Oh Dear Sylvia, Dawn French (2102)

I would like to start this review with the disclaimer that I love Dawn French. I think she’s fabulous and very funny and the only time I’ve ever been reprimanded on an airplane was when I was watching The Vicar of Dibley and laughing too loud. (The Coles ads, well…I guess everyone’s got to pay the bills.) I was immensely looking forward to reading this book and certain that many chuckles would ensue.

The thing is, though, they didn’t. The eponymous Silvia is lying in hospital in a coma after having fallen off her balcony, landing three floors below. The story is told from the first person point of view of six characters: nurse Winnie, ex-husband Ed, sister Jo, housekeeper Tia, friend Cat and daughter Cassie. As the story unfolds, we learn that each of these people has a different view of who Silvia Shute is and what she means to them differs vastly. Silvia has made some decisions in her life that her family doesn’t understand and, while she is lying in hospital, they take the occasion to address their grievances with her to her unmoving body.

The first problem I had with the novel is that two of the six main characters have their speech written in dialect – Winnie in a Jamaican lingo - “Right, sidung ‘pon dat chair, sista. Yu better start talking. Gimme some reasons for dis craziness” (p193). No, just no. Tia, the Asian housekeeper, oh so amusingly refers to Silvia as “Mrs Shit”: “Tia has been taught to swear by her two sons who were born and grew up in England, and who amuse themselves by cajoling her into using utterly inappropriate language. She’s not stupid, she knows they are having a laugh at her expense, but she can’t be bothered to deduce exactly why, and frankly, she doesn’t care” (p31). Again, just no. It’s cringeworthy.

The second problem I had with the novel is that it just doesn’t make any sense. I understand that the whole point of the novel with its multiple storytellers is that we understand how multifaceted people are and that different people mean different things to different people, but there is no cohesiveness within the character of Silvia. Even timelines were confused and illogical and changed inexplicably from chapter to chapter.

**SPOILER ALERT**

Ed tells us that Silvia systematically destroyed his self-esteem, which lead to the end of their marriage. Cassie has a four-year-old daughter and was kicked out of the family home one week after telling her mother Silvia that she was pregnant, so the end of the marriage was at least four and a half years ago. But then we find out that the end of the marriage was precipitated because Silvia helped Cat dispose of her dead husband’s body, which happened three years ago, so Cassie can’t have been kicked out over four years ago. Then there’s all this stuff about Cassie living with Ed and Ed’s mum but then halfway through the novel she all of a sudden has a boyfriend Ben who she’s had since he got her pregnant and has been really great and supportive but if that is true then all of the stuff Ed said isn’t. And how can Ed afford to buy a field and plant it with really really boringly described trees but spends four and a half/three/however long sleeping on a couch in his mother’s one-bedroom apartment? It doesn’t make any sense. It would absolutely not have been hard for an editor or a proof-reader to draw up a timeline to ensure basic consistency across the storylines rather than really gaping and unbelievable plot holes.

Also, if a coked-up doctor who you suspect is abusive enough a person that you need to isolate your whole family, including your unborn grandchild, from her turns up at your house high as a kite with a dead husband in her trunk, you call the police. Silvia’s motivation to begin a relationship with Cat and cut herself off from her whole family feels really unrealistic and I didn’t buy it at all. None of the aspects of Silvia gel and, for this novel to be successful, this needed to happen.

Finally, the worst thing for me is the stereotypes. The Asian housekeeper steals from her employer. Of course the professionally successful lesbian is a drug-addicted abusive insane person (those bitches be crazy!). The sister is a hippy who wants to burn sage and place crystals everywhere and is totally clueless about normal human social interaction. Dawn French, I’ve watched your work – you’re better than this. Penguin (Australia), whose “Australian” book is peppered with –ize endings, you’re better than this too. All in all, a very disappointing effort from a wonderfully talented woman and a publishing house that should have produced a better book. 

Two stars.

The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

Like with The Chaperone, I am again only reading now what everyone was reading last year (or the year before last? I am so out of touch) – Jeffrey Eugenides’ third book, The Marriage Plot. The eponymous marriage plot is the term for the trope used by authors where the plot revolves around who a heroine will marry. This book asks if, in a time where women can be financially and socially independent and divorce is easily accessible, does the marriage plot have a place in literature?

Based on this text, the answer is a resounding no. The book opens on graduation day at Brown College in the ‘80s. Madeline has woken up hungover in last night’s clothes, which are marked with a suspicious stain. Over the first few chapters there are parents, gowns, obligations both fulfilled and unfulfilled and we are introduced to the subjects of our marriage plot: the beautiful Madeline, tortured Leonard and earnest Martin (reportedly based on Jonathon Franzen, David Wallace Foster and the author respectively). Martin loves Madeline, Madeline loves Leonard and Leonard isn’t in a position to really love anyone. More on that later.

