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A review by vimcenzo
Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid
2.0
Oh God.
I got this for a Goodreads achievement, but also because I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone and read something I don’t normally read. And for a really long time, I thought I stumbled upon something special. Though it was not perfectly for me, I respected it. At first.
The initial sins were innocent enough—namely, that things are subtly alluded to, which feels great, and then explicitly confirmed with zero room for interpretation. That’s less great. When a character is an alcoholic, we see very subtle clues and we feel smart for picking up on them. If a character is a lesbian, more sharp-eyed observers could see the parts of that identity hinted at. If a character is a cheater, we get small glimpses of it. Unfortunately, all such mysteries are always confirmed in due time with no room for ambiguity, as the rest of the narrative depends on the explicit reveal in order to continue. Anyways, this is fine, and wouldn’t have cost too many points in the end. It’s just what takes this from a simple in-vogue book to something that could seriously have become a modern classic.
The narrative whiplashes between past and present were a bit of a struggle to contend with at first, but I was fine by the conclusion of Part 1. I would say about, ooh, 75%? of the book is incredible. After all of Part 1’s buildup, Part 2’s descent into chaos is perfectly delicious. I had to put the book down during moments that were so awkward that I couldn’t bear to keep reading without a break. There is this moment that is not explicitly identifiable in the text, but so much goes so horribly wrong that it ceases to be a drama and starts to be a comedy. This is the book chugging at maximum efficiency, and I started to look at the other books on the achievement list by Taylor Jenkins Reid and visualizing myself going, “No yeah, Taylor Jenkins Reid. I mean I just happened to pick this up with no expectations. Crazy good repertoire already and crazy good future ahead of her too.”
But the line couldn’t hold. Telling off a deadbeat in lengthy prose becomes absurd wish fulfillment where a man with zero respect for women is somehow cowed into silence by one woman with a very bad day, even when in between he starts lamenting that his son is “pussy-whipped.” Random ACAB commentary meanders its way in as awkwardly as it leaves. I am relieved that of all the many left-wing talking points, the lesbian coming out of the closet is done very subtly, with buildup, and has a very kindhearted resolution; one that, in the midst of a stressful series of events, served as a much-needed reprieve.
The ending is nice, and I love how the meaning of the foreshadowed fire in the beginning becomes redefined. But it doesn’t change the fact that many of the book's flaws begin compounding near the end. That rotting midsection became the undoing of the whole building, which was once a 4-star score.
Overall, there are worse things to be sure, and it’s not a dispassionately written book. I just think some of it could have been better off with more subtlety and a consistent throughline.
I got this for a Goodreads achievement, but also because I wanted to push myself out of my comfort zone and read something I don’t normally read. And for a really long time, I thought I stumbled upon something special. Though it was not perfectly for me, I respected it. At first.
The initial sins were innocent enough—namely, that things are subtly alluded to, which feels great, and then explicitly confirmed with zero room for interpretation. That’s less great. When a character is an alcoholic, we see very subtle clues and we feel smart for picking up on them. If a character is a lesbian, more sharp-eyed observers could see the parts of that identity hinted at. If a character is a cheater, we get small glimpses of it. Unfortunately, all such mysteries are always confirmed in due time with no room for ambiguity, as the rest of the narrative depends on the explicit reveal in order to continue. Anyways, this is fine, and wouldn’t have cost too many points in the end. It’s just what takes this from a simple in-vogue book to something that could seriously have become a modern classic.
The narrative whiplashes between past and present were a bit of a struggle to contend with at first, but I was fine by the conclusion of Part 1. I would say about, ooh, 75%? of the book is incredible. After all of Part 1’s buildup, Part 2’s descent into chaos is perfectly delicious. I had to put the book down during moments that were so awkward that I couldn’t bear to keep reading without a break. There is this moment that is not explicitly identifiable in the text, but so much goes so horribly wrong that it ceases to be a drama and starts to be a comedy. This is the book chugging at maximum efficiency, and I started to look at the other books on the achievement list by Taylor Jenkins Reid and visualizing myself going, “No yeah, Taylor Jenkins Reid. I mean I just happened to pick this up with no expectations. Crazy good repertoire already and crazy good future ahead of her too.”
But the line couldn’t hold. Telling off a deadbeat in lengthy prose becomes absurd wish fulfillment where a man with zero respect for women is somehow cowed into silence by one woman with a very bad day, even when in between he starts lamenting that his son is “pussy-whipped.” Random ACAB commentary meanders its way in as awkwardly as it leaves. I am relieved that of all the many left-wing talking points, the lesbian coming out of the closet is done very subtly, with buildup, and has a very kindhearted resolution; one that, in the midst of a stressful series of events, served as a much-needed reprieve.
The ending is nice, and I love how the meaning of the foreshadowed fire in the beginning becomes redefined. But it doesn’t change the fact that many of the book's flaws begin compounding near the end. That rotting midsection became the undoing of the whole building, which was once a 4-star score.
Overall, there are worse things to be sure, and it’s not a dispassionately written book. I just think some of it could have been better off with more subtlety and a consistent throughline.