Yellowface: The Good and the Not-So-Good

 

Yellowface (2023)

By R. F. Kuang

Harper Collins, 323 pages

★★★

 

 

 Given that Babel is one of my favorite novels of recent memory, the next novel by R. F. Kuang had to be a letdown. That happened with Yellowface, though not for the reasons I anticipated.

 

There is still much to recommend, so let's start with that. First, it blows the lid off the viciousness of the publication business, especially agents, editors, marketers, legal teams, and social media trolls who can make or break a book. Yellowface details how the previously mentioned invent more than the writers. In other words, not all the fiction is on the page.

 

Is a writer’s life glamorous? Kuang presents it as a lonely profession of toil, rejection, self-doubt, turf protection, endless rewrites, negotiation, and for the chosen few, ephemeral success. The book that gets published is seldom the one that the author set out to write; it is shaped by market-driven publication teams that claim mystic knowledge of what readers want, what's unique, and what's too outré. As is often the case, they want books to conform to the world they helped create.

 

Yellowface also makes us contemplate the definition of plagiarism, as well as who has the right to tell a particular kind of story and who was guilty of cultural appropriation. Enter jealousy, the cancel culture and just plain nasty troublemakers.

 

And its heart are two 27-year-old writers, Athena Liu and June Song Hayward. Athena had a book deal before she even graduated from college. She is hailed as a generational voice in Asian American literature, is attractive, owns classy digs in Georgetown, and has money galore. What she lacks is friendship. She is a self-absorbed loner with cloaked contempt for critics, readers, and publishers. For some reason, Athena occasionally wants a girls’ night out with Hayward. June doesn't really like Athena much, but she appreciates her talent and her complimentary remarks about June's writing.

 

Secretly June envies Athena's success, as her own writing has garnered decent reviews but not much gain. One soiree at Athena’s apartment ends with a bout of laughter in which Athena chokes, June's attempts at the Heimlich maneuver fail, and by the time ET's arrive, Athena is dead. On impulse, June lifts a completed manuscript from Athena's desk and spirits it away.

 

It's not quite what you think. June is shocked that Athena considered it finished. There are a few golden sentences and there is possibility in the story of Chinese conscripted labor in World War II, but it’s a boring, rambling mess filled with asides and dense detours few readers would wish to navigate. June painstakingly does her own research, creates characters, imposes narrative coherence, and completely rewrites it until all that's left is the general idea.

 

Whose book is it? June shops as her own, has a spat with one publisher, and lands another who promises it will be the year's literary sensation. But if you think June did surgery, the publishers have much more in mind, including adding romance and heroic white characters. They also decide to put the name of Juniper Song on the cover because it sounds faintly Asian. June never pretended to be Asian, but she's cowed into going along with dropping her surname. (Her middle name Song is merely a melodic  family name.) Her publisher assures her all will be fine.

 

The book is indeed a big hit, but her photo leads trolls to question where a white chick gets off donning yellowface to write about Asians. The publisher doesn't care as long as the sales roll in, but social media explodes when proprietary trolls insist that nobody who isn't Asian could write such a book. They drop the charge that she stole it from her dead friend. Did she? As the sharks circle, things get very complicated.

 

Yellowface shifts from conscience-wrestling to a thriller and it's not a smooth transition. Kuang is a skilled storyteller but–and it’s big but–the tale she tells is very analogous to Jean Hanff Korelitz's The Plot (2021). The externals are different, but the manner of reworking a dead author’s ideas are quite similar. To be clear, I’m not suggesting the P-word, as Korelitz didn't exactly invent the scenario. However, The Plot is more consistent in tone and the psychology of its protagonist. I was, however, disappointed that Kuang published her book so soon after Korelitz’s novel appeared.

 

Rob Weir

Best of 2023 Concerts and Art Exhibits

Best Concerts:

 

Okay, so I got a little preoccupied, forgot to fix a broken link, and didn’t get around to finishing my (personal) best of 2023 lists. Belatedly, here is my list of favorite concerts  and favorite art exhibits.

