The Great Perhaps

by Joe Meno

A breakout new novel from the critically acclaimed novelist and playwright Joe Meno, author of Hairstyles of the Damned.

Jonathan, a paleontologist, is searching in vain for a prehistoric giant squid; his wife, Madeline, an animal behaviorist, cannot explain her failing experiment; their daughter Amelia is a disappointed teenage revolutionary; her younger sister, Thisbe, is on a frustrated search for God; and their grandfather, Henry, wants to disappear, limiting himself to eleven words a day, then ten, then nine - one less each day until he will speak no more. Each fears uncertainty and the possibilities that accompany it. When Jonathan and Madeline suddenly decide to separate, this nuclear family is split and forced to confront its own cowardice, finally coming to appreciate the cloudiness of this modern age.

Genres: Fiction, Contemporary, Adult Fiction, Family, Magical Realism, Novels, Unfinished

414 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

Joe Meno is a fiction writer and playwright who lives in Chicago. A winner of the Nelson Algren Literary Award, the Great Lakes Book Award, a Pushcart Prize, the Society of Midland Author's Fiction Prize, and a finalist for the Story Prize, he is the author of seven novels and two short story collections. He is also the editor of Chicago Noir: The Classics. A long-time contributor to the seminal culture magazine, Punk Planet, his other non-fiction has appeared in the New York Times and Chicago magazine. He is a professor in the Department of Creative Writing at Columbia College Chicago.

Reviews

[Jason Pettus · Rating 3 out of 5]

(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com:]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted here illegally.)

So before anything else, let's acknowledge that I have a complicated relationship with the work of Chicago wunderkind Joe Meno; I rather disliked his literary debut, for example, the popular punk-rock coming-of-age tale Hairstyles of the Damned (prompting not exactly hateful letters from his passionate fans, but rather these lengthy treaties on why I should change my mind), but then ended up being completely bowled over by his 2006 The Boy Detective Fails, writing a gushing love letter that remains one of the most-read reviews since starting CCLaP to begin with. And that brought me to the attention of WW Norton, publishers of Meno's latest novel and his national mainstream debut; and for one of the first times as a critic, that scored me one of those much-desired "advance reading copies" (or ARCs) of the book, sent to reviewers months in advance for the benefit of bigger outfits like Publishers Weekly who need that long a lead time. And what I discovered, receiving this ARC out of the blue without even requesting it, is that it produced emotions in me even more complicated than before: because if Norton is going out of their way to send me one, it most obviously means that they think in advance that I'm going to like it and give them a bunch of good publicity (because let's face it, CCLaP ain't exactly Publishers Weekly, and doesn't just merit ARCs automatically most of the time unless there's an agenda behind it); and that made me distrust the book going into it, and wanting to judge it by a particularly high standard; but then that made me feel like I was going overboard, and suddenly made me want to take it easier on the book; but then that made me feel guilty about being so easily manipulated by a mainstream publishing industry that regular readers know I often have a lot of ideological problems with. Whew -- who knew a free book would cause so much freaking angst?!

I mention all this for a legitimate reason, actually; because I ended up having this strangely schizophrenic reaction to said book, entitled The Great Perhaps and which finally got officially released earlier this week; I intensely liked little bits of it, intensely hated many more longer passages, and in general found myself simply bored and disappointed by the vast majority of the manuscript overall. To tell you the truth, I found myself saying several times while making my way through it, "You know, I think I've actually read this before -- only that time it was called The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen and it was a f-ck of a lot better. Oh, except for every fifth chapter, which is instead a near-complete ripoff of Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay. Sigh." But then I'd stop and think, "You know, perhaps I'm judging this too harshly because of unfairly high expectations;" but then I'd read another ridiculous chapter-sized digression or come across one more cutesy yet utterly pointless illustration and think, "No, no, I'm not being unfair, I'm not, Meno really has turned into the very thing I dread the most in the literary community -- one of those clever snotty little postmodernism professor sh-ts -- he has, he has, and the entire world of book lovers is a little worse off for it." And then I'd read another chapter and change my mind again; and then I'd read yet another chapter and change my mind yet again.

Because let's be clear, that the theme of this book is one that would make any snotty '90s academic postmodern PC Augusten Burroughs fan proud -- it's a dark comedy about a quirky dysfunctional family (roll eyes here), with a healthy dose of magical realism added to it all (groan audibly here), plus with random diversions set throughout history thrown in willy-nilly (angrily mutter "J-sus" to yourself here), where a whole series of weird crap happens not to propel the story but simply for the sake of being weird (roll eyes again here, then get smacked by annoyed hipster sitting next to you at coffeehouse). And yes, I understand that some people actually like such stories, but I do not, I do not at all; I believe, in fact, that snotty irony-laced postmodern academic fiction is actually killing contemporary literature, and that one of the many causes of novels having less and less cultural cache these days is precisely the proliferation of this precious little Jonathan-Safran-Foer-style unreadable pabulum. That's why so many people over the years have become such passionate fans of Meno in the first place, after all; because no matter how you feel about his past books, there's no denying the startling freshness he's brought to them all, and also the way that the strange details in admittedly almost all of them have usually been an integral part of telling that specific tale.