The first section is mainly Madeline’s story and I devoured it. It’s not that Madeline’s a particularly likeable character but moments of this part felt so true – like the contradictory feelings of guilt and pleasure you have when you spend time with someone who likes you but you don’t like them back but you like the feeling of them liking you which in turns makes you feel like a bad person. Or that moment where some guy in a tutorial is being a complete wanker and you look around expecting to find the group rolling their eyes and see that everyone else is enraptured and you’re the only one who can see the ridiculousness of the situation. There’s lots of discussions about books and theory which I, as an English graduate loved (although I didn’t study literature so some of it was gibberish to me), but I did wonder if someone who wasn’t familiar with postmodernism and literary theory would give enjoy the book at all. I am using semiotics in my thesis and I loved the scenes that featured the class discussions, particularly Madeline’s relief when she finds a writer whose sentences follow on logically from each other (postmodern writing is notoriously dense). The first 125 pages of The Marriage Plot is fabulous and enjoyable and exactly I expected from the author of a great novel like Middlesex. It was great!

I just wish I’d stopped reading on page 126. After the characters left college, I can’t put my finger on exactly what happened but the story got boring. Mitchell goes to Europe and then India to find himself. Leonard has a bipolar episode and is hospitalised, then Madeline and Leonard to go Cape Cod so he can do a postgrad research fellowship. The focus moves from Madeline and the marriage plot onto Martin and Leonard’s personal journeys. The thing is, though, it’s actually not very interesting to read about self-conscious privileged educated white men not do much except reflect on themselves and change geographical location. One of the main criticisms levelled against The Marriage Plot is that it’s pretentious. I didn’t feel it was pretentious as much as it was indulgent – indulgent in length and in its treatment of its male characters (to quote Woody Allen, it suffered from the three esses – self-indulget, sophomoric and solipsistic). I skimmed the last 200 pages, skipping Mitchell’s Eat Pray Ponder Indian journey in full. It was a struggle to make it to the end of the book and one I probably wouldn’t have done if it wasn’t a Eugenides novel – there was always a faint hope it would improve. It didn’t. My recommendation is to stop at 126 pages and read about the rest on Goodreads – that’s exactly what I wish I’d done.

Eugenides pulls off an efficient and effective feminist bait-and-switch with this novel. Books with a marriage plot have women and their social and economic roles and power at their centre. Eugenides opens a book with a modern-day marriage plot with a strong and interesting female protagonist but, after the trio graduate, Madeline shifts from having a voice and agency to being defined solely by her role as love object, nurse, wife and daughter. The marriage plot in The Marriage Plot is not a love triangle but a power struggle with a woman as the object of exchange and possession. I’m giving this book three stars  - five stars for its brilliant beginning minus two stars for the woeful ending and hidden misogyny.

Me and Mr Booker by Cory Taylor (2010)

Me and Mr Booker is the debut novel from Australian writer Cory Taylor. It is the coming-of-age tale of 16-year-old Martha, whose parents have recently divorced and who feels like she is waiting for her life to begin:

It told them about my mother and father.

‘They broke up,’ I said. ‘So now I am emotionally scarred for life. At least that’s my excuse.’

‘For what?’ said Mrs Booker.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. “It hasn’t happened yet.”

The novel opens with Martha meeting Mr and Mrs Booker at an open house party that her mother throws. She begins an intense friendship with the pair, who ‘adopt’ her (they are having trouble conceiving any children of their own), and an affair with Mr Booker. The beginning of the novel is its strength as Taylor captures perfectly the ennui of being 16; feeling trapped and if you are waiting for your life to begin as well as the heady emotions that come from first-time adolescent love. The start of Me and Mr Booker is really fantastic and very engaging.

Unfortunately, after the strong start, the novel just peters out. About midway through the book, the characters who were engaging and provided a strong incentive to turn the pages just get a bit blah, as if Taylor has lost interest in them. It was like her impetus to finish the novel had vanished but she still had a contract with a publishing company that she was obliged to finish, so she pushed on but just didn’t care that much. Elements of the book, like the tension evident in the relationship between Martha’s and her brother Eddie as well as her brother and her father Victor, were hinted at and then never developed or explored. I feel like this book had so much potential but just didn’t reach the heights that it could have, which is disappointing given Taylor’s obvious writing talent.

