| Title | : | Brother of the More Famous Jack |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 1526612658 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9781526612656 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 272 |
| Publication | : | First published October 1, 1982 |
Brother of the More Famous Jack Reviews
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A meticulous, kind, hyper-realistic portrait of messy, flawed humans—if Elana Ferrante wrote Bridget Jones, if Nick Hornby did a Jane Austen.
I read this because so many novelists I admired had wonderful things to say about it. I liked it a lot, although it was clearly a product of its era (80s). I think a lot of women will find our stumbling, smart, contradictory heroine relatable, and it has a lot of clever, non-preachy things to say about power imbalances in relationships. -
4.5.
This book masquerades as a cosy read. It has been described as such by many reviewers, and the 'serving suggestion' on the back cover by Rachel Cooke from the Sunday Times is to consume the story in a bed of fresh linen whilst munching on Marmite on toast. I was very much taken by this description as I am a big fan of both fresh sheets and toast with Marmite. When you first settle down in a clean bed with your plate of toast however, you aren't mindful of the uncomfortable reality that will follow. Soon there are crumbs in your newly washed sheets, Marmite stains on your crisp white pillowcase. For me reading Brother... was a similar experience. The allusions to aesthetic and nourishing comforts lull you in to a false sense of security, yet the reality of the story is insidiously unsettling. Honestly this is all a euphemism, the book is really fucking sad.
The story is hard to describe without comparison to other novels. On the cover it is compared to Brideshead Revisited and Mansfield Park. I would like to add that it had a touch of Cold Comfort Farm and yet simultaneously reminded me of Plath's The Bell Jar. I adored so much about this book; gorgeous details, so much to delve into on the topic of gender, perfect literary references, short chapters with punchy endings. I only knock off half a star because I was weirdly jarred by and sensitive to some of the crude dialogue. The Goldman men love to shock. Just when you warm to them or let down your guard for them they do or say something abhorrent. It all hit home a bit too much to be honest. I thought I would be escaping into a cosy world that accompanies bed-and-toast but found myself choking on the everyday reality of living in a sexist society. Well nobody could call Trapido's characters flat, that's for sure.
You're supposed to either love or hate Marmite, but instead of sitting on either side of the fence with this book, you are likely to both love and hate it. You are trapped by the moments of affection you feel for the book's eccentric yet sadly familiar characters. You feel the necessity of love for these characters as with a familial bond, a tenderness that runs in the blood, yet really they are pretty awful.
I am aware that this is a very British review of a very British book, but whether you're familiar with the act of spreading yeast extract on your sandwiches or not, I'm sure you'll find at least parts of this coming-of-age story unfortunately relatable. Especially if you're a woman. -
What a joy this book is. A literary romance. Aged about 19 Kath meets a bohemian family with six children and falls in love with them, and especially the eldest son, Roger. And I fell in love with them. After the end of that first love affair, Kath moves to Rome, and it is ten years before she catches up with the Goldmans again, when she falls in love with another one of them. It's a coming-of-age story about whether in the late 70s in England women can actually get a family and a career. On the front Meg Mason says, it's 'utterly ageless'. And in some ways it is - an ageless subject - but in others it's a wonderful period piece full of phrases I forgotten like, 'something chronic'. (Only the middle section in Italy stopped me from giving it five stars, really because it was too slight and too quickly dealt with.)
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Superb writing - and Trapido's ability to grant real emotional honesty to most of her characters - were not enough to overcome aspects of this novel I found unpleasant. Despite some strong, quirky traits, and aspirations toward independence, the women are largely second-class citizens. There's a lot of talk about their unique power and individualism, but not enough supporting action to codify it. While motherhood comes in for some well-earned scrutiny, women in general are glorified as sexual objects and this is implied to be their highest calling. I did laugh in places but grimaced much more often when it became clear that these circumstances would not be improving dramatically.
3.5 stars -
I ran out of books on holiday, so nicked this one from my wife’s pile. Never heard of it or the author, and was thoroughly and completely won over. Enjoyed every page of it, and will certainly be reading more of hers.
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Hi hi, it’s the voice of an unpopular opinion. I really did hate this book, but don’t despair, it’s mostly me. In defence of Trapido, I’m not a fan of a preppy, humorous novel, so my reaction is mostly a me thing. In defence of myself, I don’t think this novel has aged very well. The two star are there largely because I think if this was your style, Trapido has done a nice-ish job of writing some zingy dialogue. But I cannot abide by the awful way women are objectified in this novel, and the application of a comedic tone to some fairly horrific life experiences grated me like a lemon zest.
