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A Complicated Kindness
In this stunning coming-of-age novel, award-winner Miriam Toews balances grief and hope in the voice of a witty, beleaguered teenager whose family is shattered by fundamentalist Christianity.
"Half of our family, the better-looking half, is missing," Nomi Nickel tells us at the beginning of A Complicated Kindness. Left alone with her sad, peculiar father, her days are spent piecing together why her mother and sister have disappeared and contemplating her inevitable career at Happy Family Farms, a chicken slaughterhouse on the outskirts of East Village. Not the East Village in New York City where Nomi would prefer to live, but an oppressive town founded by Mennonites on the cold, flat plains of Manitoba, Canada.
This darkly funny novel is the world according to the unforgettable Nomi, a bewildered and wry sixteen-year-old trapped in a town governed by fundamentalist religion and in the shattered remains of a family it destroyed. In Nomi's droll, refreshing voice, we're told the story of an eccentric, loving family that falls apart as each member lands on a collision course with the only community any of them have ever known. A work of fierce humor and tragedy by a writer who has taken the American market by storm, this searing, tender, comic testament to family love will break your heart.
"Half of our family, the better-looking half, is missing," Nomi Nickel tells us at the beginning of A Complicated Kindness. Left alone with her sad, peculiar father, her days are spent piecing together why her mother and sister have disappeared and contemplating her inevitable career at Happy Family Farms, a chicken slaughterhouse on the outskirts of East Village. Not the East Village in New York City where Nomi would prefer to live, but an oppressive town founded by Mennonites on the cold, flat plains of Manitoba, Canada.
This darkly funny novel is the world according to the unforgettable Nomi, a bewildered and wry sixteen-year-old trapped in a town governed by fundamentalist religion and in the shattered remains of a family it destroyed. In Nomi's droll, refreshing voice, we're told the story of an eccentric, loving family that falls apart as each member lands on a collision course with the only community any of them have ever known. A work of fierce humor and tragedy by a writer who has taken the American market by storm, this searing, tender, comic testament to family love will break your heart.
253 pages, Paperback
First published September 30, 2004
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23018 people want to read
About the author
Miriam Toews
18 books3,272 followersMiriam Toews is a Canadian writer of Mennonite descent. She grew up in Steinbach, Manitoba and has lived in Montreal and London, before settling in Winnipeg, Manitoba.
Toews studied at the University of Manitoba and the University of King's College in Halifax, and has also worked as a freelance newspaper and radio journalist. Her non-fiction book "Swing Low: A Life" was a memoir of her father, a victim of lifelong depression. Her 2004 novel "A Complicated Kindness" was her breakthrough work, spending over a year on the Canadian bestseller lists and winning the Governor General's Award for English Fiction. The novel, about a teenage girl who longs to escape her small Russian Mennonite town and hang out with Lou Reed in the slums of New York City, was also nominated for the Giller Prize and was the winning title in the 2006 edition of Canada Reads.
A series of letters she wrote in 2000 to the father of her son were published on the website www.openletters.net and were profiled on the radio show This American Life in an episode about missing parents.
In 2007 she made her screen debut in the Mexican film "Luz silenciosa" directed by Carlos Reygadas, which screened at the Cannes Film Festival.
In Sept. 2008, Knopf Canada published her novel "The Flying Troutmans", about a 28-year-old woman from Manitoba who takes her 15-year-old nephew and 11-year-old niece on a road trip to California after their mentally ill mother has been hospitalized.
Irma Voth, was released in April 2011 and is a novel about a conservative Mennonite community in Mexico.
All My Pun Sorrows published in 2014 is a novel about two sisters in story that was inspired by Miriam Toews’ relationship with her sister who committed suicide.
Women Talking is a novel published in 2018 and is inspired by historical events that took place between 2005 and 2009 on a remote Mennonite community in Bolivia. A film adaptation of the book was released in late 2022. The movie won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay.
Fight Night published in 2021 is a novel that focuses on a multigenerational family of women living in Toronto and features the relationship between the grandmother and grand daughter on a trip to California.
A Truce That Is Not Peace published in 2025 is nonfiction memoir.
Toews studied at the University of Manitoba and the University of King's College in Halifax, and has also worked as a freelance newspaper and radio journalist. Her non-fiction book "Swing Low: A Life" was a memoir of her father, a victim of lifelong depression. Her 2004 novel "A Complicated Kindness" was her breakthrough work, spending over a year on the Canadian bestseller lists and winning the Governor General's Award for English Fiction. The novel, about a teenage girl who longs to escape her small Russian Mennonite town and hang out with Lou Reed in the slums of New York City, was also nominated for the Giller Prize and was the winning title in the 2006 edition of Canada Reads.
A series of letters she wrote in 2000 to the father of her son were published on the website www.openletters.net and were profiled on the radio show This American Life in an episode about missing parents.
In 2007 she made her screen debut in the Mexican film "Luz silenciosa" directed by Carlos Reygadas, which screened at the Cannes Film Festival.
In Sept. 2008, Knopf Canada published her novel "The Flying Troutmans", about a 28-year-old woman from Manitoba who takes her 15-year-old nephew and 11-year-old niece on a road trip to California after their mentally ill mother has been hospitalized.
Irma Voth, was released in April 2011 and is a novel about a conservative Mennonite community in Mexico.
All My Pun Sorrows published in 2014 is a novel about two sisters in story that was inspired by Miriam Toews’ relationship with her sister who committed suicide.
Women Talking is a novel published in 2018 and is inspired by historical events that took place between 2005 and 2009 on a remote Mennonite community in Bolivia. A film adaptation of the book was released in late 2022. The movie won an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay.
Fight Night published in 2021 is a novel that focuses on a multigenerational family of women living in Toronto and features the relationship between the grandmother and grand daughter on a trip to California.
A Truce That Is Not Peace published in 2025 is nonfiction memoir.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,102 reviews
November 10, 2022
4+ My opinion of ‘A Complicated Kindness’ changed over the course of reading it. In the beginning, I found the narrative a bit tedious, filled with teenage angst, and difficult to follow. A coming-of-age story that gently pulled me into the raw honesty of a confused, bewildered, and semi-rebellious protagonist. I say semi-rebellious because Nomi Nickels retains warmth and respect for her father, Ray, throughout. They seem birds of a feather, marked with an indecisiveness that creates ripples, then waves that eventually upturn their lives. Ray’s deference to the opinion of others costs him dearly. Nomi feels frozen in conversations, not knowing whether silence or inane conversations are best.
Living in East Village, a Mennonite community and fictionalized version of the author’s hometown in Steinbach, Manitoba isn’t easy for Nomi. Even as tourists come to see their supposedly simple way of life Nomi is coming to realize it’s a facade, that appearances are deceiving.
“When we were little, Tash and I would sit in the darkened dining room of my grandmother’s farmhouse, listening to the funeral announcements. They came on after supper, on the local radio station we were allowed to listen to because the elders knew that it was better for little children to listen to the names of dead people being read out in a terrifying monotone then the Beatles singing all we need is love.”
Now Nomi’s sister, Tash, has left home and so has Trudie, her mother. Nomi and Ray are left to deal with all the knotty emotions that accompany abandonment. The kindness of the community has always been something of a double-edged sword, cutting in its inclusiveness, and if standards and expectations are not met, cutting in its shunning of the offender. Ray and Trudie’s first date was a church shunning.
“You know how some people, I’m not sure which people, say that something that happens on one part of the planet can make something else happen on another part of the planet? Usually, I think, they mean some kind of geological event, but I’m sure that my mother’s silent raging against the simplisticness of this town and her church could produce avalanches, typhoons and earthquakes all over the world. But there is kindness here, a complicated kindness.”
It is a cold kindness that prevents us from becoming who we need to be in this world. Many who are enveloped in it, at first find warmth, inclusion, a sense of belonging, and the answer to a need for identity but, over time, the rules become suffocating, the constraints a cell for the soul. This is what Nomi is coming to grips with and Toews handles her journey brilliantly.
Living in East Village, a Mennonite community and fictionalized version of the author’s hometown in Steinbach, Manitoba isn’t easy for Nomi. Even as tourists come to see their supposedly simple way of life Nomi is coming to realize it’s a facade, that appearances are deceiving.
“When we were little, Tash and I would sit in the darkened dining room of my grandmother’s farmhouse, listening to the funeral announcements. They came on after supper, on the local radio station we were allowed to listen to because the elders knew that it was better for little children to listen to the names of dead people being read out in a terrifying monotone then the Beatles singing all we need is love.”
Now Nomi’s sister, Tash, has left home and so has Trudie, her mother. Nomi and Ray are left to deal with all the knotty emotions that accompany abandonment. The kindness of the community has always been something of a double-edged sword, cutting in its inclusiveness, and if standards and expectations are not met, cutting in its shunning of the offender. Ray and Trudie’s first date was a church shunning.