But here, though, the strangeness feels arbitrarily tacked on most of the time, added randomly just so that each character will have their own "thing" -- a dad who faints at the sight of clouds, a mom who has anthropomorphized her laboratory animals, a daughter obsessed with '70s revolutionaries and who is constructing a pipe bomb as a class project, another daughter who's a budding Evangelical Christian and who slowly comes to realize that she's actually a lesbian. Not a single one of these details end up having much to do with the overall plot or themes of the book, and there is very little about how the story ends that would change if removing any of these aspects; and I just hate that, I just f-cking hate it, when overly clever authors feel this need to prove to us that they too blew fifty grand on a largely useless Masters degree. As regular readers know, I'm generally an adherent instead of the Realist school of literary thought, and ultimately feel most of the time that language should serve in literature as the mere code that it is; that the point of words on a page is to cause as little attention to themselves as possible, so that we as readers can just simply interpret them into visual images (and conceptual ideas*) in our brain as quickly and smoothly as possible, which of course is where the actual communication in the storytelling process takes place, not on the page itself.

Now, that said, I'm of course sometimes a fan of a well-turned phrase, which is why my reaction to The Great Perhaps is more complicated than simply disliking it; for example, despite its aforementioned similarity to Kavalier and Klay, I was really charmed by the story thread concerning the family's now doddering patriarch, a comics-obsessed first-generation German-American who through flashbacks we watch grow up in Chicago's Lincoln Square neighborhood in the 1930s, who eventually gets shipped off by the government to a German/Japanese "domestic concentration camp" in Texas during World War Two, which turns out to easily be the best-written and most fascinating section of the entire novel. So what a shame, then, that Meno clutters up the rest of the book with so many Clinton-Era PoMo cliches -- from the fact that all the characters secretly love smoking when no one else is around (really? in 2004?), to radically liberal academic parents (the whole thing's set in Hyde Park) who share way too much info about their personal lives with their embarrassed conservative kids, to the atrocious habit among middle-aged academic authors to overly add the word 'like' to dialogue to signify that it's a teenager talking. (And seriously, middle-aged academic authors, we get it already -- you're threatened by teens and so feel the need to make them all sound like morons. WE GET IT ALREADY. NOW STOP.)

In fact, I ended up having such a bad reaction to The Great Perhaps, I did something I've never done before in the history of CCLaP; I re-read from start to finish a book that I've already reviewed here, Meno's last novel Boy Detective, just to make extra-double-sure that I wasn't overreacting to this newer one, or maybe remembering that previous book in a better light than I should. But you know what? After reading it a second time, I realized that I really am right to have had this reaction that I have; that Boy Detective really is just brilliant in this way that Perhaps is not, for the exact reasons that are completely missing in this newer manuscript. Consider...

--Although just as weird, the strangeness in Boy Detective is always done in the direct service of the actual story -- not a "magical realism" tale (which I'm growing to despise more and more with each passing year), but an out-and-out fairytale, where all attempts at reality are simply done away with to much better and more humorous effect. (For those who don't know, the book's main conceit is that all the famous child detectives of Mid-Century Modernist literature were actual people, and to a fault all grew up to be neurotic messes, but with Meno doing so much more with this idea than even seems possible at first.)

--The message of Boy Detective is a complex, symbolic one, open to a lot of interpretation; while the message of Perhaps is fairly obvious and badly telegraphed, summed up as, "White people have been dicks for a very, very, very long time, and none of them actually think that they're the ones being dicks."

--The pieces of Boy Detective's story fit together like a tight jigsaw puzzle, all of them having a rock-solid internal logic no matter how externally surreal they may be; but in Perhaps, many of the even ho-hum details need to be stretched to the limits of believability in order for Meno to make his point. (To cite just one excellent example, ask me how f-cking ridiculous it is that an aerospace engineer could actually work for years at McDonnell Douglas [one of the biggest defense contractors on the planet during the Cold War Era:] without knowing that the planes he was designing were to eventually be used for violent purposes, an insulting slap in the face to the people like my father and his friends who actually were aerospace engineers at McDonnell Douglas during the Cold War Era, and who were under no illusions whatsoever about what their jobs were.)

So when all is said and done, then, I'm afraid I'm just going to have to give The Great Perhaps an only mediocre score today, and to declare that I was just awfully underwhelmed and disappointed by it, after getting so excited about Boy Detective just a couple of years ago. And if Meno ever happens to read this, may I please, please encourage him to go back to what he's best at -- coming up with concepts of breathtaking originality, then executing them in flawlessly bizarre ways -- and to stop listening to all his buddies down on campus who have obviously been whispering that what he really needs to write is yet another whiny little screed about miserable academe assh-les who no one in their right mind would ever possibly give a rat's ass about. Meno is better than that, he's much better than that, and it's frustrating as hell to spend 400 pages watching him forget it.