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I found a used copy of this book last summer based on Maria Semple's ('Where'd You Go Bernadette) listing of favorite books in Huffpost. When she reiterated her love for it in her recent 'By The Book' profile in the New York Times, I knew it was time to actually read it. The verdict? Maria Semple has great taste. This short coming of age novel is funny, tragic and heartwarming and it's DNA is all over 'Bernadette'. Let me state right now that this book deserves to be brought back into print in the US right now. Right now. I am going to buy used copies and start handing them out to people in the hope of starting a groundswell that will get a US publisher to pick up the rights and give this book the audience it deserves.
Trapido's novel was her debut and since it was published more than thirty years ago, it may seem dated to some readers, but it is timeless in all the ways that really matter. The writing is clean and precise, the characters are complex and vivid, emotions are explored without wallowing in bathos, and the story unfolds with great pacing. The voice of the narrator, Katherine, is self-aware and romantically pragmatic, or pragmatically romantic, which wasn't too far from the character's own view of herself. In the closing pages of the novel she states, "I was very romantic about the prospect of our lives in that house, though. I hope, not without a degree of protective irony. I hoped to be a caustic romantic. I learnt it from Jane."
Jane is Jane Goldman, Katherine's spiritual mother -- beautiful, aristocratic, mercurial and mesmerizing. The brilliant and eccentric and multitudinous (there are six offspring) Goldman family are central to Katherine's life and development. Husband Jacob, Jewish, lusty, uxorious, and unapologetic, is Katherine's professor. Oldest son Roger is Katherine's first love, but he breaks her heart, causing her to flee England for ten years, to live in exile in Italy. One of the great joys in the book is discovering, after her return to England, is how Katherine, unbeknownst to her, has played a central role in the lives of the Goldmans.
If you have a soft spot in your heart for David Lodge, Penelope Lively, Kate Atkinson or E.M. Forster's Howard's End, try this book, I think you'll be glad you spent the a few minutes on the web and a few dollars to get your hands on it. -
I really liked this book! Firstly, for some reason I expected it to be set in the USA, but I was delighted to find the action took place primarily in England, with little forays into Europe. Secondly, I loved every one of the Goldman family characters (I wanted to be Katherine, to spend time with them) and Katherine herself grew into a well-developed, admirable character too. In fact I find myself with the urge to take up the knitting needles - one of Kath's many talents, variously lauded and derided by one Goldman or another. Thirdly, the plot was really satisfying. I wasn't too sure about a certain turn of events in Act III, but ultimately I think it worked. Finally - the writing was great. I daresay I will re-read this one day.
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This book took a while for me to get into but once I did I enjoyed it. The writing flows nicely and it allowed me to read at a quick pace. I did find the characters to not be even remotely relatable, although for me this did not take away from the novel very much. Some of their choice baffled me to no end, but I did find everyone rather likeable in a very quirky and eccentric way. 3.5/5
Note: I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review. -
A close friend loves this book and wondered if I'd care to read it. I did not get off to a promising start with it. I was not smitten with the narrator, Katherine, a young woman who floats into the lives and beds of others, making casual observations of her changing reality, only to get walloped by the emotional aftermath of being Gamed. I grit my teeth and stayed with it, though -- and was glad I did. Shortly past the midway mark, she returns to the scene where it all got started. Over the course of various meetings and conversations, it becomes clear that a transformation has taken place: in some of the people she once knew, and also in her.
By book's end, I was deeply in love with them all. And it occurred to me that, with her narrator, Trapido had pulled a masterful stunt similar to Dickens in David Copperfield: the voice begins as young and inexperienced and foolish, and gradually matures to something approaching wisdom and humility -- without the reader noticing just where the changes of perspective and voice have taken place. This is a masterful book. -
Thank you to NetGalley and Bloomsbury USA for this advanced copy. In exchange for a pre-publish copy I am giving an honest review.
Originally published in 1982 and now being re-released in November 2014 is Trapido's book that has been named by several authors as the book that influenced their writing the most. With reviews/recommendations like that I definitely wanted to read it!
It's a coming of age book featuring Katherine. She's 18 and is introduced to her philosophy professor's large family, the Goldman's. After taking up with one of the older sons and then getting her heart broken by him, Katherine moves to Rome to nurse her hurting heart. While in Rome she grows up in the ways of the world and relationships and returns to England with a wounded heart but this time none of the Goldman's have anything to do with it. In fact, this time one of the Goldman's helps Katherine heal from the beating her heart has taken and she settles into a life she realizes she was actually meant to live.
