relationships

Marie and Bruce (4/8/11)

brittany — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 20:00:00 +0000

New York, New York

When I was a kid I used to stay out of sight when my parents fought, fearful that their vitriol would extend to me. But I always listened, eager to understand the conflict. So it is with Marie and Bruce, Wallace Shawn’s look at the most dysfunctional of dysfunctional relationships.

The play begins even before a word of dialogue is uttered. As the audience enters the theater, Marie (a furious and pained Marisa Tomei) and Bruce (a disaffected and cool Frank Whaley) are lying on a large, ill-made bed in center stage. He’s asleep. Marie, however, is awake and the audience sees her tossing and turning, blowing her nose, touching her forehead to check for fever, and getting up stretch and smoke. Her angst is visible as Bruce softly snores, apparently unbothered by his wife’s unease.

As morning dawns, Marie turns to the audience and confides that she is planning to leave her mate. Her ire is apparent in her language: Bruce is addressed as a “fucking pig,” a “goddamn worthless piece of shit,” and a “cocksucking turd.” We also learn that they’ve had a “a miserable summer.” Neither has a job—although as the play unfolds, money doesn’t seem to be a problem—and Marie has been afflicted with some sort of physical malaise that she likens to the flu.

As Marie rants about Bruce’s inadequacies, he seems unfazed and we soon realize that theirs is a waltz that is repeatedly danced. Like couples that bicker endlessly, Marie and Bruce are locked in a routine that is both senseless and compelling.

The three-scene, one-act play—it is one hour and forty minutes long—goes from the bedroom, to a nine-person dinner party rife with neurotic conversation, to a small café where the couple’s banter is clearly well honed. Both are verbally abusive. At one point, Bruce tells Marie that she “can be sort of a cunt” while she lambastes him as someone she neither respects nor loves.

It’s horrible to watch and must be far worse to live.

First performed in London’s The Royal Court Theatre in 1979, Marie and Bruce crossed the ocean a year later, arriving on U.S. shores in 1980 and garnering mixed reviews.

The New Group’s revival of the piece is beautifully acted. Furthermore, the staging, set design, lighting, and special effects are exceptional. That said, the play is depressing and audience members leave the theater thanking their lucky stars that they don’t have to contend with Marie and Bruce in real life.

What’s more, as a cautionary tale of love gone sour, Marie and Bruce makes for a harrowing, often cringe-worthy, evening. Worse, while the rancor expressed by each member of this lovelorn pair pulls at the viewer’s heartstrings, the play is ultimately an unsatisfying peak at a horrid relationship. One can only wonder why The New Group dusted the play off and brought it to Theatre Row.

Marie and Bruce runs through May 7, 2011 at Theatre Row.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, April 12th 2011

Love Translated

barbara — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Directed by Julia Ivanova

Interfilm Productions

Love Translated follows a group of men from North America and Europe as they tour the Ukraine on a trip organized by an international dating service that links male clients with “letter order brides.” Over the course of their ten-day trip, the men travel to several cities, judge a beauty pageant of women who have joined the agency, attend social events, and go on “one-on-one” dates (accompanied, normally, by a translator). The film opens with men telling stories of their experiences (or lack of experiences) with women in their own communities, accompanied by a voiceover from an agency representative exhorting the men to be reasonable and keep in mind that they are looking for a partner, “not a statue to hang on the wall.”

Julia Ivanova, the film's director, writer, and editor, does a skillful (and sometimes humorous) job of juxtaposing the men’s views of who the women are and how they will behave with the women contradicting these statements. One man says, “There’s been this transition through feminism and a number of other movements in the United States that have altered how women look at themselves and it has, I think, robbed them of some of the identity they once took great pride in.” The woman he is on a date with replies, “Our women want to have it all; a husband, children, money and their own business. The woman is the head of the family. The man is just an accessory.”

All of the issues that normally come up when the topic of mail-order brides is discussed are on display: the somewhat primitivist notion that the women will be untainted by feminism and, therefore, more ideal; the objectification of women’s bodies; the unequal power dynamics. As much as some or all of the men may be sincere in their desire to find a true life partner, they have also come to the Ukraine because it is, as one man says, like a candy store for middle-aged men. In the absence of the ability to speak directly due to language barriers, the men rely on the women’s looks and letters. The letters have, at the very least, been translated by someone else, but have possibly also been written by someone else. Despite (or perhaps because of) the power that the men have in the situation, there is also uneasiness. Many express concern that the women are using them for money, gifts, and/or a visa.

This uneasiness comes to a head in an uncomfortable scene. A client is displeased because a woman he has been on several dates with expected to receive flowers more often than he would have liked. He physically blocks her ability to sit down and join the group, pointedly ignores her, and explains that he is going to blow smoke in the face of the person who should be punished. His date looks like she is about to cry and becomes conciliatory. By the end of the night, we see them walking hand in hand into a hotel elevator. While it would be unfair to judge all of the participants from the actions of these two individuals or even judge the individuals from the one interaction, it is an uncomfortable reminder of the type of isolation that the women could potentially face if they did follow the men to a foreign country.