“You know how some people, I’m not sure which people, say that something that happens on one part of the planet can make something else happen on another part of the planet? Usually, I think, they mean some kind of geological event, but I’m sure that my mother’s silent raging against the simplisticness of this town and her church could produce avalanches, typhoons and earthquakes all over the world. But there is kindness here, a complicated kindness.”
It is a cold kindness that prevents us from becoming who we need to be in this world. Many who are enveloped in it, at first find warmth, inclusion, a sense of belonging, and the answer to a need for identity but, over time, the rules become suffocating, the constraints a cell for the soul. This is what Nomi is coming to grips with and Toews handles her journey brilliantly.
October 26, 2009
Meh... I know several of my esteemed colleagues highly rated this one but it just didn't do it for me. There were too many unanswered questions and not enough closure. So what happened to the mom and sister? What happened to father and her best friend? What did she end up doing with her new found freedom and life? And what was up with that thing from Mr. Quiring? I think I totally got lost on that part. I plodded along the book waiting for something to happen and it just didn't. I did enjoy her sarcasm and voice though (but even that got tiring after the first 150 pages or so). Not enough for me.
The other thing that struck me was how accurate were her points of view regarding the Mennonite community? I know of so many books that profess certain beliefs and practices to be the letter of the law, but upon closer inspection, they were only one person's interpretation of what is perceived to be required. I'm always hesitant to take an author's word as "the truth" in such matters, especially religious ones.
The other thing that struck me was how accurate were her points of view regarding the Mennonite community? I know of so many books that profess certain beliefs and practices to be the letter of the law, but upon closer inspection, they were only one person's interpretation of what is perceived to be required. I'm always hesitant to take an author's word as "the truth" in such matters, especially religious ones.
October 29, 2018
What a bittersweet story this is. The narrator is a lost and confused soul, trapped in a situation that is not of her own making. But she also has such an amusing way of looking at the world. I rooted for her as I read, hoping that she could find some kind of way out of the predicament she was in.
Nomi Nickel is a sixteen-year-old girl living in the fictional Mennonite community of East Village, somewhere in Canada. Her family has recently been torn apart - her older sister Tash ran away to the city with a local guy and her mother Trudie has left home under mysterious circumstances. It's just Nomi and her gentle, uncommunicative Dad that are trying to hold things together. And it's not at all easy living in such a restricted neighbourhood. There is little to do for people of Nomi's age, with regular distractions like Starbucks and McDonalds banned. And there is always the frightening threat of excommunication for anyone who diverges from the church's beliefs. Nomi takes up with a boy named Travis and starts to rebel against the repressive system that has its stranglehold on the town.
Nomi's complex relationship with her parents is what defines the story. Tasha's exit was no great surprise, but Trudie's sudden, unexplained departure has left her bereft and perplexed. She looks back on memories of their time together for clues. And she recalls that though her mother was mostly a cheerful, good-natured person, "there was always something seething away inside of her, something fierce and unpredictable, like a saw in a birthday cake." Nomi would surely leave town too but she can't bear to have her dear old Dad fend for himself. The aura of their house is now one of "hushed resignation." Her uncle asks her father how he is and he replies: "Oh, unexceptional. Living quietly with my disappointments. And how are you?"
It's not all doom and gloom. Nomi has a wicked sense of humour, especially when she makes fun of the community's strict rules and austere outlook. I know that Miriam Toews grew up in a Mennonite sect herself, so there is nobody more qualified to comment on its problems than her. There isn't a whole lot of plot - it's mostly a teenage girl with a huge weight on her shoulders, trying to figure life out. And it's all written in the tragicomic style that Toews does so well. A Complicated Kindness is a coming of age story with a difference - sharp, sardonic and undeniably moving.
Nomi Nickel is a sixteen-year-old girl living in the fictional Mennonite community of East Village, somewhere in Canada. Her family has recently been torn apart - her older sister Tash ran away to the city with a local guy and her mother Trudie has left home under mysterious circumstances. It's just Nomi and her gentle, uncommunicative Dad that are trying to hold things together. And it's not at all easy living in such a restricted neighbourhood. There is little to do for people of Nomi's age, with regular distractions like Starbucks and McDonalds banned. And there is always the frightening threat of excommunication for anyone who diverges from the church's beliefs. Nomi takes up with a boy named Travis and starts to rebel against the repressive system that has its stranglehold on the town.
Nomi's complex relationship with her parents is what defines the story. Tasha's exit was no great surprise, but Trudie's sudden, unexplained departure has left her bereft and perplexed. She looks back on memories of their time together for clues. And she recalls that though her mother was mostly a cheerful, good-natured person, "there was always something seething away inside of her, something fierce and unpredictable, like a saw in a birthday cake." Nomi would surely leave town too but she can't bear to have her dear old Dad fend for himself. The aura of their house is now one of "hushed resignation." Her uncle asks her father how he is and he replies: "Oh, unexceptional. Living quietly with my disappointments. And how are you?"
It's not all doom and gloom. Nomi has a wicked sense of humour, especially when she makes fun of the community's strict rules and austere outlook. I know that Miriam Toews grew up in a Mennonite sect herself, so there is nobody more qualified to comment on its problems than her. There isn't a whole lot of plot - it's mostly a teenage girl with a huge weight on her shoulders, trying to figure life out. And it's all written in the tragicomic style that Toews does so well. A Complicated Kindness is a coming of age story with a difference - sharp, sardonic and undeniably moving.
August 4, 2010
As I read Miriam Toews' A Complicated Kindness, I couldn't stop thinking about Richard Dawkins' assertion that religion is child abuse.
Looking around at our neighbours and friends, ourselves and our parents, it is easy to laugh off this idea. We may see our churches doing good works in the community; they may be providing relief for Haiti or some other disaster struck land; they may be providing shelter for the homeless or the physically abused; their beliefs and morality may be providing guidance to people around us; so yes, there are a number of good things that churches can do, which makes it easy to scoff at the idea that religion is inherently abusive. Perhaps it is too easy to scoff, though.
A Complicated Kindness is all about how a church and its beliefs abuse a congregation -- but specifically how the ideas of Menno Simons and his modern Mennonite followers destroy the Nickel family.
Nomi, her sister Tash, her mother Trudie, and her father Ray lose everything because of their religion. They lose each other, they lose themselves, they lose their sanity, and they are forced to make their way in the world -- or not -- despite the irreparable damage done to them by the belief system they were born into. None of them chose to be Mennonites. They were born Mennonite, raised Mennonite, and destroyed Mennonite.
Their religion was abusive in the worst possible ways, and as I loved Nomi more and more, as I came closer to her pain through her fragmented stream-of-consciousness, as my anger rose, I started to accept Dawkins' point in a way I'd never allowed myself before.
But Dawkins is not the only one calling religion abusive; he is not alone in his opposition. Nicholas Humphrey, author of The Mind Made Flesh, "argues that, in the same way as Amnesty [International:] works tirelessly to free political prisoners the world over, we should work to free the children of the world from the religions which, with parental approval, damage minds too young to understand what is happening to them."
Miriam Toews' beautifully sad story brought me one step closer to agreeing with the assertions of these men; I only wish I had enjoyed the story more than I did. Although I am sure I wasn't supposed to leave it with a smile, I would like to have left it with something other than a deep depression.
Looking around at our neighbours and friends, ourselves and our parents, it is easy to laugh off this idea. We may see our churches doing good works in the community; they may be providing relief for Haiti or some other disaster struck land; they may be providing shelter for the homeless or the physically abused; their beliefs and morality may be providing guidance to people around us; so yes, there are a number of good things that churches can do, which makes it easy to scoff at the idea that religion is inherently abusive. Perhaps it is too easy to scoff, though.
A Complicated Kindness is all about how a church and its beliefs abuse a congregation -- but specifically how the ideas of Menno Simons and his modern Mennonite followers destroy the Nickel family.
Nomi, her sister Tash, her mother Trudie, and her father Ray lose everything because of their religion. They lose each other, they lose themselves, they lose their sanity, and they are forced to make their way in the world -- or not -- despite the irreparable damage done to them by the belief system they were born into. None of them chose to be Mennonites. They were born Mennonite, raised Mennonite, and destroyed Mennonite.
Their religion was abusive in the worst possible ways, and as I loved Nomi more and more, as I came closer to her pain through her fragmented stream-of-consciousness, as my anger rose, I started to accept Dawkins' point in a way I'd never allowed myself before.
But Dawkins is not the only one calling religion abusive; he is not alone in his opposition. Nicholas Humphrey, author of The Mind Made Flesh, "argues that, in the same way as Amnesty [International:] works tirelessly to free political prisoners the world over, we should work to free the children of the world from the religions which, with parental approval, damage minds too young to understand what is happening to them."
Miriam Toews' beautifully sad story brought me one step closer to agreeing with the assertions of these men; I only wish I had enjoyed the story more than I did. Although I am sure I wasn't supposed to leave it with a smile, I would like to have left it with something other than a deep depression.