That's the brief summary of this title that seems to be so well loved and well received. But I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm just not as sophisticated or something but I found the story to be tedious and dull. It was not interesting in the least, in my opinion. In fact, I kept falling asleep while reading it. It lacked an actual story, it was a rather boring telling of a girl named Katherine and about 14 years of her life. Yes, there were certainly elements in the story that all young women can relate to; broken hearts, uncertainty about direction of life, loss, etc. Trapido's telling of those common experiences, however, was no more special or different than anyone else who has told of those same things in their own coming of age story. The story lacked...life.
I am a writer so I am trying to figure out what it is about this title that influenced so many to write themselves. It does nothing of the sort for me. In fact, if anything it makes me question the literary taste of many. All the glowing reviews and awards it won when first released have me confused. Perhaps this is a case of time marching on and as it does things, including novels and authors, improve. This is Trapido's first book, I wonder if her other books are similar in style and telling or if she improved. The love felt for this book makes me think it is a case of time and maturity. Something about the book spoke to so many back when it first hit the shelves but if they read it again today I have the feeling the majority of them may wonder why they have been claiming it as a favorite all these years. -
Brother of the More Famous Jack is the first novel by British author, Barbara Trapido. It won the 1982 Whitbread Special Prize for Fiction. Katherine Browne is somewhat surprised to gain a University place in London after her interview with philosophy Professor Jacob Goldman, and even more surprised to find herself taken to his country house by a prospective lover. It becomes the first of many visits, as Katherine is enveloped into this large family’s chaotic life. Almost inevitably, she falls for Jacob’s eldest son, Roger. And just as inevitably, when the relationship ends, she flees to Italy, where a very different life awaits.
This is a novel that proceeds at a gentle pace; the plot is perhaps a little predictable, yet there are plenty of surprises and, towards the end, many laugh-out-loud moments. Trapido’s characters have depth and appeal: all have their flaws, but are often the more loveable for them. Trapido treats the reader to some wonderful prose: “He fixed me under his black horsehair eyebrows with what I took to be smouldering animosity……..He had hair to match his eyebrows sprouting, intimidatingly, like sofa stuffing from the neck of his open shirt” and “…whatever the Goldmans’ furniture says about them, it also says that they are articulate enough to contradict what it might attempt to say” and “In a house full of talkers Roger never talked much. He always disliked the unremarkable small change of conversation” are a few examples. An amazing debut. 4.5 ★s -
Controvertida e indisciplinada novela de formación en la que acompañaremos a una chica inglesa llamada Katherine a lo largo de su adolescencia y madurez en el seno de una familia "adoptiva" que hace de todo menos avenirse a las normas y protocolos de clase. La novela de Trapido es sin duda una lectura muy estimulante que juega a contrariar los convencionalismos propios de este tipo de relatos: plagada de personajes tan fascinantes como rocambolescos, El hermano del famoso Jack contiene momentos de humor, trágicos y otros más agridulces, que componen el vibrante retrato de su protagonista y muestran lo difícil que resulta a veces predecir las consecuencias de nuestras decisiones cuando están tomadas con el corazón y no con la cabeza.
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Con un estilo elegante, duro a veces y una gran modernidad para la época en la que fue escrito (1982), Barbara Trapido nos cuenta la vida de Katherine desde sus dieciocho años hasta la edad adulta. Unos diálogos ingeniosos, unos personajes carismáticos y un sentido del humor muy fino han sido los aspectos que más me han gustado, además de la forma de tratar la evolución de la protagonista, y ver cómo la Katherine que conocemos en las primeras páginas no es la misma de la que nos despedimos en la última.
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Great fun, even in its bleakest episodes. I wish that I could unravel why I enjoyed this so much, perhaps due to my willful suspension of disbelief. Jake and the entire Goldman clan felt like cartoon characters to me, based on naive fantasies of progressive Jewish intellectuals. My dissatisfaction, however, failed to affect my enjoyment. I appreciated Brother of the More Famous Jack as somehow bright and warm, if not substantial. 3.5 stars
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A much needed re-read of my beloved favourite book. I still love it as much as I did at 17
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4.5
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In every respect, this book was aggravating, enraging, or both. It tells the story of Katherine, a precocious university student in the (I guess?) seventies, who becomes enmeshed in the family of one of her philosophy professors through the interlocution of the professor’s friend, a purportedly gay man who takes occasional excursions into heterosexuality by sleeping with extremely young women. If this sounds deeply insane and unpleasant, it’s because it is!