Ivanova is impartial in her portrayal of both the male and female participants. Although the film is filled with uncomfortable and awkward moments, the explicit involvement of the documentarian is rarely evident. Instead, Ivanova is confident enough to let the story unfold on screen, supplementing long scenes of the men talking amongst themselves and some awkward—and often silent—dates with individual interviews with the male and female participants.

Despite the uncomfortable and sometimes disturbing subject matter and the long history of subjugation and objectification that are impossible not to consider when viewing it, Ivanona’s film is compelling, watchable, and even—perhaps most surprising of all—entertaining.

Written by: Erin Schowalter, March 18th 2011

WTF? Women: How to Survive 101 of the Worst F*#-ing Situations With the Ladies

gita — Sat, 12 Mar 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Jodi Miller, Gregory Bergman

Adams Media

The first time I flipped through this book, I felt like throwing it in the trash. The humor is crude and the tone misogynistic. But then I sat down and read it more carefully (not that it necessarily requires a careful reading). And I discovered that reading it was a lot like watching the performance of a stand-up comedian. Turns out that's not coincidental, since the creator of the WTF? series actually is a stand-up comedian out of LA, as is his co-author.

I'm not a man-hating feminist. But if I took this book seriously, I'd probably turn into one. Men aren't exactly depicted in the most flattering light. Fortunately, you don't have to take it seriously. And if you're an adolescent boy I think you would find it hilarious.

The 101 situations that are depicted in this book progress through the life cycle of a relationship: from being too shy to approach girls to what to do about sex if you're a senior citizen. After each situation is described, the reader is given several options to choose from for how to deal with it. For instance, #15 is “Dating a Virgin” and the options are: 1) embrace it; 2) run; and 3) sell her because virgins are in demand.

I think there's a lot of honesty in this book about how men do feel about women. But there's also a lot of satire, exaggeration and just plain poor taste. The vocabulary used comes right out of a porn film. If I give the authors the benefit of the doubt, I would characterize the book as a tongue-in-cheek look at male-female interactions. I would even go so far as to say that it says a lot (beneath the jokes) about how clueless and frustrated men are when it comes to the opposite sex. But for those who don't have a sense of humor, it's going to come across as a manual for how to treat women like bitches and sex objects.

That's why you should be careful who you buy this book for. It would be great as a gag gift at a bachelor's party, or as an addition to your bathroom library. But I would definitely hide it from your mother.

Written by: Ellen Keim, March 12th 2011

Monogamy

brittany — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 22:00:00 +0000

Directed by Dana Adam Shapiro

Oscilloscope

Don’t let the relationship-centric plot fool you; Monogamy is not a chick flick. In fact, it’s one of the more interesting films I’ve seen that explores fears about committing oneself to just one person for the rest of one’s life, from a wholly male perspective.

Typically these kinds of heteronormative man-boy treatises on marriage phobia are treated with ample doses of trite and predictable humor. While Monogamy dips its toe into these well worn waters, to writer-director Dana Adam Shapiro’s credit, it never dwells there for very long. Instead, Shapiro gives the viewer nonverbal shards of Theo’s (Chris Messina) conflicted inner tumult through a dully present, self-distanced, unsteady lens. The result is a thought-provoking film.

While Shapiro stays away from Hollywood-style cliché, Monogamy is overflowing with film student-esque visual metaphor: Theo’s repeated donning of a creepy dog mask indicates that men are dogs, an engagement ring constructed from a piece of string represents how Theo’s desire to get married is hanging by a thread, and a repetitive, ambient score overlays the relationship’s tedious monotony. These ubiquitous moments caused my partner to say out loud at one point, “Alright. We get it already!” Clearly, he’d had enough.

That said, I appreciated the way Monogamy's clunky pace impressed the awkward and stilted predictability present in Theo’s and Nat’s (Rashida Jones) interactions—and the interactions of most all the married couples in the film, for that matter. The utter lack of spontaneity coupled with Nat's rejection of his sexual advances made it easy to empathize with Theo’s frustration with his fiance, despite the deep level of comfort he felt with her. So, when the mysterious, daring, and overtly sexual Subgirl (Meital Dohan) makes an entrance by masturbating in a public park as Theo consensually captures the indiscretion with his camera, you can feel Theo’s core being shaken.

The enigmatic character’s pseudonym illuminates Theo’s undoing. Subgirl is not a full person, just a partial representation of something men desire: naughty, anonymous, illicit sex. She is as tantalizing as she is elusive, and her entry into his life causes Theo to become obsessed with what marrying Nat means giving up. He takes the gains of monogamy for granted.