March 12, 2012
it was hard to let this book end. as the remaining pages dwindled and dwindled, i found more and more things to do instead of reading. maybe i should brush my teeth. maybe i should check my email. maybe i should sleep even though i have ONE PAGE TO GO.
part of it is that miriam toews is a genius at creating truly compelling characters. nomi is a gas. nomi is the kid you always wanted to be -- funny, smart, sassy, resourceful, a world-champion bullshit detector, unbelievably creative, sweet, loving, rebellious but without angst, uncontrollable but without malice, vulnerable and tough and vulnerable again. she's your ideal sister, your best friend, your most treasured child. nomi is perfection.
another part of it is that miriam toews writes like god. she does. she puts thoughts in nomi's mind (nomi is the first person narrator) that make your jaw drop and your heart beat fastfastfast, they are so beautiful and original and crazy. every line is poetry. everything that goes through nomi's mind is poetry.
at first, this book was hard to make out. you see, toews drops us right in the middle of nomi's most hellish years in her über-hellish mennonite town, a canadian wasteland of a place designed to strip its denizens of all joy and pleasure so that they'll better appreciate the rewards of eternal life. which doesn't make a lick of sense because if eternal life is truly what it's cut out to be we won't need any help at all to find it absolutely fabulous. plus, quite frankly, this life manages to be rough enough without any encouragement whatsoever.
but the leader of the local mennonite community doesn't see it this way, and this throws the whole town in a heightened state of schizophrenic* behavior. while going to church and acting according to menno's principles, they find ways to curb the bleakness by getting drunk, getting stoned, and fucking each other crazy. especially the kids. when they get caught (or when their insubordination becomes too egregious to ignore) they get excommunicated, which means that the entire community, including their families, must act as if they no longer exist.
this absurd and cruel fact proves essential to the way the novel develops, and gives the characters occasion to show each other the complicated but by no means negligible kindness that gives the novel its title.
as you can imagine, there's not a little heartbreak in all this disappearing. nomi and her dad, who are the two family members left at the moment the novel begins, wade through the sadness, the hopelessness, and the desolation with a reciprocal tenderness that is all the more touching for being muted, unspoken, and very reserved. neither quite understands the other, and they both live extremely independent lives (ray is not quite a parent in the way we understand parenting), but they love each other and support each other and ultimately quite literally live for each other.
since all of this -- bleakness and despair and love -- reaches us through nomi's words, there are many moments of maximum, laugh-out-loud hilarity. this hilarity, and the complicated kindness i described, make this novel absolutely delightful and original and a masterpiece of the human mind.
*i'm using "schizophrenic" the way it's commonly used, with full awareness that people diagnosed with schizophrenia don't perceive things this way at all.
part of it is that miriam toews is a genius at creating truly compelling characters. nomi is a gas. nomi is the kid you always wanted to be -- funny, smart, sassy, resourceful, a world-champion bullshit detector, unbelievably creative, sweet, loving, rebellious but without angst, uncontrollable but without malice, vulnerable and tough and vulnerable again. she's your ideal sister, your best friend, your most treasured child. nomi is perfection.
another part of it is that miriam toews writes like god. she does. she puts thoughts in nomi's mind (nomi is the first person narrator) that make your jaw drop and your heart beat fastfastfast, they are so beautiful and original and crazy. every line is poetry. everything that goes through nomi's mind is poetry.
at first, this book was hard to make out. you see, toews drops us right in the middle of nomi's most hellish years in her über-hellish mennonite town, a canadian wasteland of a place designed to strip its denizens of all joy and pleasure so that they'll better appreciate the rewards of eternal life. which doesn't make a lick of sense because if eternal life is truly what it's cut out to be we won't need any help at all to find it absolutely fabulous. plus, quite frankly, this life manages to be rough enough without any encouragement whatsoever.
but the leader of the local mennonite community doesn't see it this way, and this throws the whole town in a heightened state of schizophrenic* behavior. while going to church and acting according to menno's principles, they find ways to curb the bleakness by getting drunk, getting stoned, and fucking each other crazy. especially the kids. when they get caught (or when their insubordination becomes too egregious to ignore) they get excommunicated, which means that the entire community, including their families, must act as if they no longer exist.
this absurd and cruel fact proves essential to the way the novel develops, and gives the characters occasion to show each other the complicated but by no means negligible kindness that gives the novel its title.
as you can imagine, there's not a little heartbreak in all this disappearing. nomi and her dad, who are the two family members left at the moment the novel begins, wade through the sadness, the hopelessness, and the desolation with a reciprocal tenderness that is all the more touching for being muted, unspoken, and very reserved. neither quite understands the other, and they both live extremely independent lives (ray is not quite a parent in the way we understand parenting), but they love each other and support each other and ultimately quite literally live for each other.
since all of this -- bleakness and despair and love -- reaches us through nomi's words, there are many moments of maximum, laugh-out-loud hilarity. this hilarity, and the complicated kindness i described, make this novel absolutely delightful and original and a masterpiece of the human mind.
*i'm using "schizophrenic" the way it's commonly used, with full awareness that people diagnosed with schizophrenia don't perceive things this way at all.
June 7, 2018
Miriam Toews goes deep into the arcane world of Canadian Mennonite teens for the shocking expose that they enjoy pot and fucking. Well pot anyway. You think you live in a civilized society but women are reporting that the best case scenario for their first times is still "disappointing." I don't know what we're going to do about that. Start giving teenage boys vibrating cock rings?
Anyway, file book this under "Semi-autobiographical memoirs dispatched from unusual situations," which is a wide and fruitful genre. They come in a variety of tones, from "harrowing" to "harrowing but funny," and this is one of your funnier ones.
It's super funny. Toews comes at everything sideways; she keeps finding angles you hadn't thought of. Her protagonist Nomi Nickles is the sort of person likely to have an imaginary friend who hates her. Later, she debates going on the pill: "I lay there imagining what it would be like to have another human being growing inside me. Would it panic?" As many times as people have talked about pregnancy in our world, I've never heard that question.
"Kids," she says. "The way they react to everything like they're alive."
The story takes place in two timelines, both before and after the decampments of Nomi's older sister and mother. Nomi is a tween in the first and a teen in the last. There is something of a mystery: where did they go, and why, and why didn't they take Nomi or her father with them? The two remaining Nickles try to stagger on. He wears a lot of ties. She cooks her way through the alphabet. Tonight it's Minestrone and Meatballs. She tries to understand her mother's decision. "There was something seething away inside of her, something fierce and unpredictable, like a saw in a birthday cake." They're Mennonites, which I was only dimly aware of what those even are; they're like Amish people but even weirder? Their life options seem to consist mostly of being shunned (that's where the whole town ghosts you because your bonnet was slutty or whatever) or working at chicken murder factories.
She tells this perfect story: her family goes fishing, takes shelter on an island during a rainstorm, their boat floats away. They're trapped. They may be there forever. It feels like an adventure. They make Swiss Family Robinson jokes; when the rain dies down, they manage to build a fire. Suddenly their boat comes bobbing back. The thing that you're not supposed to admit is that everyone is a little disappointed. One understands intellectually that adventures aren't as fun in real life as they are in books. But the dream of the exciting adventure - a Swiss Family, a club in the East Village with Lou Reed, a first time that isn't disappointing - is hard to let go, especially when reality is so very lame. The chicken murder factory looms. Anything seems preferable.
Anyway, file book this under "Semi-autobiographical memoirs dispatched from unusual situations," which is a wide and fruitful genre. They come in a variety of tones, from "harrowing" to "harrowing but funny," and this is one of your funnier ones.
It's super funny. Toews comes at everything sideways; she keeps finding angles you hadn't thought of. Her protagonist Nomi Nickles is the sort of person likely to have an imaginary friend who hates her. Later, she debates going on the pill: "I lay there imagining what it would be like to have another human being growing inside me. Would it panic?" As many times as people have talked about pregnancy in our world, I've never heard that question.
"Kids," she says. "The way they react to everything like they're alive."
The story takes place in two timelines, both before and after the decampments of Nomi's older sister and mother. Nomi is a tween in the first and a teen in the last. There is something of a mystery: where did they go, and why, and why didn't they take Nomi or her father with them? The two remaining Nickles try to stagger on. He wears a lot of ties. She cooks her way through the alphabet. Tonight it's Minestrone and Meatballs. She tries to understand her mother's decision. "There was something seething away inside of her, something fierce and unpredictable, like a saw in a birthday cake." They're Mennonites, which I was only dimly aware of what those even are; they're like Amish people but even weirder? Their life options seem to consist mostly of being shunned (that's where the whole town ghosts you because your bonnet was slutty or whatever) or working at chicken murder factories.