Katherine is an astonishing person, and by extension so is Trapido. In the course of this book and a decade of her life, Katherine cheerfully reveals that she is not only okay with, but romantically interested in: fascists; rapists; paedophiles; misogynists; domestic abusers; and any Venn diagram combination of the above. We first encounter Jacob, the professor for whom Katherine has an abiding affection and admiration, in his home with his wild children and pregnant-for-the-sixth time (house)wife. Of contraception, he declares:
“A hundred years ago women ruined their health swallowing lead pills, and poking at themselves with crochet hooks. Now they ruin their health swallowing hormone pills and pushing copper hooks into the neck of the uterus. You may call it progress if you like.”
YES, I FUCKING WILL, ACTUALLY. For one thing, UNLIKE you, Jacob, I’d actually be having the babies! Pills and IUDs are much more reliable and safe than lead pills and crochet hooks, even though you, a … *checks notes* MAN, are suggesting they’re EQUIVALENT, like ad-hoc approaches to birth control are THE SAME as the massive advancements seen in the twentieth century that not-coincidentally correlate with the biggest liberation in women’s rights and liberties in …. ever. Also? FUCK YOU.
This is how Jacob describes his friend John, Katherine’s lover cum professional gay man:
“We all know and love John as a dear friend, not so? […] And we all know, of course, that some of our best friends go in for sodomy, buggery, child-abuse, you name it.”
I think that’s what Epstein said too, right?
Katherine next enters a relationship with Jacob’s eldest son Roger, a mansplaining gaslighter that Katherine never actually gets over, despite the fact that she ends the book married to his brother. (Of the vile Jonathan, more anon.) After a traumatic break-up, Katherine flees to Italy and falls in love with Michele, a divorced man, on the basis of: minding his children when he’s late to pick them up for the airport, watching him yell at his children when he’s the one at fault, and dropping them off at their mother’s while acting like a disgusting prick the entire time. Michele is literally a fascist; Katherine drops the information and turns to the camera to chirp ‘That’s hot!’ Paris Hilton-style. Michele abandons Katherine when she falls pregnant and refuses an abortion – which, why? WHY? The baby dies of cot-death aged twelve weeks, but Katherine is shacked up with Jonathan and pregnant again in the same space of time, so I can’t say I was overly convinced by this as a portrayal of parental bereavement.
And then there’s Jonathan, who canonically had an affair with a TEENAGE STUDENT he was TEACHING AT THE TIME. She conveniently divorced him (to finish! school!) so he was free to declare his longstanding crush on Katherine when she returns to England for extensive inpatient treatment for her depression, conversations about which appear to function as legit come-ons in this universe. Jonathan writes what sound like Martin Amis-esque books full of bodily emissions and tells Katherine:
“I plan to rape you with my new Bisset mop while you read Jill Tweedie.”
and:
“I’m going to heave my weight off your ribs every morning and leave you in a tacky pool of my ooze.”
The first one is profoundly horrifying, but I wonder if the second is supposed to be titillating? If so … to who? There’s dirty talk, and there’s primary school gross-out talk, and it’s very clear which this one is - to everyone except Jonathan, I guess.
I’ve outlined the plot in a way that suggests that it’s written in a sensible, novelistic fashion, but this is not the case. We have highly detailed (sometimes present tense) chapters in which we watch everyone walk about and eat meals and change clothes, followed by a few scanty paragraphs in which, for example, Katherine moves to Italy and gets knocked up by a fascist with nothing in the way of description, let alone insight.
At the end we meet some schoolfriends of Jonathan’s younger sisters, who are visiting Jacob and Jane’s house. They have no role in the plot except to allow Katherine to describe how fine she is with the fact that Jonathan is eyeing up these teenagers like he wants to have sex with one or any of them. Katherine's a Cool Girl! Jonathan then gets into a vicious, nasty argument with his mother about the fact that she wants Katherine to have a more equitable marital situation than she endured.
“[…] quite a lot of men will cook now and again if their wives lay in the garlic and root ginger and whatever else is necessary for the star turn.”
