Skip to main content

A Novel I Loved

 A recent novel I loved was "Standard Deviation," by Katherine Heiny.


Heiny is the real thing--a writer of funny, lively, raunchy fiction, and a writer with an active brain and an active heart.

"Standard Deviation" concerns a couple in Manhattan--today. They're Graham and Audra. They have a son who might show signs of autism (the jury's out). Audra chats with everyone, and she lies easily, so Graham is both besotted and generally just a bit skeptical about Audra's fidelity.

Meanwhile, Graham has reconnected with his ex-wife, the severe Elspeth, and no one knows where this reunion is headed.

Elspeth's reemergence in the world is the main plot in the novel; Graham considers an affair, and also pokes at and investigates old wounds from the first marriage (wounds never previously addressed). Audra seems delighted by Elspeth, but also sometimes startled. For example, Audra's jaw drops when Elspeth declares that she "hates restaurants." Audra can't let this go: "ALL restaurants? Universally.....a restaurant....or at least the *idea* of a restaurant......That's seen as a pleasant thing...."

Graham comes close to sleeping with his ex-wife, but he watches her in the lobby at the hotel they've committed to. As Elspeth chats with the bell boy, the bell boy makes a dumb joke--and Elspeth pointedly refuses to offer a polite laugh. It's this small refusal that cools Graham's ardor--and causes Graham to sneak out of the hotel, back to his actual wife.

Heiny tosses in small, priceless observations. Being a parent means "discovering you know the lyrics to ten to twenty once-forgotten folk-songs." An odd and under-reported part of adult life is the heartbreak you feel when your child loves a playground bully, and the playground bully abruptly, inexplicably decides to stop *giving* love, in turn. There is something special and almost mystical about living in Manhattan--and discovering, after ten or twenty years, that you still don't know the names of each and every street on the Lower East Side.

I thought this book was smart and therapeutic--without being aggressively "heartwarming"--and I'm happy I found it. I'm eager for Heiny's third novel, whenever that arrives.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more