This book had me at the first paragraph, an authentic-looking Google search page on eyelid drooping, with humorous result entries. I’m sure this will send some serious literature people running, but I was glued to the page. Droopy eyelid is a worthy topic in my eyes, though no, this isn’t what the book—or this review—is about (lol, you can just guess I have a lot to say about droopy eyelids).
Alice is 45 and bored with her marriage. She has a couple of teenagers, who are interesting and well-drawn. Alice decides to take part in an online survey on marriage and doesn’t tell her family. The survey is run by Researcher 101, and through survey questions Alice (whom the survey has labeled Wife 22) ends up gradually blurting out the life story of her marriage. Eventually the communication between Alice and the researcher leads to a sort of tentative and restrained online affair (without any sex stuff, thank god).
Despite its leper label, “chick lit”, I actually think this book shows some real genius. The author uses a bunch of formats (emails, Google searches, Twitter, Facebook, texts, play format, and a questionnaire) to tell her story, and she combines them beautifully. What a brilliant way to get a glimpse of what a character is thinking—even if it is about something mundane. So many times that’s just what we ARE thinking about.
The Google entries were especially entertaining. It made me think about how many weird things I google every day. Two of my highlights yesterday: “Do noodles make you sleepy?” and “Do plums explode in the microwave?” I’ve thought of writing down all the things I’ve searched for in one day, just for kicks. Social media has also knocked some of the grammar Nazi out of me. I can now comfortably use google as a verb and even lowercase it sometimes—no small feat. The downside of Google is how many diseases I am absolutely positive I have.
I’ve seen some scathing reviews, where people thought the book was light and dumb (full of clichés and gimmicks), and the characters annoyed them. That was not my experience. I loved the way she skillfully plugged into the present culture. And the switch between formats was a clever plot device. The author has my sense of humor, which kept me laughing.
However, when I figured out the ending, my smile went crooked and it made me crazy. It also affected my reading speed and comfort. I suddenly wanted to race to the end, Indy 500 style. Mostly this was to say obnoxiously, “Ha, I knew it!,” but also to see if I'd be lucky enough to get another, real surprise. I had been cheated out of the first one, damn it, which had been like a firecracker that exploded prematurely. Once a surprise is gone, it’s really gone.
The story became uninteresting, the funny became deflated, and I wasn’t hot to pick up the book and continue reading. Therein lies the paradox: The desire to get to the finish line versus the involuntary stalling out. I so wanted to speed ahead but I kept slowing down. I was tempted to skip sections, but I read every word because the format and conversations were fun and lively and clear, and I was trying to have a little hope that I'd be wrong.
A couple of minor nits:
-At the end, I didn’t buy the husband’s attitude toward Alice.
-The questionnaire only showed Alice’s answers, not the questions. Sometimes I could deduce the question, but more often than not, I couldn’t—so the answer made no sense. At the end of the book, all the numbered questions appear in a list! Huh? What good did that do me? No way was I going back to the numbered answers and match them with the correct question. That’s worse than homework!
There is a way the author could have avoided the predictability, which would have made it such a better read. She would have had to change the premise, though—no small task. Considering the way she wrote it, she obviously assumed people wouldn’t figure out the twist early on.
Although I hated the predictability of this book, I loved its cleverness. And it made me think about how easy it is today to learn stuff, how it’s perfectly normal for us to click just one or two keys and find instant information on any weirdo topic. I also thought about the role that social media plays in our lives, about how our new avenue of staccato yet telling communication affects the psychology of both the online writers and readers.
I’m so torn about how to rate this. I originally thought this would be an easy 4.5, but the discomfort and disappointment that came with the predictability make me rate it a 3.8. Oh, hell, I’ll bump it to a 4. The fact that it opened with a google search on droopy eyelids warrants at least half a point.