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A review by apermal2
Ticknor by Sheila Heti
4.0
Ticknor is going to a party at an old friend's house, but so much goes wrong. He leaves late, the pie is ruined, he misses the streetcar, the advertisements are overwhelming. Most of all, at some point in their pasts, his life and Prescott's (his old friend) life diverged. Now, with his humiliation looming all he can do is catalogue this divergence, obsessing over how it was that Prescott was such a success, and Ticknor nor such a failure.
This is a slim novel that is written in the first person, all of it bouncing around the overwrought head of George Ticknor. Though it seems like he constantly obsesses about his friend, I choose to be charitable and assume that this is relatively infrequent occurance, brought on by the circumstances. It has all gone wrong, which reminds him of his life, at least in comparison to his famous friend.
Heti's prose shines in the mind of George Ticknor. She effortlessly moves from past to present to imagined future. There were only a few passages at the beginning that confused me. She makes no effort to introduce the narrator, allowing his muddled mind to introduce itself in time. Which is very effective and helps the reader to get acquainted with Ticknor in an organic sort of way. The book doesn't feel like a book. You feel like these thoughts are actual thoughts, not sentences composed to look like thoughts but also obey a narrative order. This leaves a bit of work for the reader but not too much.
If the novel was any longer (thank you Sheila Heti for resisting the urge to compose an epic) it would've been boring and confusing. This is manageable and entertaining. We get one trip to one party; but it becomes a symbol for the general progression of the narrator's life. In the end you don't want to be like Ticknor, but he is not unsympathetic. I think this style of resentment is something we are all guilty of, or at the very least capable of. This universal quality is what makes it so funny.
This is a slim novel that is written in the first person, all of it bouncing around the overwrought head of George Ticknor. Though it seems like he constantly obsesses about his friend, I choose to be charitable and assume that this is relatively infrequent occurance, brought on by the circumstances. It has all gone wrong, which reminds him of his life, at least in comparison to his famous friend.
Heti's prose shines in the mind of George Ticknor. She effortlessly moves from past to present to imagined future. There were only a few passages at the beginning that confused me. She makes no effort to introduce the narrator, allowing his muddled mind to introduce itself in time. Which is very effective and helps the reader to get acquainted with Ticknor in an organic sort of way. The book doesn't feel like a book. You feel like these thoughts are actual thoughts, not sentences composed to look like thoughts but also obey a narrative order. This leaves a bit of work for the reader but not too much.
If the novel was any longer (thank you Sheila Heti for resisting the urge to compose an epic) it would've been boring and confusing. This is manageable and entertaining. We get one trip to one party; but it becomes a symbol for the general progression of the narrator's life. In the end you don't want to be like Ticknor, but he is not unsympathetic. I think this style of resentment is something we are all guilty of, or at the very least capable of. This universal quality is what makes it so funny.