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tdeshler's review against another edition
3.0
3.5 stars
After a slow start this book started to grow on me. The author has quite a knack for clever phrasing. I especially like the description in the penultimate sentence about the fabulous nowhere. Having spent a little time in that part of the world, I couldn't agree more.
After a slow start this book started to grow on me. The author has quite a knack for clever phrasing. I especially like the description in the penultimate sentence about the fabulous nowhere. Having spent a little time in that part of the world, I couldn't agree more.
kayswear's review
2.0
Ultimately unsatisfying; this wasn't a mystery in spite of the title. A story describing a New Yorker's voyage into an underworld of people in a western desert who have checked out of society. The author doesn't quite bring it off; everyone is noble or evil or deranged. Picture Hillary Clinton describing how she imagines the gun-clinging deplorables might live. It's not clear to me that the author has ever left the pavement of NYC or spoken with anyone without a trust fund.
hcq's review
1.0
Sadly, a disappointment.
I was looking forward to this, because it was billed as a modern, western noir, a return to Lethem’s early mystery work. I’ve read a lot of his books, and those early ones are still my favorites, so I thought, “great!”
I also saw Lethem at a reading supporting this book, where he talked about how the book was indeed a sort of noir, but focused more on the femme (not so fatale) client instead of the detective. He also talked about how he’d moved recently to California, and so had set the story in this new-to-him place, the American West. I asked if that was another reversal of the expected, since noir is typically urban in setting, and he seemed to agree rather enthusiastically.
It’s well written, but that’s damning with faint praise for a writer of Lethem’s skill—of course it would be. My problem was more basic: The whole story revolves around the relationship between the narrator, aka the client, and the “feral” detective she hires to find a missing friend, but I didn’t buy it at all. I couldn't figure out any reason why this man would give two figs about this woman, never mind fall into bed with her. They didn’t connect; there was no spark, no sense that they were in any way sympatico. Quite the opposite, actually.
This may have had something to do with the fact that I didn’t care about her myself. The nicest and most interesting thing about her was what she was doing, making a serious effort to help find a friend who’d disappeared (though her motivation seemed oddly thin). Other than that, she was a collection of contemporary clichés.
I said as much to my husband, and he said, “Oh, what, is she a young woman who works in publishing, like in all the chick lit and rom coms?” I paused, and then said, “Oh, hell, actually she is!” (Okay, technically she’d just quit her job, but she’d been writing for a newspaper.) Oops.
But it was actually worse than that. There were quite a few points when she was so annoying I just wanted to yell, “Oh, just shut up!” The worst was when she and the detective were up on a mountain, in tough circumstances, and he was going to go visit a dangerous group of men camped out nearby to try and get information. She wanted to go with him, and proceeded to whine and flat-out insult him when he refused to take her, saying stuff like “Oh, you’re taking the dog and not me? Oh, why, because he has a penis and I don’t?”
When the frankly saintly detective patiently explains that no, the reason is that it’s too dangerous, because she’d be a potential hostage, she doesn’t say, “Oh, whoops, thanks for looking out for me”; she continues to abuse him. Honestly, after that exchange I was hoping the bad men would just push her off the mountain and put her out of my misery.
So then, after all that, this guy wants to sleep with her? Nope, not buying it. He seems like a pretty interesting guy who grew up out there, in the wilds of the desert and mountain, but we don’t get enough about him. We do know that he’s quiet, a bit odd, and used to the company of dogs; nothing about his character suggests that he’d be interested in spending time with an obnoxious, endlessly nattering hipster cartoon.
And, unfortunately, rejecting the central relationship of the book does put a bit of a damper on one’s enjoyment of it, overall. I did like an image at the end, a Ferris wheel in an unlikely spot, but that was about it.
I was looking forward to this, because it was billed as a modern, western noir, a return to Lethem’s early mystery work. I’ve read a lot of his books, and those early ones are still my favorites, so I thought, “great!”
I also saw Lethem at a reading supporting this book, where he talked about how the book was indeed a sort of noir, but focused more on the femme (not so fatale) client instead of the detective. He also talked about how he’d moved recently to California, and so had set the story in this new-to-him place, the American West. I asked if that was another reversal of the expected, since noir is typically urban in setting, and he seemed to agree rather enthusiastically.
It’s well written, but that’s damning with faint praise for a writer of Lethem’s skill—of course it would be. My problem was more basic: The whole story revolves around the relationship between the narrator, aka the client, and the “feral” detective she hires to find a missing friend, but I didn’t buy it at all. I couldn't figure out any reason why this man would give two figs about this woman, never mind fall into bed with her. They didn’t connect; there was no spark, no sense that they were in any way sympatico. Quite the opposite, actually.