This provocative, if somewhat banal film, is sure to get attention for all the wrong things: its treatment of voyeurism and exhibitionism, for example. But what makes Monogamy worth the watch is what it says about male perspectives and masculinity. It’s a trip to boy’s town, that’s for sure. And one I believe is worth making.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, March 11th 2011

The Summer Without Men

brittany — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Siri Hustvedt

Picador

The basic storyline of The Summer Without Men, while not startling or original, seemed full of possibility: husband cheats, wife goes to her childhood home for a respite to recover, and along the way makes potentially hopeful discoveries about herself. I anticipated a bitter beginning, full of hurt feelings, with some healing by the end. However, either the moment of redemption never arrived, or it was obscured by the lack of clarity in the narrative.

Siri Hustvedt has given us for a protagonist Mia Fredrickson, an intellectual poet who has almost nothing good to say about anybody, except for the philosophers and poets who stream through her mind and punctuate moments of daily life. Her library of poets-at-the-mental-fingertips was the most charming thing about her, and most readers could likely relate to the way a quote or a lyric arises unbeckoned from one’s memory. Mia assails the reader with her stream of consciousness ramblings, bouncing from observations about her detestable, cheating spouse to glimpses of her mental breakdown to detached remarks about her daughter. At times, it was difficult for me to remember where she was in space or time because her ramblings were hard to follow.

To my disappointment, Mia Frederickson was not a very sympathetic protagonist. She spends time with the women in a home for the elderly where her mother lives, and one scene raised my hopes that Mia might feel some humility, some sense of connection with other women. Instead, she continues to sound bitter and superior. When she befriends a young neighbor with a troubled marriage, I thought perhaps this friendship would bring moment of real connection. Instead, after she holds the neighbor’s baby, she describes it as a “borrowed homunculus.” This variety of cold, pretentious language fills the book and makes Mia rather difficult to connect with.

Toward the very end of the book Hustvedt asks, “Who among us would deny Jane Austen her happy endings?” Perhaps I am naive and too fond of stories that show the healing rather than the bitterness. After all, Mia’s husband has cheated after a long marriage full of disappointing moments. She was the supportive wife in the background, whose intellect often propelled her husband’s achievements while her voice went unrecognized. However, throughout the novel her voice is cool and distant, and events that might contribute to healing and growth seem to create no real effect. In this way, the novel reads more like a series of jarring snapshots.

Author Siri Hustvedt is the author of five novels, and this was my first encounter with her work. It may be that one of her earlier works would suit me better.

Written by: Lisa Rand, March 6th 2011

Give Me Liberty

beth — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Valerie Joan Connors

Give Me Liberty, by Valerie Joan Connors, is terrible. The book reads like someone narrating a Lifetime movie: one-dimensional, wooden, and worst of all, boring. You can guess what is going to happen well before it does, no characters are anything but exactly what you expect them to be, and the writing is pedestrian.

The story follows Eva Larkin from her courtship with her boyfriend to her abusive marriage in Michigan to her following her dream to write novels in New York. Getting from point A to point B happens exactly like you expect it to. Nothing interesting, new, or exciting happens—even when a possibility presents itself, Connors does not take it. For example, when Eva gets to New York, she has a disastrous first job, and then gets the job of her dreams in publishing. Her new boss loves her, promotes to columnist without reading any of her writing, and supports her without question. Everything goes her way, except for her first husband.

The characters are more than one dimensional—they have one character trait. That includes Eva. She’s saintly. Her ex-husband Leo is an alcoholic. It is hard to see why Eva ever liked him. Besides her ex-husband, the men in her life are generous. The women are supportive. All of them. Every woman she meets in New York City, all five of them, are older, rich, and willing to give Eva money, support, and love without question. And all of them have been abused, and saved by loving second husbands. She and son, Daniel, have no long-term effects of severe abuse, stalking, and assault. No one resembles a real person.

Connors’ dialogue sounds nothing like actual conversation. Characters state their feelings without subtext, or anything approaching conversational language. For example, one character asks Eva about a potential date. The question is “Is he good looking? Smart?” Eva’s response is “I guess so... He’s a little older than me.” That’s the entire explanation of him. Most of the conversations in the book sound exactly like that. No personality, no slang. Every character sounds exactly the same.

As I said, Give Me Liberty is not a good book. The characters need more depth, the writing needs to be sharpened, and the plot could use a twist somewhere. It feels like a first draft. Wait for the next one.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, March 3rd 2011

Love Will Find a Way

beth — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

By Lola Bleu

HSP Music

Lola Bleu, aka twenty-two-year-old R&B singer Janell McCracken, has a fine voice, so it’s a shame she doesn’t have better material to showcase it on her debut album, Love Will Find a Way. While some of the songs have catchy melodies, excessive instrumentation detracts from and sometimes obscures Bleu’s voice. A more restrained approach would have conveyed pathos on the soul-searching numbers but often emotion is lost in a wall of sound.