She tells this perfect story: her family goes fishing, takes shelter on an island during a rainstorm, their boat floats away. They're trapped. They may be there forever. It feels like an adventure. They make Swiss Family Robinson jokes; when the rain dies down, they manage to build a fire. Suddenly their boat comes bobbing back. The thing that you're not supposed to admit is that everyone is a little disappointed. One understands intellectually that adventures aren't as fun in real life as they are in books. But the dream of the exciting adventure - a Swiss Family, a club in the East Village with Lou Reed, a first time that isn't disappointing - is hard to let go, especially when reality is so very lame. The chicken murder factory looms. Anything seems preferable.
November 18, 2021
I'm once again going to have to disagree with my GR friend Jodi and a few others, although this is one of my favourite types of book (coming of age) and I love a creative dialogue (this was indeed creative), but the entire story was just too sad, negative and downright scary at times. Where is the humanity in this Mennonite community? Where is the parenting? Who is running the schools?
Nomi is 16 (well at least for some of it as Ms Toews goes back and forth so much I was getting whiplash), her sister has left home, her mum has left home and eventually her dad leaves home. The religeous Mennonite community is to blame, but in the end, just who is looking after the interest of the kids, especially Nomi. Nomi is somewhat likeable, but severely damaged and mostly out of control. No one seems to care.
As much as I liked much of the style of Ms Toews writing and Nomi's insights, it was about a severely damaged community ruining children and most in the community who don't toe their absurd line.
I will read Ms Toews again, but this is not a good book IMHO.
Nomi is 16 (well at least for some of it as Ms Toews goes back and forth so much I was getting whiplash), her sister has left home, her mum has left home and eventually her dad leaves home. The religeous Mennonite community is to blame, but in the end, just who is looking after the interest of the kids, especially Nomi. Nomi is somewhat likeable, but severely damaged and mostly out of control. No one seems to care.
As much as I liked much of the style of Ms Toews writing and Nomi's insights, it was about a severely damaged community ruining children and most in the community who don't toe their absurd line.
I will read Ms Toews again, but this is not a good book IMHO.
Want to read
November 17, 2023my favorite kind
May 9, 2021
This book was a real downer and quite a disappointment. I almost dnf'd it at several points but decided to plow on because I really loved the main character of Nomi Nickel. A sarcastic 16 year old, we are treated to her thoughts and comments about her community of Mennonites, which, as far as I'm concerned, are sadists who use religion as mind control. But then, a lot of sects do the the same thing.
This is my first book by Toews, bought at a book sale a couple of years ago and pulled off my shelf. I've heard a lot of good things about this author, so I'll try to forget this one and give her another try at some point. I have added the third star for Nomi's voice, the book itself only rates a 2. If I could find a way to save this girl, I would.
I don't say this about a lot of books, but I wish I hadn't read it.
This is my first book by Toews, bought at a book sale a couple of years ago and pulled off my shelf. I've heard a lot of good things about this author, so I'll try to forget this one and give her another try at some point. I have added the third star for Nomi's voice, the book itself only rates a 2. If I could find a way to save this girl, I would.
I don't say this about a lot of books, but I wish I hadn't read it.
February 6, 2017
I'm going to refer to this as the 'chicken book'
Required school reading
And I have finally completed the chicken book.
With books that I must read for school, I’m often at a loss when I’m asked how I feel about them personally.
I don’t know how I feel about the book, I don’t know how I feel about the characters, and I don’t know how I feel about the ending.
But I do think we all have a bit of Nomi in us.
Nomi’s a snarky, sarcastic, confused sixteen year-old girl who’s just trying to find her place in life and seeing the very in depth details of her Mennonite village from her eyes really awakened something in me.
I find myself relating to Nomi quite a bit, okay maybe not the part where her mother and sister ran away, or the part where she smokes cigarettes religiously, or the part where she lives in a house where the furniture keeps diminishing, but the part where Nomi is just plain, old, lost Nomi.
I’m being generous with my rating here and it’s not because the book is bad, it’s because I was expecting more from it and I was disappointed I never really got the answers to my questions (maybe that’s supposed to be some ingenious writing style but pahleez, save that for the critics, this girl is just here to read).
“Is it wrong to trust in a beautiful lie if it helps you get through life?”
This book was actually hilarious in many ways. Nomi has this dark humour thing about her where she likes to focus things that everyone else disregards and then twists it into some sarcastic remark.
I quite like Nomi.
But I felt the ending was lacking, my questions weren’t answered, I was only left more confused, and nothing was really tied together.
I’m gonna have to go make some character sketches now and philosophize about the themes and writing styles that were used in this book, but as a girl who just likes to read for fun, this book was surprisingly more than I expected.
“I wondered if a disease were to be named after me what the symptoms would be.”
2.75 stars!!
Required school reading
And I have finally completed the chicken book.
With books that I must read for school, I’m often at a loss when I’m asked how I feel about them personally.
I don’t know how I feel about the book, I don’t know how I feel about the characters, and I don’t know how I feel about the ending.
But I do think we all have a bit of Nomi in us.
Nomi’s a snarky, sarcastic, confused sixteen year-old girl who’s just trying to find her place in life and seeing the very in depth details of her Mennonite village from her eyes really awakened something in me.
I find myself relating to Nomi quite a bit, okay maybe not the part where her mother and sister ran away, or the part where she smokes cigarettes religiously, or the part where she lives in a house where the furniture keeps diminishing, but the part where Nomi is just plain, old, lost Nomi.
I’m being generous with my rating here and it’s not because the book is bad, it’s because I was expecting more from it and I was disappointed I never really got the answers to my questions (maybe that’s supposed to be some ingenious writing style but pahleez, save that for the critics, this girl is just here to read).
“Is it wrong to trust in a beautiful lie if it helps you get through life?”
This book was actually hilarious in many ways. Nomi has this dark humour thing about her where she likes to focus things that everyone else disregards and then twists it into some sarcastic remark.
I quite like Nomi.
But I felt the ending was lacking, my questions weren’t answered, I was only left more confused, and nothing was really tied together.
I’m gonna have to go make some character sketches now and philosophize about the themes and writing styles that were used in this book, but as a girl who just likes to read for fun, this book was surprisingly more than I expected.
“I wondered if a disease were to be named after me what the symptoms would be.”
2.75 stars!!
February 6, 2017
"some people can leave and some can't and those who can will always be infinitely cooler than those who can't and I'm one of the ones who can't because you're one of the ones who did and there's this old guy in a wool suit sitting in an empty house who has no one but me now thank you very, very, very much."
Small towns pretty much suck. Small towns in rural Manitoba in wintertime blow chunks. But imagine a small town in rural Manitoba in wintertime that is not just small, it is populated by hardline Mennonites who dictate acceptable behavior and punish those who step out of line with communal shunning. Those who can leave, do—like Nomi Nickel's older sister Tash and her mother. The aftermath of their abandonment is the focus of this darkly comic coming-of-age tale. The setting and themes reflect Toews's own adolescence, which was spent in a rural Canadian Mennonite town.
Nomi and her depressed schoolteacher father Ray muddle through somehow, with half-hearted dinners and swipes at crumbs on the counter. It is an existence, but not much of a life. Nomi seems resigned to working at the chicken processing plant that is the town's economic mainstay after graduation and by the end of the book, the reader does, too. It seems all but inescapable.
Nomi has wit, determination, a boyfriend who sleeps with her under the stars and a best friend slowly dying from a series of maladies. It is through her interactions with friends and her father that the young woman's compassion and hope, all relayed in Toews's flinty, unflinching prose, come to vivid life.
A tourist once came up to me and took a picture and said to her husband, now here's a priceless juxtaposition of old and new. They debated the idea of giving me some money, then concluded: no.
I speak English, I said. The artificial village and the chicken evisceration plant a few miles down the road are our main industries. On hot nights when the wind is right, the smell of blood and feathers tucks us in like an evil parent. There are no bars or visible exits.
Nomi's quirky, self-effacing narration warms this otherwise bleak tale of misfits and moralists. A Complicated Kindness is a complicated book, but worth the bittersweet anxiety for the hope that blooms in the end.
July 24, 2021
I'm may be running out of ways to say how much I loved this book, but I like to keep my reviews simple—since I write them for myself—so suffice to say that this book gave me "all the feels", more than perhaps anything I've ever read. And I have read some fairly heady stuff. (There was my Russian period in my early 20s when I read only Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy. My late 20s was my CanLit period—Davies, Mitchell, MacLellan, Richler. In my 30s I read Rand, Steinbeck, and Irving.) But now that I'm in my 60s (which I find hard to believe) I prefer to relax with books that are a little more, um, down-to-earth maybe? So, it's true that Miriam Toews is no Dostoyevsky, but she is capable of evoking as much thought and emotion in me as the best of them. But she does it so much better—funnier, goofier, with more heart, and with more soul—than anyone I know. She just never, ever disappoints. So, yes, Miriam Toews is my favourite author! And I love the way her books leave me feeling... well, like I'm alive! And like there's still some hope for me.🤗
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
January 6, 2011
“I hated it” was my loud outburst when a nice polite dinner conversation with friends turned to the discussion of this book. My outburst surprised me, not because it was loud and obnoxious since I am often guilty of being both, but because I didn’t know that I had such passion for this book! I had no idea I “hated it” until the words came tumbling out of my mouth.
