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bonnieg 's review for:
The Celebrants
by Steven Rowley
Southeast Asia has been very unkind to my digestive tract. So in the last days of my travels I am laying in a dark Bangkok hotel room in fetal position while my family enjoys the city. I am fortunate to have audiobooks to keep me company. I have been listening to this book for a while. I was not feeling wildly driven to complete it, but also I found it too genial to abandon. Today's situation seemed an ideal moment to get it done.
I liked Rowley's last book, The Guncle in spite of its many saccharine moments, but this was too cutesy for me. The story starts with a group of new Berkeley grads hunkered down at the Big Sur beach house belonging to the parents of one of them, Naomi, as they deal with the OD death of one of their group. (Accidental or suicide never clear.) They agree to come together for living funerals for each, to be held at the behest of the non-deceased when they feel they need it. Everyone gets only one. The group grows apart over the years, but one of them puts out the bat signal about 18 years later they all honor the pact, and over the next decade each has their moment So yeah, this starts with a grand contrivance and proceeds with more and more contrivances. At one of the funerals, it is revealed that one of the group has been collecting appropriate quotes in his notes app so he is ready to eulogize at the drop of a hat. (Almost all the quotes come from PBS icons, which is so freaking on-brand I wanted to throw my phone.) Anyway, the staleness of those quotes and the act of keeping the list rather than crafting something original is a perfect metaphor for this book as a whole. This is a Frankenstein's monster of cobbled together tropes from a bunch of movies but made gayer. The Guncle had saccharine moments but this is like eating a teaspoon of Sweet and Low straight.
I liked Rowley's last book, The Guncle in spite of its many saccharine moments, but this was too cutesy for me. The story starts with a group of new Berkeley grads hunkered down at the Big Sur beach house belonging to the parents of one of them, Naomi, as they deal with the OD death of one of their group. (Accidental or suicide never clear.) They agree to come together for living funerals for each, to be held at the behest of the non-deceased when they feel they need it. Everyone gets only one. The group grows apart over the years, but one of them puts out the bat signal about 18 years later they all honor the pact, and over the next decade each has their moment So yeah, this starts with a grand contrivance and proceeds with more and more contrivances. At one of the funerals, it is revealed that one of the group has been collecting appropriate quotes in his notes app so he is ready to eulogize at the drop of a hat. (Almost all the quotes come from PBS icons, which is so freaking on-brand I wanted to throw my phone.) Anyway, the staleness of those quotes and the act of keeping the list rather than crafting something original is a perfect metaphor for this book as a whole. This is a Frankenstein's monster of cobbled together tropes from a bunch of movies but made gayer. The Guncle had saccharine moments but this is like eating a teaspoon of Sweet and Low straight.