This may have had something to do with the fact that I didn’t care about her myself. The nicest and most interesting thing about her was what she was doing, making a serious effort to help find a friend who’d disappeared (though her motivation seemed oddly thin). Other than that, she was a collection of contemporary clichés.
I said as much to my husband, and he said, “Oh, what, is she a young woman who works in publishing, like in all the chick lit and rom coms?” I paused, and then said, “Oh, hell, actually she is!” (Okay, technically she’d just quit her job, but she’d been writing for a newspaper.) Oops.
But it was actually worse than that. There were quite a few points when she was so annoying I just wanted to yell, “Oh, just shut up!” The worst was when she and the detective were up on a mountain, in tough circumstances, and he was going to go visit a dangerous group of men camped out nearby to try and get information. She wanted to go with him, and proceeded to whine and flat-out insult him when he refused to take her, saying stuff like “Oh, you’re taking the dog and not me? Oh, why, because he has a penis and I don’t?”
When the frankly saintly detective patiently explains that no, the reason is that it’s too dangerous, because she’d be a potential hostage, she doesn’t say, “Oh, whoops, thanks for looking out for me”; she continues to abuse him. Honestly, after that exchange I was hoping the bad men would just push her off the mountain and put her out of my misery.
So then, after all that, this guy wants to sleep with her? Nope, not buying it. He seems like a pretty interesting guy who grew up out there, in the wilds of the desert and mountain, but we don’t get enough about him. We do know that he’s quiet, a bit odd, and used to the company of dogs; nothing about his character suggests that he’d be interested in spending time with an obnoxious, endlessly nattering hipster cartoon.
And, unfortunately, rejecting the central relationship of the book does put a bit of a damper on one’s enjoyment of it, overall. I did like an image at the end, a Ferris wheel in an unlikely spot, but that was about it.
alexiskg's review
1.0
Wow I hated this??? His protagonist is a 33yo manic pixie dream feminist who is escaping editorial NY after the election to suck a “feral detective” off in the desert (Well, to “search for” a “missing” eighteen year old friend, but the result is the same) and who somehow looks down on the fact that the eighteen year old she is searching for is a bush-shaving millennial, which -___________- I could (and have done) go on AT LENGTH about everything else terrible, but why waste those specific moments of time I have in this life. Jesus, never trust gen xers.
rosseroo's review
3.0
I think I've read six or seven of Lethem's books and really loved two (Motherless Brooklyn and Gun, With Occasional Music) and really couldn't stand and/or finish the others. So I get that people have very strong reactions to his work -- I certainly always have -- but the intense dislike for this particular one strikes me as odd.
First of all, despite the title, it's only marginally a "detective" story -- so don't expect that. Second, while it's set in the real world, it's not meant to be particularly realistic, and I don't understand why that would bother anyone -- especially if you've ever read anything by Lethem before. Thirdly, a lot of readers seem to really find the main character, Phoebe, "unlikable" and/or "annoying." Well yes... but who ever said that the protagonist of a story should be someone we'd want to hang out with? (Somewhat more plausible are the criticisms that Lethem can't write in a convincing female voice -- that's definitely never been a strong aspect of his writing, and I definitely felt he was on shaky ground in trying to arrange an entire narrative around a young female protagonist.)
The broad outlines of the story are that in the days following the 2016 presidential election, archetypal east-coast liberal elite Phoebe quits her cushy job at the New York Times in a fit of existential rage at the world. At the same time, her quasi-goddaughter disappears from her ultra-liberal small liberal arts college in Portland. Phoebe flies out west to try to track her down, which leads her to contact the titular specialist in finding those who have disappeared into the wastes of the Mojave Desert. It seems there are "tribes" of off-the-grid types out there, including a matriarchal enclave, and a super-sketchy male counterpart. In any event, he's quite a character, and a combination of odd couple and fish out of water wacky antics ensue.
Although draped in a conventional adventure trappings, the book makes no bones about being a political and social statement. I'm sure there are plenty of layers of meaning one could parse, but at the core, it's a cry of frustration and rage at America and what we've let it become. I guess the problem is that it's much more successful at the genre elements than as allegory. In effect, it's a much less effective version of Newton Thornburg's Cutter and Bone, or Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice. It's a very short and quick read with a number of amusing scenes and banter, but far from being essential reading.
