2.5 - sometimes even 2.75
Reading this book reminded me of one of the worst dates I ever had. From the initial phone call, it was clear the guy had been around the block a few too many times (hence earning the name 'Burn Out Boy'), and the date, from his perspective, and then soon enough from mine, was over before it began. I don't know if it was boredom, desperation, or irritation, but I found myself slipping into this awful persona, using every big word I knew, giving intense answers to small talk questions, until he interrupted me mid sentence and said drolly, "So are you, like, really smart?"
Obnoxious, yes. But somewhat deserved.
Many times while reading Big Brother I wanted to shake Lionel, who, I feel, has not revisited her Kevin hayday with any of her subsequent (certainly not her previous) works, and say to her, I get it! I get it, ok? You're like, really really smart. I cite, for example (one of many):
"Brown with elegiac hints of yellow, cornfield dying for the October harvest slipped past my window. Overland electrical cables scalloped rhythmically by on creosoted poles, while globular water tanks on narrow stems glowed in autumnal sun like giant incandescent lightbulbs. The pastoral effect was blighted by big-box stores and strip malls ... Yet on pristine stretches the countryside expressed the timeless groundedness and solidity that had captivated me as a child ..."
DEAR GOD ABOVE. It's like one of my students writing, thinking that the more SAT words cramped into a sentence the better.
So, that's the first thing I want to say about this book, because in truth, even with an interesting premise (and this sort of had one), with writing like that, there's only so much you can enjoy it. And when she wasn't doing THAT, there was her other fall back writing method similar to Claire Messud's latest along with Curtis Sittenfeld's Sisterland whereby we are "treated" to the stiff, intense musings and overly detailed accounts of the highly annoying, cold and off putting heroine.
But anyway. The plot.
Shriver enjoys taking on hot button issues whether it's gun control or health insurance, and so enter 'My Feelings About Obesity Disguised (Sort of) as a Novel.' Similar to Lisa Genova, this book doesn't so much delve into characters and conflicts as it info dumps treatise after treatise with the occasional plot movement. In essence, Pandora is a middle age woman with a type A and frankly kind of revolting husband who is a health food maniac and biking enthusiast (such that his wife holds dearly onto her 30 extra pounds while also hating herself) and her two step kids (irredeemably obnoxious Tanner with glimmers of Kevin and Cody, very much reminiscent of the sniveling and annoying Celia) - she makes a living designing, of all things, little dolls with those pull strings who are special ordered to mimic someone (this apparently makes her rather wealthy which will come in handy soon). Self righteous husband Fletcher is not pleased when Pandora's big brother Edison decides to come "visit" - down on his luck as an out of work jazz musician, the visit is actually set for two months.
Pandora is shocked to discover that in the four years that she has not seen Edison he has in fact expanded to nearly 400 pounds. I give Shriver credit for whatever research or imagination she did to come up with the many details I would not have foreseen of hosting a morbidly obese person - whether its dents in the mattress or a fixation on sugar so strong that Edison is caught eating it straight up, or other things that I simply would not have thought of - but I do not give her credit for Edison as a person. He is selfish, immature, and downright annoying. Shriver decided to go the route of Reconstructing Amelia in imposing highly unlikely attributes on a subject she probably knows little about. In Amelia, the sad author thought, oh I bet teens speak in abbreviations like, all the time! And I bet a guy from England won't be believable unless he ONLY uses the words bloody, cheers, and rubbish! So, Edison once played jazz? Then 'What's for dinner' MUST become, "Yo, what's a hungry cat gotta do around here to score some eats, ya dig, man?' I mean, SERIOUSLY? He was already annoying, this was NOT helping.
Anyway, Edison's clumsiness as well as overall poor eating habits (translating into cooking very bad things for the fam) leads to inevitable tension, until finally he is set to leave. But suddenly Pandora feels a stab of guilt and proposes that Edison and she take up an apartment and go on a liquid, 580 calorie a day diet for a year and see if they can both lose their weight.
Well, what ensues is an admittedly interesting and insightful examination (though if it could have been a less direct one this would have been a much better book) of how both gaining and losing weight cuts both ways, and how we associate food with oh so many things. As someone who works out nearly daily and vacillates between 'No more processed food!' and 'Diet be damned and pass it here!' I am not exception to the tyranny that food, moderation, body image, and prejudices therein have insinuated in probably all of our lives (at least in a developed country where, frankly, it's a luxury to have such issues). But if I want to read an article or essay, I will - this felt so contrived, deliberate, and heavy handed that while I read it and wanted to continue, it was more out of faint curiosity than actual enjoyment.