Until that time, I think I would have described my thoughts about the book as ambivalent. I found the whole thing to be rather tedious. Now, I am not someone who needs a juicy plot to get me to fall in love with a book; The Catcher in the Rye is a favourite of mine (although this might be more due to nostalgia then anything else) but, this book had a lot going on, without plot or point. I felt like the story was tumbleweed bouncing around in a ghost town: on a journey, but ultimately going nowhere.
“But didn’t you love Nomi?” my friend asked with a distressed tone? Quite simply, no I didn’t. I found her to be absolutely dull. Her town was dull, her thoughts were dull and her life was dull. And, maybe this was the author’s whole point. That we were to feel the excruciating internal pain that dullness brings. The only thing is, like most times things get monotonous to me, I acted out. Of course, I had to do this in the only way you can when dealing with a book, by giving it a “timeout” on the bookshelf.
Picking this book up again a month later, I struggled to make it to the end. Sad to say though, it did not get any better. So, although my kindness to this book is complicated, I give it two stars: the first, because I have to and the second because the book (surprisingly) made me passionate. Ultimately, I am thankful that I was not born into such a culture and that I easily could escape Nomi’s life by simply closing the book.
Until that time, I think I would have described my thoughts about the book as ambivalent. I found the whole thing to be rather tedious. Now, I am not someone who needs a juicy plot to get me to fall in love with a book; The Catcher in the Rye is a favourite of mine (although this might be more due to nostalgia then anything else) but, this book had a lot going on, without plot or point. I felt like the story was tumbleweed bouncing around in a ghost town: on a journey, but ultimately going nowhere.
“But didn’t you love Nomi?” my friend asked with a distressed tone? Quite simply, no I didn’t. I found her to be absolutely dull. Her town was dull, her thoughts were dull and her life was dull. And, maybe this was the author’s whole point. That we were to feel the excruciating internal pain that dullness brings. The only thing is, like most times things get monotonous to me, I acted out. Of course, I had to do this in the only way you can when dealing with a book, by giving it a “timeout” on the bookshelf.
Picking this book up again a month later, I struggled to make it to the end. Sad to say though, it did not get any better. So, although my kindness to this book is complicated, I give it two stars: the first, because I have to and the second because the book (surprisingly) made me passionate. Ultimately, I am thankful that I was not born into such a culture and that I easily could escape Nomi’s life by simply closing the book.
May 7, 2009
Governor General’s Award 2004
Shortlisted for Giller 2006
Winner Canada Reads 2006
Half-way through reading A Complicated Kindness it struck me that the only way Miriam Toews could write in such an authentic voice would be if she herself had grown up in a Mennonite community. Sure enough, Miriam WAS raised Mennonite in small town Steinbach, Manitoba. There was a Mennonite Village Museum there when she grew up. “That is taken right out of my life,” she says in an Interview with Dave Weich (Nov. 8, 2004; Powells.com). “It was a pioneer village – I worked there, too; I knew all about the history – but I think I just took it for granted.”
I returned to reading A Complicated Kindness without losing one iota of enthusiasm or admiration. Miriam may have taken a real-life experience straight to her novel, but 16-year-old Nomi Nickel became a larger-than-life character in her own right.
This is a coming-of-age story set during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, told in the first-person by Nomi. Her mother and older sister left three years earlier and haven’t been heard from since, so the narrative includes a series of flashbacks about life before they left. In the present, Nomi rebels against the conventions of the Mennonite community. Her behaviour is considered reckless by her ruling Uncle Hans, a zealot known as The Mouth. We learn all about what is not allowed in a Mennonite community and how it feels to belong to “the most embarrassing sub-sect of people... if you’re a teenager.” Not only that, but another of Nomi’s reasons for despair is revealed when she reflects, “People here just can’t wait to die, it seems. It’s the main event. The only reason we’re not all snuffed at birth is because it would reduce our suffering by a lifetime.” This is but one glimpse of the dark humour inherent in the story.
Having recently read (and reviewed) The Flying Troutmans, I was reminded of this previous book. In both stories, Miriam Toews sweeps the reader into worlds both familiar and unfamiliar, evoking emotions that travel the full spectrum.
Shortlisted for Giller 2006
Winner Canada Reads 2006
Half-way through reading A Complicated Kindness it struck me that the only way Miriam Toews could write in such an authentic voice would be if she herself had grown up in a Mennonite community. Sure enough, Miriam WAS raised Mennonite in small town Steinbach, Manitoba. There was a Mennonite Village Museum there when she grew up. “That is taken right out of my life,” she says in an Interview with Dave Weich (Nov. 8, 2004; Powells.com). “It was a pioneer village – I worked there, too; I knew all about the history – but I think I just took it for granted.”
I returned to reading A Complicated Kindness without losing one iota of enthusiasm or admiration. Miriam may have taken a real-life experience straight to her novel, but 16-year-old Nomi Nickel became a larger-than-life character in her own right.
This is a coming-of-age story set during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, told in the first-person by Nomi. Her mother and older sister left three years earlier and haven’t been heard from since, so the narrative includes a series of flashbacks about life before they left. In the present, Nomi rebels against the conventions of the Mennonite community. Her behaviour is considered reckless by her ruling Uncle Hans, a zealot known as The Mouth. We learn all about what is not allowed in a Mennonite community and how it feels to belong to “the most embarrassing sub-sect of people... if you’re a teenager.” Not only that, but another of Nomi’s reasons for despair is revealed when she reflects, “People here just can’t wait to die, it seems. It’s the main event. The only reason we’re not all snuffed at birth is because it would reduce our suffering by a lifetime.” This is but one glimpse of the dark humour inherent in the story.
Having recently read (and reviewed) The Flying Troutmans, I was reminded of this previous book. In both stories, Miriam Toews sweeps the reader into worlds both familiar and unfamiliar, evoking emotions that travel the full spectrum.
September 9, 2019
My experience with Toews' writing began with her latest, "Women Talking," and I might not have read her previous work had I not already bought them. These impulsive purchases of three books written by the same author, whose writing I had never read, was motivated by a critique of her work posted on Literary Hub. LitHub never steered me wrong before, so I was a bit disappointed after reading Women Talking. Still, I persevered.
An Uncomplicated Kindness is a masterpiece. I had written an entire description of the book but deleted it after realizing it read like the back of a Judy Bloom novel and was a poor reflection of a work that is "almost perfect."
The pace, the well-crafted prose and often raw turn of phrase had me laughing and often brought me to tears. This book tore my heart out and left me unsettled, reflecting on the unanswered questions and the fantasy of a 16yo girl who wished to live in Greenwich Village, working for Lou Reed.
An Uncomplicated Kindness is a masterpiece. I had written an entire description of the book but deleted it after realizing it read like the back of a Judy Bloom novel and was a poor reflection of a work that is "almost perfect."
The pace, the well-crafted prose and often raw turn of phrase had me laughing and often brought me to tears. This book tore my heart out and left me unsettled, reflecting on the unanswered questions and the fantasy of a 16yo girl who wished to live in Greenwich Village, working for Lou Reed.
November 20, 2009
(A slightly edited version of this review appears at The Rumpus.)
I started reading A Complicated Kindness on my last day in Barcelona. I ran away to Barcelona because of a girl. Also I’d been grumpy and mopey for the previous month or so, due to the whole uncertain future thing, so really the whole disappointment with the girl just kind of tipped me over the edge. I figured I could fritter my money away while moping in Edinburgh, or I could fritter it away travelling.
I’d never really bothered to read any blurb about the book because I knew John K Samson liked it and that was enough for me. It turned out that it was nothing like whatever I assumed from the title or the cover.
It’s about Nomi, a sixteen-year-old in a Mennonite community in rural Canada. She lives with her father, who’s one of the nicest fictional fathers I’ve ever encountered. Her mother and sister left three years ago and haven’t been heard from since. Nomi and her father are both kind of struggling along and both doing kind of weird things, which seems like a reasonable reaction to a fucked up situation in a place where God is more important than family. Nomi isn’t a believer any more and she drinks and takes drugs and hangs out with her boyfriend and gets into trouble at school. She has insomnia and frequently wanders the town at night and does unpredictable things.
I always love teen angst. This book really kind of brings it home, because it’s not just ordinary teen angst, you know, my-life-is-so-hard-why-won’t-he-notice-me, it captures the despair and the frustration of not having any control, especially when you’re in a place where American tourists come to gawp at how quaint you all are. It’s no wonder Nomi is so cynical.
Then there’s the religion stuff. When her sister left, Nomi was inconsolable, believing her sister would go to hell. I remember that kind of worry from my own Christian indoctrination. It was really tough to get your head around, that people you loved were going to hell, no matter how nice they were, if they didn’t accept Jesus as their personal saviour.