 

Tom Paxton

 

 

I saw numerous concerts last year, but several stood out. First, a shout to one at the end of 2022 at the Whately Town Hall. Tom Paxton turned the packed venue into a giant living room that felt so much like a farewell tour that there were many moist eyes as audience members sang along to their favorites from an icon of the Folk Revival.

 

Mary Chapin Carpenter

 

 

The best show by far came from Mary Chapin Carpenter, who appeared at Northampton’s Academy of Music in August. The AOM is not a great venue for amplified music, but MCC’s sound crew squeezed out the best sound I’ve ever heard there. She is also the consummate pro who knows how to sing a song, not just scream it. 

 

Breabach

 

Close on MCC’s heels were five  Celtic shows at Bombyx in Florence: Altan has been around since 1987, but the band breathed new life into their performance rather than just mailing it in like so many veteran acts do. I had heard recordings of the Scottish band Breabach, but I was pleasantly surprised by how energetic and exciting they were on stage. Speaking of which, Ireland’s Lunasa has long been an instrumental group but they’ve added singer/guitarist Colin Farrell (no, not that guy) who allows the band’s repertoire to expand. It was a great show. If you’ve never seen fiddler extraordinaire Eileen Ivers, you don’t what Celtic music sounds like when it melds with other musical forms. Ivers plays with passion and fire. I also caught the farewell tour of Clannad, who are coming off the road after 52 years. You’d never know they’re in their geriatric years!

 

That’s a segue to mentioning Judy Collins who appeared at the AOM. She’s 84, but still sings like an angel. Every now and then you hear her shift to a lower register, but she recreated her album Wildflowers and transported us back to 1967. How she can still sing like that is like asking how Catherine Deneuve still looks gorgeous.

 

The AOM saw another goodbye in its John Prine Tribute lineup as part of the Back Porch Festival at the AOM. A solid lineup of local musicians formed a band that fronted various guest artists to celebrate Prine’s life and amazing repertoire of songs poignant and funny.

 

Finally, Lisa Bastoni’s show at the Parlor Room was simply a warm throwback to the days when folk music didn’t need more than a guitar and a sweet voice.

 

If you’re wondering if I saw any bad shows, yeah, one. Lisa Lambert at the AOM, which was like an LGBTQ version of Hee Haw. She has some chops, but her voice also audibly broke and strained.

 

Best of the Art World:

 

This needs to be broken into several categories. Some of our most joyous moments took place behind our computer listening to the amazing talks from Jane Oneail, founder Culturally Curious (https://iamculturallycurious.com/ )Jane makes you understand and care about art you never thought you’d like.

 

 

 

But I really need to parse the shows because we were lucky enough to be in Europe in May. It’s hardly fair to compare our favorite experiences to gallery shows Stateside. If you’re ever in Lucerne, Switzerland, a must go is the Sammland Rosengart. (It’s not the city art museum.) In the private Rosengart Collection you will see voluminous numbers of canvasses from Pablo Picasso (above) and Paul Klee (below) and I liked both immensely. In fact, I liked the Klees in Lucerne more than what I saw in Bern’s Paul Klee Museum.

 

 

 

If you consider medieval churches art–and you should–Chartres might be the best of France given that Notre Dame is still under reconstruction. If not Chartres, then certainly the jewel box Ste. Chapelle in Paris.

 

 

Chartres

Ste. Chapelle

 

The above said, of all the repositories I’ve ever entered, Musée D’Orsay in Paris might be my favorite. If you like Impressionism, Fauvism, Post-Impressionism, or pretty much any other kind of art, sculpture, or photography from the years 1848-1914, it is the place to go. Even the revamped train station that houses it is spectacular. The only thing restricting your enjoyment is that it’s so rich that your brain might explode from trying to take it all in.

 

Cezanne

Monet

 

 

 

Paul Signac

Van Gogh

 

There are huge galleries on both sides & 3 floors

 

We saw some fine shows back home as well. Three stood above the rest. A show at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts devoted to John Singer Sargent and fashion was sprawling and amazing. A trip to the Cloisters in New York City, where I hadn’t been in decades, was almost as good as visiting Cluny in Paris. But I give a slight # 1 nod to a show of Edvard Munch and Nature at the Clark Institute of Art.  

