No surprise I would enjoy this novel, given my love of experimentation in fiction and particularly in the novel form, as well as my appreciation of Alexandra Naughton's wry writing style. I've heard Ms. Naughton read a few times over the last four or five years here in the San Francisco Bay Area and have always admired her style and performances and was therefore happy to finally procure a copy of this, her first novel, and read it.
Pasolini, in a short story, excerpts a section of a book by Roland Barthes in which Barthes claims that European literature, at least up until the 1960s, is almost wholly descriptive. If this is true, then Naughton's style is superlative, for it reminds me of nothing so much as a kind of Millennial take on Henry James. The style is pointed, detailed, highly visual, if avoiding the verbiage of James's famously long-winded sentences. But American Mary describes apartments, streets, encounters, poetry readings, and phone calls rather than the New York drawing rooms and European hotels and tea rooms of James' novels.
Granted, the reader has to do a lot of work here. The terse nature of the places and character (often only he or she) descriptions doesn't usually signal its connection to the whole of a plot or scenario other than revolving, non-chronologically, around a central female protagonist. Thus there are scenes without plot, places without sequence, and experience without a whole lot of interpretation. Therefore instead of the more common mystery plot of an author showing us clues (and explaining their significance and how they then connect one to the other) like pieces until the puzzle vanishes in favor of the picture it presents, American Mary shows us places, people, and events and leaves it to the reader to experience, connect, and decide if they want to interpret or not; and, if so, how they want to interpret. Such a technique, relying on description over interpretation, rings somewhat truer by leaving the images to seemingly speak for themselves, really allowing the reader to piece them together however they choose. What some might see as disjointed, I see as a great freedom that the novelist offers her audience. Such snatches of reality are a lot like the way we experience life today, I think, thus the relevance of the experiment. Great stuff.