And I love all the bits where Nomi is just wandering aimlessly and examining the thoughts in her own head. Sometimes she invents games to play to keep herself occupied, like: today I’m going to say goodbye to everyone I see, and pretend I’m leaving town.
At the moment I am really relating to all her restlessness, because I feel like I can’t stay in Edinburgh for more than two days without getting twitchy, and I’m not sure what’s up with that. I try being restless in different locations like the bath or the futon, but that’s not very exciting, and it’s too goddamn cold to wander the streets. I talked to Alice two days ago. She was like: I just can’t be bothered meeting new people these days, you know?
And I was like: yeah, I know. I mean, pretty much every time I walk down the street I check people out, right? But these days I just think, oh, you look cool, but you’re probably actually really pretentious or boring or vacant or obnoxious or immature or whatever. So there isn’t even any point in looking at people any more.
So that’s kind of where I’m at and why I liked this book right now and if you relate to any of that maybe it will work for you too.
I started reading A Complicated Kindness on my last day in Barcelona. I ran away to Barcelona because of a girl. Also I’d been grumpy and mopey for the previous month or so, due to the whole uncertain future thing, so really the whole disappointment with the girl just kind of tipped me over the edge. I figured I could fritter my money away while moping in Edinburgh, or I could fritter it away travelling.
I’d never really bothered to read any blurb about the book because I knew John K Samson liked it and that was enough for me. It turned out that it was nothing like whatever I assumed from the title or the cover.
It’s about Nomi, a sixteen-year-old in a Mennonite community in rural Canada. She lives with her father, who’s one of the nicest fictional fathers I’ve ever encountered. Her mother and sister left three years ago and haven’t been heard from since. Nomi and her father are both kind of struggling along and both doing kind of weird things, which seems like a reasonable reaction to a fucked up situation in a place where God is more important than family. Nomi isn’t a believer any more and she drinks and takes drugs and hangs out with her boyfriend and gets into trouble at school. She has insomnia and frequently wanders the town at night and does unpredictable things.
I always love teen angst. This book really kind of brings it home, because it’s not just ordinary teen angst, you know, my-life-is-so-hard-why-won’t-he-notice-me, it captures the despair and the frustration of not having any control, especially when you’re in a place where American tourists come to gawp at how quaint you all are. It’s no wonder Nomi is so cynical.
Then there’s the religion stuff. When her sister left, Nomi was inconsolable, believing her sister would go to hell. I remember that kind of worry from my own Christian indoctrination. It was really tough to get your head around, that people you loved were going to hell, no matter how nice they were, if they didn’t accept Jesus as their personal saviour.
And I love all the bits where Nomi is just wandering aimlessly and examining the thoughts in her own head. Sometimes she invents games to play to keep herself occupied, like: today I’m going to say goodbye to everyone I see, and pretend I’m leaving town.
At the moment I am really relating to all her restlessness, because I feel like I can’t stay in Edinburgh for more than two days without getting twitchy, and I’m not sure what’s up with that. I try being restless in different locations like the bath or the futon, but that’s not very exciting, and it’s too goddamn cold to wander the streets. I talked to Alice two days ago. She was like: I just can’t be bothered meeting new people these days, you know?
And I was like: yeah, I know. I mean, pretty much every time I walk down the street I check people out, right? But these days I just think, oh, you look cool, but you’re probably actually really pretentious or boring or vacant or obnoxious or immature or whatever. So there isn’t even any point in looking at people any more.
So that’s kind of where I’m at and why I liked this book right now and if you relate to any of that maybe it will work for you too.
November 21, 2021
I honestly don't know how this won any prizes at all. If you want to know what happens in the book, it's all summarized in about three pages at the end. It's like the author found all her diaries forty years later in life and decided they'd be great in a book. Day after day of mindless things happening and thoughts about it all. I wish I hadn't wasted any time reading it.
Then again, isn't that classic literature - day after day of mindless details? Maybe that's why it got all the prizes....
Then again, isn't that classic literature - day after day of mindless details? Maybe that's why it got all the prizes....
July 17, 2017
A Complicated Kindness is about a 16 year girl living in a repressive Mennonite community with her father. She has been left behind after the departure of her sister and mother. The novel felt charming at first, but the narrator's flippancy soon became grating. I was just relieved when it was over - too much teenage angst for me. I like Miriam Toews' writing though and plan to read "All My Puny Sorrows" at some point.
December 16, 2016
This is a goddamn masterpiece and anyone who loves Catcher in the Rye will love this even more. Stunning. Toews murders on every page.
September 23, 2022
I read this novel in 2006± soon after it was published. It was the first book I read by the author Miriam Toews, and since then I’ve read and written reviews of eight other novels by her. A Complicated Kindness was written prior to my Goodreads.com days, thus I had no review of it. Recently when I saw the Kindle edition of this book available at a low price so I decided to read it again to refresh my memory and write this review.
This book is narrated from the perspective of a sixteen-year-old girl living in an ultra-conservative Mennonite community in Canada. She has memories of living with her parents and older sister, but she’s currently living with only her father after her sister left about three years earlier and her mother about a year ago.
The first-person narrative bounces back and forth between her present situation and memories from the past while using sardonic humor to describe the oppressive expectations of living in a close nit religious community. It isn’t immediately clear why her sister and mother have left town, but as the story continues the reader is able to conclude that they left because they couldn’t tolerate the religious/social strictures of the community.
Our teenage protagonist is marked as something of an orphan since her mother has left. Everyone feels sorry for her, but there’s also an element of judgment against a family that can’t tow the line, thus the title of the book.
This book is told in the voice of a rebellious free spirited teenager. The story reminds me of The Catcher in the Rye. One would expect her to be frightened and lonely due to her circumstances, but she seems to be looking forward to anticipated freedom—the gift of youth.
This book is narrated from the perspective of a sixteen-year-old girl living in an ultra-conservative Mennonite community in Canada. She has memories of living with her parents and older sister, but she’s currently living with only her father after her sister left about three years earlier and her mother about a year ago.
The first-person narrative bounces back and forth between her present situation and memories from the past while using sardonic humor to describe the oppressive expectations of living in a close nit religious community. It isn’t immediately clear why her sister and mother have left town, but as the story continues the reader is able to conclude that they left because they couldn’t tolerate the religious/social strictures of the community.
Our teenage protagonist is marked as something of an orphan since her mother has left. Everyone feels sorry for her, but there’s also an element of judgment against a family that can’t tow the line, thus the title of the book.
But there is kindness here, a complicated kindness. You can see it sometimes in the eyes of people when they look at you and don’t know what to say. When they ask me how my dad is, for instance, and mean how am I managing without my mother. Even Mr. Quiring, the teacher I am disappointing on a regular basis, periodically gives me a break. Says he knows things must be a little difficult at home. Offers to give me extensions, says he’s praying for us. I don’t mind.As described in the narrative our protagonists has no idea where her mother is living—having sort of just disappeared. She even speculates whether she's alive. Her father seems to be emotionally preoccupied with his own thoughts while inexplicably giving away furniture from their house—is he preparing to leave?
This book is told in the voice of a rebellious free spirited teenager. The story reminds me of The Catcher in the Rye. One would expect her to be frightened and lonely due to her circumstances, but she seems to be looking forward to anticipated freedom—the gift of youth.
June 1, 2019
How do you get out of a bad situation if you don't even know it's bad? Or what if you don't know what else is out there? Toews tells her story through the eyes of Nomi Nickel, a 15 year old girl living in the small Mennonite community of East Village, MB. Here, when you finish with high school, you can work at the Mennonite tourist museum or at the local chicken slaughterhouse. Death is the ultimate goal and many Mennos wish it would come sooner. The fear-mongering Menno preacher, 'The Mouth,' causes young children have recurring night terrors of family members being burned in the eternal fires of Hell. Teenagers dabble in drugs and sex just to pass the time until dying - or until they get that job at the chicken abattoir. Everyone knows everyone else's business and everyone is related. These facts can work for you or against you, depending on who needs to blackmail whom.
When Nomi's older sister picks up and leaves East Village, her family is thrown to the wolves by the church. Her mother is excommunicated for some hidden reason (which may or may not be her contact with her own daughter in the outside world). While the church executives decide the ultimate fate of her family, Nomi and her father hover at the edge of acceptance. Nomi begins to piece together all the parts of this religion which haven't made sense to her. She wavers between following her heart (Travis) or following her mind. She struggles to understand how the rest of the world exists and desperately wants to see it and witness it for herself. Eventually, the shoe drops and Nomi knows exactly what to do and how to do with aplomb.
I loved the way Toews tells this story. Neither chronological nor random, she reveals each piece of Nomi's puzzle gently so that you feel that you already knew it. We float from the past to the present smoothly as if the past is in our own memory.