 

Edvard Munch's "Starry Night"

 

 

We didn’t actually see any disappointing exhibitions, large or small. As for the latter, if you’re ever in the area, pay a visit to the Brattleboro Museum of Art in Vermont. When you don’t have a huge endowment or permanent collection, clever curators can do a lot with limited resources. Few do it better than, in New England parlance, the folks “up to Brat.”  

 

Rob Weir

Barbie: Fun 10, Story 5

 

 

 

Barbie (2023)

Directed by Greta Gerwig

Warner Brothers, 114 minutes, PG-13

★★★

 

If you told me on January 1 of last year that I would watch a film about the doll Barbie, I would have suggested you check yourself into rehab. But, as almost everyone on the planet knows, Barbie the movie actually happened. It had a big budget–more than $125 million–but Greta Gerwig as director and cowriter (with Noah Baumbach) made a film that has raked in $1.4 billion and counting.

 

How to review such a cultural powerhouse? I know practically nothing about Barbie beyond what I saw in TV ads that interrupted my boyhood Saturday morning cartoons. In my generation, any boy with a Barbie invited ostracism and even those with a G.I. Joe were suspect. No apologies or regrets, it’s simply the way it was. Thus, I am not qualified to say what Barbie dolls meant or did not mean to little girls of my era or to the women they are now.

 

I can comment on Barbie as a piece of filmmaking. The set designs of Sarah Greenwood and Katie Spencer are fabulous. They took inspiration from the mid-century modernism of Palm Springs and built a Barbie fantasy land bathed in pink with aqua accents. The sets tiptoe the line between toy world and the sort of sharp lines-meet-garish colors often associated with 1950s architecture.

 Equally impressive were the costumes from Jacqueline Durran and the hair/makeup efforts of Ivana Primorac. I have no idea how many Oscar nominations Barbie will garner, but I’d not be surprised to see it sweep all things production and style related. (I hope that doesn’t happen with music, much of which I found annoying. Then again, it’s not the sort of thing you’ll find on my playlists.)

 

A surprising admission: I found Barbie fun to watch. Its two leads­–Margot Robbie as Stereotypical Barbie and Ryan Gosling as Beach Ken–were well cast and clearly enjoyed chewing up the scenery. Robbie was especially an inspired choice. At one point in the movie she is so depressed that she feels “ugly.” We hear Helen Mirren’s snarky voiceover telling Mattel that if they want someone to look ugly, “don’t cast Margot Robbie.” That’s for sure! She’s simply stunning physically, but also throws herself into her role and isn’t afraid of self-deprecating humor. (Ditto for a buffed up Ryan Gosling, who apparently can sing.)

 

Here's the rub. It’s simultaneously a satire, an extended commercial for Mattel, and has a storyline that is too often cloying. After we revel in Barbieland–where every female not named Skipper is a “Barbie” from Mattel’s evolving product line (Black Barbies, professional Barbies, plus-sized Barbie)–the movie confronts the need to impose a story of some sort.

 

Some sort indeed. All the males are named Ken, except for the dumped product Allan (Michael Cera), and most are in love with Stereotypical Barbie, especially Beach Ken and Tourist Ken (Simu Liu). It’s futile, of course, because every day is exactly the same in Barbieland and nobody has genitals. (There are some funny, if cheap jokes about that.) But when Stereotypical Barbie asks if anyone ever thinks about “death,” it’s an indication that there is a rip in the barrier between Barbieland and the real world that Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) insists must be fixed.

 

Robbie and Gosling set off to the real world, a shocking and awkward encounter that will involve going to Mattel headquarters in Los Angeles, where CEO Will Ferrell and his all-male board are horrified to see Barbie. This sets off a heavy-handed caper/chase film that covers terrain such as Ken’s discovery of patriarchy, a tween who hates Barbie (Ariana Greenblatt), her mother who doesn’t (America Ferrera), philosophy lite, meeting Barbie’s creator (Rhea Perlman), major trouble in Barbieland–rebranded as Kenland–a showdown between Kens, dealing with the rupture, Barbie’s Pinocchio-like desires, and a hysterical ending line. It sort of/kind of works, but it’s also undeniably hackneyed.

