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Novels are dead! Readership is down! No one likes books!
The Virginia Quarterly Review had a very good essay a while back about how "the death of the novel" is an old cliché, so I won't opine here. I was, however, reminded of this for two reasons. First, I just finished Tom Perotta's latest novel, The Abstinence Teacher. And second, Camille Paglia, that lover of literature, that Amazon of the arts, declared in her most recent Salon column, "I don't care about any novels published after World War II." Say wha?
One of the supposed reasons for our country's supposedly declining interest in novels is our supposedly hyped-up attention spans. So, although she can devote an entire book to poetry, I guess it's no surprise that with her mile-a-minute mind and hectic life of teaching, public speaking and raising a son with her partner, Paglia might not have the attention span or time for novels. You'd think that our mosquito-on-speed lifestyles would actually make the usually shorter form of poetry more popular, but it has as much do with accessibility as with length.
Another alleged reason for the novel's alleged death is the medium's lack of relevance. Yet, major authors such as Jay McInerney and Don DeLillo both wrote "important" 9/11 novels, but did anyone besides their most rabid fans read them? I've heard people blame the fact that, even if a novel is tackling a relevant current event, novels by nature take so long to produce that the topic is already outdated by publication. But then, didn't audiences stay away from the two9/11 movies (a medium generally considered more accessible), even with their great reviews and Oscar nominations, because it was too soon?
Tom Perotta seems to have found the right moment for his latest novel. After the evangelical Christian voting surge tipped the scales in the 2004 presidential election, Perotta told the New York Times he wanted to find out more about these people. Who are they, besides their religion? How did they organize for and respond so passionately to the election? He's tackling a current events issue with his usual, accessible, page-turning style.
Even better for Perotta, though the book is released three years after the fact (which isn't too shabby, actually), we're still in the middle of public religious debates - church vs. state, creationism vs. evolution, Project Runway vs. Top Chef (Bravo is my God), etc. Plus, the 2008 election is right around the corner and, even if religion doesn't play as big a role as in 2004, we still have supposedly progressive Democrat candidates who blame their religious upbringing for opposing gay marriage.
So this could have been a great time for a novelist, hot off the best-seller-turned-major-movie-adaptation Little Children, to explore religion's role in public lives. The Abstinence Teacher does just that...kind of sorta.
The story follows Tim, an ex-alcoholic/druggie/rocker turned born-again Christian. After his wife divorces him, Tim tries to stay clean, help raise his daughter (mostly by coaching her soccer games) and move on with his life thanks to the local church group, the Tabernacle of the Gospel Truth, and its leader, Pastor Dennis.
In the same "sleepy" suburb we have Ruth Ramsey, an atheist Sex Ed teacher who responds to a student's question about oral sex with a list of the STDs you can contract from it but finishes with "some people like it." Oopers! The Tabernacle hears of this and, even though they've only recently set up shop in the town, insist that the school teach abstinence instead. Caving to pressure and media scrutiny, the school officials agree and Ruth is forced to teach a curriculum she doesn't believe in.
When Ruth then witnesses Tim leading his soccer team in prayer after a big win, a team that includes both of their daughters, she creates even more of a public spectacle by grabbing her daughter and yelling at Tim. The two adults then begin a strange, interesting relationship, sometimes prickly, sometimes affectionate.
All of this is fine and good, with Perotta's usual astute observations and humor. Ruth imagines returning the Sex Ed curriculum back to her own: "In her mind, it played like a Hollywood movie, Michelle Pfeiffer standing before an audience of earnest, good-looking teenagers, rolling a condom onto a cucumber as triumphant music swelled in the background." A dated pop culture reference, sure, but appropriate for a forty-something woman.
The problem is that after luring the reader at first with multiple chapters about Ruth, Perotta clearly prefers writing about Tim. He devotes chapter after chapter to Tim's new marriage and his relationship with Pastor Dennis, slipping in one chapter here and there on Ruth. Isn't she the title character? Isn't this book supposed to be about her?