A phone call between two friends, in which one complains about feeling unsatisfied in her relationship, sets up the story. The other tracks cover various stages of a romantic relationship: fantasizing about a seemingly unreachable man (“Hate to Wake Up”), being stuck in a dysfunctional relationship (“Deep Pain”), breaking up in an empowering way (“So Over You”), and finding love again (“I Found You”).

Despite the production flaws, Bleu shows promise on both fast-paced dance tracks and reflective slow songs. “Get Away” is a standout; the doubled vocals and dance beat will have you tapping your toes and moving your shoulders, and it is less crowded instrumentally. The hand-clapping rhythm of “So Over You” will also stick in your head. Bleu’s solid delivery of two more heartfelt songs that hint that her talents may be best suited for ballads. Piano and strings distinguish “Where Do We Go from Here,” a mature, recrimination-free look at a stalled romantic relationship. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being around you… but it seems our flame has suddenly disappeared,” she sings. The introspective lyrics of “A Little Hope,” which is anchored by piano and electric guitar, also ring true.

Bleu’s persona and vocals are reminiscent of Rihanna and one hopes she will find material worthy of her musical gifts. She is a promising singer and deserves to have the spotlight shine on her talent.

Written by: Karen Duda, March 2nd 2011

Connected: The Suprising Power of Our Social Networks and How They Shape Our Lives — How Your Friends' Friends' Friends Affect Everything You Feel, Think, and Do

payal — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Nicholas A. Christakis, James H. Fowler

Little, Brown and Company

Connected is firstly an enjoyable read. There is something compelling about seeing the familiar, mundane details of our every day social life studied from a completely different perspective. Social networks are huge and for the most part we have no idea where we fit into them or just how far they reach. In a way this is Christakis and Fowler's point. What most of us think of as our social network are the people we know and see on a regular basis. In fact, the people who may have the most influence on us, the authors argue, are the people three degrees away in our network: friends of friends. And after three degrees the influence peters out. You are more likely to be happy if your friend's friends are happy than if you win the lottery!

Connected has been criticized for stating the obvious: we are more likely to be around people similar to us (“homophily” if you're a sociologist). But the argument the authors make is that we're not aware of the extent to which these relationships affect us, and most importantly how this impact could be used to better the world. If we are more likely to quit smoking because other people in our network have quit smoking than for any other reason, this is where anti-smoking resources should be directed. Similarly, politicians should focus on encouraging their supporters to recruit people in their networks to get involved rather than trying to reach out to individuals (and the authors argue Obama did this in the federal election).

The results of studies in this book are also sometimes unexpected, especially on the largely unstudied subject of social media. For example, a study was done on a small American town where sixty percent of the residents were given free wi-fi, and the other forty percent went internet free. After two years it was discovered that the households with internet developed deeper and broader connections to other residents, with more neighbourhood ties. Contrary to popular belief this suggests online communication might augment and improve real life relationships, not replace them.

The only issue I had with the social media chapter was that it already seemed a little dated, referring to sites like MySpace and iLike that have been mostly phased out. If anything this is a testament to how quickly changing our modern social networks are, as this book was only published in 2009. If you're ready to take a serious look at the influences that affect your life, most of which are probably beyond your control, read this book and prepare to have a whole new perspective.

Written by: Jennifer Burgess, February 2nd 2011

Blood From A Stone (1/22/2011)

brittany — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Acorn Theatre

New York, New York

Tommy Nohilly’s first play, Blood From A Stone, treads the familiar terrain of family dysfunction, zeroing in on the return of oldest son Travis [played with anguished complexity by Ethan Hawke] to the family’s ramshackle Connecticut home. What exactly ails this prodigal child is a mystery. We know that he is jobless, broke, single, and addicted to pain killers, but the demons that hover near him are never fully revealed. At first, the reasons he’s returned home are also unclear. Is he looking for solace? Hoping for a financial handout? Or does he truly want to see his parents and siblings?

As the play opens, Travis is in the living room schmoozing with his bedraggled mom [Ann Dowd] about the many problems besetting their nearest and dearest. They’re clearly comfortable with one another and as they fold laundry, we learn that Travis’ visit is intended to be a short stopover before he drives cross-country “to start over.” First, however, this eldest son intends to help his baby brother [played with a perfect blend of surface bravado and emotional terror by Thomas Guiry], a gambling addict now heavily in debt and in the throes of a marital break-up. Travis also makes clear that he’s in need of quality time with his mom, dad, sister [Natasha Lyonne], and former girlfriend [Daphne Rubin-Vega], a now-married mom.

Crisis after crisis looms. While there is some humor throughout the play, the shouting, stomping, and cursing that are this family’s M.O. make it hard to watch. Worse, Blood From A Stone says nothing new about the dynamics that simultaneously cleave people apart and hold them together. Indeed, while there is ample affection between the siblings and between each of the kids and their parents, why mother Margaret and father Bill [an apoplectic, continuously-raging Bill Clapp] have stayed together for umpteen years is anybody’s guess. In fact, their non-stop exchanges of vitriol are perplexing and awful.