Out of 10: 7.1

*This phrase added after the original review was published, inspired by thoughts made here at Goodreads by others; see the comments section of this review for more.

[Krok Zero · Rating 1 out of 5]

Joe Meno is a fixture on the Chicago literary scene and carries a certain hipster cachet. This is my third go-round with him; I barely remember the other two books, except for thinking the hype wasn't justified. Now he's attempted to do an expansive, resonant Family Novel, and boy howdy, that mode of writing does not suit him.

Meno wants to write The Royal Tenenbaums, but this book has exactly none of the humor, style, insight, or pathos that made that film indelible. Instead, it has a lot of whining. This is seriously the whiniest novel I've ever read. If I recall correctly there's always been a shade of emo in Meno, but in the past it was applied more judiciously, or at least more convincingly, than the unadorned emotional vomit that stains these pages. It's fatally humorless.

There isn't anything inherently wrong with writing about a family of depressives, but Meno fails to imbue them with any but the most lazy, surface-level characteristics. These are quirkbots, each bestowed with a single defining trait: the dad is an awkward scientist who's afraid of clouds; the older daughter is a wannabe leftist revolutionary who doesn't fit in at school; the younger daughter is a religioso who doesn't fit in at school; the grandfather tries to escape from his nursing home and, in the most inane quirk, allots himself a smaller number of words to utter every day until he goes silent; and the mother, well, Meno doesn't even bother giving her a surface quirk — she's just plain old depressed and leaving her husband.

These quirkbots go on explicating their unhappiness for over 400 pages. It's like if Little Miss Sunshine had pretensions of imitating Dostoyevsky. And at the end of this tedious journey Meno buttons it up with a facile happy ending.

Oh, and in the interest of "formal playfulness" (to quote one of the inexplicably generous blurbs on the back), Meno presents each of the mom's chapters as alphabetized lists instead of regular paragraphs. This serves no function whatsoever. It's just an extremely lame attempt at imposing some kind of style.

Why did I finish this book? Well, probably because I bought it, and I never buy hardcovers; I was swindled by Jaime Keenan's eye-catching jacket design. And I will admit, the novel was consistently readable even though I hated it. It wasn't boring; I turned the pages with a perverse anticipation of how much wider its margin of missing its mark could get.

On page 269 there is a sentence that I would like to nominate for Worst Sentence of the Year. I will transcribe it for you here: "The single shot pierces the soft fruit of her navel and impolitely imparts her womb with the impossible mystery of life." That's really all you need to know. Stay away.

[Hannah Garden · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bef0re: I am quickly and immediately in love with this book. Oriana, you're next!

After: This is the best 0ne by this guy that I have read. I l0ve his f0ndness f0r the w0rd "small," I l0ve the way his characters seem like dearly-bel0ved d0lls in a careful, h0peful d0llh0use, I l0ve the little letters Henry writes t0 himself S0 much (I l0ved these t00 much, in fact--they are the 0nly pr0blem I had with the b00k--I wanted m0re with the little letters . . . ). G00d w0rk, J0e Men0! What a kind and satisfying gift.

**update from the present: Some people were talking about books last night and I distinctly remembered not really caring for Joe Meno--but I come back and look at this and apparently I liked him quite a bit. O brain o mush. Also this review was from when I didn't have an O in my computer,

[Oriana · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the first time I have ever wanted to do a half star. This book was totally awesome, see, but honestly it is kind of overshadowed by The Boy Detective Fails, which was just one of the all-time greatest books ever, not to mention Demons in the Spring, which was only incrementally less superb, and so The Great Perhaps is definitely not as good as all that. But I guess that really means that The Boy Detective and Demons should have gotten like six stars, and this one merely five. I guess.

What? Oh, The Great Perhaps. Well, it's a perfectly ordinary story about a perfectly ordinary family. You know, a family where Dad has seizures whenever he sees clouds, the pigeons Mom is researching are raping and murdering each other, older daughter is building pipe bombs and giving blowjobs to professors, and younger daughter is kissing girls and trying to find God. Oh, and grandpa is trying with all his might to escape from his nursing home and fly to Japan.

That is nowhere near all, of course. There's also a walking cloud-boy, prehistoric giant squids, the school play, Plato, Doctor Jupiter, internment camps, a spy tailor who does Morse code with stitching, Japanese twins, and more more more more more.

Writing about this book is making me love it even more, retroactively.

Look, Joe Meno is just sensationally good. He deftly creates the most believable, devastating characters, who walk around so sad and hopeful and hopeless, who hurt each other and despair but then do wonderful things instead and have glimmers of joy or at least contentment and then go to sleep gently so they can do it all again tomorrow. Just like life, you know?



Oh and do you want to see lovely Joe Meno reading an excerpt of this on YouTube? Of course you do!