Also, even though Pastor Dennis is set up as Tim's spiritual guide and mentor, he's also almost the antagonist to Tim, constantly prodding him to behave against his natural instincts, to reject himself and find God. It's a complicated, tumultuous relationship. Again, Ruth doesn't fair as well. She's up against Joann Marlow, the beautiful, blonde abstinence advocate in heels and pearls who, in a presentation to the students regarding the new curriculum, makes abstinence seem both sexy and realistic. Even though Ruth and Joann have some tense, funny battles, Joann is nowhere near as realized as Ruth, Tim or even Pastor Dennis. Isn't she Ruth's foil? All we know is that she's religious and therefore a virgin. But considering Perotta devotes so much time to exploring the contradictions of human nature, is Joann who she says she is? And is it really so easy for her?
I wish that Ruth's story was as fleshed out as Tim's, but for Perotta to do that he would have had to give her an equally developed, sympathetic antagonist. It's telling that Perotta is able to humanize a character like Pastor Dennis. Dennis, after all, received his call from God while working as a top-notch, electronics-obsessed Best Buy employee. Perotta vividly draws the religious character who also happened to have lived in our mainstream, materialistic world. Joann, for all we know, has never had a spiritual crisis, never regretted a decision she's made, never doubted herself or, more importantly, her beliefs. Isn't that the person Perotta was trying to write about? Isn't her story of doubtless faith just as worthy (if maybe not as dramatic) as Dennis'? Perotta is usually so good at both satirizing and respecting his characters, he could have had a lot of fun and insight with her instead of just using her as a plot device. If he wanted to focus more on Tim, Pastor Dennis and both men's influence on their town, then maybe he should have called the book The Abstinence Preacher.
I'm not sure the book will be considered an important piece of "relevant" art - it's neither challening nor controversial, and probably won't be considered as anything more than a perfectly good book. Perotta gets all his usual details right - the stifling suburbia, the contrast between public personae and private doubts, the sacrifices necessary to live the way we think we should. I just wish he had been as curious about one of his most important characters as he said he was going to be. It's ironic that in a novel about abstinence-only education programs, he left out some of the most imporant stuff.
Also check out: Cradle to Tears.
And: Dear Filmmakers of The Road.
Clik here to view.
Novels are dead! Readership is down! No one likes books!The Virginia Quarterly Review had a very good essay a while back about how "the death of the novel" is an old cliché, so I won't opine here. I was, however, reminded of this for two reasons. First, I just finished Tom Perotta's latest novel, The Abstinence Teacher. And second, Camille Paglia, that lover of literature, that Amazon of the arts, declared in her most recent Salon column, "I don't care about any novels published after World War II." Say wha?
One of the supposed reasons for our country's supposedly declining interest in novels is our supposedly hyped-up attention spans. So, although she can devote an entire book to poetry, I guess it's no surprise that with her mile-a-minute mind and hectic life of teaching, public speaking and raising a son with her partner, Paglia might not have the attention span or time for novels. You'd think that our mosquito-on-speed lifestyles would actually make the usually shorter form of poetry more popular, but it has as much do with accessibility as with length.
Another alleged reason for the novel's alleged death is the medium's lack of relevance. Yet, major authors such as Jay McInerney and Don DeLillo both wrote "important" 9/11 novels, but did anyone besides their most rabid fans read them? I've heard people blame the fact that, even if a novel is tackling a relevant current event, novels by nature take so long to produce that the topic is already outdated by publication. But then, didn't audiences stay away from the two9/11 movies (a medium generally considered more accessible), even with their great reviews and Oscar nominations, because it was too soon?
Tom Perotta seems to have found the right moment for his latest novel. After the evangelical Christian voting surge tipped the scales in the 2004 presidential election, Perotta told the New York Times he wanted to find out more about these people. Who are they, besides their religion? How did they organize for and respond so passionately to the election? He's tackling a current events issue with his usual, accessible, page-turning style.
Even better for Perotta, though the book is released three years after the fact (which isn't too shabby, actually), we're still in the middle of public religious debates - church vs. state, creationism vs. evolution, Project Runway vs. Top Chef (Bravo is my God), etc. Plus, the 2008 election is right around the corner and, even if religion doesn't play as big a role as in 2004, we still have supposedly progressive Democrat candidates who blame their religious upbringing for opposing gay marriage.
