So who’s the literary blockbuster star this year? I want to say Murakami, whose upcoming IQ84 isn't mentioned without the phrase "magnum opus." I think Wind-Up Bird is his magnum opus, with Kafka on the Shore as a kind of denouement. It's hard to imagine anything more epic and personal, surreal and alive, existential and beautiful than Wind-Up. That novel is pretty much everything a magnum opus should be. If IQ84 lives up to its critical promises (it's at least ridiculously long), I'm already hyper-excited, but until then, we've got Eugenides.
I can’t flick on npr without hearing another interview with Jeffrey freaking Eugenides. An interview on npr is the peak of an author's celebrity. Eugenides scored two npr interviews in one week. This is because he’s awesome. With a total of three good-to-great books stacked under his Pulitzer, Eugenides is nearly as respected and prolific as Salinger. One more novel to go before total life seclusion, Jeffy boy! What's up with the new third book, by the way?
It's "swoon-worthy." Damn. I haven’t swooned since Bella agreed to marry Edward.
I’m not here to compare the Twilight series to The Marriage Plot (someone—do this). I want to be swooned by stories as well as novels. And since Eugenides has such a small CV, true fans must subsist on his short fiction during the long, cold winters of Franzen and Meyers.
Let’s go way back to 1996. Saddam Hussein is breathing, I’m practicing abstinence (with fervor) and Eugenides’ story “Baster” is printed in The New Yorker. Here is a shortened version of their apt abstract:
Short story about a forty-year-old unmarried woman named Tomasina who decides to become pregnant by inseminating herself using a turkey baster and the sperm from a married friend named Roland.
Hmm. I love Jason Bateman, but . . . well, here’s what Eugenides says about the feature film.
If you watched the trailer and read the quote and still want to see the movie, let me know how that goes.
Other Eugenides stories? "Air Mail" exists online only as a two-page excerpt. You've got to pay for "Asleep in the Lord."
I chose to read "Extreme Solitude" and realized pretty quick it's less a short story than an excerpt from The Marriage Plot. No complaints here, though I have to admit it's kind of messed up that I set out to find a Eugenides story and end up reading a piece of his novel ("Eugenides Writes more than Novels" . . . true. "Great Experiment" next time.)
"Extreme Solitude" is framed like a story, though, so I'll look at it that way. We start with Madeline, a senior college student who thinks she may be falling in love with Leonard. Her conflict on the first page? She'll never tell Leonard. I'm hooked.
Apart from this conflict, we get a pure Eugenides in the first paragraph, which is the real hook. The opening is rich with psychology (the kind I wish I could write) and an underlying dark humor. The rest of the story is pure breeze, despite the lack of an actual scene for a few pages, in which Madeline eats peanut butter straight from the jar and reads. Sounds like bliss to me. Turns out it's the source of the title. "Extreme solitude" is a theme throughout, and brought into reflective focus as the truth behind love. It's a revealing and sad thought on the motivations for love. Though we get a lot Eugenides' exposition--and though I question the abundance of semicolons--the scene-less prose is as insightful and character-driven as the scenes. When we get dialogue, it zings.
As in a short story, Leonard is introduced and developed as part of the conflict. Their relationship distracts me from the initial conflict, which returns at the end when Madeline says, "I love you." Leonard's scholarly response and the resulting humor don't resolve the conflict of love--heck of a conflict--but complicate it.
That said, the heavy doses of exposition and gradual character building reflect a novel narrative. The complication of the conflict, rather than the resolution or forgoing of conflict, lends itself to a longer narrative.
Rating: 3 out of 4 stars. Writers, story dorks and readers will enjoy "Extreme Solitude." The academic referencing and lack of heavy plot may turn off casual readers, though Eugenides does a fair job at keeping the pace steady. For a "literary" writer, this is fun stuff.
"Extreme Solitude" is framed like a story, though, so I'll look at it that way. We start with Madeline, a senior college student who thinks she may be falling in love with Leonard. Her conflict on the first page? She'll never tell Leonard. I'm hooked.
Apart from this conflict, we get a pure Eugenides in the first paragraph, which is the real hook. The opening is rich with psychology (the kind I wish I could write) and an underlying dark humor. The rest of the story is pure breeze, despite the lack of an actual scene for a few pages, in which Madeline eats peanut butter straight from the jar and reads. Sounds like bliss to me. Turns out it's the source of the title. "Extreme solitude" is a theme throughout, and brought into reflective focus as the truth behind love. It's a revealing and sad thought on the motivations for love. Though we get a lot Eugenides' exposition--and though I question the abundance of semicolons--the scene-less prose is as insightful and character-driven as the scenes. When we get dialogue, it zings.
As in a short story, Leonard is introduced and developed as part of the conflict. Their relationship distracts me from the initial conflict, which returns at the end when Madeline says, "I love you." Leonard's scholarly response and the resulting humor don't resolve the conflict of love--heck of a conflict--but complicate it.
That said, the heavy doses of exposition and gradual character building reflect a novel narrative. The complication of the conflict, rather than the resolution or forgoing of conflict, lends itself to a longer narrative.
Rating: 3 out of 4 stars. Writers, story dorks and readers will enjoy "Extreme Solitude." The academic referencing and lack of heavy plot may turn off casual readers, though Eugenides does a fair job at keeping the pace steady. For a "literary" writer, this is fun stuff.
Very clever, Mr. Dork!
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