Minor Indignities

by Trevor Cribben Merrill

Nothing in his rural New England upbringing could have prepared Colin Phelps for freshman year at an Ivy League the House Master crashes hall parties, public nudity is practically an intramural sport, and French intellectuals spouting arcane theories cast a spell over the undergraduates.

Colin plunges into the hookup culture, competing with his brash, rule-breaking roommate. But as he soon discovers, the pursuit of transgression is fraught with unexpected pitfalls, and his suave pose must be stripped away if he is to find genuine freedom.

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Catholic

Audible Audio

Published December 23, 2022

Reviews

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.2/5 🌟🌟🌟🌟
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Actual book aside, there are four memorable elements of Minor Indignities and the experience of reading it that I’m not liable to forget any time soon: the first (1) is that it only has 26 ratings on goodreads (???), which I find shocking because it came out over a year ago and is absolutely delightful. Hilarious, sharp, snarky, insightful, cringey in a timeless way. (S/O to @jackieoshry and @danawebman of @thereadheads for putting this on my radar.)
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The second (2), which is equally delightful but significantly less shocking, is that Trevor Cribben Merrill wrote an essay on conversion in the work of René Girard; you know who has super insightful/intelligent/hot girl takes on Girard? (3) @joukovsky, author of the insightful, intelligent, hot girl book, The Portrait of a Mirror. The world of Girard continues to shrink as it expands.
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Lastly (4), I did spent over two hours in the Coachella merch line reading this book on the kindle app on my phone, a fact relevant to no one but myself, but still. I was dying of thirst and my legs were on FIRE, so this book got me through some tough times and for that I will be eternally grateful.
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Minor Indignities takes the reader through an Ivy-League-in-New-England freshman year via the eyes of an indisputably insufferable narrator named Colin. We all know a man (or two, or twenty seven) like Colin: deeply insecure and a painful blend of commensurately pretentious, condescending, arrogant, and desperate in a sad and pathetic and obvious way because of it. He doesn’t see himself or the world around him clearly. Sometimes he fancies himself the new Faulkner; other times he’s certain he’s the most profound idiot in the world. Instead of exploring his identity, he shrinks it to imitate anyone he perceives as cooler than him.
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Religion weaves itself through this book in a clever and elastic sort of way. It clashes with desire and lust, delusion and idealized counterculture. I felt like it was ironically one of the most dependable themes I encountered.
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I recommend this to fans of The Portrait of a Mirror and My Year of Rest and Relaxation, as well as anyone who went to Brown because even though this takes place at Yale, the Providence vibes were there. (I went to Brown for my freshman and sophomore years and I feel confident in this assessment.) Looooved it.

[Elizabeth Genovise · Rating 5 out of 5]

Having done my college thesis on Rene Girard, who was apparently a source of inspiration for Merrill, I couldn't help but love this book. The novel chronicles the alternately sad and absurd experiences of a young man named Colin who attempts to fit in with his Ivy League classmates but finds he cannot do so without completely misrepresenting himself. Most of us think of the college years as an opportunity to "find ourselves," but such a journey is impossible for Colin as long as his only goal is to be loved and accepted by those around him (rather than to clarify his own beliefs). Mimicking the attitudes, speech, and philosophies of his classmates (most of whom are ideologically-possessed, cynical, egomaniacal, and pitifully insecure beneath their strident surfaces), Colin falls deeper and deeper into a muddle of confusion. Only humiliation and a burgeoning awareness of the basic falsity of his little world can jolt him awake. Once he confronts the darkness within himself--the same darkness lurking in the very people he once slavishly admired--he has a chance at personal redemption.

[A. · Rating 5 out of 5]

A first-person campus novel of the best kind, about a boy from coastal Maine’s first year at Yale. Merrill is a Girard scholar and it shows! Highly recommended for fans of The Portrait of a Mirror.

[A Fiore · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a really solid first novel. It’s competently written in most parts and I really appreciate how Merrill writes his female characters with such nuance. But overall the novel felt too short and too long, waxing spiritual about small humiliations, and laced with lessons. It’s clearly trying to avoid tropes and cliches, and yet the point is so overt and so devoid of subtext that the novel feels weightless and also heavy handed.

Merrill should keep writing.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

In my experience, anyone either attending or related to such within two minutes of conversation will boast of their Ivy League (or Berkeley, Stanford, Duke) bonafides. For those of us among the plebes, this constant brag grates. So novels about this familiar, overused, perpetual trope of misfit writer to be among the snobs multiply at thinly disguised coming-of-age tales by, well, writers once they've matriculated or absconded. For a parallel spin, this academic milieu from Wiseblood Press' founder Joshua Hren produced a similar fiction, Infinite Regress, if more in the style of Alexander Theroux, less successfully, let alone Lee Oser's tone-deaf Old Enemies from the professor's side, examples of conservative Catholic responses to collegiate folly. While set in the Clinton administration, Merrill's tale of freshman year at [Yale] offers a straightforward rather than caricatured, if compact, reply to Tom Wolfe's secularized I Am Charlotte Simmons, if '90s Wolfe were disciplined enough to condense.

Merrill doesn't exaggerate. But his carefully articulated rendition of the travails of "adolescent" love, the intricate nonverbal teases, the hints in phrases, the blundering self-aggrandizing, the rueful replay of messages sent or received, the mental chatter of ideas, poses, friendships, and readings all ring true. Perhaps risking tedium. While this is better written than some other Wiseblood Press fare in the realms of doubt and faith in American society, it still drags. I listened to the author read it on audio, and while he's not polished, and the recording on headphones muffled, it may have helped me stick with the humdrum proceedings. I understand he's depicting Rene Girard's mimetic theories...

But back when SATs mattered, would one be admitted without knowing the meaning of "pastiche"? If you're dramatizing your student earnestly mimicking first Faulkner, then Joyce, why not insert examples of this prose, apparently either clunky enough to deter a literary magazine's gatekeeper while deft enough to gain said scribe's inclusion on the roster of a coveted creative writing seminar?

The plot feels so autobiographical that I suspect a sequel is in the works. To his credit, he doesn't opt for the pat ending. But we leave Colin Phelps after year one, wondering what's next. He's not a dramatic or compelling type in any standout way to date, and this realism may or may not satisfy.

[Paul Orlando · Rating 5 out of 5]

A nicely done examination of the lives and values of today’s elites. Minor Indignities dives into the world of Ivy League self-centeredness and faddish activism, exposing moral struggles sadly common on our nation’s campuses (though things became much more extreme than the late 90s setting). The main character's journey, from disgrace to hints of integrity, reminds us that we always have the potential for absolution. A wonderful read.

[Pixie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ah, the Catholic novel. An astute and fairly accurate representation of exclusive elite universities and their naïve and privileged students. The characters and their exploits are distinct and memorable, although the morality and immorality that makes up the broader content of the novel is twinged with slightly outdated concepts of sexual modesty and a reliance on nuclear-family era ideals.

[Hello · Rating 2 out of 5]

Eh

[Kirsten Carpenter · Rating 3 out of 5]

Extremely well-written, just found it a little anticlimactic at times and the protagonist was insufferable. The main takeaway for me was the idea that you can’t be successful in art/life until you get over yourself and your insecurities and I appreciate that sentiment.