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3.5 AVERAGE
3.5 AVERAGE
This was enjoyable enough but could have done without Lerner constantly trying to prove how smart he is.
A book of ideas, a book full of ideas, a book whose ideas sometimes then split and have ideas of their own! I can get behind such a book, and for stretches early on this worked well for me, but I was disappointed overall. The reviews had me thinking this was the Lerner I could get into, my starter drug off to a Lerner addiction, and instead I got halfway through and groaned: all this work, and only halfway done?
It's not the Ideas that made reading this feel like work, it was, for me, the prose. Thick, dense paragraphs, with long stretches for summaries of said Ideas. The moments where actual scenes developed were by far my favorite moments in the book; I have never been as enthralled with debate performances as I was here, for example. The long soliloquies, often by characters who I could not connect with, wore me out.
That said, Lerner absolutely slams the ending, which is why this went up from two to three stars. Make it to the last section of the book, and you may just find some emotional connections developing. It's a rewarding and satisfying ending, even as it makes me sad the whole book did not feel so human.
It's not the Ideas that made reading this feel like work, it was, for me, the prose. Thick, dense paragraphs, with long stretches for summaries of said Ideas. The moments where actual scenes developed were by far my favorite moments in the book; I have never been as enthralled with debate performances as I was here, for example. The long soliloquies, often by characters who I could not connect with, wore me out.
That said, Lerner absolutely slams the ending, which is why this went up from two to three stars. Make it to the last section of the book, and you may just find some emotional connections developing. It's a rewarding and satisfying ending, even as it makes me sad the whole book did not feel so human.
The psychology here is really rather enticing. Jane's narration is particularly compelling. The physicality was uncomfortable and repetitive. The juxtaposition of time periods along with poignant references to current day made this a worthwhile read.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I could not finish this book, which is a very rare occurrence for me. This was recommended to me from a friend and I decided to try it out because it takes place in Kansas, my home state. I found it very uninteresting and listening to this as an audiobook was so boring I didn't even want to listen. I made it about 20% of the way through and still was not interested in any of the characters. Every time I picked the book back up I had to remember who the hell we were discussing. I know this book is more about characters and character development, but I just couldn't connect with the characters and because the plot was nonexistent in the first part of the book I gave up.
Reading The Topeka School during this very tumultuous time felt very weird. As the #BlackLivesMatter movement is (finally!) getting the traction that it deserves, my peers and I are starting to consciously engage with media and content that takes up conversations about race, systemic oppression, and privilege. So to read a semi-autobiographical book about a privileged white (Jewish) man navigating the conversation of an 'identity crisis' amongst white men feels poorly-timed. But, in many ways, I enjoyed Lerner's self-reflexivity and self-awareness; fair warning though: this novel only reinforced my wariness for white men and their obsession with the male genius (usually themselves).
In spite of this tired trope, Lerner manages to make his 'male genius' - an arrogant, socially advantaged, self-obsessed teen protagonist a compelling character. The author's additional psychoanalytical perspective adds another dimension to the novel and allows characters who are the epitome of privilege to become well-rounded characters. The Topeka School's main character, Adam, is full of precocious comments, wry observations, and charming anecdotes. While he is quite openly considered to be an 'asshole' (even in Lerner's depiction), he is simultaneously written as gentle and thoughtful. Frankly, it's unsurprising that the author is able to create a favourable 'version' of himself, but what I was most impressed by was his ability to capture Adam's mother's voice (likely inspired by the author's own mother). Peppered with fourth-wave feminism and the many fears with motherhood (that are generally associated with the 90s), Lerner successfully writes a woman who is inspiring, and yet deeply flawed. That's why it's so disappointing when the author deigns the third perspective to Adam's father - a man plagued by his fear of commitment. How unimaginative.
The author is only capable of turning a story about a small-town and the basic nuclear family into an engaging novel because of his ability to write. Not only does Lerner narrate with excellent prose, he adopts unique writing styles for each of his characters. From developing specific tones to the structure of the sentences and even with the diction that he uses, it's pretty spectacular 'world-building' in realistic fiction. Its one downfall is that, at times, it is overly (and unnecessarily) verbose. As could be expected, this overcomplicated jargon is usually limited to the chapters narrated by the father. I'm unsure if Lerner intended for him to be unlikeable, but he also made the paternal character's chapters unbearable to read.
While these various perspectives added this richness and texture to the novel, by its conclusion it left me with a lot of questions. For example, the author chooses to include a fourth perspective - a young man who is victimized by the small-minded and unsympathetic views of Topeka. By the last chapter, his connection to the 3 main characters (Adam and his parents) is barely established and it does little to support the core narrative. The author eludes to the challenges the characters face but by the final pages does little work to resolve them. Maybe this is a larger commentary on life? In my opinion, however, it just came off as lazy with the intention to be 'avant-garde'. There's even a hasty 'epilogue'-type passage, but instead it proposes new crises in the protagonist's life and concludes the novel with a whole new set of characters. I understand that not every book can guarantee a happy ever after, but this story fails to provide any sort of closure - I can't help feel disappointed for Lerner's fictional creations.