[Lily · Rating 5 out of 5]

I started this book at 9 AM this morning. This means I read it in 8.5 hours, with occasional breaks to eat and do my job. This is not because it is an "easy read"--it is not light on pages or content. It's because this is just an amazing book. It's amazing in lots of ways, and probably different ways for every reader, but let me list my three favorites.

1) Experimental Style. This book is successfully experimental. It breaks with "normalcy" by writing in the present tense; by including illustrations; by including historical tangents; by styling the page differently for different characters. But it doesn't do these things willy-nilly. The PoMo elements are meaningful, interesting to contemplate, and add to the reading experience.

2) Characters. Good god, these are amazing characters. Meno walks the line between real people and unlikeably flawed characters with finesse, creating deeply flawed people that you also deeply care about and empathize with. They make a lot of pretty severe mistakes in action and thinking, hurting others quite often, but I never got that dreadful pit-in-the-stomach, please-can-I-yell-at-these-people feeling. Instead, I rooted for them, tearing through each page to see each of them figure out a piece of this whole Life thing for him- or herself.

3) Voice. Meno has figured out how to cast a net of words around the ways people really think and really speak. Reading this book was like effortlessly peeking into the minds of people sometimes quite similar and sometimes starkly dissimilar to myself. This allowed me to fulfill the voyeuristic needs that all compelling books fulfill for the imaginative, while simultaneously helping me understand myself and my life in new ways.

Basically, this book is amazing, reading it will make you a better person, go get it from the library or whatever.

[hans · Rating 3 out of 5]

It feels like reading a fragment of drama of each character in different scenes. For each chapter, I'll be meeting each of them telling their side of stories. I love the 'calmness' in the story-telling, the flow was smooth, easy to understand even with few conflicts it was still written well. I love reading about Amelia and Thisbe-- bizarre stories, weirdly fascinating. I love story about Henry as well. His a bit of historical plot, a flashback, memories and childhood stuff which quite entertaining.

Quirky with unique characters, true feelings that sometimes it annoys me much on their ranting and complaints. Some plot are thought-provoking, making me wonder or appreciate life as it is. Not really much happening anyway, odd but it was okay.

[Aerinn!!! · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF @ 15%

Not my type ig!

[Imogen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yeah! I like Joe Meno a lot and I think it's nice that here he's taking a swing at the great American Novel. And- this is awesome- I sent an e-mail to his publisher as soon as I found out this was coming out, like Hey can my store have an advance reader copy please? And they were like, Well, there's no bound ARCs, but would you like this 300-pages-of-printer-paper manuscript I've got? So I got to read this thing in a big sheaf of 8 1/2 x 11s. I felt very, very cool.

And the book itself, for about 180 pages, I was like: hooray! Joe Meno perfected the McSweeney's short story in Demons in the Spring; he perfected New American Magical Realism in The Boy Detective Fails; he nailed the suburban punk fake memoir in Hairstyles of the Damned; and he has written a lot of other brilliant things, too, and now he has actually written the great american novel. Like, THE one. Capital letters.

But then this weird thing happens because this book is totally a multigenerational family epic, a history of fear, and a story about a ... is there a word for 'quirky' that doesn't connote 'annoying?' A story about a family that's that word.

But ultimately, I think, the reason Mr Meno's writing sings so loudly to me is that it's really light, it's transparent, it floats. And the words in this one are no different, it's just that the heavy subject matter kind of clashes with that feeling, you know? Or maybe... I mean, he has written brilliantly about some serious shit before, so maybe it's not the subject matter so much as the amount of stuff, the weight of the story itself, the weight of all the history he's writing about? I don't know, I mean, I was still super into it, and I was flying for hours and hours on a Christmas vacation so I was kind of grumpy while I was reading it, but something about a novel with this kind of scope being written so lightly felt off. Or something.

Still, it's brilliant. The family is real, and you love all of them, except the mom who's kind of just weird. The punk anarchist 16-year-old is my favorite; the world war 2 grandfather is maybe my least favorite. But whatever. I still recommend this one pretty hard and I'm excited to see it blow up all huge and be on Oprah's book list.

[Stephan Benzkofer · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Great Perhaps introduces us to a dysfunctional Chicago family that is dysfunctional in the most peculiar ways. The father has seizures when he sees clouds (and he fails to take his medication). The mother is enthralled by a cloud man who hangs out in a tree near her house and walks all over Chicago. The older daughter is a would-be Communist revolutionary, and the younger daughter is secretly devoutly religious. The parents are scientists at the University of Chicago, and their research projects go off the rails in equally bizarre ways.

The author wants you take these characters seriously, though, and it took awhile for me to get there. Their behavior was so odd and the situations so unlikely that it was hard for me to settle into the story. The chapters are written from the point of view of these characters (and also the grandfather), which highlighted to me how often we are alone in the world, careening off our loved ones, especially when we are nearing or in a crisis.

The writing here is superb; the characters are vividly drawn. And the author grounds us in reality often enough to keep the craziness in check. Maybe time will show that is a four-star novel.