It would have been 5 stars but I simply can't stand it when authors decide to write dialogue without using quotation marks! Come on! They are an invention that has passed the test of time. Use them!
When Nomi's older sister picks up and leaves East Village, her family is thrown to the wolves by the church. Her mother is excommunicated for some hidden reason (which may or may not be her contact with her own daughter in the outside world). While the church executives decide the ultimate fate of her family, Nomi and her father hover at the edge of acceptance. Nomi begins to piece together all the parts of this religion which haven't made sense to her. She wavers between following her heart (Travis) or following her mind. She struggles to understand how the rest of the world exists and desperately wants to see it and witness it for herself. Eventually, the shoe drops and Nomi knows exactly what to do and how to do with aplomb.
I loved the way Toews tells this story. Neither chronological nor random, she reveals each piece of Nomi's puzzle gently so that you feel that you already knew it. We float from the past to the present smoothly as if the past is in our own memory.
It would have been 5 stars but I simply can't stand it when authors decide to write dialogue without using quotation marks! Come on! They are an invention that has passed the test of time. Use them!
November 9, 2009
My friend Stefanie (who recommended the book) and I share a love of reading but rarely do our Venn diagrams overlap except when it comes to novels about alienated, mixed-up teens.
Nomi Nickel joins Daniel Handler's Flannery Culp (The Basic Eight) as one of my favorite characters. Like Flan, Nomi is a bright, sympathetic teen-ager struggling to create a reasonably happy life for herself.
She's also, like Flan, one of the least reliable narrators in the history of literature.
The Nickels are Mennonites, living in a small town in Canada whose chief economic lifeline seems to be the chicken-processing plant and the tourists who come by to view the "quaint sectarians" of Simon Menno. Nomi's mother and older sister have been shunned by the community for their "sins" and have left, leaving Nomi alone with her father (Ray), who is torn between his Mennonite faith and his love for wife and daughter. One of the "complicated kindnesses" of the title is that the women left so that Ray wouldn't have to choose between the two. Nomi, herself, is stifled by the strictures of the Mennonite faith and imagines a future where the family is reunited in New York and she's a groupie for Leonard Cohen but she's constrained by Ray's need for her.
I thought it was a beautifully written novel with just the right mixture of Nomi's cynicism and innocence and I would recommend it.
Nomi Nickel joins Daniel Handler's Flannery Culp (The Basic Eight) as one of my favorite characters. Like Flan, Nomi is a bright, sympathetic teen-ager struggling to create a reasonably happy life for herself.
She's also, like Flan, one of the least reliable narrators in the history of literature.
The Nickels are Mennonites, living in a small town in Canada whose chief economic lifeline seems to be the chicken-processing plant and the tourists who come by to view the "quaint sectarians" of Simon Menno. Nomi's mother and older sister have been shunned by the community for their "sins" and have left, leaving Nomi alone with her father (Ray), who is torn between his Mennonite faith and his love for wife and daughter. One of the "complicated kindnesses" of the title is that the women left so that Ray wouldn't have to choose between the two. Nomi, herself, is stifled by the strictures of the Mennonite faith and imagines a future where the family is reunited in New York and she's a groupie for Leonard Cohen but she's constrained by Ray's need for her.
I thought it was a beautifully written novel with just the right mixture of Nomi's cynicism and innocence and I would recommend it.
June 16, 2014
Miriam Toews's third novel - and the first one I've read - won the Governor General's Award for Fiction and was nominated for the Giller Prize; it also won the 2006 edition of Canada reads, the first book by a female novelist to do so.
A Complicated Kindness is narrated by the sixteen year old Nomi Nickel, a Canadian girl living in a small town of East Village in Manitoba, near the American border, during the 1970's and 1980's. Young Nomi daydreams about living in New York City, the "real" East Village, and hanging out with Lou Reed. Instead she's stuck in a dump of a town in the middle of endless Manitoba prairie, where the main street is always empty and nothing ever happens. Nomi can only drive to the border to catch a glimpse of America, but always has to return to the depressing town of her birth, where she and her friends can only stare at the beckoning distant lights of other cities. Ironically, it is the dead-beat East Village that people flock to, as this otherwise unremarkable town is a Mennonite community - and attracts both American and Canadian tourists, who see it as an authentic heritage site. In reality it's little more than a theme-park for tourists, with the locals doing what they can to maintain its image as a pioneer town.
Nomi lives alone with her father, a quiet, reserved man and dutiful member of the church. Her mother and older sister both quit town, one after another, both unable to cope with the inflexibility and close mindedness of a small, religious town. Although she goes along with the drift most of the time, Nomi alo drives around with her friend, smokes pot and reads non-religious literature; she doesn't want to be shaped into comformity by the slow drill of religion, but doesn't know where to seek answers or guidance. But then again, who does?
Miriam Toews writes a compelling voice, and her impersonation of the confused and curious teenage Nomi rings true - probably because of her own experiences in the Mennonite town of Steinbach, on which East Village is modeled. But is it enough to carry a whole novel? There isn't any real story here, and no plot drive to speak of; there is a whole lot of random detail which helps us immerse ourselves in Nomi's world, but there are many unanswered questions and a definite lack of closure. Some things are implied, but some are simply left by themselves; there's no real resolution of any kind to matter which interest us. I liked the characters and wanted to know more about them, which simply didn't happen.
I'll certainly read more of Miriam Toews's novels - she is a good writer - but I they'll prove to be a different and more focused experiences than A Complicated Kindness.
A Complicated Kindness is narrated by the sixteen year old Nomi Nickel, a Canadian girl living in a small town of East Village in Manitoba, near the American border, during the 1970's and 1980's. Young Nomi daydreams about living in New York City, the "real" East Village, and hanging out with Lou Reed. Instead she's stuck in a dump of a town in the middle of endless Manitoba prairie, where the main street is always empty and nothing ever happens. Nomi can only drive to the border to catch a glimpse of America, but always has to return to the depressing town of her birth, where she and her friends can only stare at the beckoning distant lights of other cities. Ironically, it is the dead-beat East Village that people flock to, as this otherwise unremarkable town is a Mennonite community - and attracts both American and Canadian tourists, who see it as an authentic heritage site. In reality it's little more than a theme-park for tourists, with the locals doing what they can to maintain its image as a pioneer town.
Nomi lives alone with her father, a quiet, reserved man and dutiful member of the church. Her mother and older sister both quit town, one after another, both unable to cope with the inflexibility and close mindedness of a small, religious town. Although she goes along with the drift most of the time, Nomi alo drives around with her friend, smokes pot and reads non-religious literature; she doesn't want to be shaped into comformity by the slow drill of religion, but doesn't know where to seek answers or guidance. But then again, who does?
Miriam Toews writes a compelling voice, and her impersonation of the confused and curious teenage Nomi rings true - probably because of her own experiences in the Mennonite town of Steinbach, on which East Village is modeled. But is it enough to carry a whole novel? There isn't any real story here, and no plot drive to speak of; there is a whole lot of random detail which helps us immerse ourselves in Nomi's world, but there are many unanswered questions and a definite lack of closure. Some things are implied, but some are simply left by themselves; there's no real resolution of any kind to matter which interest us. I liked the characters and wanted to know more about them, which simply didn't happen.
I'll certainly read more of Miriam Toews's novels - she is a good writer - but I they'll prove to be a different and more focused experiences than A Complicated Kindness.
March 23, 2020
Sono così facili i rapporti umani, quando bisogna solo cercare di reggersi in piedi.
Un complicato atto d'amore è una storia stilisticamente e tematicamente molto peculiare, narra infatti l'adolescenza turbolenta e instabile di una ragazza mennonita , la cui famiglia è stata decurtata di due membri a causa del regime ferreo del loro piccolo, astorico villaggio in Canada.
Miriam Toews racconta in fondo quella che forse è stata anche la propria storia in una forma di romanzo un po' ibrida, che ricorda il diario ma anche un album fotografico cronologicamente caotico, costellato da comparse e personaggi primari ed una penna affilata ed umoristica, a tratti umorale, che brilla per limpidezza.
Tra le tematiche principali annovererei i rischi di una religione eccessivamente oppressiva, che riesce a cariare non solo i rapporti interpersonali, ma la psiche stessa di un individuo. Come può un credo basato su pentimento, esclusività, agonia, tristezza, rigidità, permettere a un bambino di divenire un adolescente equilibrato?
Un complicato atto d'amore parla infine di un amore filiale e familiare quasi sconfinato, che in quotidiane e capillari azioni prevalica anche la legge di Dio; che esiste quasi più vividamente quando lontano e inafferrabile, che lascia spazio piuttosto che stringersi.
(le tre stelle sono perché è tutto molto bello, ma ripetitivo.)
Un complicato atto d'amore è una storia stilisticamente e tematicamente molto peculiare, narra infatti l'adolescenza turbolenta e instabile di una ragazza mennonita , la cui famiglia è stata decurtata di due membri a causa del regime ferreo del loro piccolo, astorico villaggio in Canada.