The tension in the home is stomach churning, and one gets the sense that this is because of both political differences and family history. At one point Bill unleashes a racist rant, telling Travis that the U.S should turn Baghdad into “a fucking parking lot.” He verbally assails Osama Bin Laden, and while his comments elucidate his character, they do nothing to shed light on the tortured dance he, his wife, and kids have been doing for eons. Instead, the audience is privy only to his taunts, tirades, and violent outbursts. At the same time, Margaret’s proves that she is capable of giving as good as she gets, but to what end?

By the two-act play’s denouement, the audience has seen brilliant acting, a fantastic set evoking homey decrepitude, and a lot of fury, which, in a phrase, signifies nothing. It’s disappointing, to say the least.

In the end, Blood From A Stone confirms what we probably already knew, that love is not enough to quell deeply held hostilities or repair broken relationships. What’s more, it attests to the fact that the way family members interact needs to change before new ways of being can take root. Sadly, no one in Nohilly’s play seems ready to make that leap.

Blood From A Stone runs through February 5. Tickets are $60 and can be ordered by calling 212.239.6200 or going to TheNewGroup.org. The play is being performed at The Acorn Theater, 410 West 42 Street, New York, NY 10036.

Photo credit: Monique Carboni

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, January 24th 2011

Blue Valentine

mandy — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 09:00:00 +0000

Directed by Derek Cianfrance

Hunting Lane Films

Let me just go right out and say it, Blue Valentine is one of the best movies of the year. It is a major accomplishment for the actors (Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams) and the director (Derek Cianfrance).

The movie introduces us to a married couple( Gosling and Williams) with a young daughter as they start another day. Just the everyday minutiae of waking up and getting ready for your day. Bit by bit the movie exposes how unhappy they are and intersects between their current status and how they met and fell in love years ago. Think of it as the anti-rom-com, the movie that answers the question that most movies shy away from: what happens to the couple after they get together? It also answers the other question that is asked when two people are clearly unhappy in their relationship: why did they ever get together?

And boy does it answer those questions. Every line and detail builds that story. There is no one explosive or particularly memorable scene, but full crescendos building. One building up to falling in love, the other building away to falling out of love. And they come together in the two fantastic lead performances.

I was not sure about Gosling at first. But his performance is very smart. With very little back story, he makes you understand Dean. The young hopeful romantic he was, and the lazy husband and father he became. His physical transformation is phenomenal, but his emotional nakedness even more so.

Williams' Cindy has a lot of back story. It is refreshing to see the female protagonist get a fully fleshed out character and she does wonders with it. She has a fantastic scene on the Brooklyn Bridge where she can’t quite bring herself to tell Gosling something about their relationship. You can see and feel the fear and anticipation weighing so heavily on her. But that is just one scene. She is good in every moment on screen. I understood the young ambitious school girl, the wise daughter, and mostly the woman aching to change her life. Hers is the more unsympathetic character, but I was totally on her side because of the performance.

I’ve heard a lot about Blue Valentine being dark and depressing. I think it tells an all too human story and tells it well with open and emotional performances.

The full review can be read at Film Misery

Written by: Murtada Elfadl, January 9th 2011

Freedom

brittany — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

By Jonathan Franzen

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Brittany: I’m one of those lit geeks who has long loved Jonathan Franzen. I read How To Be Alone on a solo trip to Japan when I was twenty, and it particularly spoke to me as an introverted writer. The better part of a decade later, I’m still so infatuated with that particular collection—though I’ve also read Franzen’s three previous novels, memoir, numerous pieces in The New Yorker, and his longtime partner Kathryn Chetkovich’s Granta essay “Envy” before it was so publicly associated with Franzen—that it was no stretch to know I’d like Freedom. I’ve also read a lot about Franzen’s process as a writer, and frankly, it seems few people have the commitment to churn out the type of work he produces. That doesn’t mean I think it’s above critique; it’s just that I admire his work ethic and generally, the end result.

Mandy: Given that I frequently read The New York Times Book Review and listen to pop culture pundits on NPR, I’m quite familiar with Franzen’s status as a literary darling; however, I had never read his work until Freedom. This past July, I listened to a compelling New Yorker podcast in which Franzen discussed the prevalence of songbird killings for food in the Mediterranean, and I decided it was time I join the ranks and give this guy a shot. When Freedom was released, I dutifully attempted to avoid its reviews, so as to not taint my experience of the nearly 600-page tome. But that effort yielded little success; once the media got a hold of the book, glowing reviews were ubiquitous, and thus my hopes were high.