First of all, despite the title, it's only marginally a "detective" story -- so don't expect that. Second, while it's set in the real world, it's not meant to be particularly realistic, and I don't understand why that would bother anyone -- especially if you've ever read anything by Lethem before. Thirdly, a lot of readers seem to really find the main character, Phoebe, "unlikable" and/or "annoying." Well yes... but who ever said that the protagonist of a story should be someone we'd want to hang out with? (Somewhat more plausible are the criticisms that Lethem can't write in a convincing female voice -- that's definitely never been a strong aspect of his writing, and I definitely felt he was on shaky ground in trying to arrange an entire narrative around a young female protagonist.)
The broad outlines of the story are that in the days following the 2016 presidential election, archetypal east-coast liberal elite Phoebe quits her cushy job at the New York Times in a fit of existential rage at the world. At the same time, her quasi-goddaughter disappears from her ultra-liberal small liberal arts college in Portland. Phoebe flies out west to try to track her down, which leads her to contact the titular specialist in finding those who have disappeared into the wastes of the Mojave Desert. It seems there are "tribes" of off-the-grid types out there, including a matriarchal enclave, and a super-sketchy male counterpart. In any event, he's quite a character, and a combination of odd couple and fish out of water wacky antics ensue.
Although draped in a conventional adventure trappings, the book makes no bones about being a political and social statement. I'm sure there are plenty of layers of meaning one could parse, but at the core, it's a cry of frustration and rage at America and what we've let it become. I guess the problem is that it's much more successful at the genre elements than as allegory. In effect, it's a much less effective version of Newton Thornburg's Cutter and Bone, or Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice. It's a very short and quick read with a number of amusing scenes and banter, but far from being essential reading.
pestocks's review
1.0
I am trying to be nice, but just didn't like this book. From the political commentary, to the Rabbits and Bears, it seemed more like a child's book, except for the sex, which made the female lead character look like a school girl with a crush. Started like a detective noir, but ended with a thud.
carol26388's review
2.0
Mostly, this book makes me sad.
Should you read it?
Only after you read all that other stuff.
I remember my last year in college, my last semester actually, when I was having a rather challenging time and wrote a short story about myself from my roommate's point of view.
And that pretty much nails The Feral Detective, Lethem's attempt to deal with Trump's election by writing abouthimself a laconic man from a disillusioned city woman's point of view.
Sadly, it's a mess. The main character is Phoebe, a minor editor at the New Yorker who quit everything after Hilary's loss. Her urge to flee coincided with a request by her mother-figure to look for her missing daughter, Arabella. Phoebe flies out to California, where Arabella was last seen heading towards a mountaintop retreat of Leonard Cohen's. She hires a local detective, a rangy, somewhat musky, bohunk of a dude-man who collects animals and houses feral children in his office, in a completely non-creepy way.
All of this is supposed to be non-creepy, but of course, it is, complicated by the first-person voice of Phoebe. Lethem writes the most non-convincing female voice I've heard in awhile, kind of a teenage Bridget Jones. On the plus side, I don't think she referred to her boobs. On the down side, she gives the feral detective ablow job the third time she meets him because she's sad, drunk, and horny. It's also a vaguely creepy scene in that his three dogs are totally voyeurs. Then, by page 90 or so, Phoebe is going through ALL THE EMOTIONS in one scene. Because that's how we roll, ladies. The feral detective gets to be all stoic and laconic, but not our heroine.
Batch of text under sub-spoiler, just for length. Note the vascillation from screaming to tears--not unusual for Phoebe, the words describing their interaction (such as it is) and the general nonsensicalness of such words.
"Soon Heist was silent while I railed at him, amid empty hills born to swallow human language, carved by time to make my protests small. I'm sure I was screaming by the time we reached the steep crag... I recall the phrase fucking macho bullshit with no particular pride.
Heist opened the driver-side door, and Jessie leaped inside. I entered the passenger side. There, I found myself temporarily quieted. Sitting in the Jeep again, I remembered our long drive, the tenderness with which Heist had allowed me to sleep off my fear, his hand on the crown of my head...
But Heist wasn't going anywhere. Typically passive, he sat, the key in his hand resting ready on his knee, and let his insistence saturate me wordlessly. When I spoke again, my tone was seething but quiet, and I heard my own defeat in it... [yelling ensues--carol.] I knew this was nonsense, really, yet I wanted to claw at the door behind which Heist had sealed his infinite sadness. The vanity with which he concealed it from me was suddenly repulsive.
Heist didn't reply, but Jessie did, by thrusting up to like my face, making me aware of the tears I'd uncorked. Heist only closed his eyes and stretched back, making a physical sigh without accompanying sounds."
