The Friend by Sigrid Nunez
“The question any novel is really trying to answer is: Is life worth living?” Nicholson Baker, “The Art of Fiction No. 212, The Paris Review.
This quote is one of the epigraphs in the The Friend by Sigrid Nunez. Turning to the first chapter is compulsive after reading that quote. The book is unusual. I would describe it as non-fiction fiction, a grouping of essay ideas cozied into a minimal plot, which involves a woman coping with the suicide of her good friend. The plot provides the occasions for thoughts about grief, friendship, love, and life.
This is not a criticism. The book is great!
Nunez explains her kind of novel in another of her books, “The Vulnerables.” In it she writes that the novel is in its death throes. More writers are asking themselves “why are you making things up?” She concludes: “Perhaps what is wanted in our own dark anti-truth times, with all our blatant hypocrisy and the growing use of story as a means to distort and obscure reality, is a literature of personal history and reflection: direct, authentic, scrupulous about fact.”
Nunez writes that Virginia Woolf was trying to invent a new form, the essay novel with “chapters of fiction alternating with nonfiction chapters.” Nunez’s novels do not alternate chapters; the fiction and non-fiction are blended together. Readers who like to think about whether life is worth living will find themselves seeking out her books for the intellectual and literary “thrill” ride.
Mystery Novels
Let’s talk about mystery novels – make that novels, TV shows and movies. They all think we want f…k talk, chase scenes and sex. It’s insulting. And boring.
Bore No. 1 is the supposed necessity of interspersing the investigation with the detectives’ personal histories. In a procedural mystery, we want to know “who dunit,” and we want to follow the detectives’ steps to find out. We want Sherlock Holmes, not marriage counseling and sexploits.
Bore No. 2. The boss is always a monster. He (or she) dislikes or mistrusts the main character, stands in the way of investigations, never cries out “No Overtime, Folks!” Fictional detectives work ‘round the clock while the boss rants and raves about expenses and thwarts professionalism.
Bore No. 3. Alcoholism. (Is it politically correct to call alcoholism a bore?) Too many of the detectives in these novels are heavy drinkers trying to quit or alcoholics trying to stay sober. The characters who aren’t in AA seem to retire to the pub a lot. It makes me wonder if the writers are the real strugglers.
Bore No. 4. Smoking. In TV and movie mysteries, smoking amounts to a dramatic pause, the place where the hero lights up to think, stall, look cool, feed his addiction. Flicking away cigarette butts before viewing maimed bodies makes him look both angry and compassionate. In novels, smoking points out a loveable weakness. Readers are supposed to empathize with a hero who isn’t perfect. The truth is that smoking just obstructs breathing. Everyone knows it, and the characters who are addicted just seem stupid.
Bore No. 5. Ruined marriages. Ninety percent of mysteries feature detectives whose relationships are falling apart or have fallen apart. Faye Kellerman’s novels are among the miniscule few that feature a loving couple. It is true that police work is hard on relationships, but in novels the ruined marriage is an excuse for sleeping around with more interesting mates. (Kellerman’s books also involve main characters who are observant Jews. Religion is usually never mentioned in mysteries unless it counts as a motive for murder).
Bore No. 6. Bad parenting. Main characters are constantly lamenting their failure as parents because of divorce and not spending enough time at home. The behavior of these bad-mouthed kids gets tedious because they reap the benefits of their parents’ workaholism with cell phones, cars, Harvard.
Bore No. 7. Sexism. Female officers, detectives and bosses are always fighting the leers, jokes and c…t words from fat, red-faced, “handy” male officers who resent the presence of women in police work. Readers know these guys would be canned unless the plot takes place in the past. And in the past, women had a hard time in any line of work except teaching, nursing and housework.
Bore No. 8. Snarky dialogue. Male and female detectives sound the same: masculine jokes, rudeness, and f-words. They’re cynical, smart and snarky and don’t give a f…k what anyone thinks. This is fiction, so writers can present a world any way they want. But it’s a bore when the smart-ass motif starts to sound like a clever retort fest.
Bore No. 9. Apparel. Some novels actually provide a description of agents’ apparel the minute they walk out the door – every time they walk out the door. Fortunately, writers don’t do this for their characters’ faces, hair and love handles. In some books, even minor characters get a complete fashion rundown. This is supposed to show us something about personality. Skim, skim, skim unless you’re a fashion designer.
Bore No. 10. Series characters. It’s comforting to watch the same TV news, frequent the same grocery store, take the same roads to work. In real life, people are interesting because they aren’t like grocery stores; they evolve. In series books, the evolution is slower. “Why don’t these people get a life?” How many times can Detective Sergeant John Doe’s wife complain about hubby not being around to take out the garbage, help with homework, commit passionate love?
Bore No. 11. Redheads. What is it about red hair, white skin and abundant freckles that raises the interest (and other parts) of detectives? In book after book, the paramour is a redhead. The new wife is a redhead. The divorced wife is a fading redhead. The tall, square-jawed detective is “auburn.” It’s handsome (in men), indicative of hidden sexuality (in women). Only in minor characters do redheads get a true description: pale, wiry, blue veiny, blistered from sunburn. The good news: Blondes get second billing.
One mystery series that is low on the boredom scale are the novels by Peter Robinson. Great characters. Emphasis on crime and the amazingly intricate steps to solve crime. Low on personality quirks, gratuitous sex, addictions, and vulgar language. He does overdo descriptions of apparel. The Inspector Banks series overall does not disappoint.
MayDay by Nelson DeMille and Thomas Block
There’s a reason why Mayday became a blockbuster book and movie. It’s fast-paced, full of tension and hits the basic fears of everyone who flies.
The plot involves a passenger plane hit by a misdirected U.S. missile. The explosion plus oxygen deprivation leaves all but three people either dead or irretrievably brain-damaged. The three unimpaired passengers have to get the plane down, not knowing that officials from the government, the airport and the airline company want it to crash, thus lowering the threat of lawsuits from relatives of long-lived, brain-dead people.
Read this book to find out what “can’t put it down” means.
