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Wer politische Kriminalromane schätzt, will die kühne Literatin Sarah Schulman nicht verpassen. In ihrem neuen New York-Noir erzählt sie mit sardonischer Situationskomik von einer Ermittlerin im Zustand der Auflösung:
Ex-Cop Maggie Terry muss neu anfangen, doch in ihrer Welt ist nichts mehr wie früher. Das Telefon ist tot, die Nachbarschaft fremd, überall Trump und Trends und Technik. In Maggies Leben, in ihrer Stadt klaffen Lücken. Und mit sich ins Reine zu kommen scheitert an der Schwere eigener Fehler und Versäumnisse. So hangelt sie sich von AA- zu NA-Meetings, sucht nach Bodenhaftung. Ein Fall könnte helfen – oder die endgültige Katastrophe herbeiführen …
Maggie Terry ist die suchtkranke Ermittlerin einer Welt aus den Fugen. Die strauchelnde Morduntersuchung ist zugleich politisches Statement und Abgesang: komödiantisch und untröstlich, realistisch und radikal subjektiv.
Ex-Cop Maggie Terry muss neu anfangen, doch in ihrer Welt ist nichts mehr wie früher. Das Telefon ist tot, die Nachbarschaft fremd, überall Trump und Trends und Technik. In Maggies Leben, in ihrer Stadt klaffen Lücken. Und mit sich ins Reine zu kommen scheitert an der Schwere eigener Fehler und Versäumnisse. So hangelt sie sich von AA- zu NA-Meetings, sucht nach Bodenhaftung. Ein Fall könnte helfen – oder die endgültige Katastrophe herbeiführen …
Maggie Terry ist die suchtkranke Ermittlerin einer Welt aus den Fugen. Die strauchelnde Morduntersuchung ist zugleich politisches Statement und Abgesang: komödiantisch und untröstlich, realistisch und radikal subjektiv.
269 pages, Hardcover
First published September 11, 2018
41 people are currently reading
663 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Schulman
59 books795 followersSarah Schulman is a longtime AIDS and queer activist, and a cofounder of the MIX Festival and the ACT UP Oral History Project. She is a playwright and the author of seventeen books, including the novels The Mere Future, Shimmer, Rat Bohemia, After Delores, and People in Trouble, as well as nonfiction works such as The Gentrification of the Mind: Witness to a Lost Imagination, My American History: Lesbian and Gay Life during the Reagan/Bush Years, Ties That Bind: Familial Homophobia and Its Consequences, and Stagestruck: Theater, AIDS, and the Marketing of Gay America. She is Distinguished Professor of the Humanities at The City University of New York, College of Staten Island.
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November 8, 2019Hey, a new category of fiction for me: the NFM. Not quite a DNF, it's a Not For Me, a quit before I waste any more time. I just can't like it. About a third into it I realized that it is essentially a character study of an addict, Maggie, and at page 50, I'm not even sure how complex she is. It could be that being an addict eventually eats up a lot of what personality a person has. It could also be that Schulman is first a non-fiction writer, and may have been using this book as her own personal Message Board, and as such has points to make beyond the average mystery novel.
I'm not the only one to note this. I'd have to agree with the reviewer who says, "Her Maggie Terry is 50% Maggie's journey, 25% political commentary about the US and the present state of New York in particular and 25% crime resolution." I'm at least 25% in, and quite possibly 30%, and only now has Maggie--and the reader--been introduced to the idea that there's a case. As this point there's been a lot of discussion about Maggie's addicted life; the lost of her non-biological daughter to her wife, the biological mother; and days on the NYPD.
I was tempted into this by a friend's review, the backstory that Maggie is a lesbian--not your average mystery hero, by any means--and by a blurb from Sara Gran, writer of one of my favorite books, as well as further comparisons to Gran. But no, not so much. It lacks the humor, pacing, and subtlety of Clare DeWitt. I'd highly suggest you try out Gran's books over this one.
Writing sample (it's not spoiler, it's just three paragraphs):
That's what a great deal of the book is like, a strange mix of the narrative voice with Maggie's, and a very exhausting one at that. I wavered on rating, and whether or not to do so. As I shared the quote, I realized my disinterest is also about subject and narrative choice. The writing itself is occasionally excellent, and the characters were all-too-human. Unfortunately, much of it is very rooted in a particular time period, particularly Trump's presidency, and a NYC that is experiencing the same cultural shifting as the rest of the country.
Had it been differently written, I might have stayed with it long enough to finish. After all, Matt Scudder spent time in "the Program" in his mysteries, but I read the entire series, so it isn't just the addiction angle. I think, for me, this was really more literary fiction about one woman's search for personal growth with a tiny bit of a mystery, rooted at a particular place in time. It's well done, but not for me.
I'm not the only one to note this. I'd have to agree with the reviewer who says, "Her Maggie Terry is 50% Maggie's journey, 25% political commentary about the US and the present state of New York in particular and 25% crime resolution." I'm at least 25% in, and quite possibly 30%, and only now has Maggie--and the reader--been introduced to the idea that there's a case. As this point there's been a lot of discussion about Maggie's addicted life; the lost of her non-biological daughter to her wife, the biological mother; and days on the NYPD.
I was tempted into this by a friend's review, the backstory that Maggie is a lesbian--not your average mystery hero, by any means--and by a blurb from Sara Gran, writer of one of my favorite books, as well as further comparisons to Gran. But no, not so much. It lacks the humor, pacing, and subtlety of Clare DeWitt. I'd highly suggest you try out Gran's books over this one.
Writing sample (it's not spoiler, it's just three paragraphs):
That's what a great deal of the book is like, a strange mix of the narrative voice with Maggie's, and a very exhausting one at that. I wavered on rating, and whether or not to do so. As I shared the quote, I realized my disinterest is also about subject and narrative choice. The writing itself is occasionally excellent, and the characters were all-too-human. Unfortunately, much of it is very rooted in a particular time period, particularly Trump's presidency, and a NYC that is experiencing the same cultural shifting as the rest of the country.
Had it been differently written, I might have stayed with it long enough to finish. After all, Matt Scudder spent time in "the Program" in his mysteries, but I read the entire series, so it isn't just the addiction angle. I think, for me, this was really more literary fiction about one woman's search for personal growth with a tiny bit of a mystery, rooted at a particular place in time. It's well done, but not for me.
August 9, 2024
4.5 stars
short review for busy readers:a deep dive portrait of an ex-female cop in her first week of a new job after having been involuntarily hospitalised for substance addiction after the death of her (police) partner and the break up of her marriage. Somewhat slow and rather pensive overall, but highly impactful and one of the best portrayals of determination, honesty and owning up to past failures I've ever read. Truly an amazing - and ultimately rewarding - novel despite the heavy topic.
in detail:
After having seen Schulman's controversial non-fiction book Conflict Is Not Abuse: Overstating Harm, Community Responsibility, and the Duty of Repair come up in my feed (thanks Hawk!), I looked into the author and found she'd written several novels highly regarded in the lesbian community.
Knowing that authors often imbue their characters with their own viewpoints, and I was curious about Schulman's, I picked up both this one and After Delores.
Maggie Terry is a tragic character, but a fighter like no other.
Her wife left her for another woman and took their daughter with her. Maggie's police partner was shot to death and although she knows why, she can't tell anyone. She's also an alcoholic and drug addict who has been clean for 18 months and attends AA and NA (Narcotics Anon) meetings every day.
Her life is in tatters, but she's slowly getting it back one day at a time.
And now today is her first day at her new job in a detective agency. Her first day of work sober. And she's scared stiff. Can she manage? Is there a chance to get her daughter back? Can she stay clean when every day is a such struggle?
Fears, hopes and pain swirl unrelentingly around in Maggie's thoughts as she helps investigate the murder of a young actress with a new, and rather abrasively-caring, partner. And because Maggie always was a smart, talented observer of people, she's able to see things the others miss.
This isn't a mystery. The investigation is tangential and only serves to fuel and mirror Maggie's recovery.
What I found very unique about the story was the uncompromising honesty Maggie has towards herself and others. As she says, it's harder for people to admit to their failings than to actually fail. It's harder to say "I'm an addict" than it is to be an addict.