Miriam Toews racconta in fondo quella che forse è stata anche la propria storia in una forma di romanzo un po' ibrida, che ricorda il diario ma anche un album fotografico cronologicamente caotico, costellato da comparse e personaggi primari ed una penna affilata ed umoristica, a tratti umorale, che brilla per limpidezza.
Tra le tematiche principali annovererei i rischi di una religione eccessivamente oppressiva, che riesce a cariare non solo i rapporti interpersonali, ma la psiche stessa di un individuo. Come può un credo basato su pentimento, esclusività, agonia, tristezza, rigidità, permettere a un bambino di divenire un adolescente equilibrato?
Un complicato atto d'amore parla infine di un amore filiale e familiare quasi sconfinato, che in quotidiane e capillari azioni prevalica anche la legge di Dio; che esiste quasi più vividamente quando lontano e inafferrabile, che lascia spazio piuttosto che stringersi.
(le tre stelle sono perché è tutto molto bello, ma ripetitivo.)
January 8, 2015
Nomi Nickel is the narrator of this novel set in a rural Mennonite town in Manitoba, Canada. She lives with her religious father Ray since her older sister exited the repressive town, followed a few months later by her mother. Nomi is a rebellious sixteen-year-old who tells her story in flashbacks filled with cynical humor. She would love to escape to New York City, but does not want to leave her father alone. She also wonders if she'll burn in hell someday if she totally abandons the Mennonite teachings. Nomi looks at what awaits her if she stays in her hometown--fifty years of working at a chicken processing plant, then the Rest Haven nursing home.
The fictional book is partly based on Mirian Toews' hometown, a Mennonite community in Manitoba. The author writes in a believable 1970s teenage voice in this coming-of-age book that will pull at the heart one minute, and set the reader laughing a few pages later.
The fictional book is partly based on Mirian Toews' hometown, a Mennonite community in Manitoba. The author writes in a believable 1970s teenage voice in this coming-of-age book that will pull at the heart one minute, and set the reader laughing a few pages later.
November 5, 2014
This book was so funny and sad at the same time that I was on an emotional roller coaster the whole time I was reading it, bursting out laughing one minute and feeling all "awwww, my heart" the next. I finished it last night and was completely wrecked and yet immediately wanted to start it from the beginning. This is an oddly suspenseful book, too, for one that deals with such quiet subject-matter. Toews managed to write about very small, daily things and maintain my interest in the over all narrative thread.
I don't think I've ever met a narrator like Nomi. I simply adore her. I love her the way I love Scout Finch. She's real to me. I am going to have to read this book again.
I don't think I've ever met a narrator like Nomi. I simply adore her. I love her the way I love Scout Finch. She's real to me. I am going to have to read this book again.
December 16, 2019
(I read this novel for book club)
A Complicated Kindness and a Complicated Book!
The synopsis really appealed to me yet the only thing I truly enjoyed about this novel was that the author helped me to reminisce about my years in the 70's. I shared fond memories with the main character as she loved Jesus Christ Superstar and Love's Baby Soft.
I found this story read like someone's disjointed diary.
Too many unanswered questions and not enough closure left me bewildered at the end.
A Complicated Kindness and a Complicated Book!
The synopsis really appealed to me yet the only thing I truly enjoyed about this novel was that the author helped me to reminisce about my years in the 70's. I shared fond memories with the main character as she loved Jesus Christ Superstar and Love's Baby Soft.
I found this story read like someone's disjointed diary.
Too many unanswered questions and not enough closure left me bewildered at the end.
August 26, 2012
I appreciated this book much more on re-read (it's hard to pick a fave of hers - but at least I now have all three that I've read so far clearly in my mind). I am still slightly more impressed with the two that followed, The Flying Troutmans and Irma Voth, but it's only because ... because ... why? It's now the merest gradation of five star-dom that separate them.
There is no doubt that Nomi's 'voice' is a spectacular accomplishment. Distill it, and each drop is pure essence du Toews.
I think that what I struggle with here is the lack of story. The ennui (which is the point, of course) is wearing. I love teen angst and pain as much as anyone, and told this well, this wrenchingly, it's hard to critique. So even typing that, that the lack of story is what differentiates this one from the others, is, I feel, not true.
But it was almost too much, y'know? Paragraph after paragraph of the most stunning, sardonic, almost zeugmatic insights out of this gr 12 Mennonite girl, struggling with a fundamentalist faith that has been imposed on her and an abandonment of monumental proportions. Collapsing under the burden of responsibility and grief, acting out, no relief in sight.
Gahhhh. This writing hurts, physically - it is so beautiful, so painful, so funny. It hits you like a wall, with the most mundane and profound thoughts given equal treatment. This is the brilliance of the writing: that it so perfectly mirrors Nomi's psychological state. Everything is equally important, so nothing is. Complete overload of random, irrelevant and vital detail - so nothing makes sense, nothing has meaning. Standing in the midst of the largest questions about family bonds, love, faith - and all while 'coming of age' to boot.
But here's what I will say about Toews' characters (god, I hope they are not too too autobiographical, but I fear they are): there is a life force in them. A will toward not just survival, but a cathartic, definitive, life-affirming strength that forshadows the emergence from pain as a better, whole and happy person.
Yes. This is what I believe. For each and every one of them.
Just brilliant.
There is no doubt that Nomi's 'voice' is a spectacular accomplishment. Distill it, and each drop is pure essence du Toews.
I think that what I struggle with here is the lack of story. The ennui (which is the point, of course) is wearing. I love teen angst and pain as much as anyone, and told this well, this wrenchingly, it's hard to critique. So even typing that, that the lack of story is what differentiates this one from the others, is, I feel, not true.
But it was almost too much, y'know? Paragraph after paragraph of the most stunning, sardonic, almost zeugmatic insights out of this gr 12 Mennonite girl, struggling with a fundamentalist faith that has been imposed on her and an abandonment of monumental proportions. Collapsing under the burden of responsibility and grief, acting out, no relief in sight.
Gahhhh. This writing hurts, physically - it is so beautiful, so painful, so funny. It hits you like a wall, with the most mundane and profound thoughts given equal treatment. This is the brilliance of the writing: that it so perfectly mirrors Nomi's psychological state. Everything is equally important, so nothing is. Complete overload of random, irrelevant and vital detail - so nothing makes sense, nothing has meaning. Standing in the midst of the largest questions about family bonds, love, faith - and all while 'coming of age' to boot.
But here's what I will say about Toews' characters (god, I hope they are not too too autobiographical, but I fear they are): there is a life force in them. A will toward not just survival, but a cathartic, definitive, life-affirming strength that forshadows the emergence from pain as a better, whole and happy person.
Yes. This is what I believe. For each and every one of them.
Just brilliant.
January 3, 2009
I’ve let a few days pass since I finished this book, but I have to admit I’m still not sure what to make of it… It was highly recomended to me and proved to be a very interesting read but I feel like I missed out on much of its meaning.
Written in the voice of Nomi, it follows her trains of thought from one idea to the next, from past to present, from misery to humour, from memory to hope… I found the resulting account difficult to follow and get caught in. But at the same time it brings us straight to Nomi’s internal conflicts and most guarded thoughts… It shows us probably better than any other type of account how she is struggling to understand and deal with the world around her, and find herself in the midst of it. In fact the book is as confused as she is herself.
The ‘world’ I just mentioned is pretty much limited to the Mennonite community and town she grew up in. Confined geographically and more importantly religiously, culturally and socially, Nomi knows very little of the world outside. Partly fascinated by the nearby city and disgusted by the ‘American tourists’ who come by for a view of a ‘traditionnal’, ’simple’, ‘rustic’ lifestyle, she has been brought up to believe she is in the only place which will ensure her salvation. But as she grows up and everything around her crumbles she has to find her own path.
This is a journey through self identity, growing up, fundamentalism, community vs. individual culture and the nature of kindness; probably better enjoyed on a second reading.
Written in the voice of Nomi, it follows her trains of thought from one idea to the next, from past to present, from misery to humour, from memory to hope… I found the resulting account difficult to follow and get caught in. But at the same time it brings us straight to Nomi’s internal conflicts and most guarded thoughts… It shows us probably better than any other type of account how she is struggling to understand and deal with the world around her, and find herself in the midst of it. In fact the book is as confused as she is herself.
The ‘world’ I just mentioned is pretty much limited to the Mennonite community and town she grew up in. Confined geographically and more importantly religiously, culturally and socially, Nomi knows very little of the world outside. Partly fascinated by the nearby city and disgusted by the ‘American tourists’ who come by for a view of a ‘traditionnal’, ’simple’, ‘rustic’ lifestyle, she has been brought up to believe she is in the only place which will ensure her salvation. But as she grows up and everything around her crumbles she has to find her own path.
This is a journey through self identity, growing up, fundamentalism, community vs. individual culture and the nature of kindness; probably better enjoyed on a second reading.
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