly because he realizes he's in danger of becoming one of those people "who cares about furniture more than other people" which would mean he would spend all of his time with others like him, which means they would care more about the furniture than they care about him. You see how this is going. The interior conversations Jamie has with himself about how to go about caring about other people and what it means to him on his way to actually caring about other people is priceless.
So, it's a really funny sad book. All of the "comic caper" reviews had me expecting something a little lighter to be honest. There is real sadness in this book. Sadness about what real life is really like and what it eventually becomes, expectation, fear. It is definitely funny when a grown man of a certain position in life finds himself lying in a ditch to avoid relatives on the street, except that it's really not. Part of the gift of this writer is that he can make us laugh about it, but at it's core it's a comedy about a whole lot of things most of us don't find very funny.
I would call this novel a success. It's not as tight as the previous, but c'mon. There are moments where the characters (Jean especially, I think) become grating to the point where you just don't want to hear it anymore, or you want to slap them upside their heads; however, as soon as you loose patience Haddon somehow turns it around by making you laugh or making you realize you're like that too.
I'm relieved. It's far better than I dared hoped.
So, for a girl who prides herself on her expectation management skills, having just finished some stellar Garland, I truly feel like I am tempting the fates. So, I really hunkered down and told myself as long this book did anything short of sucking I would be happy.
For anyone whose ever felt darkness coming (and who hasn't?) this is your novel.
A Spot of Bother is a novel about George, his wife Jean, their son Jamie, daughter Katie, and the necessary peripheral people that come with each. Jean is having an affair, Jamie is a (gasp) homosexual, Katie is about to marry a man she doesn't love, and George is slowly, relatively gracefully going insane. Which among them is craziest is totally a matter of opinion.
The novel covers about an eight week period after George first discovers his "cancer" at a suit fitting for the funeral of a friend. George, of course, keeps his cancer (and his crazy) secret, which really isn't that difficult when you are surrounded by some of the most self-absorbed people on the planet. To the point where I am a little surprised I was not more wholly annoyed with all of them, George included.
It's the humor that saves it. Haddon's story is damn funny. The perspective changes seamlessly between each of the family members. Often times specific events are narrated from Jean's perspective, only to be completely repeated from Katie's or George's in the very next pages. Initially, it highlights the total self-absorption of the characters, but as the novel progresses it demonstrates the evolutions of the various characters and at the same time illustrates how easy it is to miss the point - for all of us.
As the book progresses, each of the characters has to come out of themselves, to varying degrees. Jamie is probably the funniest and most methodical about it. After a anti-climatic break up and the requisite self-serving wallowing, Jamie decides he wants to fix it. He does so mostly because he realizes he's in danger of becoming one of those people "who cares about furniture more than other people" which would mean he would spend all of his time with others like him, which means they would care more about the furniture than they care about him. You see how this is going. The interior conversations Jamie has with himself about how to go about caring about other people and what it means to him on his way to actually caring about other people is priceless.
So, it's a really funny sad book. All of the "comic caper" reviews had me expecting something a little lighter to be honest. There is real sadness in this book. Sadness about what real life is really like and what it eventually becomes, expectation, fear. It is definitely funny when a grown man of a certain position in life finds himself lying in a ditch to avoid relatives on the street, except that it's really not. Part of the gift of this writer is that he can make us laugh about it, but at it's core it's a comedy about a whole lot of things most of us don't find very funny.
I would call this novel a success. It's not as tight as the previous, but c'mon. There are moments where the characters (Jean especially, I think) become grating to the point where you just don't want to hear it anymore, or you want to slap them upside their heads; however, as soon as you loose patience Haddon somehow turns it around by making you laugh or making you realize you're like that too.
I'm relieved. It's far better than I dared hoped.
Remainder - Tom McCarthy.
The premise of this book is that a unnamed, 30 year-old narrator was the victim of an accident where an unnamed "thing" fell from the sky injuring him badly. When he awakes from his coma, his life is irrevocably changed for many reasons. The two major ones being that "[he has] to understand things before I can do them" and his "settlement." That first one, although it seems somewhat innocuous on the surface, well let me not get ahead of myself.
