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A review by jimmyjamesnickels
You Should Have Known by Jean Hanff Korelitz
2.0
The blurb copy of this book introduces us to Grace, a New York city relationship therapist married to a pediatric oncologist, living the good life in New York City with their pre teen son. Grace is poised to release what will no doubt be a best selling self help book on the subject of how women take more care in selecting a plumber or purse than they do with their choice in partner. Grace claims that the issues which often cause deep unhappiness if not out-right disaster for a marriage are present from the start of the relationship but women (and women only, of course. Of course) willfully blind themselves to the faults of their partners only to somewhat justifiably reap the whirlwind later. And then suddenly and without any warning --Grace says-- there is a scandal at her son's over priced private school, followed by her husband going missing, these unexpected --Grace says-- turn of events leading Grace reluctantly down a dimly lit path of self discovery.
That's what the jacket synopsis says this book is about, more or less. However, ounce for ounce, word for word is a book about the wealthy elite in New York and their status trappings. Anything to do with the characters and plot development barely seems an afterthought, the majority of this book was spent in a smug masturbatory celebration of the horrible, racist and entitled 1% of NYC. The stuff about the misdeeds of the husband are really just a footnote.
That which is purported to be the book's focus honestly is left in the dust as the author ruminates endlessly on life in NYC; trying and failing to sound modest in her effort to describe awesome to be stinking rich, and New York City is the bestest greatest city in the universe. The character of Grace tries half-heartedly for grace and self awareness in regards to the ridiculous, class codified elite circles in which she orbits, but it really just came across as hypocritical. Her efforts to elevate herself above everyone she interacts becomes grating. In her efforts to separate herself from those Other People who are blinded because they have their head firmly up their own asses, Grace does nothing more than solidify her solid status as on of them.
I just didn't enjoy this book, could you tell?
Beyond the eye rolling "I heart NYC" elitism, it's just an excessively wordy and dull book. It was next to impossible not to skim. The author makes a point and them spends two-three-four pages meandering away from what she was originally going to say. It's dull, the words plod and drag from chapter to chapter. I don't mind when a book takes it's time to slowly reveal plot, don't mind a few wrong turns or misdirection. But in YSHK, there are out and out flat contradictions with no exposition. The choice to almost entirely remove the character of the husband from the entire freaking book was a huge mistake, IMO. The only perspective we have of the character's character comes from Grace herself, who more or less spends the first half of the book talking about how he's the best, most perfect husband ever in the best most perfectly satisfying marriage ever only to flip the switch and decide she's married to a psychopath the whole time and had literally no idea.
Just as Grace herself continually insists that she's not into blaming the victims, I agree that there are situations where lightning metaphorically strikes in a life or relationship and a person truly had no idea. However, if Grace's lack of insight into the life of her husband of nearly 20 years was the point, it was poorly made. But again, I retreat to my point about how this wasn't actually a book about relationships but about bland and unimaginative NYC worship. Pass.
That's what the jacket synopsis says this book is about, more or less. However, ounce for ounce, word for word is a book about the wealthy elite in New York and their status trappings. Anything to do with the characters and plot development barely seems an afterthought, the majority of this book was spent in a smug masturbatory celebration of the horrible, racist and entitled 1% of NYC. The stuff about the misdeeds of the husband are really just a footnote.
That which is purported to be the book's focus honestly is left in the dust as the author ruminates endlessly on life in NYC; trying and failing to sound modest in her effort to describe awesome to be stinking rich, and New York City is the bestest greatest city in the universe. The character of Grace tries half-heartedly for grace and self awareness in regards to the ridiculous, class codified elite circles in which she orbits, but it really just came across as hypocritical. Her efforts to elevate herself above everyone she interacts becomes grating. In her efforts to separate herself from those Other People who are blinded because they have their head firmly up their own asses, Grace does nothing more than solidify her solid status as on of them.
I just didn't enjoy this book, could you tell?
Beyond the eye rolling "I heart NYC" elitism, it's just an excessively wordy and dull book. It was next to impossible not to skim. The author makes a point and them spends two-three-four pages meandering away from what she was originally going to say. It's dull, the words plod and drag from chapter to chapter. I don't mind when a book takes it's time to slowly reveal plot, don't mind a few wrong turns or misdirection. But in YSHK, there are out and out flat contradictions with no exposition. The choice to almost entirely remove the character of the husband from the entire freaking book was a huge mistake, IMO. The only perspective we have of the character's character comes from Grace herself, who more or less spends the first half of the book talking about how he's the best, most perfect husband ever in the best most perfectly satisfying marriage ever only to flip the switch and decide she's married to a psychopath the whole time and had literally no idea.
Just as Grace herself continually insists that she's not into blaming the victims, I agree that there are situations where lightning metaphorically strikes in a life or relationship and a person truly had no idea. However, if Grace's lack of insight into the life of her husband of nearly 20 years was the point, it was poorly made. But again, I retreat to my point about how this wasn't actually a book about relationships but about bland and unimaginative NYC worship. Pass.