The most disappointing part of this book was the really poor research. I think it’s supposed to be set in the early ‘70s, so we have references to Five Easy Pieces (1970), the Rolling Stones’ Ruby Tuesday (1967) and the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band (1967). However, Martha’s relative marries a gay Asian man so she can have a baby and both the homosexuality and miscegenation, two issues that would have been a Very Big Deal in the early ‘70s, were just mentioned matter of factly. It’s a big enough deal at the start of the book when Martha’s parents separate that her best friend isn’t allowed to play with her anymore but then the divorce scandal is not worth a mention for the remainder of the book? And I strongly question the likelihood of a regional university having a specialist film studies university teacher, although in all fairness maybe it was easier for a new discipline like film studies to become established in a regional university than in a major metropolitan university that was more fixed in its ways. The constant questioning the veracity of the period setting had a jarring effect and disrupted my reading experience.

Reading back over what I have written this sounds like a negative review, but really there’s a lot to like about this book. I will definitely be looking out for Cory Taylor’s next novel.

Autumn Laing by Alex Miller

Alex Miller is one of Australia’s most famous and awarded literary writers yet, for some reason, I’d never read any of his work. When, after reading yet another glowing review of his most recent novel Autumn Laing I saw that very same book on display at the library, I figured the universe was telling me it was time to fill this literary hole of knowledge so I picked up the book and took it home with me.

The eponymous Autumn Laing is loosely based on Sunday Reed who, with her husband John, ran a kind of artists community at what is now the Heide Art Gallery. Sunday Reed had an affair with Sidney Nolan, the famous Australian painter (and apparently is rumoured to have painted parts of his work). In Autumn Laing, Autumn is at the end of her life, reflecting on her two great loves, the talented artist Pat Donlan (Sidney Nolan) and the somewhat bland Arthur Laing.

I am deeply torn on my opinion of this book. If I were do a pros and cons list, each column would have the exact same amount of items in it. The language was lovely and the book was very well written. BUT it did seem to take a long time to get anywhere. Some of the paragraphs were over two pages long and occasionally I found myself skimming rather than reading every word. The female characters in this book are written exceptionally well, in fact better than the male characters, which surprised me given that the book is written by a man. In particular, the essence of 80-plus-year-old Autumn Laing is captured spectacularly (although, honestly, I could have done with a little less talk about farting). BUT the character of Autumn Laing reminded me a lot of my own grandmother, with (unfortunately) her tendency to tell really really long and rambling stories with little temporal or internal consistency. The descriptions of Australia and Melbourne were very vivid BUT omigod the foreshadowing was ridiculously excessive. From about the second page we are told repeatedly that something happened in the Australian outback but the ‘something happened’ doesn’t actually happen until 30 pages before the end and, by that stage, I just really wanted it to happen so I wouldn’t have to read the dire foreshadowing anymore! One positive for the book that doesn’t have a negative balancing item is the exploration of the restrictions placed on the women in this book due to their gender. If Sunday Reed had been born in a different time, she would have lived a very different life.

I did enjoy this book. It definitely inspired me to read more about Sunday Reed and the Heide artist colony – I do feel I have a special connection with the gallery since I lost a baby shoe there. It was also a real pleasure to read a literary novel that didn’t contain a scene about a privileged white man masturbating! But I am reluctant to recommend it as it is a very long book which, in itself, is not a bad thing, but it’s a long book that feels like a long book, if that makes any sort of sense! Reading this book took effort and required work and, if you like your books effortless and enrapturing, Autumn Laing is not for you. Also, this book has a lot of characters who commit suicide in it, which may be a trigger for some. 

A solid literary effort - I give it three stars.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn (2012)

It was with great trepidation that I started reading Gone Girl. I have had a bad run recently with really not enjoying books that everyone else loves (All That I Am, I’m looking at you) or just hating the recent books from my previously favourite authors (Sweet Tooth, why did you have to suck so much?). It seemed like everyone whose literary opinion I respect was raving about Gone Girl and, if I’d hated it, I would seriously have considered giving up contemporary fiction in its entirety and just read classic literature for the rest of my life.

Fear not, booksellers, because after finishing Gone Girl in one long sitting, I am back in the contemporary literature fold. The book opens on Amy and Nick Dunne’s fifth anniversary. She is making in crepes for breakfast and the hatred and unhappiness in their marriage is clear from the outset. We know they loved each other once but now that love has been replaced by something else. It’s bad, but what exactly is it? By the end of the day Amy has vanished and Nick is involved in a missing person’s case that quickly develops into a possible homicide.

The book alternates chapters from Nick and Amy’s point of views and one of the things it does really well is use this alternation to play with the reader’s sympathy and identification. This book has been accused of being both misogynist and misandrist but in my view is neither. The discomfort that leads to these accusations comes from the allegiances the text draws with each character and then rapidly undermines. Is Nick a horrible man and husband who neglects and doesn’t appreciate his brilliant, beautiful bride or a victim? Is Amy horrible unappreciated and taken advantage of or a manipulative genius? Admittedly as the book gets closer to the end it does veer on the border of unrealism and excess but by the time I reached that point I was enjoying the ride so much that I didn’t care.