Brittany: Freedom ended up being much of what I expected, and months after putting it back on the shelf, I’m still relatively satisfied with the long nights it took me to finish it off. Five main characters (six if you count the underdeveloped daughter) weave in and out of one another’s lives, most tragically and painfully, and nearly all of them are deeply flawed, rather screwed up people.

For reasons I still haven’t quite figured out, I identified both with philandering tortured artist Richard Katz and college athlete cum miserable housewife Patty Berglund. In part, I think this is because Franzen has gotten rather good at not overstating who his characters are, allowing readers to put a bit of our own experience onto the story of each key player. That said, as is nearly always the case when a critic loves a mainstream work, I like to pretend that the reflection I seek in this sort of fiction isn’t shared by anyone else. I don’t want to think about who else identifies with a woman like Patty, because in the end, while I might have felt for her, having sympathy for her character is also very much a statement of how I see myself opposed to her. I’m not a miserable housewife, nor am I an adulterer (even if I do sometimes act like a tormented creative type). Being able to both identify as something and not as something both hold value for me; in this case, simultaneously.

Without giving too much away, I think the book is about having compassion, and I suspect that I liked it because I tried to have a lot of it for all of the characters. Except for Joey Berglund. I think he has a personality disorder.

Mandy: While I understand why Franzen is being showered with praise, I was pretty disappointed in Freedom. To my mind, fiction should facilitate a temporary transportation into the world the author has created, and my main criticism of Freedom is that I was entirely aware through the duration of the book that a) I was reading, b) I was reading something someone made up, and c) I was experiencing characters through the lens of the author (read: they didn't come off as authentic selves). It also was clear to me that Franzen himself really identifies with Walter Berglund; therefore all the characters felt like they were presented through Walter's point of view, even when they were in first person narration.

Many critics have lauded Franzen for having the ability to write realistically from a woman’s perspective, a notion that itches my anti-essentialist thinking and one with which I don’t entirely agree. Even though most of Freedom is written is from Patty's perspective, the novel really revolves around her husband, Walter. For that reason, it makes sense that Franzen chose to write a lot of Patty's self-reflection in third person, particularly since one can argue that women’s lives tend to revolve around men’s (instead of their being agents of self-determination), a viewpoint to which I give some credence. But the question is one of intentionality on the part of the author, and I don't think Franzen was ever really able to get inside Patty’s character in a way where she enveloped him; it was always the other way around, with Walter being the focal point. The same is true for Richard Katz, the two kids, and Lalitha. In fact, the only character I even slightly identified with—and believe me, it was only slight—was Jessica. But she barely got any face-time, and may have been the least developed of all the characters.

It probably didn't help Franzen’s case that I recently read Zadie Smith's On Beauty, a novel which is thematically similar to Freedom (in that it also has a filial cast of rather unlikable characters who represent middle class liberal America’s hypocrisies and idiosyncrasies) that also had the benefit of an immensely skilled author whose linguistic craftsmanship and character development outshines Franzen’s, in my humble opinion. Smith’s characters are messy and lack self-awareness or self-control that might prevent their ample mistakes while Franzen’s characters see the forest for the trees and still insist on bumbles. In that light, On Beauty contained happy and unhappy surprises that felt genuine. With Freedom, I had the jump on the trajectory of each storyline from beginning to end, and the failure of the writing itself to captivate had me using the strength of self-persuasion to avoid skipping pages. In short, enjoying Freedom required too much effort for my liking.

Brittany: The last two pages of the book were simply magical for me and made the whole thing worth it because I'm not good enough yet at predicting endings to have seen any of that coming. I tend to think ninety percent of fictional or fictionalized stories—films, books—end horribly, and this didn't. I may like to think I’m above a happy ending, that I can somehow stomach that life so rarely grants them, but for me personally right now, I was just sort of relieved that even made-up people could have one.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, Brittany Shoot, January 6th 2011

The Memory of Love

gwen — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Aminatta Forna

Atlantic Monthly Press

The Memory of Love is a slow and beautiful book. I'm not the biggest fan of art that proceeds at such a deliberate pace, but this is definitely at the top of the heap for such books; the descriptions are lovely and precise, every detail picked out with absolute care. I loved the representations of African life, which felt honest and authentic. Having recently spent a year in Africa, I had lots of moments of recognition—for example, the racism of many international aid workers is often well-depicted (although it’s carefully not attributed to the “good” expatriate characters, which struck me as simplistic). The author—who is biracial and was raised in the United Kingdom and Sierra Leone—also includes some good post-colonial critique, but it rarely feels like the critique overpowers the narrative.

The book is set mainly in 2001 in Sierra Leone, with three main characters (all male): a dying university professor, a brilliant young surgeon, and a British expatriate psychiatrist. They're complex characters with intriguing perspectives—particularly the professor, who survived very un-heroically through turbulent times, and is not painted in a sympathetic manner at all. The whole story forms a vivid, touching portrait of war—its devastating, multifaceted effects on human beings; its numb aftermath.