This whole argument seems old hat now, but perhaps it was fresh in 1982; what’s affronting about it is how utterly violent Jacob and Jonathan are in their denunciations of Jane’s entire lived experience. Throughout it all, Katherine sits there with a silly smile, thinking of absolutely nothing, I presume, because there’s no indication she takes this interchange on board or has any feelings about it.
I mean, earlier in the novel Jane remarks:
“[…] when the twins were born I screwed out of Jacob the right to use disposable nappies […]”
Of a man who does no cleaning or childcare! She had to BEG to use disposable nappies! I had to lie down on the floor, I was so overcome, but Katherine is just thinking about how hot fascists are again, I guess. This is what made me so fundamentally angry with this book: all the ingredients are there to show a woman coming to the slow and horrified realisation that she’s been taken for a fool by a bunch of thundering misogynists, but it never happens. Katherine appears to think the main feminist win is not being too bothered when your male partner wants to trade you in for a newer model. I wanted to kill her and then myself.
“[Leone] reminded me often of those little girls in the junior school who told you not to wear your shiny pink dress to the party because they were going to wear theirs. And you didn’t wear it, even though you had got your own dress first and it wasn’t fair. And then you went on being flattered when they chose you first for their side in games.”
The only piece of good writing in the entire revolting book. -
This is a heady nostalgia-trip-read for me. For an England I have left behind, and one that possibly doesn't exist anymore with the anti-intellectualism that seems to have swept the country. And for my 'youth' of long ago when when I first laughed and cried over this book. It is an intensely English book - full of anachronisms that even I don't get anymore, but the book still works if one just skips on by. She writes with such verve that you find yourself laughing even when you don't quite get the joke.
The book has everything - for romance, there is a pair of brooding, precocious brothers; for laughs, a gorgeous, eccentric English family with naughty boys peeing in baskets full of wellies, secrets divulged in the vegetable patch, and lots of swearing and sex talk in front of the children; and for tragedy there is love lost, and a baldy-stated event that rips your heart out.
On the face of it, it is just the story of a rather ordinary woman who meets extraordinary people as she navigates life and love in her twenties and thirties. The origin of chick-lit perhaps? But Trapido bridges the tragicomedy so well she surely transcends the genre, and occasionally a sentence scorches with its truth and you realize that underneath the farce and frivolity she's pulled a sly trick, and that you are reading that oh-so-worthy thing: a treatise on the human condition. -
This is a novel that definitely lived up to all the hype. Written in the early 1980s, it is a very clever and poignant book that deals with class and love in England. Katherine becomes the student of Jacob Goldman, a professor of philosophy. A bisexual man named John, unbeknownst to Katherine, takes her to her professor's house and she becomes the darling of their eccentric family. The matriarch, the beautiful Jane embraces her as if she is her own daughter, and the oldest son Roger, very good looking but somewhat suppressed and arrogant, falls in love with her.
The relationship goes sour, and Katherine moves to Italy. There she becomes involved with a domineering Italian man. She eventually comes back to England and is reunited with the Goldman family. There are other important events that have happened, but no spoilers here. Though it isn't a spoiler, I don't think, to say that the book has a happy ending.
The writing is quite witty, in a Evelyn Waugh sort of way. The Goldman family are rather open talking about sex and can be quite cutting with each other. Water off a ducks back would be a necessary philosophy to be able to deal with this crew. Katherine is a strong character, and she certainly can deal with them.
Although there are some really touching moments, this book was more of a satire to me. Delightful would be the first word to come to mind. I laughed a lot, and smiled even more as I read this novel. -
I love Brother of the More Famous Jack and wish I'd read it when I was younger. Also pleasantly surprised at the nods to Barbara Comyns, down to a horrific childbirth sequence and the naming of children in relation to Botticelli. Distinct narrative voice, whipsmart irreverent humour, and flashes of warmth and kindness. Coming-of-age the way it's meant to be done.
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I love book serendipity: I've kept hearing about this novel from You're Booked podcast (the host Daisy Buchanan and her friends seem to adore it and they bring it up every other episode), and here it was waiting for me at the lending shelf of a Turkish hotel. Pretty unlikely! I've read it in one day on the beach. It didn't change my life or anything, but it's really laugh out loud if you like British humour (I do).
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I knew I would love this after Ann Patchett and Meg Mason recommended it in her ‘new to you’ videos.
The Goldman’s reminded me very much of the Wellwood family in AS Byatt’s The Children’s Book which is currently waiting for a re-read on my bedside table.
