Updated: Adding a starred rating. Also--segmented fiction! That was the term I was trying to think of, and which I would say this book is.
The writing is lovely and delicate, with lots of pithy and amusing observations about our culture. Think Infinite Jest in digestible portions, and with fewer characters. I think this book more or less says the same thing, although Mangla does not struggle as Wallace does to find a way out of the shallow and dissociated lives we lead. It's more a view of ourselves in snapshots. But some sections are galvanizing.
There's a term for this type of novel, in which a story is told through a series of anecdotes that may not initially seem connected but that eventually build to a 3D story. I just read a blog post about it, but already I've forgotten what it's called... Anyway, think Jenny Offil. In Understudies, the sections are distinctly set apart (and are very short), whereas in Dept of Speculation, each paragraph is its own bit and you end up seeing the story through a kaleidoscope. But similar concept. So, I thought of Wallace and also Saramago (The Double) for the fascination with the actress (and in the case of both Mangla and Wallace, what she represents about us). (Also the relationship with the teacher colleague recalled the Saramago for me.)
What kept it from 5 stars for me was that I thought that sometimes the endings of the sections lacked punch. "I nodded and went home." It's a reaction to something that's taken place, but IMO kind of a wasted opportunity to really dig it into us. I suppose the understatement might go with the understudy theme. The narrator is not really connected to his story, or to anyone, so he's kind of reporting in stealth mode. Okay, but he's highly observant and I wanted more of a hit sometimes. Also there were some dangling modifiers--more than just one or two, but not a ton--which drives me nuts. And some clunky phrasing and strange word choices (I fawned over my coffee), which stood out given the overall beauty of the book.
It's interesting that I liked this book as much as I did, because alienated characters don't normally appeal to me. I think the narrator cares more than he knows he does, and this comes through in the way he observes. I objected to the girlfriend's name and lack of dimensionality--she's got some funny observations, too, and these give us a sense of her character, but we don't really *see* her, and, come on, Missy? That's kind of sexist, IMO. Also, why is she called that? A little detail such as this would have helped a lot.
And I wasn't sure why she came back to him. He didn't seem to contribute much to the relationship, though he missed her. Was it just that the actress had become unavailable even in the imagination?
The scene with the actress in the hospital was very moving.
Some samples:
"Midstream the guy at the neighboring urinal turned to me. 'I don't know why, but every time I stand at a urinal I have this weird feeling I've wandered into the wrong bathroom.... But then I remember that women's bathrooms have couches.'"
"For a long time I devoted myself to the conspiracy that some ruffian was siphoning gas from my tank, before conceding to the chilling truth: my truck was a guzzler. In a modern world, ten miles to the gallon was the rough equivalent of highway robbery."
"He had less a bowl than a casserole dish [hair] cut."
"'Question,' Palover prefaced. 'Would you rather have a rare blood disease named after you or nothing at all?' 'Nothing at all.' 'Answer honestly.""
"Her favorite novelists are Edith Wharton and James Patterson."
"There's an element of truth in every game. Except for Candy Land. That's simply a game of lies."
I could go on and on.... Lots of great stuff worth your time here. I'd recommend this book without reservation.