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REVIEW: Jonathan Franzen Releases “Crossroads”

Acclaimed author Jonathan Franzen recently released his latest novel, Crossroads and is also presenting an accompanying virtual book tour in partnership with local bookstores around the country. Last Thursday, local bookstores around the midwest including Ann Arbor’s Literati Books co-hosted an online book tour event where Franzen read excerpts from Crossroads and discussed the book in conversation with Kathy Wang, author of the novels Impostor Syndrome and Family Trust.

The concept of an “online” version of the classic local bookstore book tour is a bit odd at first glance, but it proved to be a rewarding substitute for the pre-covid format. The event began with Franzen reading an excerpt from Crossroads. The novel itself focuses primarily on a single family over the course of a single day around Christmastime in the 1970s. To open, he chose a segment which at times felt deliberately uncomfortable, dealing with complex issues of religion, maternal roles and responsibilities, and the concept of the “ideal body” and dieting for women in the 1970s (when the novel is set). The prose isn’t terribly complex, but the associated emotion in the excerpt is compelling and palpable.

The excerpt serves as a springboard for Franzen and Wang to discuss just how this book and its characters came to be. Franzen chooses to inhabit the consciousness of each family member, a decision that arrived slowly over the course of the creation of the novel. He discusses how originally he thought the matriarch, Marion, would be “just a mom”—a character without much depth or her own perspective. Yet she grew so much during the three years of the book’s gestation that she ultimately became a character so important that the multi-paragraph opening excerpt was focused entirely on her and her internal conflict.

Not only did Marion change throughout the novel’s creation, but Franzen and Wang also discuss how Franzen’s attitude towards his characters has changed with time, over the course of his previous novels up until now. Franzen admits that he’s not trying to be “kinder to his characters”, although in his eyes, he sees that as a potential loss of comedy. The inextricable partnership of anger and comedy is something I had never seriously considered before, but Franzen and Wang put it into sharp perspective. They discuss how, in Franzen’s eyes, it’s impossible to have comedy without also having anger, and how his choice to treat his characters in Crossroads with greater kindness—although never forgoing honesty—may have sacrificed some comedy in the interest of having deeper, truer characters.

The “peek behind the curtain” about the creation of Crossroads and Franzen’s literary process only increased my excitement about reading the novel. If you’re a fan of Franzen or just generally interested in reading the novel, I would recommend attending a book tour date! The tour is virtual and future tour dates can be viewed here: https://fsgworkinprogress.com/2021/08/18/jonathan-franzens-crossroads/. 

Stay tuned for an upcoming review of the full novel!

REVIEW: Normal People

At first glance, Sally Rooney’s novel, “Normal People”, is extremely simple. It tells the story of two high school students, Connell and Marianne, and their unusual and potent attraction to one another. The book follows the two through the end of their college careers, and the end of their relationship (which still deserves an ellipse and the phrase “for now” stuck on the end of it). The novel, recently turned into a limited series through the streaming platform Hulu, premiered late last month in its entirety. What the television series does so well is it reveals with great dexterity and skill the underlying tension and complexity of Marianne and Connell’s relationship.

Daisy Edgar Jones and Paul Mescal, the main actors playing Marianne and Connell, are fairly new faces to the screen. The series is full of a myriad of close-up shots of the two actors, and several intimate, long, and artfully-shot sex scenes. The two actors’ chemistry on-screen is undeniable, and their performances ground the series in genuine human connection. The ensemble of actors that join them on screen deserves much praise as well; Aislin McGuckin, the actress playing Marianne’s mother, Denise, and Fionn O’Shea, playing one of Marianne’s boyfriends, Jamie, in particular, come to mind for their performances.

One worry I often have when watching screen adaptations of books is not even so much the accuracy of the script, compared to the events in the book, but rather if the on-screen version will be able to capture the same magic and essence of the novel it is adapted from. I think it is telling that Sally Rooney had a hand in writing all twelve episodes; that is to say, it shows. The series has the same careful, diligent, and gentle approach that the novel is so renowned for.