So few of us are as unflinchingly honestly with and about ourselves as Maggie is. She still has blind spots, but she's slowly working through them.
This is probably what Schulman means with Duty of Repair and the taking of radical responsibility. Maggie takes total responsibility for her actions, past and present, but not for the actions of others. She repairs everything she can but is not overwhelmed by guilt over others' offences.
The other point I found very interesting was the discussion of religion/spirituality in AA and other recovery programmes.
Maggie is an atheist. She is silent when at AA or NA they talk about putting your faith in a higher power. She refuses to say the word "God". That doesn't exist for her. What do you rely on, what do you put your trust in, when there is nothing outside of the here and now for you when you are so broken? How to you experience community support when you do not accept an integral part of the community belief?
It's an important question.
If you enjoy character studies, or if you want to see a highly-realistic portrayal of what a recovering addict's life is REALLY like from their POV, then Maggie Terry is for you. It's wonderfully written and composed. Just don't expect a mystery-thriller!
short review for busy readers:a deep dive portrait of an ex-female cop in her first week of a new job after having been involuntarily hospitalised for substance addiction after the death of her (police) partner and the break up of her marriage. Somewhat slow and rather pensive overall, but highly impactful and one of the best portrayals of determination, honesty and owning up to past failures I've ever read. Truly an amazing - and ultimately rewarding - novel despite the heavy topic.
in detail:
After having seen Schulman's controversial non-fiction book Conflict Is Not Abuse: Overstating Harm, Community Responsibility, and the Duty of Repair come up in my feed (thanks Hawk!), I looked into the author and found she'd written several novels highly regarded in the lesbian community.
Knowing that authors often imbue their characters with their own viewpoints, and I was curious about Schulman's, I picked up both this one and After Delores.
Maggie Terry is a tragic character, but a fighter like no other.
Her wife left her for another woman and took their daughter with her. Maggie's police partner was shot to death and although she knows why, she can't tell anyone. She's also an alcoholic and drug addict who has been clean for 18 months and attends AA and NA (Narcotics Anon) meetings every day.
Her life is in tatters, but she's slowly getting it back one day at a time.
And now today is her first day at her new job in a detective agency. Her first day of work sober. And she's scared stiff. Can she manage? Is there a chance to get her daughter back? Can she stay clean when every day is a such struggle?
Fears, hopes and pain swirl unrelentingly around in Maggie's thoughts as she helps investigate the murder of a young actress with a new, and rather abrasively-caring, partner. And because Maggie always was a smart, talented observer of people, she's able to see things the others miss.
This isn't a mystery. The investigation is tangential and only serves to fuel and mirror Maggie's recovery.
What I found very unique about the story was the uncompromising honesty Maggie has towards herself and others. As she says, it's harder for people to admit to their failings than to actually fail. It's harder to say "I'm an addict" than it is to be an addict.
So few of us are as unflinchingly honestly with and about ourselves as Maggie is. She still has blind spots, but she's slowly working through them.
This is probably what Schulman means with Duty of Repair and the taking of radical responsibility. Maggie takes total responsibility for her actions, past and present, but not for the actions of others. She repairs everything she can but is not overwhelmed by guilt over others' offences.
The other point I found very interesting was the discussion of religion/spirituality in AA and other recovery programmes.
Maggie is an atheist. She is silent when at AA or NA they talk about putting your faith in a higher power. She refuses to say the word "God". That doesn't exist for her. What do you rely on, what do you put your trust in, when there is nothing outside of the here and now for you when you are so broken? How to you experience community support when you do not accept an integral part of the community belief?
It's an important question.
If you enjoy character studies, or if you want to see a highly-realistic portrayal of what a recovering addict's life is REALLY like from their POV, then Maggie Terry is for you. It's wonderfully written and composed. Just don't expect a mystery-thriller!
October 14, 2018
I just finished this book, and man, y’all. I really liked it. “Really liked” didn’t always translate to “was riveted by” or even “consistently enjoyed reading,” but I have to say—as a queer woman, as a mystery aficionada, and as someone from a family of addicts, with her own complicated past and present history with substance use/abuse—that I feel tremendously grateful it exists.
Maggie Terry takes the mystery-novel cliché of the hard-drinking police detective or private eye, and tweaks it in ways that leave the reader surprised at how seriously she suddenly must follow through on this familiar premise. Maggie Terry the character spends the entirety of this novel dealing with issues which—not only are they issues most alcoholic detective characters don’t have to face, but they’re two or three steps down the road from the issues those characters don’t have to face. Usually, the detective’s hard drinking is either a more-or-less static reality in their life (Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, Jessica Jones at least in Season 1), or it generates narrative tension due to its degrading influence on the detective’s ability to do their job, in which case the question is more: will they acknowledge the problem and work to get better? (Nate Ford in Season 2 of Leverage, or [I hear] Jane Tennison in Prime Suspect). In Maggie Terry, that whole process of degradation, disaster, confrontation and acknowledgment is already in the past. As the novel opens, Maggie’s girlfriend has left her and taken their daughter; she’s been kicked off the NYPD and put through an inpatient rehab program; she has a sponsor; she goes to NA meetings multiple times a day; she’s 18 months sober—but she definitely hasn’t stopped being an addict, mentally or emotionally. All of that apparatus, the meetings and the sponsor and the starting a new job, that’s what’s saving her life. But it doesn’t bestow upon her a life to be saved. Eighteen months sober doesn’t REMOTELY mean that Maggie is “doing well,” or that she is “not a trainwreck.” She is emphatically still a trainwreck, from start to finish. It’s just that now she’s a sober one.
And that continuing trainwreck quality is something I sincerely prized about this book. So many depictions of addiction flinch from the grinding tedium and constant rawness of recovery. Much like romance plots, the focus is on will-they-or-won’t-they: will they kiss? will they pick up that bottle? It’s a tragedy if they take that drink, or a happy, life-affirming ending if they don’t. While Maggie is still tempted on a near-nightly basis to go back to using, the focus of Schulman’s book is less on whether she’ll lapse, and more on the other parts of recovery: a “recovery” that’s really more like building from scratch a life and a personality that never fully developed in the first place. Spending a couple of decades making substance use the center of one’s priorities means that the rest of one’s development—the evolution of a personality, the cultivation of interests outside oneself, the ability to empathize with other people and sometimes put others ahead of one’s own interests—gets put on hold. Maggie spends the majority of this book trying (and often failing) to come to grips with who and what the “she” is who she’s supposed to be rehabilitating and recovering. She is 42 years old, but she has the self-involved crisis of personality, and the awkward inability to interact with other people, of a teenager.
As a reader, that self-involved quality is sometimes tedious and frustrating to read. Maggie’s self-pity and her lack of self-knowledge are often rough going. But they ring EXTREMELY true. And Schulman also does a great job of illustrating why they ring true: because what else is Maggie going to focus on? What else does she have? Without drugs, her life and her concept of self don’t just feel empty: they genuinely are empty. Her family of origin is toxic and also alcoholic; her previous professional connections are severed due to her disease; her ex-girlfriend and daughter are out of bounds to her; but more than any of this, the organizing principle of her life and her self-concept has been removed, and she has nothing to replace it with. She’s starting to rebuild from the very bottom, and it’s an exhaustingly destabilized and tedious process. I don’t think I’ve ever read something that confronts that reality in quite the way Schulman does here.
(As a side note: I also really appreciated the depiction of navigating AA/NA as an atheist. Maggie doesn’t believe in a higher power, which makes the 12-step program a rough fit for her; this is something with which I have intimate family experience, and Schulman’s depictions rang very true.)
In any case: not a light read, but a very good one.
