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crufts's review
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I don't think I've ever struggled so much deciding the star rating for a book. The Accidental Tourist is not flawless. But the way this book gazed into the protagonist's soul... well, I'll be thinking about it for some time.
Macon Leary is a man of routine. He has to be - it's the only thing keeping him together since the death of his son Ethan a year ago. And when his wife Sarah asks him for a divorce, disappointed with how coldly stoic he behaved in the midst of such loss, his world derails further. But then a bright new face appears in his life: the dog trainer Muriel Pritchett. Clacking around imperiously on her spiky heels, she seems fearless. Following her lead, Macon finds himself drawn out of the mire of grief and back into life.
Now, I did say that the book wasn't flawless.
For one, what an abrupt ending. I'm talking abouthow Macon spent weeks trying to dissuade Muriel from following him to Paris, had a huge argument with her, reunited with Sarah (and even slept with her), was angry at Muriel for following him to Paris, spent the entire Paris trip trying to get Muriel to leave him alone, ignored her knocking at his hotel room door when he was injured, instead having his wife Sarah come to Paris to help him... only to end the novel by deciding to finish divorcing Sarah and return to dating Muriel . This final "crisis decision" came on with hardly any windup, after a lengthy period of the exact opposite.
Secondly, I was initially charmed by Muriel. With her scratchy voice, frizzy hair, giant heels, and questionably-printed clothes, I imagined her as a younger version of Kath (as in, Kath and Kim). I liked that she wasn't conventionally beautiful; instead, her defining trait is her chutzpah.
But ultimately, I didn't find either of the two romantic interests terribly compelling. They both seemed unable to really understand what Macon was struggling with or even what he was thinking. They constantly accused him with "I know what you're thinking, you're thinking X" (Sarah) or "You think I'm X, don't you? You think I'm just too X!" (Muriel).
Neither of them showed the slightest interest in asking Macon's opinion about his thoughts. In fact, when he tried to explain himself, they often interrupted him. By the end I was hoping that Macon would not only farewell Sarah, but also remain apart from Muriel, since at least if he was single he would have the opportunity to meet someone else.
Thirdly, the entire plot is basically the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope, just written very thoughtfully. Of course, everything is made of tropes, but this one in particular is not my favourite.
Despite these issues, The Accidental Tourist has won a special place in my heart. And it's because of the brilliant characterization. You'd think Anne Tyler was looking at her characters' souls under a microscope. And it's so refreshing to find a protagonist whose way of thinking I can relate to.
One of the recurring conflicts of the novel is that nobody recognizes or understands Macon's way of grieving and coping with difficulties. Sarah accuses him of being unemotional, of not grieving Ethan's death as badly as she was, because he responded to the tragedy by stoically going about his routines. But is this really true?
When Sarah separates from Macon, we see it play out in front of us: perfect, clever, exact, precise descriptions of a man whose grief is so immense, so overwhelming, that he's completely numb - he's just going through the motions. On the outside, it seems like business as usual. But on the inside, he's falling apart. The tiniest threats to his routine - objects moved, products no longer available to purchase - send him into a panic.
Meanwhile, Sarah is moving on with her life, enrolling in art classes and making new friends. But Macon can't even bear to give up the family dog Edward, because Edward was his son's dog. (Sarah is unconcerned about whether or not they keep Edward.)
I loved this so much: someone who might understand how I would feel in that situation. To paraphrase several conversations between Sarah and Macon:
- Sarah: Macon, our son died and you're just going about your business, as cold as ice. I don't believe you have feelings as deeply as other people. You aren't grieving as much as I am. I don't understand how you wouldn't fall apart after something like that.
- Macon: What good would that do? I didn't have the luxury of falling apart like you did. I knew you were relying on me, I had to look after you!
To Macon, falling apart is an "indulgence" that he can't justify taking.
The other thing I really liked about the novel was the portrayal of bystanders and passersby in general - the random clerks, shopkeepers, assistants, and other people populating the world of The Accidental Tourist. These people are invariably well-meaning but foolish, insisting that Macon "oughta do X", he "should try Y", and so on. They have opinions on everything he does, even the way he dresses or goes about his errands.
Macon responds "No thanks" or "I'd rather not" as he tries to stick to his routines or avoid bringing up the pain of the past, but these people are so pushy. They really don't understand how Macon could possibly not want to do what they suggest. This had a brilliant effect of driving home Macon's isolation. It created a kind of existential loneliness and desperation about him. When I say that Macon's big tragedy was that nobody in the novel understood him, I mean it literally - like, actually nobody, not even random bystanders and passersby.
