The book club selection for last month
was Lionel Shriver’s We Have to Talk about Kevin. I decided I did not
want to talk about WHTTAK in a setting where the “bookies”-- for the most
part -- work for or retired from the Office of Mental Health. In fact, in
April, one bookie asked the group what she should do to try to socialize
a young boy in her Hebrew class who seemed to have no empathy at all
and whose parents saw no problem. Sort of a preview of the plot and
continuation of this diagnostic conversation.
But even with piles of books on the night stand and my blog list unattended I was curious. I am so glad I picked up WHTTAK. First, I loved Shriver’s juxtaposition of an 18th Century epistolary novel with a 20th Century character who is aloof, lives only in her head, and over-analyzes everything. Second, I loved Eva and Franklin, who, to me, represented the ultimate married couple. I tend to look at married couples and decide if they look like salt and pepper shakers; when I conclude they do, what I am concluding is that they sort of match, definitely are a pair, and are "put together" for the same intent or purposes. While Eva and Franklin resemble more a box of dried prunes and a overripe bowl of cherries, psychologically, they are a marvelous study in parental child rearing conflict. I was about to type compromises, but neither can move from their entrenched personality traits.
Life to Eva is a glass half-full. She tries to fill up the emptiness with world travel and business acumen and a standard of perfection that is stratospheric. Franklin not only wants the glass to be bigger, overflowing and its contents carbonated, but also to be the source of all solace. Franklin’s idealized view of America extends to his desire to make the perfect family, creating a dialogue and scenes that match up with the Happy Days reruns he watches.
As NYC yuppies, E&F agree to accessorize their carefree life with a baby as Eva approaches 40. As soon as she gets pregnant, Franklin sets out to mold her to his idealized stereotype of a mother: no strenuous exercise, no alcohol. Not that she was an alcoholic athlete, but Eva resents the loss of her personality. Kevin is born more than cranky and /or Eva has PPD. Maybe she just doesn’t smell maternal. Anyway, I find Kevin more a symbol against which Shriver expresses Eva’s existence. Instead of being a high school mass murderer, he could have easily caused a major traffic accident or blown up the house like one boy did down our street. The stigma on the family and the self-doubt about family life that outsiders see as having been the prime cause of a deviant or delinquent child seems the major, ur-theme.
The more I thought about vehicles Shriver was using in her writing, I kept coming back to the family/society issue. Maybe this train of thought spilled over from the book club's discussion of the June book, our re-reading of The Great Gatsby, where the group concluded Fitzgerald was writing an allegory about American characteristics using the traits of his characters. Along that line of analysis, Shriver seems to be saying that while it is the basic building block of society, the family in the late 20th Century is torn between being a "re-enactment" of an earlier ideal and being completely an incohesive unit of self-involved individuals, each ranking themselves above the needs and demands of sustaining a marriage and raising unruly children.
I kept my copy way beyond its due date so I could finish this blog entry with selected quotes, only to realize this morning I didn't dog-ear any pages. For whatever reason, The Band's Cripple Creek is running through my head to describe Shriver's voice for Eva, when lyrics describe Spike Jones' music as the girl not liking his songs but loves "the way he talks." No one would expect that preference and I did not expect to love Eva's internal dialogues. I can't imagine the movie captures this even with Tilda Swinton ... and I prefer to keep the scenes of violence in my imagination rather than sensationalized on the big screen.
But even with piles of books on the night stand and my blog list unattended I was curious. I am so glad I picked up WHTTAK. First, I loved Shriver’s juxtaposition of an 18th Century epistolary novel with a 20th Century character who is aloof, lives only in her head, and over-analyzes everything. Second, I loved Eva and Franklin, who, to me, represented the ultimate married couple. I tend to look at married couples and decide if they look like salt and pepper shakers; when I conclude they do, what I am concluding is that they sort of match, definitely are a pair, and are "put together" for the same intent or purposes. While Eva and Franklin resemble more a box of dried prunes and a overripe bowl of cherries, psychologically, they are a marvelous study in parental child rearing conflict. I was about to type compromises, but neither can move from their entrenched personality traits.
Life to Eva is a glass half-full. She tries to fill up the emptiness with world travel and business acumen and a standard of perfection that is stratospheric. Franklin not only wants the glass to be bigger, overflowing and its contents carbonated, but also to be the source of all solace. Franklin’s idealized view of America extends to his desire to make the perfect family, creating a dialogue and scenes that match up with the Happy Days reruns he watches.
As NYC yuppies, E&F agree to accessorize their carefree life with a baby as Eva approaches 40. As soon as she gets pregnant, Franklin sets out to mold her to his idealized stereotype of a mother: no strenuous exercise, no alcohol. Not that she was an alcoholic athlete, but Eva resents the loss of her personality. Kevin is born more than cranky and /or Eva has PPD. Maybe she just doesn’t smell maternal. Anyway, I find Kevin more a symbol against which Shriver expresses Eva’s existence. Instead of being a high school mass murderer, he could have easily caused a major traffic accident or blown up the house like one boy did down our street. The stigma on the family and the self-doubt about family life that outsiders see as having been the prime cause of a deviant or delinquent child seems the major, ur-theme.
The more I thought about vehicles Shriver was using in her writing, I kept coming back to the family/society issue. Maybe this train of thought spilled over from the book club's discussion of the June book, our re-reading of The Great Gatsby, where the group concluded Fitzgerald was writing an allegory about American characteristics using the traits of his characters. Along that line of analysis, Shriver seems to be saying that while it is the basic building block of society, the family in the late 20th Century is torn between being a "re-enactment" of an earlier ideal and being completely an incohesive unit of self-involved individuals, each ranking themselves above the needs and demands of sustaining a marriage and raising unruly children.
I kept my copy way beyond its due date so I could finish this blog entry with selected quotes, only to realize this morning I didn't dog-ear any pages. For whatever reason, The Band's Cripple Creek is running through my head to describe Shriver's voice for Eva, when lyrics describe Spike Jones' music as the girl not liking his songs but loves "the way he talks." No one would expect that preference and I did not expect to love Eva's internal dialogues. I can't imagine the movie captures this even with Tilda Swinton ... and I prefer to keep the scenes of violence in my imagination rather than sensationalized on the big screen.
I had the same reaction to "pass" on this book club read because of all of the sincere but tiring views of emotional health that might have erupted in our group. But, reading it past the book club date was wise because we didn't have to have the commentary yet got to read an interesting book. THe "voice" of Eva is very compelling and the story told in letters is a good device for her. I wanted to throttle her more than her troubled son and the book resonates long after its reading. Very nice job of reviewing a really disturbing read.
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