Take a photo of a barcode or cover
bonnieg 's review for:
Mrs. Fletcher
by Tom Perrotta
Review to follow when I figure out what the point of this was.
ETA: Okay, I have thought about this.
I will start with a disclaimer: Perrotta and I are clearly a bad match of author and reader. I have yet to like a single one of his books, and this is my 4th.
Everyone talks about Perrotta's skill as a satirist, and I just don't see it. Where is the satire? He often starts by exaggerating certain well known facts of privileged suburban life. Usually the satire is focused on the epidemic of ennui among smart educated women who sublimate their own lives to the good of the family/children. What a brilliant insight! (That was ironic.) Perrotta brings a grand total of zero insights into the examination of upper-middle class suburbia. There is nothing there that Updike did not talk about 50 years ago. And Updike's prose was beautiful, Perrotta's prose is ...functional. There is no beauty to be found though it is perfectly descriptive. Where Perrotta's subjects are not obvious they are simply fake -- toothless plot devices. (One example in this book is the ex-husband's autistic son. He existed to create a way to hook up 2 characters and to show that everyone can grow (!!) and change (!!) when removed from old relationships. The boy was otherwise not explored or fleshed out. ) And again...where do they serve satire. Where is the send up? Where is the exaggeration that highlights the fundamental truth? Nowhere.
And speaking of things possessed of no beauty or fundamental truth, I will say that there is none of either to be found in looking at a crappy mother and a crappy teenager with parallels (unknown to them) in getting off on dehumanizing (to others) sexual experiences. Want to read endless pages about a woman curling up in bed at might with MILF porn? Me either. (Not anti-porn in the least -- porn is great, but other people watching porn is not really interesting.) Want to examine the tastes of a boy who likes to treat women as receptacles for his ejaculate and the women who blame themselves for finding that unappealing? Me either. Perrotta always makes carnality filthy in his books. There are the people satisfied with twice a week in the missionary position after the news ends. And then there are the people getting slammed up against walls and thrown onto the floor by their neighbor, their teacher, the school bully's mother. Or the people jacking off to porn while the babies sleep in the next room. Its always tawdry and cloaked in deceit. No one is hooking up and having shattering orgasms with their spouses or public partners. In Perrotta's world good clean fun and good dirty sex cannot go together. Mores the pity.... If you find that conceit interesting or true (I find it neither) than this might be a good book for you. Dirty sexuality versus semi-sexless true respectability is the only subject of Mrs. Fletcher. In Perrotta's other books there are usually a few themes, but he sticks to a simple message here.
My other problem with Perrotta is that he ends up liking his characters too much to give them endings that would make these stories work as satire. That issue has never been more present than in this book. Neither mother nor son was in a position to find a happy ending (notwithstanding the fact that they found many "happy endings") but they both changed utterly and got there. Yawn. It is mystifying because there was no reason to like either of these characters. Eve is weak and passive-aggressive and Brendan is just a terrible person -- dumb, sybaritic, unprincipled, lazy and misogynistic, just as one would expect from the lazy parenting and unchecked privilege of his life. And he is a failure at pretty much everything, but he doesn't know it or care. I have an 18 year old (private school, wrestling team, now off at a good college, etc.) and if he had turned out like this I would have known I was a failure at my single most important job. It would have tortured me and changed me completely. I don't understand why Perrotta does not hold Eve to that standard and consign her to that fate. It would have been a book with at least some purpose if he had done so. As it is, it is pointless.
ETA: Okay, I have thought about this.
I will start with a disclaimer: Perrotta and I are clearly a bad match of author and reader. I have yet to like a single one of his books, and this is my 4th.
Everyone talks about Perrotta's skill as a satirist, and I just don't see it. Where is the satire? He often starts by exaggerating certain well known facts of privileged suburban life. Usually the satire is focused on the epidemic of ennui among smart educated women who sublimate their own lives to the good of the family/children. What a brilliant insight! (That was ironic.) Perrotta brings a grand total of zero insights into the examination of upper-middle class suburbia. There is nothing there that Updike did not talk about 50 years ago. And Updike's prose was beautiful, Perrotta's prose is ...functional. There is no beauty to be found though it is perfectly descriptive. Where Perrotta's subjects are not obvious they are simply fake -- toothless plot devices. (One example in this book is the ex-husband's autistic son. He existed to create a way to hook up 2 characters and to show that everyone can grow (!!) and change (!!) when removed from old relationships. The boy was otherwise not explored or fleshed out. ) And again...where do they serve satire. Where is the send up? Where is the exaggeration that highlights the fundamental truth? Nowhere.
And speaking of things possessed of no beauty or fundamental truth, I will say that there is none of either to be found in looking at a crappy mother and a crappy teenager with parallels (unknown to them) in getting off on dehumanizing (to others) sexual experiences. Want to read endless pages about a woman curling up in bed at might with MILF porn? Me either. (Not anti-porn in the least -- porn is great, but other people watching porn is not really interesting.) Want to examine the tastes of a boy who likes to treat women as receptacles for his ejaculate and the women who blame themselves for finding that unappealing? Me either. Perrotta always makes carnality filthy in his books. There are the people satisfied with twice a week in the missionary position after the news ends. And then there are the people getting slammed up against walls and thrown onto the floor by their neighbor, their teacher, the school bully's mother. Or the people jacking off to porn while the babies sleep in the next room. Its always tawdry and cloaked in deceit. No one is hooking up and having shattering orgasms with their spouses or public partners. In Perrotta's world good clean fun and good dirty sex cannot go together. Mores the pity.... If you find that conceit interesting or true (I find it neither) than this might be a good book for you. Dirty sexuality versus semi-sexless true respectability is the only subject of Mrs. Fletcher. In Perrotta's other books there are usually a few themes, but he sticks to a simple message here.
My other problem with Perrotta is that he ends up liking his characters too much to give them endings that would make these stories work as satire. That issue has never been more present than in this book. Neither mother nor son was in a position to find a happy ending (notwithstanding the fact that they found many "happy endings") but they both changed utterly and got there. Yawn. It is mystifying because there was no reason to like either of these characters. Eve is weak and passive-aggressive and Brendan is just a terrible person -- dumb, sybaritic, unprincipled, lazy and misogynistic, just as one would expect from the lazy parenting and unchecked privilege of his life. And he is a failure at pretty much everything, but he doesn't know it or care. I have an 18 year old (private school, wrestling team, now off at a good college, etc.) and if he had turned out like this I would have known I was a failure at my single most important job. It would have tortured me and changed me completely. I don't understand why Perrotta does not hold Eve to that standard and consign her to that fate. It would have been a book with at least some purpose if he had done so. As it is, it is pointless.