[Bant · Rating 4 out of 5]

I imagine those people who don't like this book, or maybe don't like Joe Meno, aren't fans of Wes Anderson either. I suppose that isn't exactly fair to Meno. He doesn't dance around in a quirky but very real alternate reality. His characters are kind of quirky, one is afraid of clouds; one is trying to erase himself by speaking one fewer word a day. But he doesn't use his quirky characters for a mad-cap, laugh-a-minute riot. His quirks instead somehow heighten the flaws and the sadness in them. One of the daughters, Amelia, in the book is so assured that capitalism is bad that she builds a pipe bomb and contemplates blowing up her school's newspaper office, she also searches for approval from an older college professor. But the other daughter is on an infinite quest for God, some may find her prayers absurd, which they are, and hilarious, but they also show a confused teenager who is looking for something, even something her parents don't believe exists.
The real story is of a family being pulled apart by the parents' separation and literally collapsing on itself. Among the best, funniest and most poignant of parts, is when the father, Jonathan Casper, offers his daughter a microwave mac & cheese and she refuses his weak effort to keep the family together. Maybe if they would all just try harder. But their journeys are cathartic and necessary.

[Sarah Wiles · Rating 2 out of 5]

Deciding if I want to DNF or slog through the last 100 pages. I do not like or care for any of the characters except Henry (and just his past at that). It is character driven so not caring for the characters means it is boring to me and a chore to read. It is not a terrible book, but the characters are cliche and unrealistic. The one daughter builds a bomb in her misguided protests (I get that she is like a cliche teenage outrage character)... that is just beyond ridiculous to me that we are to believe that is a realistic character. No matter how into artsy pretentious bullshit, being different, and forcing your fake social consciousness onto others one could possibly be, surely she would know setting off a bomb might not be the best way to get people to see from her pov?? And the dad- I just hate him. Whiney, mopey, babyish, selfish, clueless... he is the worst. I just don't care for these characters or the magical realisim.

[Chris - Quarter Press Editor · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't really have words for this one, as it was simply the type of book that "clicks" and then deeply resonates inside you, vibrating those inner heart and soul strings that tether us all together in the first place.

It's a bizarre sort of novel, though, and perfect for my kind of fantastic, as the events don't always make sense and are often magical in nature. For me, I love that stuff. For others, I can see how it might pose an issue.

I'll admit, too, that I wasn't sold on the novel at first, thinking the voice of it to be off for my particular taste, but as the novel progressed, I loved it more and more, until I was reluctant to even turn another page, as it drew me that much closer to the finish.

I loved this book and the ideas and themes it presents. I'll definitely be reading more of Meno's work in the upcoming year.

[Becky Everhart · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading this book was a way for me to see that so many of the braveries of my life could so easily be seen as cowardices. Still, this revelation came in a warm light with the knowledge that there is still time to change without becoming too much of a different person than what I have built upon for so long. The lessons and realizations of this book came so gently.

As for the book itself, I enjoyed it greatly, obviously. It was well-written. The characters were very much in the round and adaptive. The story and its finer points (i.e., the whole thing with the clouds) were imaginative without being too fantastical. I would like to think when I teach college someday I will use this book or some other work by Joe Meno. Simply Fantastic.

[Meg Bohannon · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’m super bummed about this book. I LOVE Joe Meno’s books and this is the first one I’ve read that I didn’t instantly love. I didn’t even really like it.

This felt like Meno was trying to write a Wes Anderson-like novel and it did not hit the mark, at all!

The kids are what salvaged the book for me. The Grandfather’s story line was sooooo boring and not needed.

The beginning 1/3 of the book was really great and then it just continued to go downhill. 😞

[Chandni · Rating 3 out of 5]

“!?!” - Grandfather, pg 293

Lemme explain.
I went ! at the cover and images; a friend loves pigeons and another draws many many horses. I also liked the Chicago references.
I went ? at the chaos and the cynical chapters. I’m a teen, but I couldn’t connect to Amelia.
At the end, I went ! cuz the book followed the ~400 pg of darkness with... a 20 page happy ending.

! + ? + ! = !?!, so !?! sums up my thoughts of the book.

[sam · Rating 3 out of 5]

I never write reviews! I didn’t even love it like I skipped chapters and got annoyed and didn’t like any of the characters but I’m going to think about it forever. In a very weird way it’s one of the best books I’ve ever consumed

[Pam · Rating 4 out of 5]