The book opens with a first person account of our narrator getting news of the settlement that's been dangled in front of him throughout his PT. As he re-learned to walk, feed himself, dress etc nurses and doctors constantly referred to his settlement and all the comfort it would buy him. Then he receives 8 1/2 million pounds. THEN, he invests it in a fund that replaces it almost as fast as he can spend it, and spend it he does.
Our narrator now has 8 1/2 million pounds to finance his crazy. Think about that for a minute. Having the money to finance whatever brand of crazy you have. Right?
Our narrator has a moment of deja vu after receiving his settlement and remembers a place where he felt whole - or mostly remembers it. The first thing he sets about doing is recreating that place. Not just the apartment in which he lived though, he wants the same views, the same neighbors, the same smells, the same conversations etc. He hires Naz, a project planner of sorts, to help bring his vision to fruition. It starts out a plan to help a displaced man feel at home again, excessive but understandable. But the problem is, if you feed crazy it will grow.
The crazy spreads, oozing into other parts of his life. He ventures out of his new domicile rarely, but when he does so he ends up wanting to recreate every experience he has. Actors must be hired, locations found and reconstructed to match the places where the original occurrence happened. The re-enactments then take place round the clock so that the narrator can come and watch or participate at any time. Eventually, there are re-enactments of events that didn't happen to the narrator but interest him, and eventually the re-enactments kind of sort of take over the real, as you can imagine well-financed crazy would.
It's a good read. For the most part it speeds along except for when it intentionally comes to a crawl. The first person narration is more effective than I originally thought it might be, but as the story progresses maintaining the unnamed narrators perspective is key to accepting the events that take place in the final act of the novel. The only complaint I have about the book is that there are times where the descent into the narrator's thought process that is so key to his crazy goes on for too long. It isn't funny or scary, it flirts with boring, like the person you get stuck next to a party that wants to give you all the finer details of having planted a tree in their front yard this morning.
Ultimately, for me, what worked so well in this novel was the opening conceit: having to understand before you can do. The novel illustrates the things the narrator can eventually understand and do and those he can't and the things he thinks he does and doesn't and things he does but doesn't realize it. You get the picture.
The book opens with a first person account of our narrator getting news of the settlement that's been dangled in front of him throughout his PT. As he re-learned to walk, feed himself, dress etc nurses and doctors constantly referred to his settlement and all the comfort it would buy him. Then he receives 8 1/2 million pounds. THEN, he invests it in a fund that replaces it almost as fast as he can spend it, and spend it he does.
Our narrator now has 8 1/2 million pounds to finance his crazy. Think about that for a minute. Having the money to finance whatever brand of crazy you have. Right?
Our narrator has a moment of deja vu after receiving his settlement and remembers a place where he felt whole - or mostly remembers it. The first thing he sets about doing is recreating that place. Not just the apartment in which he lived though, he wants the same views, the same neighbors, the same smells, the same conversations etc. He hires Naz, a project planner of sorts, to help bring his vision to fruition. It starts out a plan to help a displaced man feel at home again, excessive but understandable. But the problem is, if you feed crazy it will grow.
The crazy spreads, oozing into other parts of his life. He ventures out of his new domicile rarely, but when he does so he ends up wanting to recreate every experience he has. Actors must be hired, locations found and reconstructed to match the places where the original occurrence happened. The re-enactments then take place round the clock so that the narrator can come and watch or participate at any time. Eventually, there are re-enactments of events that didn't happen to the narrator but interest him, and eventually the re-enactments kind of sort of take over the real, as you can imagine well-financed crazy would.
It's a good read. For the most part it speeds along except for when it intentionally comes to a crawl. The first person narration is more effective than I originally thought it might be, but as the story progresses maintaining the unnamed narrators perspective is key to accepting the events that take place in the final act of the novel. The only complaint I have about the book is that there are times where the descent into the narrator's thought process that is so key to his crazy goes on for too long. It isn't funny or scary, it flirts with boring, like the person you get stuck next to a party that wants to give you all the finer details of having planted a tree in their front yard this morning.
Ultimately, for me, what worked so well in this novel was the opening conceit: having to understand before you can do. The novel illustrates the things the narrator can eventually understand and do and those he can't and the things he thinks he does and doesn't and things he does but doesn't realize it. You get the picture.
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