Envy

...by Kathryn Harrison. That's the title of the mystery novel. Envy. This is a freaky book; I can't think of any other succinct description. Harrison goes inside the head of Will Moreland, a forty-something psychoanalyst who is himself dealing with: the death of his young son, sexual unease between him and his wife, an absentee twin, a sex-crazed patient, his twenty-fifth college reunion, his father's new art career and new mistress, and surprising news from an old lover. And boy, it all fits together with quite a bang.

It's a bit much really, but she ties Will's life together so neatly that it's hard to begrudge Harrison her fun.

A couple quotes:

Will pondering: "I worry that my tendency to insist upon connections leads me to find significance where there isn't any. Create meanings that don't exist outside of my consciousness."

On his father: "Every once in a while his father makes an observation meant to prove he's not out of touch, leaving Will feeling less impressed than protective of whatever inspires this earnestness, because this is the quality that's most palpable when his father produces what he believes to be evidence of his being hip ... and it's the same quality that insures he'll never be hip."

In my last post, I spoke about how the novel was both cerebral and sexy. The sexiness also has a very creepy edge to it. So it's a dark book, but then again, envy is a dark emotion. And the envy that turns out to be the driving force behind this plot is as dark as it gets.

Teaser

I'm about halfway through a quite fascinating novel. I'm really intrigued by it, and not quite sure where it's going to take me. I like that. And because the book itself is a bit of a tease, I'm not going to tell you the title yet.

It's a very cerebral book, with a lot of discussions. This makes sense, seeing as how the main character is a psychologist. On the other hand, another overarching theme of the book is sex. Will (that's his name, a hint) is utterly consumed with thoughts of sex, but attempts to intellectualize the obsession. Analysis is in its own way pretty sexy. And everyone around him is as thought-provoking as he is.

I've been reading with a raised eyebrow. I like that.

The Curious Incident

This month's book club selection was Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, an autistic teen's tale of solving mysteries both big and small. The title refers to the event that kicks off the action, Christopher's discovery of his neighbor's stabbed dog. After being wrongly suspected of the killing, he vows to solve the mystery. He finds himself dealing with the more mysterious doings of the human heart.

Haddon, who worked with autistic children, shows what I have read called an acute understanding of the autistic mind. And Christopher is a compelling and fascinating character. Sympathetic to be sure, but even reading events through his eyes, you can see how he must be a handful for the adults around him. Achieving mutual understanding is a painstaking and ongoing process.

I haven't fully fleshed out another observation, and so it may sound ridiculous, but I also felt this novel evoked magical realism. Seen through Christopher's eyes, the whole world is a little fantastical.

That's it for commentary now, but if anything comes out of the book club, I'll report it as well. And there are plenty of new library books awaiting me, so posting may pick up in the next few weeks, despite the holiday madness.

I skipped a book

Despite composing an entry in my head while walking to the office, I completely forgot to post on a book that I read last week. I blame tryptophan blues.

The book was Susan Vreeland's Girl in Hyacinth Blue, another of the guilty-pleasure-art-historical-fiction novels that I keep coming across and reading as soothing and romantic intervals. This one chronicles the history of a Vermeer, beginning in the present day and journeying backwards to its germination. What you end up with is a very different conception of Vermeer - and "the artist" in general - than in the more famous Girl with a Pearl Earring. (For example, this has what I see as a more realistic view of how Vermeer must have felt about his wife, considering the passel of children they had. On the other hand, the relationship between Vermeer and Griet was far more delicious to read.)

The main story was the impact of the painting on people's lives, specifically why an array of owners felt that they couldn't live without it. Each found what it was they were searching for in the girl. It reminded me that art is a dialogue between the product and the viewer.

So while not the most important or memorable of novels, a sweet way to spend a little bit of time during a busy holiday season...