So this could have been a great time for a novelist, hot off the best-seller-turned-major-movie-adaptation Little Children, to explore religion's role in public lives. The Abstinence Teacher does just that...kind of sorta.
The story follows Tim, an ex-alcoholic/druggie/rocker turned born-again Christian. After his wife divorces him, Tim tries to stay clean, help raise his daughter (mostly by coaching her soccer games) and move on with his life thanks to the local church group, the Tabernacle of the Gospel Truth, and its leader, Pastor Dennis.
In the same "sleepy" suburb we have Ruth Ramsey, an atheist Sex Ed teacher who responds to a student's question about oral sex with a list of the STDs you can contract from it but finishes with "some people like it." Oopers! The Tabernacle hears of this and, even though they've only recently set up shop in the town, insist that the school teach abstinence instead. Caving to pressure and media scrutiny, the school officials agree and Ruth is forced to teach a curriculum she doesn't believe in.
When Ruth then witnesses Tim leading his soccer team in prayer after a big win, a team that includes both of their daughters, she creates even more of a public spectacle by grabbing her daughter and yelling at Tim. The two adults then begin a strange, interesting relationship, sometimes prickly, sometimes affectionate.
All of this is fine and good, with Perotta's usual astute observations and humor. Ruth imagines returning the Sex Ed curriculum back to her own: "In her mind, it played like a Hollywood movie, Michelle Pfeiffer standing before an audience of earnest, good-looking teenagers, rolling a condom onto a cucumber as triumphant music swelled in the background." A dated pop culture reference, sure, but appropriate for a forty-something woman.
The problem is that after luring the reader at first with multiple chapters about Ruth, Perotta clearly prefers writing about Tim. He devotes chapter after chapter to Tim's new marriage and his relationship with Pastor Dennis, slipping in one chapter here and there on Ruth. Isn't she the title character? Isn't this book supposed to be about her?
Also, even though Pastor Dennis is set up as Tim's spiritual guide and mentor, he's also almost the antagonist to Tim, constantly prodding him to behave against his natural instincts, to reject himself and find God. It's a complicated, tumultuous relationship. Again, Ruth doesn't fair as well. She's up against Joann Marlow, the beautiful, blonde abstinence advocate in heels and pearls who, in a presentation to the students regarding the new curriculum, makes abstinence seem both sexy and realistic. Even though Ruth and Joann have some tense, funny battles, Joann is nowhere near as realized as Ruth, Tim or even Pastor Dennis. Isn't she Ruth's foil? All we know is that she's religious and therefore a virgin. But considering Perotta devotes so much time to exploring the contradictions of human nature, is Joann who she says she is? And is it really so easy for her?
I wish that Ruth's story was as fleshed out as Tim's, but for Perotta to do that he would have had to give her an equally developed, sympathetic antagonist. It's telling that Perotta is able to humanize a character like Pastor Dennis. Dennis, after all, received his call from God while working as a top-notch, electronics-obsessed Best Buy employee. Perotta vividly draws the religious character who also happened to have lived in our mainstream, materialistic world. Joann, for all we know, has never had a spiritual crisis, never regretted a decision she's made, never doubted herself or, more importantly, her beliefs. Isn't that the person Perotta was trying to write about? Isn't her story of doubtless faith just as worthy (if maybe not as dramatic) as Dennis'? Perotta is usually so good at both satirizing and respecting his characters, he could have had a lot of fun and insight with her instead of just using her as a plot device. If he wanted to focus more on Tim, Pastor Dennis and both men's influence on their town, then maybe he should have called the book The Abstinence Preacher.
I'm not sure the book will be considered an important piece of "relevant" art - it's neither challening nor controversial, and probably won't be considered as anything more than a perfectly good book. Perotta gets all his usual details right - the stifling suburbia, the contrast between public personae and private doubts, the sacrifices necessary to live the way we think we should. I just wish he had been as curious about one of his most important characters as he said he was going to be. It's ironic that in a novel about abstinence-only education programs, he left out some of the most imporant stuff.
Also check out: Cradle to Tears.
And: Dear Filmmakers of The Road.