Maggie Terry takes the mystery-novel cliché of the hard-drinking police detective or private eye, and tweaks it in ways that leave the reader surprised at how seriously she suddenly must follow through on this familiar premise. Maggie Terry the character spends the entirety of this novel dealing with issues which—not only are they issues most alcoholic detective characters don’t have to face, but they’re two or three steps down the road from the issues those characters don’t have to face. Usually, the detective’s hard drinking is either a more-or-less static reality in their life (Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, Jessica Jones at least in Season 1), or it generates narrative tension due to its degrading influence on the detective’s ability to do their job, in which case the question is more: will they acknowledge the problem and work to get better? (Nate Ford in Season 2 of Leverage, or [I hear] Jane Tennison in Prime Suspect). In Maggie Terry, that whole process of degradation, disaster, confrontation and acknowledgment is already in the past. As the novel opens, Maggie’s girlfriend has left her and taken their daughter; she’s been kicked off the NYPD and put through an inpatient rehab program; she has a sponsor; she goes to NA meetings multiple times a day; she’s 18 months sober—but she definitely hasn’t stopped being an addict, mentally or emotionally. All of that apparatus, the meetings and the sponsor and the starting a new job, that’s what’s saving her life. But it doesn’t bestow upon her a life to be saved. Eighteen months sober doesn’t REMOTELY mean that Maggie is “doing well,” or that she is “not a trainwreck.” She is emphatically still a trainwreck, from start to finish. It’s just that now she’s a sober one.
And that continuing trainwreck quality is something I sincerely prized about this book. So many depictions of addiction flinch from the grinding tedium and constant rawness of recovery. Much like romance plots, the focus is on will-they-or-won’t-they: will they kiss? will they pick up that bottle? It’s a tragedy if they take that drink, or a happy, life-affirming ending if they don’t. While Maggie is still tempted on a near-nightly basis to go back to using, the focus of Schulman’s book is less on whether she’ll lapse, and more on the other parts of recovery: a “recovery” that’s really more like building from scratch a life and a personality that never fully developed in the first place. Spending a couple of decades making substance use the center of one’s priorities means that the rest of one’s development—the evolution of a personality, the cultivation of interests outside oneself, the ability to empathize with other people and sometimes put others ahead of one’s own interests—gets put on hold. Maggie spends the majority of this book trying (and often failing) to come to grips with who and what the “she” is who she’s supposed to be rehabilitating and recovering. She is 42 years old, but she has the self-involved crisis of personality, and the awkward inability to interact with other people, of a teenager.
As a reader, that self-involved quality is sometimes tedious and frustrating to read. Maggie’s self-pity and her lack of self-knowledge are often rough going. But they ring EXTREMELY true. And Schulman also does a great job of illustrating why they ring true: because what else is Maggie going to focus on? What else does she have? Without drugs, her life and her concept of self don’t just feel empty: they genuinely are empty. Her family of origin is toxic and also alcoholic; her previous professional connections are severed due to her disease; her ex-girlfriend and daughter are out of bounds to her; but more than any of this, the organizing principle of her life and her self-concept has been removed, and she has nothing to replace it with. She’s starting to rebuild from the very bottom, and it’s an exhaustingly destabilized and tedious process. I don’t think I’ve ever read something that confronts that reality in quite the way Schulman does here.
(As a side note: I also really appreciated the depiction of navigating AA/NA as an atheist. Maggie doesn’t believe in a higher power, which makes the 12-step program a rough fit for her; this is something with which I have intimate family experience, and Schulman’s depictions rang very true.)
In any case: not a light read, but a very good one.
September 20, 2019
I don't usually like to compare one book to another, but Maggie Terry is so much like a Claire DeWitt novel if Claire decided to get sober, I can't help but make the reference. This is a really incredible book, a fine detective novel in its own right and achingly spot-on about the process of recovery. I could read an entire series about Maggie.
July 16, 2019
Recently I watched Nicole Kidman's Destroyer, a film about an addict (apparently functional), detective which I could not finish, I preferred investing in my beauty sleep instead.
So I entered this one with that in mind. Maggie Terry is not Kidman's Destroyer although she has indeed destroyed much in her life. We catch her at the point in her life in which she is trying to build rather than destroy. She has no idea how but she tries and walking with her through the couple of days the book covers is instructive.
I knew before reading that Schulman is an active, verbal activist but had I not known her writing here would have told me. Her Maggie Terry is 50% Maggie's journey, 25% political commentary about the US and the present state of New York in particular and 25% crime resolution.
She kept me reading even though at times I wished for more elegance (in writing) not in the dirt of New York streets. Although she goes deep into Maggie and the other characters, it felt kind of observational rather than writing that pulled me in and made me care.
September 10, 2018
No one can write a book like Sarah Schulman can write a book. Ostensibly a “murder mystery”, this slim novel explores so much: addiction, a changed New York, the political climate of 2017, police relations with communities of color, conflict resolution, familial accountability. If you read Schulman’s recent non-fiction book CONFLICT IS NOT ABUSE, those same themes are masterfully explored here. At times the themes become larger than the novel, and while you can see Schulman working hard, the various mechanical parts can creak under strain. That said, even the less graceful pages of the novel are still engaging and provocative. While it’s not as perfectly made as her last novel THE COSMOPOLITANS, for every page that creaks, ten more soar. I’ll take a Sarah Schulman novel over anything else, almost any day of the week. She continues to be one of the most incisive and astute and brilliant writers being published today. When is the next book, Sarah!?!?!?!?!?
September 25, 2018
So many problems with this book. Not one of the characters rings true, with the possible exception of the ex-girlfriend.
Maggie is a WASP, but in name only. She exhibits absolutely no characteristics of any WASP I know, and I don't even know any people under 40 who use that term. What sort of blond WASP becomes a cop and hangs out at blue-collar police bars—or if you did, why would you harp so much on being a WASP? (Not to mention, “Maggie”? Sounds very Irish Catholic to me.)
She's supposedly been in rehab for 18 months (what?), but acts like she's been away from the world for 15 years: "How do you work a cellphone? What's cold-pressed juice?" You're telling me such a prolific junkie as she wouldn't have known how to text her dealer on a smartphone less than two years prior?
But worse, what is Schulman's point here? Yes, we know her feelings on gentrification and conflict and homophobia, among many other things, but a polemic does not an enjoyable novel make. It's not even a mystery—no one cares who did it (they're investigating a murder at the behest of someone ostensibly not involved so it won't make her look bad—I think?) and the "solution" and its motivation is ludicrous.
(And a character's name changes from Brinkley to Berkley and back again! Copy editor, anyone?)
I really loved "The Cosmopolitans" and "Gentrification of the Mind"; "The Child" was barely readable. I'm starting to wonder if Cosmos was a fluke and Schulman is not really a novelist. If this had been written by someone else, I would not have finished.
Maggie is a WASP, but in name only. She exhibits absolutely no characteristics of any WASP I know, and I don't even know any people under 40 who use that term. What sort of blond WASP becomes a cop and hangs out at blue-collar police bars—or if you did, why would you harp so much on being a WASP? (Not to mention, “Maggie”? Sounds very Irish Catholic to me.)
She's supposedly been in rehab for 18 months (what?), but acts like she's been away from the world for 15 years: "How do you work a cellphone? What's cold-pressed juice?" You're telling me such a prolific junkie as she wouldn't have known how to text her dealer on a smartphone less than two years prior?
But worse, what is Schulman's point here? Yes, we know her feelings on gentrification and conflict and homophobia, among many other things, but a polemic does not an enjoyable novel make. It's not even a mystery—no one cares who did it (they're investigating a murder at the behest of someone ostensibly not involved so it won't make her look bad—I think?) and the "solution" and its motivation is ludicrous.
(And a character's name changes from Brinkley to Berkley and back again! Copy editor, anyone?)
I really loved "The Cosmopolitans" and "Gentrification of the Mind"; "The Child" was barely readable. I'm starting to wonder if Cosmos was a fluke and Schulman is not really a novelist. If this had been written by someone else, I would not have finished.
March 14, 2019
Full disclosure: Sarah Schulman is my first cousin. We are not close now, but we did see a good deal of each other growing up. I am a long-time admirer of (most of) her work.
Maggie Terry is a mystery novel, set in the heart of a New York City disillusioned and disheartened by the Trump administration and the news cycle. Early in the book, the author mentions an incident where a doctor shot and killed another doctor in a New York hospital--even recognizing that most of the other references were true, I thought this one must be exaggeration, so I looked it up--and it did happen.
