American Wife, Curtis Sittenfeld

It is hard to imagine that the bland Laura Bush could inspire anyone to do anything other than yawn, and this is why some people write books and you don't. Curtis Sittenfeld has written a terrific novel imagining the inner life and background of the woman who puts the "dull" into dullsville, whose automtaton smile and colour blocked clothes seem to suggest Stepford is not too far from Reston, Virginia. American Wife is an imaginary look into that blank brain, and in fact any brain of a certain generation of good upstanding women who somehow manage to cause no harm, or at least manage never to be actually blamed for the harm they do. That's quite a skill.

The young "Laura" is actually Alice, to whom some dreadful things happen. So far so interesting but as imprinted as she is by tragedy or startling discoveries she manages to actually say very little. She owns up to nothing, really, not even a christly crap that wrecks the plumbing in the one and only bathroom a dozen people must share -- she lets events wash over her and smiles and nods and goes with the flow.

Alice is called up short by two people, and not until the near end of the story. The great question is then posed -- is being "good" the same as being not too bad? Is "good enough" ever good enough? And what responsibility does the president of the free world's intimate partner have to ensure he doesn't run off and kill thousands in a country he previously would be unlikely to be able to find on a map? But she got away unscathed from something similar -- perhaps that then becomes simply the way things are done. You simply smile and get away with it, and everyone thinks you're nice. What a rich reward for doing and being so little.

The Believers, Zoe Heller

Zoe Heller is a phenomenally gifted writer. Her novel What Was She Thinking? Notes on a Scandal is delicious in its cunning, perfectly describing the malevolent passive-aggressive manipulation that either is caused by or causes loneliness. She perfectly captured the essence of a character we all know but who slips away from us at the moment we think we've nailed her. There are so many "sweet" old women (and they are so often women) who tabulate and track the actions and foibles of others strictly for the purposes of judging them harshly. The momentary feeling of righteousness is the essence of their addiction. No one is allowed to be too happy, or too carefree.

The Believers, Heller's newest book, is already slated for the movies. In it is an acerbic mother whom many of my friends will recognize, a true bitch of the "it's a dog eat dog world, get used to it" school of maternal feeling. So relentlessly cruel is she that we can't quite pity her for wanting so badly to believe in the story of her marriage rather than the marriage itself. It's hard to see her side of things or to feel sorry that she stoically put up with a philandering husband knowing that the marriage was a constant while his flings were flings, only to find out that he actually did love someone else and moreover, had a FAMILY with her. No, actually, we sort of see his point. I'd run to the nearest warm heart, too.

This book will be a movie and probably a very good one -- Patrick Marber, who wrote Closer and Notes on a Scandal is not only a friend of Heller's but the screenwriter of this, too. The book is entertaining enough, Heller is a terrific writer, but it is not altogether good. The Believers of the title are those in an idealistic family who are struggling to believe in a higher purpose and reason to live while being unable to actually connect with life. Each character is cut off and shut off save one, the one who didn't believe in much malarkey at all. She is the tragic sister who believed what her bitch mother and father told her -- that she wasn't very pretty and certainly not that smart, she shouldn't expect much. Luckily for her she got over that, a sign that not being a believer is maybe the best route to happiness.

So, this is a decent book for discussion purposes, a book club pick if there ever was one. But it's just that. Decent, not delicious.