 

To its credit, Barbie raises themes and questions about patriarchy, femininity, feminism, materialism, mortality, the meaning of beauty, and a few other things. But don’t worry; like Barbie dolls it’s more gloss than substance. This is in part because Mattel Films was involved in the production. Mattel deserves credit for poking fun at itself, but like all things in the movie, it’s a gentle jibe designed to help its bottom line.

 

Rob Weir

 

 

Early Morning Riser: Love and Weirdness in Small Town USA

 

 

Early Morning Riser (2023)

By Katherine Heiny

Borzoi Books, 317 pages

★★★★

 

Early Morning Riser is touching, funny, and occasionally tart. Author Katharine Heiny reminds readers that relationships only need to make sense to those in them. There’s a backdoor shout out to advice columnist Ann Landers (1918-2002) whose favorite instruction to busybodies was “MYOB.” That’s “mind your own business” for the text abbreviation crowd.

 

Jane Wilkes is a 26-year-old second-grade teacher who has recently moved to Boyne City, a real place of around 4,000 people in northern Michigan. Several actual places, including the ice cream/candy store Kilwins factor into the story. Heiny’s Boyne City is a friendly place, but also one prone to gossip and to nosy parkers who give advice whether you want it or not. Locals think Jane is a wonderful teacher, but they try to warn her off of 42-year-old local carpenter Duncan Ryfield. Much of the population love Duncan or, more accurately, has loved him. He’s a free-spirited cowboy/Lothario type who, aside from a dissolved marriage to the realtor Aggie, has had brief flings with most of the single women in the town and adjoining region. When Jane starts to fall for him, the locals as well as Jane’s bossy mother Phyllis, (metaphorically) line up to take bets on how long she will last. 

 

The weird part is that most of Duncan’s ex-lovers think he’s a great guy who is resourceful and treats women with respect. That includes Aggie, who Jane suspects still carries a torch for Duncan. But she’s now married to Gary, a State Farm agent and a seriously odd guy that we suspect isn’t all there. Among Duncan’s good deeds is throwing work to Jimmy Jellico, a seemingly mentally challenged guy very reminiscent of Rub in Richard Russo’s North Bath, New York  novels. Jimmy’s favorite lines–which he repeats ad nauseam–are “How about that? Isn’t that something?” Like Rub, Jimmy has a very unusual relationship. He is besotted with Raylene, who works at Kilwins, and is either pretty or ugly as sin, depending on who you ask. She’s twice divorced, lives in a trailer park, is decidedly lower class, and seems to have a boyfriend. Duncan figures this is nobody’s business and goes out of his way to involve Jimmy in socializing. Jane easily falls in line with that.

 

We quickly catch on that eccentricity rules in Boyne City. Some of the local color includes a mandolin player, a lush who falls in love late in life, an almost wedding, and some other relationships that make those of Jane, Aggie, Duncan, and Gary seem almost normal. A tragedy and a scam will throw Duncan, Jane, and Jimmy into an intentional family. Jane will even become a mother. The crisis about that is that Duncan has to wrack his brain to come up with a girl’s name that isn’t that of any woman he once dated!

 

As you can see, Early Riser is an unconventional novel. One of its finest virtues is that it calls into question the very definition of convention. It has many screamingly funny tidbits, not the least of which are Jane’s career day classes in which she invites guests to share what their work entails. I shall say only that some of it is certainly not what you’d expect second graders to hear! Taco Tuesdays are another sometimes bizarre occasion. On a more serious note, Jimmy is officially “dull normal.” That’s a term that’s still used, despite the fact that it’s an oxymoron that’s roughly as clear as a murder of crows at midnight.

 

Comedian Lenny Bruce once said, “I hate small towns because once you’ve seen the cannon in the park there’s nothing else to do.” I guess Lenny never visited Boyne City. He would have found a lot of surreal material for his act in the small towns abutting Lake Michigan.