The protagonist who gives the book its name is an ex-cop and a recovering alcoholic and drug addict. She is just re-entering the world after treatment; her great sorrow is that her daughter's other parent has cut off relations between Maggie and the child. Maggie is starting a job as a private investigator with a small law firm, though she is barely able to make her way through her day, even with the help of a good sponsor and access to NA meetings. Between that premise and the news that permeates the book, you would be afraid that the story was 100% depressing ... but it isn't.
Schulman has an extraordinarily deft touch with character complexity and the little moments of warmth and kindness that we tend to slide over, especially in very hard times. Through Maggie's viewpoint, she gets into speculation about the lives of almost everyone we meet--where they live, how they spend their money, what they care about. Even though she can be a little heavy-handed in how she passes this information to the reader, the insights themselves are gold.
The story works as a mystery: the crime (murder of an aspiring young actress) is interesting and the clues are real and fair, and nonetheless the ending is a surprise. The crime story is interlaced with Maggie's determination to stay sober and her obsession with the child she can't see, and the two stories intertwine in ways that are clear but not forced down our throats. The prose is a little forced, but the tale behind it, and the people driving the story, kept my interest throughout.
Maggie Terry is a mystery novel, set in the heart of a New York City disillusioned and disheartened by the Trump administration and the news cycle. Early in the book, the author mentions an incident where a doctor shot and killed another doctor in a New York hospital--even recognizing that most of the other references were true, I thought this one must be exaggeration, so I looked it up--and it did happen.
The protagonist who gives the book its name is an ex-cop and a recovering alcoholic and drug addict. She is just re-entering the world after treatment; her great sorrow is that her daughter's other parent has cut off relations between Maggie and the child. Maggie is starting a job as a private investigator with a small law firm, though she is barely able to make her way through her day, even with the help of a good sponsor and access to NA meetings. Between that premise and the news that permeates the book, you would be afraid that the story was 100% depressing ... but it isn't.
Schulman has an extraordinarily deft touch with character complexity and the little moments of warmth and kindness that we tend to slide over, especially in very hard times. Through Maggie's viewpoint, she gets into speculation about the lives of almost everyone we meet--where they live, how they spend their money, what they care about. Even though she can be a little heavy-handed in how she passes this information to the reader, the insights themselves are gold.
The story works as a mystery: the crime (murder of an aspiring young actress) is interesting and the clues are real and fair, and nonetheless the ending is a surprise. The crime story is interlaced with Maggie's determination to stay sober and her obsession with the child she can't see, and the two stories intertwine in ways that are clear but not forced down our throats. The prose is a little forced, but the tale behind it, and the people driving the story, kept my interest throughout.
May 16, 2020
A just ouf of rehab ex cop turned PI is trying to relearn to live, one step at a time. A mystery fell on her lap that first day of work, with a victime that she can understand, broken piece and all. And peppered with early politics of Trump reigns that seems to scandalize all characters, major and minor.
It's very weird to say it's a page turner and a very hard book to read. The confusion and pain of the main character is pretty hard core. Though the crime part is almost non existent, the post rehab life is a slap to the face.
And I was left eager for more at the end of the book. I'm really wishing right now that I could have a second installment of Maggie Terry.
It's very weird to say it's a page turner and a very hard book to read. The confusion and pain of the main character is pretty hard core. Though the crime part is almost non existent, the post rehab life is a slap to the face.
And I was left eager for more at the end of the book. I'm really wishing right now that I could have a second installment of Maggie Terry.
December 4, 2020
Definitely should’ve given this up after 20 pages or so when I wasn’t feeling it. Absolutely dire. No plot, not well written and none of the characters rang true at all. Yawn yawn yawn.
October 12, 2020
I can see this book not being for everyone, but I really enjoyed it. Maybe because I had no expectations and so when I read it I just enjoyed the read. It’s not a regular murder mystery, if anything is more focused on the rehab of Maggie. I found myself really liking the character and routing for her success. It was a different book and I like different. I was quite pleased with the whole of it. Had I wished I knew more about Maggie’s life at the end? Yes, but maybe it opens up for a potential sequel.
August 26, 2024
This one was simultaneously hard to read on an emotional level, and a bit of a page turner.
As someone in a long struggle with mental illness, this one hit almost too close to home.
I deeply appreciate seeing a protagonist in her fourties starting over from scratch after spending roughly 30 years living in disorder.
Not only isn't Maggie healed because she's been sober for 18 months, but she hasn't gotten this far unscathed. She has no "before" to go back to, and she has to figure out life one step at a time, from "what kind of breakfast do I even like?" to "I really need to get curtains for this entirely empty flat i'm sleeping on the floor of".
It felt real, and almost painfully so, and the author takes you right into the main character's brain, fears, regrets, anger, grief, bouts of desperation and hope against all odds included.
It's gritty and it's frustrating, but in a relatable way. I found myself not only rooting for Maggie, but admiring her for her strength to hold onto the little sparks of hope so tightly, when everything in her system is conditioned differently.
Due to her past job as a cop and a toxic upbringing, she instinctively investigates everyone she meets and talks to, and does so through a pessimistic lense. She barely questions it, but that constant judgement felt heavy and uncomfortable. It's how she made sense of things and people around her, but constantly judging everyone and everything must be exhausting. I found myself really intrigued with that part.
Her journey with addiction, rehab, unresolved feelings about her ex and the child she's not allowed to see anymore, the life she didn't get to live...those things are the main focus of this book. There is a crime she's investigating, but it's definitely not the main point, though it makes her meet other messed up people that inspire all sorts of emotions and self-reflections in her.
This book hit me in spots I'm usually too afraid to look at too closely in a way I'm grateful for.
I don't know how true it will ring for people who haven't spent half their life stuck in some level of life-altering disorder and (involuntary) self-obsession and emotional instability due to mental illness, but it did ring true to me and I'm grateful to get to see that in a main character.
As someone in a long struggle with mental illness, this one hit almost too close to home.
I deeply appreciate seeing a protagonist in her fourties starting over from scratch after spending roughly 30 years living in disorder.
Not only isn't Maggie healed because she's been sober for 18 months, but she hasn't gotten this far unscathed. She has no "before" to go back to, and she has to figure out life one step at a time, from "what kind of breakfast do I even like?" to "I really need to get curtains for this entirely empty flat i'm sleeping on the floor of".
It felt real, and almost painfully so, and the author takes you right into the main character's brain, fears, regrets, anger, grief, bouts of desperation and hope against all odds included.
It's gritty and it's frustrating, but in a relatable way. I found myself not only rooting for Maggie, but admiring her for her strength to hold onto the little sparks of hope so tightly, when everything in her system is conditioned differently.
Due to her past job as a cop and a toxic upbringing, she instinctively investigates everyone she meets and talks to, and does so through a pessimistic lense. She barely questions it, but that constant judgement felt heavy and uncomfortable. It's how she made sense of things and people around her, but constantly judging everyone and everything must be exhausting. I found myself really intrigued with that part.
Her journey with addiction, rehab, unresolved feelings about her ex and the child she's not allowed to see anymore, the life she didn't get to live...those things are the main focus of this book. There is a crime she's investigating, but it's definitely not the main point, though it makes her meet other messed up people that inspire all sorts of emotions and self-reflections in her.
This book hit me in spots I'm usually too afraid to look at too closely in a way I'm grateful for.
I don't know how true it will ring for people who haven't spent half their life stuck in some level of life-altering disorder and (involuntary) self-obsession and emotional instability due to mental illness, but it did ring true to me and I'm grateful to get to see that in a main character.
October 3, 2020
Comedic detective noir by Sarah Schulman (2018)
Both dark and hilarious, poor Maggie Terry, ex-NYPD detective, 18 months sober after hospitalization and lengthy rehab, on the cusp of middle age, and seemingly unable to put her tattered life back together, gets her first sober job as an investigator with a law firm where she is distrusted if not actively disliked by the permanent employees of the firm, but hired by the senior partner whose son she had tried to “save” from drugs but who died anyway, partly because her friend, the kid’s father, who himself was later shot and became paraplegic, wouldn’t take her warnings seriously in part because of Maggie’s own inebriation and in part because “my son is innocent” delusion he cannot get past.