Ultimately, this novel seeks to explore one thing alone - the (hidden) complexity of toxic white masculinity. As my Women's Studies courses have revealed time and time again, this seemingly innate and base emotion is rooted in so much more (the patriarchy, colonialism, homophobia, etc.) While Lerner is working to engage with this really important conversation - why are *white men so angry? and why do we provide them with the space to be so angry? - he fails to consider the most important part about whiteness. Which is: that it is completely unmarked. White, able-bodied men (as Lerner briefly mentions in one fantastic passage) have always been the normative category - allowing women, racialized, or 'othered' bodies to be ostracized. I think Lerner's on the right track; he has the perspective and experience to talk about the immense privilege of being white (especially in the 90s! another decade or so before fourth-wave feminism), but he has to remember that these conversations need to be juxtaposed by acknowledging the systemic oppression it complements. I think this is great reading before I can get my hands on (the presumably more informative and perspective-altering book) White Fragility.
*obviously, I am not referring to this demographic as a monolith
In spite of this tired trope, Lerner manages to make his 'male genius' - an arrogant, socially advantaged, self-obsessed teen protagonist a compelling character. The author's additional psychoanalytical perspective adds another dimension to the novel and allows characters who are the epitome of privilege to become well-rounded characters. The Topeka School's main character, Adam, is full of precocious comments, wry observations, and charming anecdotes. While he is quite openly considered to be an 'asshole' (even in Lerner's depiction), he is simultaneously written as gentle and thoughtful. Frankly, it's unsurprising that the author is able to create a favourable 'version' of himself, but what I was most impressed by was his ability to capture Adam's mother's voice (likely inspired by the author's own mother). Peppered with fourth-wave feminism and the many fears with motherhood (that are generally associated with the 90s), Lerner successfully writes a woman who is inspiring, and yet deeply flawed. That's why it's so disappointing when the author deigns the third perspective to Adam's father - a man plagued by his fear of commitment. How unimaginative.
The author is only capable of turning a story about a small-town and the basic nuclear family into an engaging novel because of his ability to write. Not only does Lerner narrate with excellent prose, he adopts unique writing styles for each of his characters. From developing specific tones to the structure of the sentences and even with the diction that he uses, it's pretty spectacular 'world-building' in realistic fiction. Its one downfall is that, at times, it is overly (and unnecessarily) verbose. As could be expected, this overcomplicated jargon is usually limited to the chapters narrated by the father. I'm unsure if Lerner intended for him to be unlikeable, but he also made the paternal character's chapters unbearable to read.
While these various perspectives added this richness and texture to the novel, by its conclusion it left me with a lot of questions. For example, the author chooses to include a fourth perspective - a young man who is victimized by the small-minded and unsympathetic views of Topeka. By the last chapter, his connection to the 3 main characters (Adam and his parents) is barely established and it does little to support the core narrative. The author eludes to the challenges the characters face but by the final pages does little work to resolve them. Maybe this is a larger commentary on life? In my opinion, however, it just came off as lazy with the intention to be 'avant-garde'. There's even a hasty 'epilogue'-type passage, but instead it proposes new crises in the protagonist's life and concludes the novel with a whole new set of characters. I understand that not every book can guarantee a happy ever after, but this story fails to provide any sort of closure - I can't help feel disappointed for Lerner's fictional creations.
Ultimately, this novel seeks to explore one thing alone - the (hidden) complexity of toxic white masculinity. As my Women's Studies courses have revealed time and time again, this seemingly innate and base emotion is rooted in so much more (the patriarchy, colonialism, homophobia, etc.) While Lerner is working to engage with this really important conversation - why are *white men so angry? and why do we provide them with the space to be so angry? - he fails to consider the most important part about whiteness. Which is: that it is completely unmarked. White, able-bodied men (as Lerner briefly mentions in one fantastic passage) have always been the normative category - allowing women, racialized, or 'othered' bodies to be ostracized. I think Lerner's on the right track; he has the perspective and experience to talk about the immense privilege of being white (especially in the 90s! another decade or so before fourth-wave feminism), but he has to remember that these conversations need to be juxtaposed by acknowledging the systemic oppression it complements. I think this is great reading before I can get my hands on (the presumably more informative and perspective-altering book) White Fragility.
*obviously, I am not referring to this demographic as a monolith
(3.5) Lerner's a very fine writer, and I admired and enjoyed a lot of what he did, here and there. Overall, I don't think it's the brilliant novel of the moment others find it to be, but I wouldn't discourage anyone from reading it.
The sections on language were interesting, the parts about debate were my favorite but overall I found the book confusing, with the switching between both perspectives and time. I couldn’t quite tell you what the plot really was, the climax or the conclusion in particular.
Shifting timelines and perspectives that call back to each other.