A disturbing, wildly funny, and bizarre novel set inside a secret America, M31 is the latest masterwork from the author of Going Native and Meditations in Green. With the strength of their convictions that they are descendants of aliens from the galaxy M31, a husband and wife team of UFO fanatics waits in an abandoned church for their hour of salvation . . . or their doom.
Stephen Wright is a Vietnam veteran, MFA graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and the author of four previous novels. He has received a Whiting Award in Fiction, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and a Lannan Literary Fellowship, and has taught writing and literature at Iowa, Princeton, Brown, and The New School. He was born in Warren, Pennsylvania, and lives in New York City.
At the bottom of this Review you’ll find the (short but) entertaining little doodle about the M31 One=Stars (small galaxies, those). But just to fill in my comment in this here Review Box, I’ll say that, maybe it’s just me and my moods and having come down off that Raketenweg known universally as Gravity’s Rainbow, this little slim novel has been the most purely self=indulgent/enjoyable little morsel of fiction I’ve read in months. That’s definitely a statement about me and not the novel ; the novel is simply too slight to be cap=G Great. But it still is pretty damn great. Pub’d back in 1988, we wish it had been all the goshdern rage rather than BEE’s hunk of narcissism (I mean of course as a complement to Leyner’s rage) --this little Wright Diagnosis of the American Nuclear (DanQuayle) Family would be closer to the DeLillos (vague memory of White Noise the entire ride through) and Pynchons (but the big P not because the family romance part/piece) just for the sake of Big Name Dropping/Checking. I think too, if I understand correctly that Franzen’s big two are simply american family sagas, that this little thing that Wright wrote is probably the thing Franzen would have liked to have written ; and had he, I’d probably read him. I mean to say, this is a very normal novel if normal novels were more like this ; which is to say, I’d read a lot more normal novels if when I picked up a normal novel, they were more like this one here.
For you prose=pyrotechnic types, please go directly over there to Friend Nils’ Review for an old-fashion sampler of language language. And don’t fail to note that M31 also made Friend Paul’s list of 150 novels.
A specimen of the 'eccentric family as framework for novel' subgenre filtered through the lurid green lens of UFO fanaticism. Are Dot and Dash really from the Andromeda galaxy or are they just neglectful, abusive parents under the sway of extreme delusion. You get to decide in this somewhat mindless piece of paranoiac literary Americana published in the year the USA resumed its Space Shuttle program, following a 2 1/2 year hiatus in the wake of the Challenger disaster.
(I think this would have worked well in film adaptation. I kept imagining a 'Fear and Loathing' era Hunter S. Thompson as stand-in for Dash. Johnny Depp wouldn't have cut it in this role—they would've needed the real deal.)
Up to the halfway point, this book could at least be called a story... after that, it drops off into one long nonsensical, paranoid blob of sentences that do not tell any real tale.
Filled with senseless brutality, one wishes that if we HAVE to be subjected to the father figures raping of strangers and the revelations of incest that we could have that somehow be developed into a point but nope, it all seemed rather gratuitously (forgive me) inserted.
This is NOT a UFO related novel, it is not funny in any sense (The jacket claims the humor is savage and unflinching), it is a reflection of an unraveling lunatic but it doesn't make for a good book. If you have ever had a friend undergoing a psychotic break, their letters to you would make more sense than this attempt at illustrating insanity.
I finished it because I had invested so much time in it to the halfway point, in that section I was so horrified by the characters that I kept thinking there must be a point, a payoff, a reason... there wasn't. Ever.
There is not one likable, indentifiable human in this book. For a few minutes Gwen might seem like a person, but even she is useless as a saviour for this book as he drops her out and then brings her back for the finish with no logical bridge.
For me, this is one of those "Emperor has no clothes" books, I think many will claim it is brilliant because they didn't have a clue what happened. That's because nothing did.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This is actually the second time I've read this book, the first time being so long ago that all I could remember was how disturbing and weird and unsatisfying it was. So I decided to give it another shot to see if age and the (paltry though it may be) wisdom of increased life experience might provide deeper insights. And indeed, they did. A much more finely honed sense of the American gothic and of dark humor in general make all the difference.
This is not a good book for hopeless romantics or the innocent of spirit. It belongs on the shelf with Katherine Dunn's GEEK LOVE and early Mary Gaitskill. It's essentially a wicked, deeply dark satire focused on a very, very dysfunctional family of wacky UFO freaks, believers in alien abductions and the coming salvation of rescue and return via the mother ship. You're never quite sure if this what they REALLY believe or if it's just been the pervading and claustrophobic glue of their increasingly dysfunctional family world. The prose is very original, often excessive, and at times truly inspired, able to capture various forms of madness in a very contemporary and even American way that's fascinating, like a train wreck that both attracts and repels. I like this novel well enough to seek out another one by this author, and I'm glad I gave it a second chance.
