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A review by shanviolinlove
The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer
Hmmm...
Without comparing it to a certain movie with a strongly similar theme, I began reading The Confessions of Max Tivoli, ready to be enticed by the romance of an old man in a young boy's body writing his memoirs to his son (although he addresses others in the novel as well) about his extraordinary life. Though it is not at all badly written, I am inclined to agree with most of the critiques regarding the one-dimensional and unsympathetic characters. The writing always tells the reader, never shows the reader, what to see, how to feel, etc.
I also fail to understand the allure of the character Alice. The proverbial love bug bites whom it will, but at one point, Max exclaims that he feels sorry for anyone who does not know her. I had to ask, why? Conceited, manipulative, in the beginning rather vacant, Alice is a woman who uses him constantly - to perform duties for him during her Sabbath, to appeal to his friend to love her -- and even he acknowledges her unmasked use of him when they meet a second time in the novel. Her situation more destitute, he recognizes (happily, of course) that her state of vulnerability motivates her to pursue him in a way that she had not before.
To be fair, it is beautifully and, at times, poetically written, and in a few years I may revisit this novel and see something that I have missed upon this first reading. But ultimately a novel orbiting around an obsession, heralding a woman as perfection when she is far from it, left me bored and dissatisfied.
Without comparing it to a certain movie with a strongly similar theme, I began reading The Confessions of Max Tivoli, ready to be enticed by the romance of an old man in a young boy's body writing his memoirs to his son (although he addresses others in the novel as well) about his extraordinary life. Though it is not at all badly written, I am inclined to agree with most of the critiques regarding the one-dimensional and unsympathetic characters. The writing always tells the reader, never shows the reader, what to see, how to feel, etc.
I also fail to understand the allure of the character Alice. The proverbial love bug bites whom it will, but at one point, Max exclaims that he feels sorry for anyone who does not know her. I had to ask, why? Conceited, manipulative, in the beginning rather vacant, Alice is a woman who uses him constantly - to perform duties for him during her Sabbath, to appeal to his friend to love her -- and even he acknowledges her unmasked use of him when they meet a second time in the novel. Her situation more destitute, he recognizes (happily, of course) that her state of vulnerability motivates her to pursue him in a way that she had not before.
To be fair, it is beautifully and, at times, poetically written, and in a few years I may revisit this novel and see something that I have missed upon this first reading. But ultimately a novel orbiting around an obsession, heralding a woman as perfection when she is far from it, left me bored and dissatisfied.