Go Gentle: I guess you do need a man

I was thrilled on starting Maria Semple’s Go Gentle to see an idea C. and I have bandied about for year – a ‘coven’ of women looking after one another – made literal. Adora, our protagonist, has cultivated an apartment building full of independent women who are committed to living their fully-realized, independent lives, while also looking out for one another (as they are and as they age). Here it is, I thought, the expression of every adult woman’s secret fantasy of a life led where the countertop is clean and self-actualization has come from a sense of worthiness owed only to existence rather than… anything or anyone else.

I suppose I should have been warier on reading the glaring plot hole that is Adora’s financially successful career as a… consulting philosopher. Cue the legit lol. But yes, of course, the extremely wealthy family (or AI company) must have a philosopher on staff to advise on the moral questions of the day. But of course.

And you know, Adora’s particular brand of Stoic self-discipline will find cultural resonance. And the plot – such as it is – invites some delightful romps through art heists and FBI raids and descriptions of billionaire mansions that we all just love to read.

There’s a not unserious section on the #metoo moment of Adora being sexually assaulted on the job and signing the NDA and taking the hush money. And were it not for the absolutely incongruous idea of Adora as a comedy writer turned Stoic philosopher (which, okay, in itself isn’t an unbelievable change, just that the novel does not offer Any Accounting for This Character Development) the section might have offered something more than a bizarre sense that this was what the book was meant to be ‘about’ and that this was ‘serious stuff’.

Only then do we land on the romance. The kind where Adora is finally – finally – complete. Because she finds a man. A man who gets her and always has and with whom she can be fully herself. And barf gag barf. Oh it’s hard. As someone who now has a partner with whom I finally and can fully be myself I don’t mean to downplay the Yes! of discovering that there is another person with whom you can love and be loved. It *is both a surprise and a joy. But it is also not the prerequisite for connection and joy. And in another book, I’d be all for this kind of celebratory character arc. But come onnnnn: in a book that opens with the promise of connection in and through women-caring-for-women to end with a woman-saved-by-the-love-of-a-man… just… ugh.

Oh and I know you’ll tell me that Adora continues to express herself as an independent woman simply “augmented” by this love. Where ‘giving in’ to love is in the titular expression “going gentle” in lieu, I suppose of a feminist “rage” that insists on independence and contemplates the idea that community might be All By Itself a worthy construct for meaning. Lol lol. And you’re right, that’s what the book tries to sell us in its closing. AND YET if ever the marketing pitch team for hetero-monogamy* is in search of a sell-piece, I offer you Go Gentle.

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Filed under Worst Books

London Falling: Good, good, very good

Patrick Radden Keefe’s books read the way I like non-fiction to read: like fiction. True of London Falling, too, where we follow the life and death of Zac Brettler and the web of people wrapped up in his mysterious death. It’s an astonishing read for the depth of the research (reporting? I’m not sure the difference) and the way Keefe manages to bring depth in history/biography to full families in ways that make the subsequent choices these people make feel consequential and reaching.

I don’t want to give too much away because it is something of a mystery in its unfolding, but I’ll say that there are a few spots where the characters get a bit thick in their backstory and you have to Pay Attention, as well as some moments where I lost a bit of the sharper focus on the way Brettler’s death was meant to be both particular and standing in for the whole (synecdoche, right?) and instead got lost in the weeds of his very particular – and poignant – story.

Strong recommend on this one – enjoy (as much as you can the story of a dead 19 year old).

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Filed under New York Times Notable, Non-fiction, Prize Winner

The Drowned: Meh

John Banville won some kind of award and now every mystery he publishes is like “from the author of this award” and so I was convinced to pick up The Drowned because I like a well written murder mystery as much as the next gal.

Only problem with this one – I read it a couple of weeks ago (guys, the summer is great and I have been reading and faster than I can find my way to write about them) and can remember Very Little which isn’t a problem of my memory because I remembered All of One Day, Everyone Will Have Been Against This and is instead a problem of this book which is very… unmemorable.

I recall it being a murder mystery with a first-missing, then-dead woman and the circumstances are Fishy and the investigator is… uhh… I think he’s a good guy but he’s no Gamache in the sense you do not care about him at all. There’s something to do with a love triangle and a very weird scene of the detective having sex with one of the suspect’s wives?

Honestly I’m just telling you about it so I remember I read it, but you should absolutely not seek it out. This is, indeed, why I have the tag category “books I’ll forget I read” lol lol

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Filed under Book I'll Forget I Read, Fiction, Mystery

One Day, Everyone Will Have Been Against This

It’s hard for me to write about Omar El Akkad’s One Day, Everyone Will Have Been Against This. Without Getting Into It there’s a lot for me wrapped up in how individuals could and have responded to the ongoing genocide in Gaza – along with our collective obligations to do anything/more.

So with that – here’s what I offer: The memoir follows El Akkad’s life in journalism and his coverage of the genocide in Gaza and his righteous sense that too much of the west is ready to ignore that genocide – and all the ways media and government work to reinforce the individual effort to Not Know (and how that Not Knowing is really about not jeopardizing any of the power and comfort we have). El Akkad asks the reader not only how they are benefiting from their indifference or inaction, but also calls on the reader to do more, well really, to do anything.

It’s a powerful book and one you should read, and then one to take with you as you think about what you are doing, or not doing, and why in response to the continued genocide.

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Filed under Bestseller, Non-fiction, Prize Winner