Big trope: Maggie manages to *not be there* when her wife gives birth to their daughter, *and* when (a) her detective partner (whose policeman-son in ambiguous and mysterious circumstances killed a black man who was only reaching for his keys) and later (b) the boyfriend of Jamie, the story’s murder victim, are both killed, and she come to realize that her mother was a suicide in part because 7-year-old Maggie had no adequate understanding of and could not deal with mother’s drunkenness, so effectively she was not there for her mother either, and she discovers Jamie’s (the victim’s) mother too was not there to protect her from her family, which by a circuitous route resulted in her murder. So six deaths, lots of guilt, and a new life beginning. (The plot line of her former partner’s death is never explicated - he goes, off duty, to see a witness to the shooting that his son is accused of, Maggie gets committed in-patient and does not meet him as promised, and he ends up dead - that’s the only quarrel I have with the novel’s structure.)
Comedic? You ask. Yes, and painful realism too. Here are some quotes:
Remember. There is always history to every relationship, and history is filled with a lack of resolution. p. 36
She’d been a detective long enough to know why people liked bullies; it’s because they wanted to be bullies but weren’t powerful enough to pull it off. That’s the nature of submission. One time Maggie and [her partner] Julio had been called in to a domestic. When they arrived, a family — a father, mother, and young son — were crawling around naked on the floor of their apartment. They thought they were lions. They growled and roared and ate raw meat with their hands. Later, when the shrinks separated them, it turned out that only the father was truly psychotic. The other two were only imitating him. They identified with him so strongly out of fear, that they entered his insanity and took it on. That was like America: imitation as degradation, as a desperate grasp for survival. p. 37
“Understanding why things happen is the opposite of blame,” Rachel said on the phone, in person, and over coffee, three decades sober and sponsor to the world’s worst cases. “People make mistakes and take wrong turns. Being mortal is about being vulnerable.”
But Maggie knew that no one outside of a meeting g felt that way. Everyone else walked down the street thinking if themselves as pure and clean. They had it together because they were better, and the job of people who are better is to point out the ones who are worse and punish them. All of society seemed to be organized like that. Whoever could, would punish. p. 55
She realized she couldn’t breathe. It felt like she had a blood clot in her lungs; it felt like there were ten. But really, it was just emotional. Normally she could take a Xanax or five, or four Klonopin and a shot, an$ later some dope and then another drink. Now she had nothing except this [AA] meeting. The drugs took everything away and then they took the drugs away. Blah, blah, blah. p. 69
[Craig, Maggie’s persnickety new partner, giving Maggie a used cell phone because she never got one after hers was confiscated in rehab]: He handed her a bunched-up plastic bag, the kind that ecologists know kill birds, but that people use anyway for some unquantifiable reason. p. 134
[Maggie’s response]: “Thank you, Craig. That is very, very sweet.” Her Higher Power had partnered with a control freak to help make her minimally functional. p. 134
[Maggie’s conversation with Craig about the AA meeting she’s just attended, skipping descriptions and narrative asides]: “So, how did it go?”
“Oh, the usual. Pain, resistance, self-deception, effort.” ...
“What kind of effort?”
“To participate.”
“In what?”
“The world.... I shared.”
“ What does that mean?”
“I told them about my problems.”
“Is that what goes in there?”
“Yeah, Craig, struggles and hopes.”
“That keeps you sober?
“So far.”
“If I had to listen to other people’s problems day in and say out, I would need a drink.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Obvious, I guess.”
“Yeah, only I need a drink even I’m not listening to anyone. That’s the difference.” p. 135-36
[Approaching an apartment building in a decayed but gentrifying neighborhood]: Lots of garbage. The garbage cans were chained, but not sealed, so the place had rats.... These new tenants were paying $4,000 a month, and their apartments were probably newly constructed palaces, hiding behind the crumbling facade. They didn’t look her in the eye, and she was white. But those $4,000-types would rather have rats than meet their neighbors. It would never occur to them that if they called a meeting,they could get the landlord to deal with the garbage, because these kinds of people *identified* with the landlord. So, they never complained. It was the passive mentality of the over-privileged. *Someone else* should take care of it. pp. 186-87
In other words, aside from being murdered, Jamie [the murder victim in the detective story, one of three corpses from the different strands of the novel] has everything that Maggie wanted. She was loved. She had a future. And she was forgiven. p. 199
[After two days of forgetting to buy tea for her apartment]: Was this the Higher Power she could sign up for? The right store at exactly the moment that she remembered what she was supposed to do. Now, maybe that was the “God” they were all bragging about. Just doing what s person was supposed to do. p. 202
[While examining the headlines on the front page of the New York Times]: The stories were so complicated now that it was hard to find headlines to sum them up. The reader had to already know what was gong on. p. 203
The newspaper felt like dust. Everyone was so fragile, humans. News is unreal when it happens to you, and entertainment when it happens to other people. p. 209
Penn
Both dark and hilarious, poor Maggie Terry, ex-NYPD detective, 18 months sober after hospitalization and lengthy rehab, on the cusp of middle age, and seemingly unable to put her tattered life back together, gets her first sober job as an investigator with a law firm where she is distrusted if not actively disliked by the permanent employees of the firm, but hired by the senior partner whose son she had tried to “save” from drugs but who died anyway, partly because her friend, the kid’s father, who himself was later shot and became paraplegic, wouldn’t take her warnings seriously in part because of Maggie’s own inebriation and in part because “my son is innocent” delusion he cannot get past.
Big trope: Maggie manages to *not be there* when her wife gives birth to their daughter, *and* when (a) her detective partner (whose policeman-son in ambiguous and mysterious circumstances killed a black man who was only reaching for his keys) and later (b) the boyfriend of Jamie, the story’s murder victim, are both killed, and she come to realize that her mother was a suicide in part because 7-year-old Maggie had no adequate understanding of and could not deal with mother’s drunkenness, so effectively she was not there for her mother either, and she discovers Jamie’s (the victim’s) mother too was not there to protect her from her family, which by a circuitous route resulted in her murder. So six deaths, lots of guilt, and a new life beginning. (The plot line of her former partner’s death is never explicated - he goes, off duty, to see a witness to the shooting that his son is accused of, Maggie gets committed in-patient and does not meet him as promised, and he ends up dead - that’s the only quarrel I have with the novel’s structure.)
Comedic? You ask. Yes, and painful realism too. Here are some quotes:
Remember. There is always history to every relationship, and history is filled with a lack of resolution. p. 36
She’d been a detective long enough to know why people liked bullies; it’s because they wanted to be bullies but weren’t powerful enough to pull it off. That’s the nature of submission. One time Maggie and [her partner] Julio had been called in to a domestic. When they arrived, a family — a father, mother, and young son — were crawling around naked on the floor of their apartment. They thought they were lions. They growled and roared and ate raw meat with their hands. Later, when the shrinks separated them, it turned out that only the father was truly psychotic. The other two were only imitating him. They identified with him so strongly out of fear, that they entered his insanity and took it on. That was like America: imitation as degradation, as a desperate grasp for survival. p. 37
“Understanding why things happen is the opposite of blame,” Rachel said on the phone, in person, and over coffee, three decades sober and sponsor to the world’s worst cases. “People make mistakes and take wrong turns. Being mortal is about being vulnerable.”
But Maggie knew that no one outside of a meeting g felt that way. Everyone else walked down the street thinking if themselves as pure and clean. They had it together because they were better, and the job of people who are better is to point out the ones who are worse and punish them. All of society seemed to be organized like that. Whoever could, would punish. p. 55
She realized she couldn’t breathe. It felt like she had a blood clot in her lungs; it felt like there were ten. But really, it was just emotional. Normally she could take a Xanax or five, or four Klonopin and a shot, an$ later some dope and then another drink. Now she had nothing except this [AA] meeting. The drugs took everything away and then they took the drugs away. Blah, blah, blah. p. 69
[Craig, Maggie’s persnickety new partner, giving Maggie a used cell phone because she never got one after hers was confiscated in rehab]: He handed her a bunched-up plastic bag, the kind that ecologists know kill birds, but that people use anyway for some unquantifiable reason. p. 134
[Maggie’s response]: “Thank you, Craig. That is very, very sweet.” Her Higher Power had partnered with a control freak to help make her minimally functional. p. 134
[Maggie’s conversation with Craig about the AA meeting she’s just attended, skipping descriptions and narrative asides]: “So, how did it go?”