I may not be perfectly satisfied with the ending, but the incredible characterization in this novel will stay with me for a long time.
Macon Leary is a man of routine. He has to be - it's the only thing keeping him together since the death of his son Ethan a year ago. And when his wife Sarah asks him for a divorce, disappointed with how coldly stoic he behaved in the midst of such loss, his world derails further. But then a bright new face appears in his life: the dog trainer Muriel Pritchett. Clacking around imperiously on her spiky heels, she seems fearless. Following her lead, Macon finds himself drawn out of the mire of grief and back into life.
Now, I did say that the book wasn't flawless.
For one, what an abrupt ending. I'm talking about
Secondly, I was initially charmed by Muriel. With her scratchy voice, frizzy hair, giant heels, and questionably-printed clothes, I imagined her as a younger version of Kath (as in, Kath and Kim). I liked that she wasn't conventionally beautiful; instead, her defining trait is her chutzpah.
But ultimately, I didn't find either of the two romantic interests terribly compelling. They both seemed unable to really understand what Macon was struggling with or even what he was thinking. They constantly accused him with "I know what you're thinking, you're thinking X" (Sarah) or "You think I'm X, don't you? You think I'm just too X!" (Muriel).
Neither of them showed the slightest interest in asking Macon's opinion about his thoughts. In fact, when he tried to explain himself, they often interrupted him. By the end I was hoping that Macon would not only farewell Sarah, but also remain apart from Muriel, since at least if he was single he would have the opportunity to meet someone else.
Thirdly, the entire plot is basically the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope, just written very thoughtfully. Of course, everything is made of tropes, but this one in particular is not my favourite.
Despite these issues, The Accidental Tourist has won a special place in my heart. And it's because of the brilliant characterization. You'd think Anne Tyler was looking at her characters' souls under a microscope. And it's so refreshing to find a protagonist whose way of thinking I can relate to.
One of the recurring conflicts of the novel is that nobody recognizes or understands Macon's way of grieving and coping with difficulties. Sarah accuses him of being unemotional, of not grieving Ethan's death as badly as she was, because he responded to the tragedy by stoically going about his routines. But is this really true?
When Sarah separates from Macon, we see it play out in front of us: perfect, clever, exact, precise descriptions of a man whose grief is so immense, so overwhelming, that he's completely numb - he's just going through the motions. On the outside, it seems like business as usual. But on the inside, he's falling apart. The tiniest threats to his routine - objects moved, products no longer available to purchase - send him into a panic.
Meanwhile, Sarah is moving on with her life, enrolling in art classes and making new friends. But Macon can't even bear to give up the family dog Edward, because Edward was his son's dog. (Sarah is unconcerned about whether or not they keep Edward.)
I loved this so much: someone who might understand how I would feel in that situation. To paraphrase several conversations between Sarah and Macon:
- Sarah: Macon, our son died and you're just going about your business, as cold as ice. I don't believe you have feelings as deeply as other people. You aren't grieving as much as I am. I don't understand how you wouldn't fall apart after something like that.
- Macon: What good would that do? I didn't have the luxury of falling apart like you did. I knew you were relying on me, I had to look after you!
To Macon, falling apart is an "indulgence" that he can't justify taking.
The other thing I really liked about the novel was the portrayal of bystanders and passersby in general - the random clerks, shopkeepers, assistants, and other people populating the world of The Accidental Tourist. These people are invariably well-meaning but foolish, insisting that Macon "oughta do X", he "should try Y", and so on. They have opinions on everything he does, even the way he dresses or goes about his errands.
Macon responds "No thanks" or "I'd rather not" as he tries to stick to his routines or avoid bringing up the pain of the past, but these people are so pushy. They really don't understand how Macon could possibly not want to do what they suggest. This had a brilliant effect of driving home Macon's isolation. It created a kind of existential loneliness and desperation about him. When I say that Macon's big tragedy was that nobody in the novel understood him, I mean it literally - like, actually nobody, not even random bystanders and passersby.
I may not be perfectly satisfied with the ending, but the incredible characterization in this novel will stay with me for a long time.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Grief
Moderate: Death and Gun violence
Minor: Animal cruelty, Sexual content, Sexism, and Xenophobia
Grief: Literally the entire book.Death, gun violence: Macon's son Ethan died during a mass shooting, as so often occurs in the States.
Animal cruelty: A dog is treated roughly for about thirty seconds, but the attacker is then shooed off and the dog is okay.
Sexual content: Referenced, but nothing explicit.
Sexism: Woven into the fabric of the 1980s setting. Nothing overt, but it's there.
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