 

Rob Weir

January 2024 Music: Julian Taylor, Dogo du Togo, Emilie Clepper, Lori Triplett, Shadwick Wilde, Viv & Riley

 

Afro-Canadian/Mohawk Julian Taylor has put out so much good music of late that I consider him to be my artist of the year for 2023. If you’ve not yet heard him or want to get up to speed, he has released Anthology Volume 1­,18 tracks from his back catalogue that capture him in his various guises: folk singer, rocker, solo artist, band rat, and Canada’s answer to Motown blues and soul. It’s no exaggeration to say that he’s masterful in each genre. “City Song” is a bittersweet reminder that a musician’s life on the road is pitted with perils. His journey takes us from Regina to Quebec City and New York. He tells us he “fell down,” but not out for the count. He keeps things simpler but in the same vein on “Ballad of a Young Troubadour,” goes full soul man on “Be Good to Your Woman” (complete with some retro keys), splashes us with drops of Carib vibe on “Just a Little Bit More,” and offers some roadhouse funk in “Zero to Eleven.” No matter how it’s sliced or diced, Julian Taylor is a master musical chef.

 

 

Dogo du Togo is a singer, a band, and an homage to Dogo’s homeland. For those whose geography skills are rusty, Togo is a West African nation tucked between Ghana and Benin. Dogo is the smooth lead vocalist of a movable feast band that includes guitarists, a bass player, various backup singers, and all manner of drums and clicking percussion. Dogo now resides in the Washington, DC area but the band is pure West Africa. Think hypnotic rhythms, bright guitar riffs, call-and response vocals, and music that makes you sway. The album, simply titled Dogo du Togo, mostly spotlights festive songs. Try “Obligation” and “Soké Wo,” which features a women’s backing chorus.  If you these–and I like them a lot–seek out Dogo du Togo on Bandcamp and other musical platforms. They will bring sunshine into your gray winter.

 

 

Emilie Clepper lives in Quebec City, where she spent much of her youth, and she identifies as Canadian. That said, The Family Record probably isn’t what you think. It includes her father Russell (Porch Brothers), who is as Texan as the Brazos is wide. This album crosses three borders. “Pablo’s Mandolin” gallops across the southern line into Mexico and takes a Texan twang with it. “Texas Sunshine” also has giddyap, this time through the blue bonnets. So Emilie is a PQ cowgirl, yes? Well… what do you want to do with “La Valse à Gaètan,” which sounds like Texas is a ‘burb of Quebec City? Speaking of which, Emilie also sings a vibrato-heavy “Streets ofQuebec.” I guess it goes to show you shouldn’t judge an album by its cover. This one grew on me more every time I listened.

 

Staying in the unexpected vein, don’t be surprised if When the Morning Comes, the latest release from indie Nashville-based Lori Triplett, is her breakthrough. It officially releases in March but can be pre-ordered now and is an excellent blend of folk-based singer/songwriter tracks and Nashville production. Check out “Hollow White Oak” with its ghostly nostalgia feel and you’ll know right away that Triplett has chops. On the sweeter side of things, try the piano-led “Things I’m Letting Go Of.” A few of the songs are drenched in too much production and would benefit from dialing back the atmospherics, but Triplett can definitely air things out. It’s not on the new album, but if you want to get more of a sense of her talent, listen to her cover of Joni Mitchell’s “River.” There’s only one Joni, but I didn’t turn off Triplett’s version of one of my favorite songs of all time.

  

 

Shadwick Wilde has squeezed a lot of experience out of his life, not all of it good. He grew up with an activist mother and has lived in San Francisco, Havana, and Amsterdam. He came out of his punk rock phase and went into addiction rehab. Forever Home is a 360º turn from the punk ethos, a mellow album (with powerful vocal transitions) that signal a man who has found some peace but understands that love and life are fragile. In the album’s namesake track” Wilde sings, You are my forever home/I think I’ve always known. But such is his love that were she to decide upon a ”better home,” I would burn it all down so you court start anew. The high piano keys, ringing tones, and gentle melody are emblematic of most of the record. His “Easy Rider” is an easy glide, not a wild ride. He promises, Your precious cargo is safe with me. On another track we understand that cargo to be “Two Girls with Hazel Eyes.” Lest you think Wilde consumed by sentimentality, “Floating Away” contains both a metaphor of floating like water and hoping we end up in the same sea, but also acknowledges that it’s not up to me.

