Scott Spencer does, as The Wall Street Journal put it, have a way with language. His writing style is a unique take on the stream of consciousness ramblings of a conflicted young man trying to find himself in a modern world where everything has become a commodity. At times, the way he writes conversation is distracting and annoying, while at other times, it creates a much clearer picture of the way his characters are really interacting. At times, his lead character, Avery, is an interesting observant and introspective young man and at others, he is a whiny spineless depressive who really doesn't have much by way of redeeming qualities. In fact, his chief redeeming quality, as he vindictively pushes his cheating girlfriend away and runs off on an exorbitantly-priced sex tour in Northern Europe, is the way he watches others, acutely aware of energy and emotion in a room, while basically wallowing in his own inability to process and progress through his own energies and emotions.
Beyond the surface of a quarter-to-mid-life crisis (is there a third-life crisis?) coming-to-terms tale, there is enough in this novel to warrant a revisiting, or at the very least, a good analysis. Spencer uses Avery's attention to detail to highlight sounds and colors and tensions that surely have more significance than being simply repetitive and ambient. He tends to overdescribe his scenes and occasionally Avery narrates us for pages on small details or seemingly irrelevant memories. In fact, in one conversation with another man on the tour, Spencer gives a flash of awareness as he cuts his own rambling short by briefly summarizing the drone of Avery's companion. Spencer's novel is thoughtful, and his choices meaningful. Though it has its flaws, the story pulls you through and though a bit monotonous (to force his reader to relate to Avery's general sense of ennui?), in the end, the heavy-handed philosophy about life is a positive development, leaving an overall enjoyable reading experience and some good food-for-thought about relationships, commodities, morals, and, as trite as it may be, the meaning of an individual life in the big world.
Many judgments are made about the sex tour's participants - mainly the men and women, and rarely the owners, operators or even the shadowy "contacts" which turn out to be little more than pimps with higher paid prostitutes than the American hookers that are left behind by the men on the Fleming tour. Spencer appears to carefully leave any final decisions up to the reader, even as his protagonist seems to come to his own conclusion. This ambiguity gives the reader a wonderful experience of the equivocation, even if one's own opinions are pre-determined, that dances through both Avery and many of his compadres. Some men are sure of their right to purchase attention, affection and physical interaction. Some men feel the price they have paid gives them a right to something better than even they are being given. The women seem to be of a more similar mind - there is a resounding notion across the board that each woman is a salesperson, that sex and feigned affection is a business, even if some women are more carefree about the business than others.
It is this dichotomy, however - female nonchalance versus male ambivalence - that is either (again, the ambiguity) thought provoking, or a bit juvenile. Only one female character, one whom I dare not mention lest I spoil the plot, expresses any truly apposite stance on the entire tour. I want to believe that Spencer wanted to be thought provoking. I'm not sure that it is fully carried off, but perhaps a shadow of intent is there. Everything wraps up too neatly at the end with a nod towards the bigger picture for it to really achieve a serious level. With that dash, then, of juvenility, Spencer allies himself with his protagonist, as a man with a lot to think about, still a bit to learn, and a keen sense of observation to pull him through to his ultimate destination.
Beyond the surface of a quarter-to-mid-life crisis (is there a third-life crisis?) coming-to-terms tale, there is enough in this novel to warrant a revisiting, or at the very least, a good analysis. Spencer uses Avery's attention to detail to highlight sounds and colors and tensions that surely have more significance than being simply repetitive and ambient. He tends to overdescribe his scenes and occasionally Avery narrates us for pages on small details or seemingly irrelevant memories. In fact, in one conversation with another man on the tour, Spencer gives a flash of awareness as he cuts his own rambling short by briefly summarizing the drone of Avery's companion. Spencer's novel is thoughtful, and his choices meaningful. Though it has its flaws, the story pulls you through and though a bit monotonous (to force his reader to relate to Avery's general sense of ennui?), in the end, the heavy-handed philosophy about life is a positive development, leaving an overall enjoyable reading experience and some good food-for-thought about relationships, commodities, morals, and, as trite as it may be, the meaning of an individual life in the big world.