An incredibly strange novel about UFO religion and the madness of American life. Wright scribbles with the manic energy, the surreal exaggeration, and the obsessive detail of an underground cartoonist like Robert Williams or S. Clay Wilson. Begins as a sort of gonzo black comedy but gets grimmer and weirder and more disturbing as it spirals towards... something. A final act that is one of the most bizarre and unsettling things I've ever read.
What really, when the chips are down, provides more pleasure in this world than a novel which might be said to serve as an analogue for losing your mind? To safely map a losing of one's mind in the comfort of one's own home. Truly: there are few greater kicks on the vine of the marketplace. And here is a great novel to cozy up to, if you are IN the market. Wright's subsequent novel, GOING NATIVE, is in point of fact one of my favourite American novels, and one that goes wildly careening to truly dark places. GOING NATIVE, and now it turns out M31 before it, chart a malevolent and jagged course to encompassing individual apocalypse. This is ghastly stuff. And so energizing! Certainly doesn't hurt that the writing is pure electricity. All great literature is, of course and after all, the stuff of language turned loose. And Wright, in his two masterpieces, lets it go like an errant and turbulent wire spitting sparks. M31 starts almost like theatre. It is indebted, even, brilliantly, to the television situation comedy. A family romance indeed. Though it is hilarious and crazy and more than a little sick, it does not show its hand. We don't know where we are actually going until we are insidiously right in the goddamn middle of it. From theatre, then, to pyrotechnic modernist (alienated) literature. A beeline for oblivion, w/ an ever-subtracting cast of characters. The only American novel of the 80s that I can recall capturing the moment as well as this, is Charles Newman's WHITE JAZZ, a far less totally brutal thing, lazily drugged-out in the neon. This one is something else. Yes, a thing of its time. But also some serious and delicious violence turned upon the brainpan. Absolutely wicked.
Couldn't give this a rating I'm afraid. I will give any book a go hence I bought this, so glad I only paid 50p in the hospital bookshop. I have never given up reading a book at page 40 before. The biggest load of twaddle I have ever read. Though maybe someone will like it. The premise was good but the characters far too weird, even for rural America and the description was so over the top.
Loved this. It's about a family who claims they're from another planet, and people buy into it. This family goes on lecture tours, people pilgrimage to their home, etc. And the reader can only see them through the lens of themselves and one adoring outsider. So we don't know if they're actually aliens or not. You're able to draw your own conclusion by the end.
But the space/alien stuff is actually tangential to the main focus of this book, which is the family dynamic (read: super dysfunctional). It's fascinating. Violent, dirty, incestuous, secretive, back-stabbing, but mostly loving in its weird way. Calls to mind Christina Stead's The Man Who Loved Children.
This is my fourth Stephen Wright, and I'm gonna keep on plugging away at him. Good stuff.
un incubo, una discesa verso un cuore di tenebra piantato in mezzo al nulla del midwest e nutrito con paranoie, desolazione, noia, follia, e desideri escapiste legati agli ufo: materiale pesante, portatore di immagini ordinariamente spaventose. "m31" ha come unico difetto quello di essere a tratti troppo lento, ma ha la stessa forza del miglior stephen king quando indugia nell'orrore quotidiano. potrebbero trarne un grande film...
DNF - got over halfway through, then asked myself why I was forcing myself to read a book I don't enjoy? Maybe this will appeal to some, but it was not for me. I could not find the humor in rape, incest, child abuse, or mental illness...and neither could the author. Despite what the blurbs on the book say.
Meditations in Green is one of my favorite books of the last five years. The prose in that book was fantastic, so it drove me to check out Wright’s second novel. The prose in this one is still amazing – Wright is extremely gifted, and much of this novel reads like a hallucinatory acid trip – but as a novel, it falls short. The plot in this one revolves around Dash and his wife Dot, self-professed aliens from the M31 galaxy who travel the Midwest speaking at UFO conventions and late-night radio shows. The two live in an abandoned church in the middle of nowhere. Their five kids are utterly dysfunctional in various ways. Two UFO fanatics visit the abandoned church, and the novel proceeds from there. The book’s title lets you in on the author’s intent in writing this: a portrait of a completely off-the-wall family struggling with the same issues a more sane American family might struggle with; said issues are magnified under the lens of their surreal lives, and some core of humanity lies beneath the twisted surfaces. Point taken, but still not a very good novel. Pass on this one, unless you want to read it just to admire the prose.
I am not afraid to make the claim that this is the best book I've read in years. It is so good. I'm not sure what else to say, except that it's about UFO cultists and I found it in a box of free books at the recycling center in Arcata, California. Joe Kimmel has my copy right now, but I made him promise to mail it to someone else when he's done with it, so get in touch with him if you're ready for adventure. superlative superlative superlative.
Not to be confused with the (also-brilliant) comedian, this Steven Wright writes vivid, hallucinatory prose that gets right to the heart of modern life.
barely broke page 50 and did not understand what was going on. Also, was reading every run-on paragraph twice, and you know how I feel about reading paragraphs twice....
This is one of the creepiest and unsettling novels having to do with "alien subculture," i.e., people who fervently believe there is life on other planets. A terrifying nightmare.....