“Oh, the usual. Pain, resistance, self-deception, effort.” ...
“What kind of effort?”
“To participate.”
“In what?”
“The world.... I shared.”
“ What does that mean?”
“I told them about my problems.”
“Is that what goes in there?”
“Yeah, Craig, struggles and hopes.”
“That keeps you sober?
“So far.”
“If I had to listen to other people’s problems day in and say out, I would need a drink.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Obvious, I guess.”
“Yeah, only I need a drink even I’m not listening to anyone. That’s the difference.” p. 135-36
[Approaching an apartment building in a decayed but gentrifying neighborhood]: Lots of garbage. The garbage cans were chained, but not sealed, so the place had rats.... These new tenants were paying $4,000 a month, and their apartments were probably newly constructed palaces, hiding behind the crumbling facade. They didn’t look her in the eye, and she was white. But those $4,000-types would rather have rats than meet their neighbors. It would never occur to them that if they called a meeting,they could get the landlord to deal with the garbage, because these kinds of people *identified* with the landlord. So, they never complained. It was the passive mentality of the over-privileged. *Someone else* should take care of it. pp. 186-87
In other words, aside from being murdered, Jamie [the murder victim in the detective story, one of three corpses from the different strands of the novel] has everything that Maggie wanted. She was loved. She had a future. And she was forgiven. p. 199
[After two days of forgetting to buy tea for her apartment]: Was this the Higher Power she could sign up for? The right store at exactly the moment that she remembered what she was supposed to do. Now, maybe that was the “God” they were all bragging about. Just doing what s person was supposed to do. p. 202
[While examining the headlines on the front page of the New York Times]: The stories were so complicated now that it was hard to find headlines to sum them up. The reader had to already know what was gong on. p. 203
The newspaper felt like dust. Everyone was so fragile, humans. News is unreal when it happens to you, and entertainment when it happens to other people. p. 209
Penn
January 18, 2022
My opinions of Sarah Schulman's books have been all over the map - a couple I loved and a couple I hated. This was meh. The detective (and her entire agency) ignore an obvious lead in their case, only for Maggie to solve it in the last couple pages without any actual evidence. Nearly half the book consisted of Maggie supposedly using her great powers of reading people to come up with detailed summaries of their personalities based on a few interactions, and this is in fact what enables her to solve the case. It's not a skill I trusted even as I was reading, because she is so certain and so extensive in the stories she comes up with about people that it can't all be right. There were also a bunch of rants about gentrification thrown in seemingly just because the author cares about it. (This came up a lot in Girls, Visions, and Everything as well, but in that book it seemed to fit into the book. Here it just felt like the author's voice.)
May 23, 2020
It started out using big words to an extent that really felt unnecessary. It didn't continue that way thankfully, but then I noticed that the main character would be in a certain place/situation, and then suddenly, she was somewhere else, and I was left thinking, "wait, what happened?" There were transitions, but they were consistently very short, which threw me off. Then, at the end, they revealed "who did it" but I didn't feel like they really tied everything together.... I suppose this book just fell short for me.
August 2, 2020
Disappointing. I really admire Sarah Schulman, learned a lot from her other books, but this just feels rushed and sloppy. She writes well about NYC and politics, but it’s not much of a mystery, and not even much of character study in recovery.
August 27, 2019
Schulman is a brilliant nonfiction writer, but stumbles when it comes to fiction. There are too many periferal characters to keep track of, and the main plot is both overlywrought and boring. The themes that are central in her nonfiction writing (reconcilation, negotiation, and communication) feature prominently in this work, though their treatment is superficial and somewhat forced. Schulman also employs numerous literary tropes, that had me rolling my eyes by the end.
Despite these criticism, we need more women-centered works and complicated female protagonists in fiction, and on this point, Schulman delivers the goods.
Despite these criticism, we need more women-centered works and complicated female protagonists in fiction, and on this point, Schulman delivers the goods.
February 13, 2021
This is a light, mildly entertaining read – as I’m sure it was intended to be, by the multitalented Sarah Shulman, prolific author, playwright and gay rights activist. We follow Maggie Terry, a damaged 40ish WASP, in her first few days out of rehab after getting fired from the NYPD for chronic drunkenness. An unlikely job offer from a do-gooder lawyer acquaintance starts her on a fragile new path as a private detective. She is partnered with a reluctant, cynical African American, Craig, as efficient and tech-savvy as Maggie is disorganized and phone-less. Their odd-couple banter is one of the book’s high points.
Their first case is brought in by the star of a current Broadway show, Lucy Howe. She asks them to investigate the unsolved murder of a pretty young actress in her play, Jamie. There follow interviews with her last, novelist boyfriend, her oddball shrink, her predatory alcoholic father and her neighborhood barkeep. While these vignettes are competently sketched, they are sandwiched between far too many repetitious spells at 12-step meetings and bitter remembrances of her last police partner, Julio, her last girlfriend, Frances, and their small child, Alina.
Then there’s the non-stop complaining. A native New Yorker myself, I am well aware of our cliched image as glib malcontents. But Schulman overdoes it nearly every time her lead character steps on the street or sees other humans in her way. If not whining about work colleagues or 12-step meetings or Manhattan in general, she’s venting well-worn invective against the deranged, orange commander-in-chief.
After all the tree-killing pages of AA meetings and venting, the author devotes barely a page to identifying the wholly implausible killer. No final search for supportive evidence, no final hunter-prey confrontation, no resolution of anything. I ended the book disappointed, not only over the abruptly ended investigation, but also the premature farewell to some interesting characters, particularly at the law firm. But, even with all these shortcomings, I would be tempted to pick up a sequel.
Their first case is brought in by the star of a current Broadway show, Lucy Howe. She asks them to investigate the unsolved murder of a pretty young actress in her play, Jamie. There follow interviews with her last, novelist boyfriend, her oddball shrink, her predatory alcoholic father and her neighborhood barkeep. While these vignettes are competently sketched, they are sandwiched between far too many repetitious spells at 12-step meetings and bitter remembrances of her last police partner, Julio, her last girlfriend, Frances, and their small child, Alina.
Then there’s the non-stop complaining. A native New Yorker myself, I am well aware of our cliched image as glib malcontents. But Schulman overdoes it nearly every time her lead character steps on the street or sees other humans in her way. If not whining about work colleagues or 12-step meetings or Manhattan in general, she’s venting well-worn invective against the deranged, orange commander-in-chief.
After all the tree-killing pages of AA meetings and venting, the author devotes barely a page to identifying the wholly implausible killer. No final search for supportive evidence, no final hunter-prey confrontation, no resolution of anything. I ended the book disappointed, not only over the abruptly ended investigation, but also the premature farewell to some interesting characters, particularly at the law firm. But, even with all these shortcomings, I would be tempted to pick up a sequel.
November 17, 2018
Sarah Schulman continues to expand on her long-standing philosophy about people's inability to problem solve and its consequences in her new detective novel, Maggie Terry. Following the story of a recently out of rehab ex-cop, Maggie Terry takes on what it truly means to be held accountable for one's actions, and the ways in which overreaction and cruelty damage communities and individuals. Firmly situated in the here and now, Maggie Terry is saturated with Trump-era anxiety - its protagonist watches helplessly as her government is taken over by the unhinged, as the last vestiges of her Manhattan neighbourhood are drained out and replaced with bland cold-pressed juice bars, and as people lash out at each other because they refuse to negotiate. Read in dialogue with her previous work - particularly People In Trouble and Rat Bohemia - Maggie Terry is the reflection of a writer having lived long enough to see every trace of the world she once inhabited killed or erased. Refusing pessimism, Schulman still points us towards the answers to our problems: facing the truth, negotiating across difference, and making amends.
June 28, 2025
SCHRITT FÜR SCHRITT: DER WEG ZURÜCK INS LEBEN
Sarah Schulmans Trüb ist ein Buch, das zweifellos polarisieren kann – und bei mir eine gemischte Reaktion ausgelöst hat. Auf der einen Seite bietet die Geschichte um Maggie Terry, eine ehemalige Polizistin, die nach einem Reha-Aufenthalt versucht, ihr Leben neu zu ordnen, durchaus interessante Ansätze. Auf der anderen Seite gibt es einige Aspekte, die für mich schwer zu akzeptieren sind, vor allem in Bezug auf die Hauptfigur.
