I’m just really into cults. Theoretically, that is. The subject fascinates me. In fact, put a word cult in the title or a description of a novel and I’m there. So, that was the main attractor with this book. I’ve heard of the author before but haven’t read any of her work, she seems to oscillate between fiction and nonfiction and, going by the quality of the writing in this book, probably does so excellently.
This novel for me turned out to be one of those things where you can really appreciate something intellectually without engaging with it emotionally all the way. Which is somewhat ironic, because the book is all about emotions, specifically of the romantic persuasion. Its protagonist, a 37-year-old woman named Lola (Lo lo lo lo lola) who after a lifetime of fairly aggressive dating and equally aggressive obsessing over her exes might finally be ready to settle down with a nice tall man named Boots who adores her. The question is does she return his affections or is it just, indeed, settling? Lola’s much too addled to decide, her cupidity for cupid’s arrows has rendered her an indecisive mess. She’s a fun (and glibly funny) mess, but a mess all the way. If only there was some way to help her…oh, wait… There is, there absolutely is. A cult (which of course doesn’t want to be known as that) lead by her former boss (a once upon a time respectable publisher of Modern Psychology turned a once upon a time tv shrink personality turned into…no one of notice), a cult dedicated to assisting people in getting past their relationship trauma and PTSD by helping them confront their exes. There’s actually a complicatedly ludicrous new agey way in which they go about accomplishing that by concentrating their mental powers, etc. but we won’t go into that. Instead, we can focus on Lola, much like the cultists do, since this is very much the Lola show. Lola starts coming across her exes, in a succession most would find alarming, and reevaluating her past relationships, obsessions and motivations. It’s all quirky and kinda sorta charming and oh so quintessentially New York and yet it is much too clever to be dismissed as a romcom or chicklit or some such crap. For Croskey is such a clever writer. The way she turns out sentences sparkles. I read them and wish/dream of doing the same. Her characters are giving such terrific dialogue lines, they spar and joust with verve and panache and snappy pop (and otherwise) culture references that would make a Gilmore Girl swoon. And yet for all of that cleverness, they come across as superficial. Or maybe not superficial per se, but not entirely relatable or likeable, staunchly maintaining emotional distance. Maybe it’s because they are such stereotypical New Yorkers, the kind of people that overthink going to the same trendy restaurant two days in a row. Maybe it’s because they are so hopelessly self-involved. Maybe it’s because they are so thoroughly buttered in first world privilege. At any rate, they read like slick glib clichés, albeit darkly humorous and clever. So, while intellectually I was so into this book, emotional engagement just wasn’t there. The only character I kinda sorta enjoyed was Boots, the guileless steadfast Boots, who as it turns out has a surprise of his own to reveal. Is cleverness enough to win the day? Well, yes. It certainly beats the alternatives. I’ll take a smart emotionally distant book over a twee schmaltzy heartwarming tale any day, but it does leave something to be desired. Maybe it’s just the millennialism of it all (the characters are on the very end of that spectrum), maybe it was the tedium of their inherent NewYorkness. Nevertheless, this was original, smart, very well written and a most auspicious introduction to the author. Plus, there was a cult. And a very good ending. Thanks Netgalley.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
December 2023
Categories |