The members of the Casper family are pulling its existence apart at the seams. Running headlong in four vastly different directions, John, Madeline, Amelia and Thisbe each seem to embody one faction of American society in their own convoluted ways.
John, a paleontologist, is on a frenzied nautical life-mission to track down a prehistoric, giant squid. He faints at the sight of clouds of any form unless he has taken a pill. When we find him, both predicaments have worn thin on the three women in his life but neither one seem to be at any near point of conclusion.
Madeline, an animal behaviorist, is observing pigeons in captivity to track trends in power dynamics. She has committed the researcher sin of forging an attachment with several of the birds, making it emotionally devastating when they begin destroying each other in a murderous hierarchy. This tragedy compounds her disappointment with her failing marriage. Soon after the story starts, Madeline beings to see a man-shaped cloud, an entity she eventually leaves to pursue.
Their oldest daughter, Amelia, is a teenage anarchist intent on blowing up her school, which she finds to be the embodiment of corrupt politics, or the local, Starbucks or both. She continually lands herself in sticky situations with the school staff, such as publishing a school paper blast exposing their alleged labor atrocities involving the kitchen staff.
Their younger daughter, Thisbe has recently taken up the hobby of praying which she does from sun up to sun down at every turn in her day, much to the annoyance of her parents and sister who have deemed the practice of any religion antiquated. Her born-again, borderline xenophobic tendencies serve to confuse and exasperate her mother who believes that they are in direct relation to the problems in the parents’ relationship.
Henry, John’s father, is confined to a nursing home and is attempting to silence himself out of existence by limiting his words, dropping one word from the count every day. The institution warns his family that he has limited time left but the Caspers seem too disorganized to assemble any concrete sense of worry.
Meno has created a beautifully abstract yet hauntingly realistic look at the current state of the American family. His prose is simple and succinct but the overall dynamic of the book is complex enough that the larger effect is one of intricate, layered storytelling. The book is written moving forward in a tag team effort, alternating through the five family members in order. In this manner, we never see the same exact scene from two different views but we do have a sense of similar themes along the same timeline in different voices.
I will say this as a warning: I loved this book but I enjoy post-modern, experimental literature. I adore Pynchon and Vonnegut. Meno follows closely behind those two gentlemen. It is much more accessible than Pynchon while remaining more complex than a Vonnegut. If abstract wanderings and surrealist flashbacks are not your cup of tea than this will most likely hit a low note for you. If you are looking for a quick and readable, albeit dark and twisted mini-romp through the postmodern family, however, this is definitely a book for you.

[Kyle · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked up The Great Perhaps purely because it was the next book on my reading list to come up at the local library, but truth be told, I was glad to read some Joe Meno. As current authors go, he’s among my top choices not only for a quirky style but because he’s so honest in his writing.
Even just reading the jacket information, I sort of knew what I was going to get out of this book. Meno does not exactly diverge wildly from his style in any of his writing, but I’m okay with that. People are going to learn that everything is screwed up, that things are wrong, but that is life, is okay, and is beautiful sometimes. When you finish, everything insincere about everyone you know seems insignificant for a while and you know that, even though they may disagree or make bad decisions, but so many people are just trying their best every day. It’s not rainbows and puppies, but it is what I need to hear sometimes.
If I have one problem with the book, it’s that Meno seems to be reaching too broadly in this grab for resolution. Through each member of the Casper family (and some misguided ancestors), we get a view of how life is messed up, is passed by, is worthless, and is counterfeit. He covers mid-life crises, Communism, homosexual issues – heck, he even manages to work in World War II (marking the third book I’ve accidentally read this year concerning the Holocaust; though in fairness, he approaches it from an angle I haven’t encountered yet). Whereas in work like The Boy Detective Fails and Demons in the Spring, his story is zeroed in on one or two characters’ experiences. Here, there is a web of distress among all the characters and, while I was definitely caught up in that, it overwhelms at times – though that could definitely have been Meno’s intent.
Otherwise, a fantastic read, and a reminder that I need to cloudwatch more often.

[Kate · Rating 3 out of 5]

Let me preface this review by saying I'm a huge fan of Joe Meno and I think it's admirable that one author can write so many different kinds of books, but this one just wasn't the cheese or the bees knees for me.

Of course there were parts of the story that I enjoyed immensely and they primarily reside in the characterizations of Thisbe, Amilea and Henry (Thisbe and Amilea's Grandfather). I also enjoyed the story line of a family in crisis and how it affected everyone in his or her own way. Those were most certainly the strong parts of the story.

However, the whole cloud thing just didn't work for me. I understand the concept of magical realism and metaphors but honestly this was one time it just didn't work for me in a book. Also, when Meno derails the main story by traveling back in time and relating important historical accounts of ancient relatives, seemed a bit like filler to me, and I didn't quite see how it all fit in with the rest of the story at all.

With that said, I'm glad I read the story and I can't wait to see what Joe Meno will come up with next, however, I just wish I had liked the whole book more than I did.

[Cheryl · Rating 2 out of 5]

Don't be fooled by the pastel cover or the relatively short length. This is not a light story. It reminds me a bit of some of Michael Chabon's works, but without the grace or the wisdom.

It's all very metaphorical and artsy-fartsy. It's not authentic, and it doesn't resonate, at least with me.

Also, I know some of you don't like alternating points of view or time frames, and this has both of those in spades. It also includes casual marijuana use and underage sex.