Zunächst einmal: Wer einen klassischen Krimi erwartet, wird enttäuscht. Obwohl Maggie mit der Aufklärung eines Mordes betraut wird, ist das eigentliche „Mysterium“ hier das innere Leben der Protagonistin und weniger der Mordfall selbst. Für Krimi-Fans mag das ein Ärgernis sein, für mich jedoch war das eher nebensächlich, da ich das Buch nicht wegen der Krimihandlung in die Hand genommen habe. Es geht viel mehr um Maggies Versuch, nach einer turbulenten Vergangenheit wieder Boden unter den Füßen zu gewinnen, und um ihre komplexe Beziehung zu ihrer Umwelt, ihrer Vergangenheit und vor allem zu sich selbst.
Schulman schreibt flüssig und fängt die trübe, fast schon beklemmende Atmosphäre gut ein, die Maggies emotionale Zerrissenheit widerspiegelt.. Die regelmäßigen Zeitsprünge zwischen Maggies traumatisierter Vergangenheit und ihrer zerbrechlichen Gegenwart erfordern zwar eine gewisse Eingewöhnung, sind jedoch letztlich ein geschicktes Stilmittel, um ihre inneren Konflikte darzustellen. Aber genau hier beginnt auch mein größtes Problem mit dem Buch: Ich nehme Maggie ihre Rolle schlicht nicht ab.
Maggie wird als eine Art tragische Heldin präsentiert – sie ist gebrochen, aber tief im Inneren immer noch stark, intelligent, schön und talentiert. Doch diese perfekte Mischung aus Verletzlichkeit und Kompetenz wirkt auf mich konstruiert. Die Idee, dass sie zwar in den alltäglichsten Dingen des Lebens, wie dem Kauf von Teebeuteln, scheitert, aber gleichzeitig in ihrer neuen Rolle als Ermittlerin plötzlich wieder kompetent ist, erscheint mir unausgewogen und wenig glaubwürdig. Das „arme Opfer“, das gleichzeitig unverschämt attraktiv und klug bleibt – das hat für mich einfach nicht funktioniert.
Was das Buch aber durchaus zu bieten hat, ist eine tiefere Reflexion über das Leben nach einem völligen Absturz. In diesem Punkt muss ich zugestehen, dass es mich weitergebracht hat. Die Kämpfe, die Maggie austrägt, sind authentisch in ihrer Brutalität und zeigen, wie schwer es ist, nach einem Zusammenbruch wieder Fuß zu fassen. Auch wenn ich die Protagonistin nicht immer für glaubwürdig halte, regt das Buch durchaus zum Nachdenken über die Komplexität von Schuld, Reue und Heilung an.
Fazit: Trüb ist weder ein Krimi noch ein klassisches Drama – es bewegt sich irgendwo dazwischen, mit dem Fokus auf dem emotionalen Überlebenskampf der Hauptfigur. Sarah Schulman ist eine talentierte Autorin, die düstere, intensive Stimmungen gut einfängt. Trotzdem bleibt bei mir das Gefühl zurück, dass die Figur Maggie Terry zu perfekt unperfekt ist, um wirklich zu überzeugen.
📚 Weitere Rezensionen auf Deutsch findest du auf meinem Goodreads-Profil.
Sarah Schulmans Trüb ist ein Buch, das zweifellos polarisieren kann – und bei mir eine gemischte Reaktion ausgelöst hat. Auf der einen Seite bietet die Geschichte um Maggie Terry, eine ehemalige Polizistin, die nach einem Reha-Aufenthalt versucht, ihr Leben neu zu ordnen, durchaus interessante Ansätze. Auf der anderen Seite gibt es einige Aspekte, die für mich schwer zu akzeptieren sind, vor allem in Bezug auf die Hauptfigur.
Zunächst einmal: Wer einen klassischen Krimi erwartet, wird enttäuscht. Obwohl Maggie mit der Aufklärung eines Mordes betraut wird, ist das eigentliche „Mysterium“ hier das innere Leben der Protagonistin und weniger der Mordfall selbst. Für Krimi-Fans mag das ein Ärgernis sein, für mich jedoch war das eher nebensächlich, da ich das Buch nicht wegen der Krimihandlung in die Hand genommen habe. Es geht viel mehr um Maggies Versuch, nach einer turbulenten Vergangenheit wieder Boden unter den Füßen zu gewinnen, und um ihre komplexe Beziehung zu ihrer Umwelt, ihrer Vergangenheit und vor allem zu sich selbst.
Schulman schreibt flüssig und fängt die trübe, fast schon beklemmende Atmosphäre gut ein, die Maggies emotionale Zerrissenheit widerspiegelt.. Die regelmäßigen Zeitsprünge zwischen Maggies traumatisierter Vergangenheit und ihrer zerbrechlichen Gegenwart erfordern zwar eine gewisse Eingewöhnung, sind jedoch letztlich ein geschicktes Stilmittel, um ihre inneren Konflikte darzustellen. Aber genau hier beginnt auch mein größtes Problem mit dem Buch: Ich nehme Maggie ihre Rolle schlicht nicht ab.
Maggie wird als eine Art tragische Heldin präsentiert – sie ist gebrochen, aber tief im Inneren immer noch stark, intelligent, schön und talentiert. Doch diese perfekte Mischung aus Verletzlichkeit und Kompetenz wirkt auf mich konstruiert. Die Idee, dass sie zwar in den alltäglichsten Dingen des Lebens, wie dem Kauf von Teebeuteln, scheitert, aber gleichzeitig in ihrer neuen Rolle als Ermittlerin plötzlich wieder kompetent ist, erscheint mir unausgewogen und wenig glaubwürdig. Das „arme Opfer“, das gleichzeitig unverschämt attraktiv und klug bleibt – das hat für mich einfach nicht funktioniert.
Was das Buch aber durchaus zu bieten hat, ist eine tiefere Reflexion über das Leben nach einem völligen Absturz. In diesem Punkt muss ich zugestehen, dass es mich weitergebracht hat. Die Kämpfe, die Maggie austrägt, sind authentisch in ihrer Brutalität und zeigen, wie schwer es ist, nach einem Zusammenbruch wieder Fuß zu fassen. Auch wenn ich die Protagonistin nicht immer für glaubwürdig halte, regt das Buch durchaus zum Nachdenken über die Komplexität von Schuld, Reue und Heilung an.
Fazit: Trüb ist weder ein Krimi noch ein klassisches Drama – es bewegt sich irgendwo dazwischen, mit dem Fokus auf dem emotionalen Überlebenskampf der Hauptfigur. Sarah Schulman ist eine talentierte Autorin, die düstere, intensive Stimmungen gut einfängt. Trotzdem bleibt bei mir das Gefühl zurück, dass die Figur Maggie Terry zu perfekt unperfekt ist, um wirklich zu überzeugen.
📚 Weitere Rezensionen auf Deutsch findest du auf meinem Goodreads-Profil.
April 3, 2023
Okay I’ll start off with the basics of the book, an annoyance that really detracts from the narrative flow. There are many passages in which the author or a character goes off on an emotional anti Trump tangent seemingly apropos of nothing. Like, Trump is going to start WWIII by bombing the hell out of an Arab country. Really Sarah? You’re gonna go with that? After American forces had been killing civilians for years in Afghanistan and Iraq? And when Trump was pilloried in the press for HESITATION about bombing Syria? Are Americans this puerile and ignorant? Are New Yorkers? Well apparently they are. And the Feminist Press, which published this book, evidently didn’t have editors who were interested enough to read history. His story, I got it. Bah, politics!
However, despite the obvious flaws in the narrative I found myself hooked on this tightly written detective novel and read it in 2 days. In the book there are some unexpected and interesting elements. Maggie Terry is a disgraced former police detective who has a second chance to prove herself as a private investigator. She is in recovery, an alcoholic and a drug addict, and any of us so afflicted will definitely relate to her story, whatever our circumstances. The cast of characters is very well written, from Maggie’s boss at the investigation agency to the motley crew who always shows up at any 12 step meeting.