The charm of “Normal People” lies in the title itself. It is a simple story, about two imperfect people who always manage to find their way back to one another. It is shaded by the belief in “soulmates”, and elevates two ordinary characters to an extraordinary love. “Normal People” represents something the majority of the population wants; true, unconditional love. The series is an effective adaptation because it understands the heart of the story, and doesn’t try too hard to extrapolate unneeded details from the source material. It is a simple show; not particularly flashy or thrilling, but it is refreshing to me that it does not have to be. The simplest shots are oftentimes the most captivating. Rooney and the rest of the creative team train the audience early on to find the magic in the details, whether it be the slight raise of Marianne’s eyebrow or the way Connell wrings his hands and laughs when faced with a serious question. “Normal People” has done an exceptional job of parring down the series to exactly what is needed and nothing more.

In a world of endless streaming options, whether it be movies, podcasts, or television series, it can be overwhelming to make a choice of what to view or listen to. I would highly encourage those that are looking for something true, genuine, and delicate to consider taking the time to watch “Normal People” in its entirety. It does more than justice to the beloved novel; it illuminates it.

REVIEW: The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires

After finishing this book, my first horror/thriller novel, I can firmly say that I will never read another one. Not because it was bad, but because Grady Hendrix wrote it so well that I was thoroughly terrified. My palms were sweating profusely while reading certain scenes, and I had to frequently take breaks from reading because the story was so intense. I won’t spoil the plot, but I’m going to explain exactly what made this book so chilling to me–and what made it so good.

The title gives away that the “monster” in the story is a vampire, so I expected a certain level of blood, gore, and other classic vampire-related themes. Hendrix delivered on all of those. What he also incorporated into the horror of this story were psychological spooks and very relevant political issues. Yes, the vampire figure is making children disappear, but what made the vampire figure so scary was that you could replace it with literally any white man (think Ted Bundy, to whom the main character, Patricia, frequently compared the vampire figure) and the entire story would still be intact.

The actual plot started out kind of slow. It was only until a third of the way through the book that the thriller action really started to pick up. The first third of the plot was dedicated to meticulously crafting a world in which the reader’s attention was drawn to all of the problems within it, without explicitly stating them in the text. It laid the groundwork for truly horrific things to take place later on in the story. For this, I applaud Hendrix.

Patricia is made aware of the first child disappearances when she visits the woman who takes care of her mother-in-law, Mrs. Greene. Mrs. Greene lives in a predominantly black neighborhood, where everyone is scared that their child will be the next to disappear. Naturally, anyone would be scared, but Mrs. Greene’s neighbors are particularly distressed because their children are black and the police don’t seem to care. On one of my breaks from the story, I was looking at Goodreads reviews, and someone said that they thought the story was tone-deaf to make the only children targeted by the predator black, and that it was wrong to create a neighborhood of poor black people and have an exclusively rich, white suburb. I feelthat this reviewer missed the entire point of the author drawing our attention to race in the story. Hendrix casually dropped little details regarding race throughout the exposition. It was this attention to detail that made me realize how good of a writer Hendrix is–part of the horror of his novel was the revelation of how black people were treated in the 90s, when the story takes place, and even more scary is that Hendrix allows his readers to recognize that America still has the same issues today. The vampire figure was able to keep using black children as his victims because nobody in a position of power would care. Patricia, who knew what was happening, was able to retreat back into her normal life and ignore the problem because it wasn’t directly affecting her or anyone in her rich white neighborhood. I don’t believe it’s tone-deaf to present race in this way, especially because the book takes place in the South. It’s both important to the plot and the construction of its horror genre.

Like the issue of race, Hendrix weaved other really important and relevant topics into the horror elements of his novel: gaslighting, drug abuse, sexual assault, friendship/betrayal, disease stigma, and MORE. I was impressed with how well Hendrix created his story. I fear that including any more details would spoil the novel, because the details are so integral to the thriller plot. However, one major issue I did have with the book was the ending. It was wrapped up very neatly, with an imaginary “we’re all safe” bow on top. While it calmed me as a (terrified) reader, I don’t think the ending holds the same value as the rest of the book. It almost felt like Hendrix didn’t want to write that ending, but was running out of time, so he wrote down the words he thought would please his readers rather than continuing to rattle them to their core. Overall, I encourage anyone and everyone to read The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires, even if they don’t typically reach for horror/thriller novels. It’s written *that* well.