Many judgments are made about the sex tour's participants - mainly the men and women, and rarely the owners, operators or even the shadowy "contacts" which turn out to be little more than pimps with higher paid prostitutes than the American hookers that are left behind by the men on the Fleming tour. Spencer appears to carefully leave any final decisions up to the reader, even as his protagonist seems to come to his own conclusion. This ambiguity gives the reader a wonderful experience of the equivocation, even if one's own opinions are pre-determined, that dances through both Avery and many of his compadres. Some men are sure of their right to purchase attention, affection and physical interaction. Some men feel the price they have paid gives them a right to something better than even they are being given. The women seem to be of a more similar mind - there is a resounding notion across the board that each woman is a salesperson, that sex and feigned affection is a business, even if some women are more carefree about the business than others.
It is this dichotomy, however - female nonchalance versus male ambivalence - that is either (again, the ambiguity) thought provoking, or a bit juvenile. Only one female character, one whom I dare not mention lest I spoil the plot, expresses any truly apposite stance on the entire tour. I want to believe that Spencer wanted to be thought provoking. I'm not sure that it is fully carried off, but perhaps a shadow of intent is there. Everything wraps up too neatly at the end with a nod towards the bigger picture for it to really achieve a serious level. With that dash, then, of juvenility, Spencer allies himself with his protagonist, as a man with a lot to think about, still a bit to learn, and a keen sense of observation to pull him through to his ultimate destination.
It wasn't terrible. It just wasn't my kind of book. I don't like chick lit. I don't like self-conscious books about imperfect women with insecurity issues. Not that the heroine has to have an incredible sense of self worth and self esteem, but I am so sick of reading books about women feeling sorry for themselves and being weak and never really getting anywhere. I thought that at the end of Good in Bed, Cannie Shapiro had maybe grown or learned something or found some modicum of happiness. But she is just as insecure and still is devoid of any self-awareness focused anywhere but her thighs. It did make me tear up at its emotional climax. I did get involved with the characters and after I forced my way through 75 self-pitying pages, I did stop wanting to put it down forever. So, as I said, not terrible. But I do think that readers, even us beach blanket readers, deserve better.
The Seamstress is, at its core, a tale of two sisters from a small country town in inland Brazil in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Each sister escapes the small town to follow her own path, and the story follows each over the course of a troubled, monumental time in Brazil's history. In general, this novel is beautifully written, incredibly detailed and extremely interesting. It, however, is chiefly concerned with the political and social complexities of the time, rather than the interactions between its characters. The intricacies of Recife society and the backland bandits, the cangacieros, are well drawn. As the sisters create their new lives, they each struggle with their positions, as defined by their gender, class, and social status. Each must realize who can be trusted, what rules can be broken, and the power gained and lost in breaking those rules.
The parallels in each sister's struggle are found naturally and do not feel forced. The details about the time and places are engaging without being overwhelming. De Pontes Peebles draws the stories along, bubbling for a crescendo that, despite the well-crafted story lines, never quite comes along. There is much drama and action, but the book does not seem to reach a traditional climax. The ending is satisfying and does give the reader some insight into the future of the characters, but it happens all of a sudden, as if the author realized that the book was well over 600 pages and just couldn't go on for another 600. All this considered, this book is an enjoyable read with much to reveal about a fascinating point in history.
The parallels in each sister's struggle are found naturally and do not feel forced. The details about the time and places are engaging without being overwhelming. De Pontes Peebles draws the stories along, bubbling for a crescendo that, despite the well-crafted story lines, never quite comes along. There is much drama and action, but the book does not seem to reach a traditional climax. The ending is satisfying and does give the reader some insight into the future of the characters, but it happens all of a sudden, as if the author realized that the book was well over 600 pages and just couldn't go on for another 600. All this considered, this book is an enjoyable read with much to reveal about a fascinating point in history.