The other unusual thing is that Maggie is a lesbian who pines after her ex domestic partner, now in a relationship with another woman and happily living without Maggie’s constant drama. I found it fascinating how Maggie alternately accepted responsibility and then blamed her former partner at one point declaring that “Frances drank too” and that “nobody talked about that!” Yes Maggie it’s the difference between an alcoholic and a normal drinker. They can take it or leave it; we can’t! It’s obvious that Maggie loves the daughter born to Frances during their union but it’s also obvious to the reader that Maggie is not a fit parent and may not ever be.
It’s after the murder of a beautiful young actress when Maggie really shines. No spoilers, except to say that the villain is the last person you will expect. New York City is also a character in this novel, one that is disappointing to the narrator and the protagonist. I can relate to that feeling, having seen the yuppification of San Francisco and seeing its decline, especially after the pandemic. Though I suspect that Sarah and I would have very different opinions about the solutions to our urban problems, we both love our cities. I recommend the book to anyone who likes a lively detective story!
However, despite the obvious flaws in the narrative I found myself hooked on this tightly written detective novel and read it in 2 days. In the book there are some unexpected and interesting elements. Maggie Terry is a disgraced former police detective who has a second chance to prove herself as a private investigator. She is in recovery, an alcoholic and a drug addict, and any of us so afflicted will definitely relate to her story, whatever our circumstances. The cast of characters is very well written, from Maggie’s boss at the investigation agency to the motley crew who always shows up at any 12 step meeting.
The other unusual thing is that Maggie is a lesbian who pines after her ex domestic partner, now in a relationship with another woman and happily living without Maggie’s constant drama. I found it fascinating how Maggie alternately accepted responsibility and then blamed her former partner at one point declaring that “Frances drank too” and that “nobody talked about that!” Yes Maggie it’s the difference between an alcoholic and a normal drinker. They can take it or leave it; we can’t! It’s obvious that Maggie loves the daughter born to Frances during their union but it’s also obvious to the reader that Maggie is not a fit parent and may not ever be.
It’s after the murder of a beautiful young actress when Maggie really shines. No spoilers, except to say that the villain is the last person you will expect. New York City is also a character in this novel, one that is disappointing to the narrator and the protagonist. I can relate to that feeling, having seen the yuppification of San Francisco and seeing its decline, especially after the pandemic. Though I suspect that Sarah and I would have very different opinions about the solutions to our urban problems, we both love our cities. I recommend the book to anyone who likes a lively detective story!
March 8, 2019
Everyone was in a state of confusion because the president was insane.
With a first sentence like that, how could I not take this book home with me? This novel is about much more than a murder mystery. We follow Maggie's investigation of a dead actress as we weave back and forth in time to learn about Maggie's addictions (recovering) that led to many losses in her life: her career as a homicide detective, her partner, her daughter. We attend many AA meetings with her. We hear her outrage about the current political climate. We see her struggle every day to put her life back on track, use good judgement, fight temptations to relapse (or not), build new habits and friendships that will help her avoid returning to her old ways. We see her display acts of kindness, forgiveness, and heroism, just as she learns to receive compassion and acts of friendship from others. The murders investigated in this book are a backdrop to her efforts to scrape a new life together for herself. I like Maggie very much.
With a first sentence like that, how could I not take this book home with me? This novel is about much more than a murder mystery. We follow Maggie's investigation of a dead actress as we weave back and forth in time to learn about Maggie's addictions (recovering) that led to many losses in her life: her career as a homicide detective, her partner, her daughter. We attend many AA meetings with her. We hear her outrage about the current political climate. We see her struggle every day to put her life back on track, use good judgement, fight temptations to relapse (or not), build new habits and friendships that will help her avoid returning to her old ways. We see her display acts of kindness, forgiveness, and heroism, just as she learns to receive compassion and acts of friendship from others. The murders investigated in this book are a backdrop to her efforts to scrape a new life together for herself. I like Maggie very much.
November 5, 2018
I have mixed feelings about this book. While I read it relatively quickly, there were many things I didn’t like about it, such as:
-the main character spends the entire book complaining about everything!
-so many references to how awful Trump is. While I’m not a fan of Trump, I don’t want my “mystery” novels to harp on how bad the current president is. One of the main reasons why I read is to escape the problems of the world (that’s why I read fiction)
-I would have liked this book to be more about the mystery and less about all the other BS it was about. I got the sense that the readers were not expected to care about the murder being investigated at all because the writer spent almost no time discussing it.
It gets extra stars for keeping me reading (I kept hoping something, ANYTHING, would happen!)
-the main character spends the entire book complaining about everything!
-so many references to how awful Trump is. While I’m not a fan of Trump, I don’t want my “mystery” novels to harp on how bad the current president is. One of the main reasons why I read is to escape the problems of the world (that’s why I read fiction)
-I would have liked this book to be more about the mystery and less about all the other BS it was about. I got the sense that the readers were not expected to care about the murder being investigated at all because the writer spent almost no time discussing it.
It gets extra stars for keeping me reading (I kept hoping something, ANYTHING, would happen!)
October 10, 2020
2.5 stars for a book that was confusing, and I'm not sure if it was well written or not. There were many layers to this story, but it seemed primarily about a character study of a recovering addict. Some other layers include privilege on many fronts, race, Trump (takes place in 2017), gender, age, etc. It was a fast read - short and fast paced. Still on the fence as to whether or not Maggie's character analyses are on point or horribly reductive.
Discussed this for a literature meetup, and I still don't know how I feel about it, despite having to think about a short summary and listen to everyone else's opinions.
Discussed this for a literature meetup, and I still don't know how I feel about it, despite having to think about a short summary and listen to everyone else's opinions.
November 13, 2022
Maggie Terry...well, i fell in love with her. All of her weaknesses and vulnerabilities, all of her strengths. This detective story was much more than a 'who done it?' Maggie Terry is so much more than a Program member, and so much more than someone elses 'ex.' The author does an excellent job of showing the reader, layer by layer, who Maggie Terry is and who she can become in this deeply humane work. The story could have been depressing at times, but Sarah Schulman plants seeds of hope almost from the beginning without telling a sappy story. Cheers! I will look to read more of Ms. Schulman's works.
November 2, 2018
A quick, absorbing read -- very enjoyable if perplexing at times. Felt the protagonist didn't quite cohere -- her internal observations a bit too programatically Schulman-like, her total technological illiteracy hard to believe. Still, MAGGIE TERRY is a remarkably taut dramatization of many of Schulman's ongoing themes: accountability, community responsibility, the necessity of telling the truth -- and an ex-cop detective novel that both illuminates and is critical of police culture in a post-BLM context.
March 30, 2019
Perhaps I should have researched a bit more before reading. I thought I was in for a mystery when in fact I got a book on addiction recovery with a secondary murder investigation. I found the back and forth between past and present exhausting, the Trump references refreshing at first and then unnecessary. Ultimately, what could have been a great short story was very messy book.
I know Sarah Schulman is a very good writer and I look forward to reading the Gentrification of the Mind, which I understand is an excellent book.
I know Sarah Schulman is a very good writer and I look forward to reading the Gentrification of the Mind, which I understand is an excellent book.
November 9, 2018
I loved this book! It reminded me of the early Sarah Schulman novels I read when I was coming out, like Girls, Visions and Everything and People in Trouble. She is contentious in public, and she is also a great writer and a treasure of the LGBT community. I found it particularly interesting that she was able to make this total fuck-up central character someone we care about, and even like. That takes a lot of skill.
December 2, 2018
The one thing I appreciated in this book was that the author never needed to have the main character show attraction/objectification of women to mark her queerness. But the characters are one-dimensional, the main character unlikable for her blandness trying to hide under a Tragic PastTM and some white liberal views of american society. The writing is not awful on a technical level, it errs a little with head-hopping at times but it's pretty decent if a bit dry or rambly otherwise.
December 4, 2018
Great book with little digressions into political comment about the T administration. Those will only date this book in the lovely future I'm dreaming of. Often her voice/opinions overlap or seem to be those of her character Maggie Terry; the transitions are sometimes too quick and not distinctly transitions.
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