This is very much in my wheelhouse of big, bold families. 4.5 rounded up. -
3.5⭐️ La storia della vita di una donna da studentessa, fidanzata, madre e moglie nell’Inghilterra della rivoluzione sessuale del secolo scorso. Un’ironia cruda e tagliente di un’autrice che a volte mi ha lasciato basito.
Un romanzo audace che consiglio. -
Nobody talks like this in real life! So pretentious! Absolutely insufferable!! Five stars.
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There's a very particular 80s, slap-on-the-wrist, what are they like? approach to misogyny that coats pretty much this whole novel and only becomes more pronounced as it goes along. Men are criticised, sure, but they're pretty consistently vindicated for their bullshit, facing only a stern glare or a sharp dig in response. And you see this, and it grates on you, and you grimace here and there, suck your teeth, and then you read something like
"It was one of those weddings where the bride's and groom's families stand out like opposing football teams, each wearing their colours. All the decent hats were, thank God, on our side."
or
"'I have been singing on my way from the underground station because you praised my voice,' I wrote. 'Tell me what I should sing.' Thinking back, I could probably not have written a more annoying letter."
or
"He swept out, leaving me behind. Jonathan was always a master of the exit and entrance. Like Mr Knightley, he appears in doorways, knocking mud from his boots. As a card-carrying female masochist, I find this quite essential to my sense of wellbeing."
and it's like, who gives a fuck??? This is so stupidly, unfairly joyous and direct, so funny and charming with such persistence that it makes you ache. You wonder what the fuck everyone else is playing at. This family is a treat forever and always. They're fuckheads, but they're my fuckheads.
Bloody excellent writing, simply, but something I can see many not enjoying. -
Thoroughly annoying.
I can appreciate the strange prose and her intelligent turns of phrase but basically, the male characters are all alike and the female characters are alike so... well what more is there to say?
Ok there is one more thing - one ending scene with a woman telling truths about her life in a misogynistic household (to the accompaniment of insults thrown at her from her sons and husband) does NOT make up for the normalising "funny" rhetoric of the book where violence against women, their belittling and their very real issues are told in a giggly tone. I mean dude! I can appreciate tone but whoever tells me this method is a literary device i say that there's a fine line between artistic levity and insensitivity and this one crosses it. -
When Bloomsbury offered Brother of the More Famous Jack for early review of the reprint of this classic British novel, I was intrigued by the odd title and the lovely cover.
When I read the blurb by Elizabeth Gilbert, whom I like very much, and that Trapido is a a well known and celebrated author in Britain, and this is novel is a witty observation on manners, relationships, and a female bildungsroman, my brain became all inflated with anticipation.
But then I started this story about a narcissistic, flighty, and impressionable young woman and it all sort of deflated.
As others have said, yes, there are elements of heartbreak here to which the reader is supposed to relate, but I find it difficult to relate to a character who has eyes for an older man whom she discovers in very short order is gay and so is thus heartbroken (she's known him for such a very short amount of time, and everyone around her immediately told her he was gay, that to claim herself in love him him was ludicrous), and so instantly, instantly turns around falls in love with the next handsome boy in line of sight, with absolutely no reason for doing so. Difficult to feel sorry for or relate to a heartbroken character who couldn't possibly be feeling any semblance of actual love or even strong affection.
And so... yeah, I abandoned the book.
I wonder, and even strongly suspect, that I could be making a mistake here. The novel is highly rated on Goodreads, and I did laugh at much of what I read. The writing is witty and smart:
"He wears his shirt unbuttoned and reveals to me, thereby, that the hair grows like a blanket to his navel. I assume this to be a minor deformity which he bears with fortitude. "
But also sort of distracting and confusing. The truth is, I do actually believe I might try this book or another of Trapido's funny looking novels in the future. But today, this week, this season, it all felt a bit flat and dated and weary to me, and I just didn't feel any desire to keep going with it right now.
But just a heads up that I may very well eat my own words at some later date.... -
Charming. The narrator is an (accidental) philosophy student, smart but self-effacing, who falls in love with her philosophy professor's whole family, and then their oldest son. It is hard not to fall in love with the family--the philosopher father who tells everyone how much he likes having sex with his wife, the mother who is matter-of-fact and sweetly bossy in her mothering (she has six children so there is a lot of mothering to do), the children who through benign neglect develop their own very individual personalities... It is hard to convey but I can promise you that you'll want to hang out with them after you meet them. It is disappointing to realize that none of them actually exist and so you can't pull up a chair in their kitchen and plop one of the babies in your lap.