 

 

Viv & Riley (Vivian Leva and Riley Colcagno) are a 20s-something bluegrass duo based in Durham, North Carolina. Their Imaginary People album builds off the title song to probe the various ways in which we idealize ourselves. Needless to say, there’s sometimes a gap between perception and reality, as Viv informs us in  Imaginary People, which is disguised as a self-confessional. She has a sweet voice and carries most of the leads; Riley takes a few, but mostly he harmonizes and adds really fine fiddle, banjo, mandolin, and guitar. (Some might recall his days with the band The Onlies.) Riley does take the lead on “Is It All Over,” which is not a breakup song; it’s an ethereal little piece that probes climate change and consequences of denial. “Kygers Hill” is a pop-infused slice of nostalgia inspired by Viv’s Blue Ridge Virginia childhood home frontloaded–a pun if you listen to the lyrics–with all the stuff you miss and all that sent you running away. If that’s too Top 40ish for you, check out their cover of the old timey standard “The Blackest Crow.”

 

 

Rob Weir

 

The Son: Powerful and Well-Acted

 

 

The Son (2023)

Directed by Florian Zeller

Sony Pictures Classic, 123 minutes, PG-13 (language, trauma)

★★★★★

 

I won’t tell you that The Son is a fun night of viewing, but I will say that it’s a powerful, well-acted film. In 2020, director Florian Zeller gave us The Father, which was certainly one of that year’s best. Anthony Hopkins won an Oscar that year for his role as Anthony, an imperious pater familias suffering from dementia and delusions.

 

The Son is also about a toxic family. Some have called it a sequel to The Father, though it could be considered either a different film altogether or a prequel. Hopkins again appears as Anthony, this time with the surname of Miller and is fully in command of his faculties, though he is an acidic right-winger without an ounce of pity or compassion. The title character Peter Miller (Hugh Jackman), is estranged from his father and is determined to be a better man and father.

 

The Son is based on the question of whether the Italian proverb “what’s bred in the bone will not go out of the flesh” is a biological imperative. Peter isn’t off to a great start. His son Nicholas (Zen McGrath) is dealing with childhood trauma, his anger and deep sadness of observing his father cheat on his mother Kate (Laura Dern). The two amicably divorce, but years later Nicholas carries unhealed scars. At 17, Nicholas insists he can no longer live with his mother, has dropped out of school, and begs his father and his second wife Beth (Vanesa Kirby) to take him in as he wants to turn his life around. 

 

Peter views this as his chance to make amends and be a good father to Nicholas, though Beth is leery. Things go well and not so well. It’s clear that Nicholas is on an emotional roller coaster. A suicide attempt lands Nicholas in an in-patient mental health facility and Peter isn’t sure which way to turn. He visits his father with pretense of checking in on him, but really in the vain hope he has late-in-life wisdom to offer. Hah! He gets nothing but venom and contempt from Anthony. He also seeks advice from Kate, with whom he remains friendly, because Beth is focused on their newborn child whose safety is her primary concern.

 

Nicholas is deeply unhappy and hates the facility. In a tearful conference, Nicholas insists he’s better and begs his father to take him home. Beth isn’t keen on the idea and Nicholas’ counselor, Doctor Harris (Hugh Quarshie), insists in the strongest possible terms that Nicholas needs much more treatment. But when Nicholas gives his word that he has conquered his demons, what would you do if you were Peter?

 

Each of the five central actors–Jackman, Dern, Kirby, McGrath, and Hopkins–are riveting. Hopkins only has what amounts to a cameo role, but his performance is more than enough to make you suspect that the Millers might be cursed. It also makes you wonder if escape or redemption is possible. Jackman wears his desperation on his sleeve and would move heaven and earth to do the right thing–if only he knew for certain what it was. Maybe the women involved know, but Dern and Kirby have their own concerns and doubts. Young Zen McGrath excels in planting seeds of hope tinged with fear in the hearts of all involved.