It gets progressively weirder when we meet some desert 'tribes' living off the land who are named after rabbits and bears (sadly, we don't mean the hairy gay kind). At this point, it's clear we aren't dealing with a detective mystery at all but Sophisticated Literary Fiction With Deep Allegorical Meaning about politics and gender divides and whatever else that I can't be bothered to understand in my tiny lady-brain.
I loved Motherless Brooklyn. This? This bears no similarity in characterization, plot, setting, narrative, or subtlety. I suppose a disconnected sex/relationship scene is the same. But otherwise, no relationship. It's littered with political references (I really don't need anti-Trump references in my escapist fiction) that will make this feel dated by 2025, and cultural references that might not survive much longer (such as Phoebe's own weak bear joke). Recommend a hard pass.
Should you read it?
Only after you read all that other stuff.
I remember my last year in college, my last semester actually, when I was having a rather challenging time and wrote a short story about myself from my roommate's point of view.
And that pretty much nails The Feral Detective, Lethem's attempt to deal with Trump's election by writing about
Sadly, it's a mess. The main character is Phoebe, a minor editor at the New Yorker who quit everything after Hilary's loss. Her urge to flee coincided with a request by her mother-figure to look for her missing daughter, Arabella. Phoebe flies out to California, where Arabella was last seen heading towards a mountaintop retreat of Leonard Cohen's. She hires a local detective, a rangy, somewhat musky, bohunk of a dude-man who collects animals and houses feral children in his office, in a completely non-creepy way.
All of this is supposed to be non-creepy, but of course, it is, complicated by the first-person voice of Phoebe. Lethem writes the most non-convincing female voice I've heard in awhile, kind of a teenage Bridget Jones. On the plus side, I don't think she referred to her boobs. On the down side, she gives the feral detective a
Batch of text under sub-spoiler, just for length. Note the vascillation from screaming to tears--not unusual for Phoebe, the words describing their interaction (such as it is) and the general nonsensicalness of such words.
"Soon Heist was silent while I railed at him, amid empty hills born to swallow human language, carved by time to make my protests small. I'm sure I was screaming by the time we reached the steep crag... I recall the phrase fucking macho bullshit with no particular pride.
Heist opened the driver-side door, and Jessie leaped inside. I entered the passenger side. There, I found myself temporarily quieted. Sitting in the Jeep again, I remembered our long drive, the tenderness with which Heist had allowed me to sleep off my fear, his hand on the crown of my head...
But Heist wasn't going anywhere. Typically passive, he sat, the key in his hand resting ready on his knee, and let his insistence saturate me wordlessly. When I spoke again, my tone was seething but quiet, and I heard my own defeat in it... [yelling ensues--carol.] I knew this was nonsense, really, yet I wanted to claw at the door behind which Heist had sealed his infinite sadness. The vanity with which he concealed it from me was suddenly repulsive.
Heist didn't reply, but Jessie did, by thrusting up to like my face, making me aware of the tears I'd uncorked. Heist only closed his eyes and stretched back, making a physical sigh without accompanying sounds."
It gets progressively weirder when we meet some desert 'tribes' living off the land who are named after rabbits and bears (sadly, we don't mean the hairy gay kind). At this point, it's clear we aren't dealing with a detective mystery at all but Sophisticated Literary Fiction With Deep Allegorical Meaning about politics and gender divides and whatever else that I can't be bothered to understand in my tiny lady-brain.
I loved Motherless Brooklyn. This? This bears no similarity in characterization, plot, setting, narrative, or subtlety. I suppose a disconnected sex/relationship scene is the same. But otherwise, no relationship. It's littered with political references (I really don't need anti-Trump references in my escapist fiction) that will make this feel dated by 2025, and cultural references that might not survive much longer (such as Phoebe's own weak bear joke). Recommend a hard pass.
palefire's review
4.0
Clever writing with a scattershot, referential plot and I would have given it five stars but it ended without a good climax. It fizzled but maybe Lethem wanted to end it that way. Still, he's a really fine writer and I will probably read his next one.
clambook's review
3.0
Awful. Like many, I loved Motherless Brooklyn and Fortress of Solitude; skipped the subsequent stuff, but figured a return to his unique view of the private eye genre ought to be worthwhile. It's not. Disorganized, unfocused, distasteful.
eowyn's review
3.0
Despite some of this taking place in Claremont where I went to school, I didn't love this book. I never really believed or cared about the main character, and think I would have enjoyed the desert misfits she meets more if she hadn't been narrating. The author does capture the Inland Empire really well, and the scenes in the desert and on Mt. Baldy are very vivid. And the noir tone works well to capture a woman at a loss after the 2016 election. Just didn't touch me at all.