Now, if my objections don't bother you, and you are interested, give it a shot. There are a few insightful bits, a few interesting ideas. And maybe I don't know enough about the different kinds of people in the world and these folks are actual real. I don't recommend it; I didn't enjoy it nor do I feel enlightened by it, but it's not a bad book.

[Kasa Cotugno · Rating 4 out of 5]

3 1/2 stars, not quite a 4.

Oddly enough, this book reminded me very much of the movie "The Squid and the Whale" a few years back, so I actually envisioned Jeff Daniels playing the lead character. That movie's title engendered quite a bit of comment since there was neither a squid nor a whale, and it was unclear just who was what. There are squid aplenty and a few whales in this tale of a family suffering a collective meltdown. I found the structure was quite inflexible, alternating chapters featuring each player, which seemed strained at times. There were also interjections of historical irrelevance, but the story of the grandfather was to me the best written, least forced, and most informative. Much has been written about Japanese Americans interred during WWII, but not a lot about German Americans so incarcerated.

[Allie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was my first Joe Meno. He's always been on my list of "Authors I'm sure I'll like, but haven't gotten around to reading yet". The chapters alternate points of view of one family--grandfather, father, mother, and two daughters. Old man flashbacks are included. When I realized what he was doing with the alternating I assumed it would be frustrating because I didn't think there was anyway to do it thoroughly. Plus I was on loads of percocet, so I worried about following everything. Somehow he made it work and managed to weave all the stories together and bring them to a satisfying conclusion. There's something impressive about being able to tell the story of a dying old man, a hopeless middle-aged wife, and a possibly homicidal teenager all in the same book. If the opportunity arises I would like to read some of his other stuff, but I don't think I'll seek it out.

[Allen · Rating 2 out of 5]

I've never had such mixed feelings about a book before. There are aspects of it I really, really enjoyed--really all of the content surrounding directly the main characters. Had the book consisted only of these aspects, I believe I'd have given this at least another star. But then there are side stories -- some of which, I didn't care enough about to bother trying to figure out how they might tie into the book; and while grandpa played a role in the story, much of that was unnecessary. And I have no idea why each of Madeline's sections were a list of 26 paragraphs, bulleted A. through Z.

Maybe I just don't get this book, and I'd welcome some guidance if that is the case. I just feel like it was too much, or too many books in one. I didn't finish it breathless, as I expect to when ending a Joe Meno book.

[Jim · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a review where I wish I had 3.5 stars as an option. This is not my favorite by Joe Meno by a long-shot, but it's worth a read. Probably the most memorable character and greatest singularity that sets this book apart is its attention to German Americans during World War II with a brush into the plight of Japanese Americans. The grandfather who sees his youth in flashbacks as he is losing his memory, or preparing for death, or just getting old, gives a depth to his character that does not exist in the other characters in the book. If more of the characters had his depth, this would have probably been a 5-star review.

[Erin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Joe Meno uses satire, funky formatting, and even a touch of magical realism to tell his story, and *still* manages to create astonishingly real characters. This is a story about the paralyzing power of anxiety and about the transcendent force of familial love. It’s about craving simple, easy answers, but ultimately finding beauty in complicated truths. Meno’s fictional Casper family teaches us that “what if?” doesn’t have to be asked with trepidation and dread. It can be asked with hope and wonder.

[Tynk Chainbeard · Rating 4 out of 5]

I found the use of a single object,in this book a cloud, that can have so much meaning and be viewed differently by five people very fascinating. Meno did very well writing about the life of whole family. Each chapter felt like I was truly looking thru the characters eyes. The last 100 pages had me guessing on how it would end. I enjoyed this look into a rough patch that this family was going thru..

[Kelloggss22 · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a bizarre, yet somewhat profound, novel. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it, but I know that I really enjoyed it. It's one of those books that I found difficult to put down.

Meno somehow manages to capture and depict both adolescent angst and mid-life crises. All of his characters are questioning their place in the world, just at different phases in their lives. The characters are an amalgamation of contrasting characteristics: complex yet simple, loveable yet dislikeable, unique yet ordinary. And Meno doesn't attempt to "fix" everything by the end of the story. It's meant to be a genuine look at life, human nature and generational trauma, so he doesn't shy away from uncomfortable truths, nor does he force resolutions just for the sake of a neatly wrapped-up ending.

Johnathan with his peculiar aversion to clouds. I constantly vacillated between wanting to shake him out of annoyance and wanting to hug him out of sympathy. He's living in his own world, possessed by an overwhelming need to find the Giant Squid. His breakdown clearly started before the beginning of the novel. He's extremely hard to love as a husband, but there's something about him as a character that's appealing. His downfall and subsequent growth was compelling to read.

Madeline is just as messy of a character. She's not really a good mom, but she doesn't ever claim to be either. Just like with Johnathan, it was apparent that there was a lot of buildup of tensions and emotions before the start of the book. She's tired. Tired of having to hold everything together while Johnathan lives in his head 20,000 league under the sea, though it's debatable how much she actually did that. Her fascination and then obsession with the "cloud person" was the most confusing to me. I'm not entirely sure I understand the metaphor behind it. I know she was struggling with her views on the war in Iraq, Bush's presidency, and what she felt was a lack of interest or concern by her fellow Americans. I think the origin of the cloud person, plus the findings from the bird study, meant to speak on human nature and the inevitability of violence when change is introduced to a population. The metaphor with the birds made more sense to me than the cloud person.