It seems like an odd choice for a female author to tell a story primarily through male characters, however, and it's a little bit difficult to know how to review such a book as a feminist. Interestingly, The Memory of Love fails the Bechdel test (to pass, it would require "at least two women in it, who talk to each other, about something other than a man"). There are at least two women in the book, but I can't think of a scene offhand in which they talk to each other. Of course, the main characters are male, so how could there be such a scene?

Perhaps it's more relevant to discuss how the female characters are portrayed. There are definitely women in this book to equal the men; I particularly liked the psychiatrist's close female friend Ileana, a brusque psychologist and likewise European, whose narrative function is usually to call him out for his assumptions or stereotypes. He also has a female patient with a sad and stirring story. The book's two most important female characters are quite mysterious, though.

Those two female characters are the major love interests—and the two scenes in which we see men fall in love with them depict love at first sight. The women's personalities usually seem incidental to the passion of their lovers. In fact, I would go so far as to call both women ciphers. I never felt like I had much idea of what they were thinking. The male psychiatrist also has a wife and daughter back home, who (in the rather rare instances that they appear) are similarly opaque.

In general, I liked The Memory of Love, especially as a delicate description of a war-ravaged country. But—oddly for a book whose title implies that it's mostly about love—though I enjoyed the portrayals of the men’s emotional experiences throughout their difficult romances, I closed the book feeling somewhat dissatisfied, because I felt so little connection to the female characters.

Written by: Clarisse Thorn, December 19th 2010

Sex, Power and Consent: Youth Culture and the Unwritten Rules

priyanka — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

By Anastasia Powell

Cambridge University Press

I have been always interested in the problems, points of view, and so much more in the lives of young people; I also decided at the ripe age of twenty that at some point in my life I was going to be a lecturer!

Despite educating teenagers (and being taught by them) for the last twenty years and more, I have not lost my enthusiasm for knowing and guiding them from the perspective of what youngsters of eighteen to twenty consider an ‘old’ wise woman!

How do young people live their lives these days? Do they have the same problems that I had when I was eighteen? So much has changed in the last twenty to thirty years. We are bombarded by a sex-crazed culture, sex-everywhere phenomena. When we switch the TV on, we are faced with sex or violence in movies, shows, talks etc. In the words of Anastasia Powell, the author of Sex, Power and Consent: “contemporary Western Culture has been described as the age of raunch, generation sex, and generation SLUT (Sexually Liberated Urban Teens)."

Being part of such a cultural make-up, what are the views of young people on sex and love these days? Do they have more sex, more sexual relationships than my so-called liberated generation of the late 1970s? Do the youth talk openly about sex? Do they equate sex with love? How long do their relationships last when they are still teenagers? What is it that they want from relationships at the tender age of eighteen to twenty?

Powell’s indisputably needed and thorough book provides most answers to my questions. Her research and interviews with 117 teens and young adults of diverse sexualities in Victoria, Australia, provides readers with a wealth of knowledge about young people of today. She limited her research to one country but unquestionably, it is the representative study of Western youth.

Her book would be of interest to young and not-so-young readers as the author answers many questions that trouble Generation Y (born in or after 1982). It explores issues surrounding youth sex within popular culture, sexuality education and sexual violence prevention. It also clearly presents unwritten rules and the gendered power relationships which have not changed as drastically as I had always thought it had over the last twenty to thirty years. I was surprised to read that despite the apparent sexual freedom, the rates of sexual assault continue to rise with ninety-nine percent of offenders being male and ninety-two percent of sexual assault victims being women (according to Victoria Police data from 2008-2009).

The book also provides practical strategies for young people and for those who work with them towards the prevention of sexual violence. This very well-researched and written study would also be a useful reading for young women who feel pressured into unwanted sex. It might help them to be more aware of their choices, which is always welcome.

Written by: Anna Hamling, December 14th 2010

Going Away Shoes

priyanka — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Jill McCorkle

Algonquin Books

The protagonists of Jill McCorkle’s exciting collection of stories, Going Away Shoes, are middle-aged heterosexuals deep in the doldrums of life’s disappointments. Whether because of a stalled career, a divorce, a death, or simply the exhaustion born of juggling family, work and social obligations, these are women who’ve been battered by everyday tragedies and everyday pressures.

The title story introduces Debby Tyler. The oldest of three daughters, she has been left to care for her infirm mother. Since she has never been married, her two siblings assume that she has no life. Taut and spare, the story zeroes in on the role of memory in assuaging both guilt and desire; in addition, fantasy enters the mix as Debby imagines packing her bags and exiting the domestic hell she is mired in.