Much has been written about the twists and turns of Gone Girl. I don’t think any of it is particularly twisty or unpredictable but it is very enjoyable and lots of fun to read. Thanks to this book, my faith in contemporary fiction is restored and I can read new books again without apprehension. I give this book four stars.

The Chaperone by Laura Moriarty (2011)

The eponymous chaperone in this book is Cora, a 1920s Witchita housewife who agrees to chaperone the beautiful but rebellious and wild Louise Brookes in New York for a summer. While in New York, Cora embarks on a journey of self-discovery with unexpected results. Also, and this is repeated a lot of times in the text so it must be very important, women wore corsets and they were very uncomfortable. Repeated many times, a very clear indication that an author doesn’t think very highly of her audience.

I’m a bit late to the game on this one – The Chaperone was a Christmas 2011 stocking filler, and it’s easy to see why. On holiday is the perfect time to read this light-as-a-feather book, preferably borrowed from the library because it’s definitely not worthy of a second read. The problem with this novel is that it doesn’t really know what it wants to be – is it a woman at the end of her life recounting an eventful summer? Is it the story of an ordinary woman’s life and loves and the New York trip is an introduction to the tale? Because of the lack of clear motivation, the structure of this book is fatally flawed. For me it felt like the book should have finished once Cora returned to Witchita but it went on and on and on in an increasingly unlikely series of events, ending in one of the most improbable conclusions I’ve ever read in a novel. As I mentioned earlier, I also felt that Moriarty has a fairly poor opinion of the intellect of her readers – over the course of the summer Cora is reading The Age of Innocence. Moriarty doesn’t want anyone to miss the references to the book so makes explicit multiple times why it’s relevant that Cora is reading that text, turning a literary reference that should enhance the reading experience into a series of really irritating moments that jarred the reader from the story.

The verdict: Three stars. This book is not particularly good but it’s not awful either. It’s very middle of the road, just like its main protagonist.

Noteworthy: Wichita is a really great name for a town. More books should be set there to give me a chance to say “Wichita” more often.

Similar but better: Margaret Atwood’s Booker Prize-winning The Blind Assassin.

The House of Memories by Monica McInerney

I have had mixed opinions of Monica McInerney's previous books. I liked The Alphabet Sisters, loved Those Faraday Girls, thought At Home with the Templetons was interesting but uneven and hated Lola's Secret (dear publishing gods, please spare us from any more books that center on wise, all-knowing elderly women who know how to use technology and are able to use their wisdom and all-knowingness to communicate with young people. These women are unsufferable and make me want to throw things - ie the book I'm reading that features these irritating protagonists - at the wall. Thank you.), so I wasn't sure what to expect from this book. Either way, McInerney has a nice, easy writing style, so I figured even if her new book wasn't great it would be a relaxing way to spend a few hours away from the high stress levels of my everyday life ("CAPS LOCK IS HOW I FEEL ALL THE TIME, RICK!"). Boy, was I wrong.

The House of Memories opens with a chapter detailing the childhood of Ella Fox/Baum/O'Hanlon and the special relationship she has with her uncle, Lucas. After we wade through the standard broken-home childhood tale (parents divorce, remarry, step-brother, new baby, jealously, et cetera cetera et cetera) we get to the crux of the story - Ella's baby has died. The book then separates into chapters told from the point of view of different characters, with some (very annoying) email chapters and others alternating between the first and third chapter.

I have no problem with having multiple narrators, even if (as is clearly signposted in this book ALL THE TIME for the benefit of those who have memory problems, I imagine) these narrators are unreliable. I have no problem with epistolary writing - The Guernsey Literary Potato Peel Pie Society is one of my favourite books. What I do have a problem with is books that are so predictable that, after reading the third chapter, it is possible to plot what happens in every chapter until the end. There is pleasure in reading genre fiction - it's nice to know that the right couple will get together in the end in a romance novel, for example - so I understand that books can be about the journey rather than the destination. But if both the journey and the destination suck...step away from the book.

I am a bit bummed about contemporary fiction at the moment. Ian McEwan's Sweet Tooth was a massive disappoint. I started Zadie Smith's new book NW but abandoned it because of the stream-of-consciousness writing style. This book completely sucked. Am I picking bad books, or has the standard of published works dropped recently? I'm about to start Gone Girl, which has received great reviews. If that sucks as well, I might stop reading anything published after the turn of the century and stick to books that have passed the test of time!