Amelia and Thisbe were the saddest part of this story. It was difficult seeing how truly affected they were by having two parents that were completely checked out. It was clear that, even prior to what I'd say were mental breakdowns for Johnathan and Madeline, they were never the healthiest parents. They treat the girls like adults, despite how young they are, and involve them in things they had no business bringing around their children. The neglect was truly sad to see, especially because we see just how much it affects the two girls. They both struggle with emotional regulation and have been parentified in ways they never should've.

Amelia is angry at everything and just wants so badly to believe in something and feel powerful to enact change. She has no guidance or support from her parents, and it's clear that she acts out more and more in the hopes that they'll notice and intervene. They never do. She's negative and aggressive and engages in risky behavior, like theft and sexual exploits. She's always one step away from drastically altering her life (like with the bomb) and it's all clearly a cry for help. I like that she met someone at her school who challenged her because I think it showed her that SOMEONE is listening. The adults either ignore her or deem her a "problem child" and punish her.

Thisbe is just as complicated as her sister. She's desperate for attention from anyone in her family but it only met by disdain from her older sister and neglect from her parents. The moment in the car, when she held her breath during her asthma attack and nearly passed out, just silently screaming for anyone to notice, let alone care, was so awful. Because she has no one else to turn to for support, she's developed a confusing relationship with God. And Madeline, her mother, seems perfectly intent to ignore her until she notices Thisbe is praying. Madeline hates it because she isn't religious, neither is Johnathan, and they didn't raise their kids to be. But Thisbe is clearly comforted by the idea that SOMEONE notices her and cares. But this newfound love for God creates a conflicting situation for Thisbe, who is clearly bisexual, if not gay. Her shame and confusion eat away at her, and she's never been taught how to manage her emotions.

Henry's inclusion, as well as the chapters about other Caspar men, made it clear that this book was looking at generational trauma and how deeply rooted it is. Henry's childhood was horribly traumatic and his relationship with his father went from one of idolization to hatred. And while he made an effort to be a better dad to Johnathan, he couldn't escape the ghosts from his past. It was a really interesting way to see how trauma moves from one generation to the next. How the choices of our ancestors shape who we are. And how complicated it all really is. Meno doesn't try to simplify it or belittle it.

I really didn't know what to expect when I started this book, but I was surprised by the emotions it brought out of me. I thought it would be pretty light-hearted (and at times it was) but for the most part, it's heavy and deep and real.

[Jared · Rating 1 out of 5]

I love Joe Meno, and honestly think he is one of the best in fiction right now, but this book was awful. It feels instantly dated, but worse, it's derivative. It reads like bad a Wes Anderson movie (aren't they all though?).

[John Van · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good book, but I could hear Meno whispering to himself, "This is so fucking brilliant, look at me, clever me." Could've cut most of Henry's chapters down. His past became the focus even though the story was his present.

[Angela · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Great Perhaps is a story about a charmingly dysfunctional family. Joe Meno writes that weird kind of literary fiction that's pretentious and meandering. He'll do things like insert a diagram of a cloud, or a script from a WWII-era sci-fi radio show, or unbelievable intercalary chapters (e.g. a character who gets shot in the testicles and posthumously impregnates a woman when the bullet strikes her abdomen).

The characters aren't horrible but they aren't well-developed. Jonathan and Madeleine are professors who are so consumed by their separate research projects (which are going poorly, by the way) that they barely seem to notice how awful they are at parenting. Their teen daughters are sweet girls, but are nothing more than political caricatures—Amelia is a Marxist with a signature black beret and a love of French music...who decides to build a pipe bomb as a science fair experiment; Thisbe is deeply religious but thinks she may be a lesbian. And then there's the grandfather, a first-generation German who was once considered an enemy of the U.S. and later helps design the aircrafts that bomb Vietnam. Although I didn't particularly care for any of the characters, they are made much worse by the author's choice of narration. Meno chooses a third person omniscient POV...the tone is dispassionate even when the characters are going through crises. It made it hard to actually give a shit. Each chapter switches to a different character—I think the author did this to try to hide the fact that there isn't much of a plot.

I wanted to like this book. I wanted to like the parents' flawed love story, the daughters' coming of age, the grandfather's survivor's guilt, the motif of clouds, the small moments of magic realism...but I couldn't. The writing is good but the narration choice detracted from it. There were too many references to the Bush/Kerry election, with an obviously leftist bias, it's like looking at a cringey time capsule. But by far the worst offense is that I wanted something to happen. Sure, the characters' lives implode in slow motion, but it's never because of anything consequential. They're all privileged. They all live happily ever after, more or less. What's the point?