Marilyn, the protagonist of “Intervention,” is a retired woman who has become increasingly terrified of her husband’s escalated alcoholism. Her mistake, however, is mentioning this problem to her children, both of whom set out to plan a family intervention that will send their husband and dad into rehab. What ensues on the day of the expected confrontation is a fantastically moving reflection on long-term love that is both heartbreaking and filled with warmth and wisdom. The ways couples insulate themselves, and the ways the agendas of parents and children sometimes collide, makes this a particular stand-out in McCorkle’s eleven-story collection.

Other relationships also come in for scrutiny and sibling love meets sibling rivalry in “Another Dimension,” a tale that centers on the secrets and lies that both bind and divide us. Once kids no longer need to unite against parental forces, what purpose does maintaining long-maintained deception serve? McCorkle’s cudgel is sharp as she pierces the gut of duplicity and illuminates the limits of amends and apologies.

The anthology is heavy stuff told with wit, finesse, and abundant humor. In “Midnight Clear,” for example, the main character, a recently-divorced mother of two, is getting ready for a Christmas Eve bash when she suddenly notices a foul odor permeating her home. In short order the culprit is identified: Her septic tank is malfunctioning. This slice of what-can-go-wrong-will-go-wrong is made ever more horrific when we learn that the planned party will include the narrator’s ex and his new girlfriend. So what to do? A chance encounter with a guardian angel-cum-repairman—an elderly gent with stories to share—might have seemed contrived in less skilled hands. Here, however, it works and the magic of chance encounters is rendered with both grace and elegance.

McCorkle is a mature writer, someone who refuses to be lulled by blinders and palaver, a writer who notices every nuance and detail. Her woman are strong and capable, if sad. Yet at the same time, Going Away Shoes is a hopeful book in which the lure of untapped possibilities remains within reach. Like the golden ring on a carousel, her message suggests that if we keep our eye on the prize it just might find its way into our waiting hands.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, November 4th 2010

Remedies

beth — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Kate Ledger

Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam

“When you [lack] words to make others understand your truths, you [stand] apart from the jabbering masses. You alone [possess] proof of your unique and involuted humanness, and through that, contact with something divine.”

Our ability to experience pain is what makes us human, but it is our inability to describe pain that brings us close to god. In moments of great crisis, religious rituals provide us with the right words to say. But when we turn toward what is beyond our understanding, do we do so because we feel ourselves rendered mute by trauma or because we are looking for a quick fix to our pain?

Kate Ledger’s premiere novel, Remedies, centers around Simon and Emily Bear, an affluent couple who seem incapable of saving their marriage. Simon is consumed with his work as a physician, treating patients suffering from chronic pain, and this blinds him to the growing resentment of his wife and their daughter, Jamie. A confident performer in her fast-paced career, Emily doubts her ability to be a good mother. She finds that her need to be closer to Jamie gains urgency even as Jamie resists her, and especially as she feels herself disconnecting from Simon. As their marriage and family life disintegrates, Simon and Emily reflect on their roles in the world: their careers, their marriage, their relationships with their daughter, and their unspoken pain over their son who died as a newborn.

Remedies is layered with symbolic landscapes. After the death of their infant son, Simon placed their son’s things in a box labeled “Baby.” The box sits on a shelf in the basement of the Bears’ home. Emily has never opened the box and, in fact, avoids going into the basement at all, just as she has never visited the baby’s grave, just as she and Simon avoid having any conversations about him. The basement is also the physical threshold between Simon’s home and office, an indication that Simon has compartmentalized his life, but the fact that the last physical traces of the baby are stored in that transitional space indicate that Simon’s worlds cross over in complicated ways.

Ledger creates dense domestic surfaces—the distant tone of the narration and the tendency toward sketches make this book feel chilly; Simon and Emily are so disconnected from one another, it is difficult for the reader to connect to them. Reading Remedies is something akin to visiting a national park and observing the landscape from behind a velvet rope while listening to the park ranger on your earphones. There is no opportunity to get close to anything, to touch anything. What you experience from your limited vantage point is tempered by the voice in your ears and is, unfortunately, too much like what you’ve expected to see.

Remedies ends dubiously, deus ex machina, with Simon crying in a synagogue. Frustratingly, although Ledger’s finest writing surrounds Emily in the penultimate part of the novel, what the reader learns of Emily in the final part is through Simon, in effect, shortchanging her. Ledger creates a tenuous parallelism between Simon and Emily: predictably, while Simon grieves in a synagogue, Emily, alone in her apartment, angrily stabs a painting of her lover who has returned to his ex-wife.

Though the ending gestures at resolution, nothing is actually resolved. Simon decides that he will ask Emily for her forgiveness because he feels reassured by the space of the synagogue, by common prayer: “Open Thou my lips… age-old proof the words [don’t] come easily.” As anyone who has experienced pain knows, words do not come easily, but while we muddle through our lives as we can, knowing that there is no such thing as a quick fix, Ledger’s Simon Bear unconvincingly takes a quick fix for a permanent one.

Written by: Elizabeth Brasher, October 28th 2010