 

Does everything turn out well? You might think so. You might be right. You might be wrong. On the surface The Son is a film short on action if your idea of a drama involves thriller sequences. Ah, but such things are movie devices that seldom bear resemblance to reality. As Tolstoy famously remarked, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” In literature and film, he couldn’t have hit the nail any more squarely on the head. How long could a novelist or a screen writer sustain a tale of a happy family? Fifty pages? Fifteen minutes?

 

The Son is an interior movie based upon a play by Zeller and Christopher Hampton. In either form it is provocative and shattering. In the popular mind, families are the stuff of Bob Ross paintings, Hallmark cards, and inspirational quotes. The reality is much messier.

 

Rob Weir

Very Cold People a Polarizing Novel

 

 

Very Cold People  (2022)

By Sarah Manguso

Hogarth, 186 pages.

★

 

Very Cold People is the debut novel of poet and short story writer Sarah Manguso. I have seldom read reviews as extreme as those associated with this one. Some have called it “brilliant” and have hailed Manguso as a rising voice in literature. Others have pegged it as “scrambled memories,” “overwrought,” and “horrid.” If you’re wondering, there is very little gender breakdown in those opinions. I am afraid that I am firmly in the second camp.

 

By rights I should have liked this novel if, for no other reason, Manguso's fictional town of Waitsfield, Massachusetts, often seems a lot like the Pennsylvania town in which I was raised. But whereas the New York Times credited Very Cold People with making  “beauty of boring old daily pain,” my take is that she made boring even more tedious.

 

Mancuso is 49 years old, technically Generation X, but her outlook is more that of a Millennial. If I had to single out a salient way in which post-Baby Boomers are different, I'd say that too many Millennials (and Gen Z) are solipsistic and bemoan their vulnerability. By contrast, my generation didn't give a flying fig about what adults thought of us and did not expect anyone to throw pity parties for us. “Work it out yourself” was a common command.*

 

Mancuso's novel is also written in the stream of consciousness style. It reads like random observations scribbled into a diary that are only tangentially related to other fragments, rants, and pronouncements. Stream of consciousness is notoriously difficult to master. To put it another way, if I only skimmed my way through James Joyce, the only thing that made me finish Very Cold People is that it’s a short, quick read.

 

The central character Ruthie comes from a battered town where blue-collar dreams have gone sour. It's also a place with big homes and plaques of local elites reminiscent of the Cabots and Lowells. Ruthie’s family has fallen upon hard times and don't think they should be near the bottom of the socioeconomic scale. That's probably true, but they nonetheless live in both proximity to and a proclivity toward violence. Her family is so parsimonious that they count pennies and measure bathtub water. Ruthie wants out of a graying town where her reality and others such as she is that all they have going for them is that they are white.

 

It's a tough break for sure, and I'd be the first to agree that children shouldn't have to go through such things. But her personal pity party is annoying. It’s if she's the only one who ever felt the way she does. Newsflash, 12 percent of Americans are poor, and half earn less than the median income. That’s also an injustice, but this leads me to another point.

 

Were this a semi-autobiographical novel with built-in calls for justice or pleas for class solidarity, I would be more charitable. Instead, it's all about Ruthie and how is she escaped Waitsfield. Earlier used the term solipsistic for reason. I found her to be one of the very cold people of the book's title. It's as if she lacks empathy for anyone not named Ruthie. In such a scenario, her escape doesn't warrant applause, merely a shrug.

 

As noted, Very Cold People is merely a string of random thoughts, the sort that more interesting writers might jot down in a notebook for future use. I couldn't help but compare it with the work of Richard Russo. His blue-color novels have lots of things that Very Cold People lacks: a plot, careful editing, empathy, sympathetic characters, and a point.

 

Rob Weir

 

* As I’ve written before, I’m skeptical of generations because whatever criteria that is used to “define” them only holds true in a general sense and often breaks down in voluminous specific cases.