I first learned about Jennifer duBois searching specifically for works by graduates of the prestigious Iowa Writers’ Workshop. I added CARTWHEEL to my Want to Reads based on a synopsis on Goodreads which compared her writing to that of Curtis Sittenfeld, my favorite author. When I finally read CARTWHEEL this summer, I was blown away by it. The language used throughout was gorgeous, the narrative was highly compelling, and I found the hinted at inner lives of the characters who didn’t get the chance to narrate their own sections fascinating. I found the comparison to Sittenfeld well-earned and I had added duBois’ other books to my WTRs even before I was finished reading because of how impressed I was by what I was experiencing. Unsurprisingly, I ended up giving the book 5 stars.
When I learned that she had a new book coming out this year, I was thrilled. I asked my local library to purchase a copy even before its publication date and eagerly checked my online account for days after the release date for THE LAST LANGUAGE to find out when it would be available for me. What I knew of the plot—that it concerned a woman who faces legal jeopardy after beginning a romantic relationship with a person under her care with profound physical disabilities, and that it invited questions about the ethics of such actions—was highly intriguing. I was already prepared to recommend the book to my wife, who studied linguistic anthropology in college and who works with developmentally disabled individuals currently.
Yet my feeling upon finishing the book is that it was good. You heard right: this is a good book. For anybody else, this would be fair praise indeed but for the expectations I’d built up for duBois it amounts to something of a disappointment. From reading other reviews on Goodreads, I take it that the book’s power is generated from the recognition, at the end of the story, that protagonist Angela truly did create Sam, the nonverbal client she works with; that is, on a surface level she seems caught in a Kafka-esque nightmare as she alone is aware that Sam is a fully functioning adult of above average intelligence while everybody else sees a woman sexually assaulting a victim who cannot consent… but in reality, I guess, Angela is truly fabricating Sam’s “speech”, such at it is. In this reading, the narrative takes a dark turn as the reality of the situation sinks in. I didn’t have this revelation reading it, though. I have to assume that’s a failure on my part rather than duBois’. Perhaps a re-read would help me better see the through the trees to the dramatic irony beyond. In truth, it’s not a long book at all (just 224 pages), so there is some temptation, though I already had another book lined up when I finished this one so I haven’t taken take the opportunity. Perhaps if I had come to this interpretation of the book on my own I would feel more enthusiastic about it. Who can say?
But then, it is hard to say. I did not feel as though there were the number of insightful or thought-provoking moments here as there were in CARTWHEEL. I take notes of quotes and thoughts I have when reading, in preparation for these reviews, and I only wrote one quote this time. It was a moment early on when Angela describes a nonverbal teenager who, through the miracle of a text-to-speech breakthrough, was able to speak to his mother… only to tell her how much he hated her ham sandwiches. Angela says that it makes her cry to think of “all those mother’s sandwiches, all the misplaced care they’d meant, and how every not-ham sandwich of the future would be a way for her to say: you have spoken, I have heard you, you are known. Even if that child never said another word again.” Marvelous. Beyond this, I didn’t really save any other quotes. Which is not to say there were no other lovely bits of language here, only that none made me reach for my phone to take it down. For that reason, I view this as a lesser outing than CARTWHEEL was.
So, the combination of these two things—the lower number of (in my opinion) bits of genius than I’d anticipated and my straightforward acceptance of Angela’s narrative on her own terms despite the fair warning I’d received that there was likely more here than meets the eye—left me feeling a little underwhelmed. My feeling at the end was 3.5-stars, but since I have to choose, I’m inclined to give J.d. the benefit of the doubt and round it up to 4. I enjoyed the read, I thought the slow-motion car crash reading was engrossing, but I expected to be crowing from the rooftops about THE LAST LANGUAGE and I don’t really feel that way. I’m still eager to read the remainder of duBois’ catalog, and if I find myself as impressed as I still believe is probable, then I’ll likely return to this at some point for a re-read and to write a second-take review.