Let me start by saying that Jess Row is a terrific writer. Why the 3 out of 5 stars, then? This novel needs editing. Great portions of the last 2/3 of the novel need to be condensed, sharpened, or excised completley. You, dear reader, may disagree with my assessment. That's the great thing about the book community: we don't all like the same things, and that's what keeps it interesting.
My review: written as I read, which you can really tell, when the tone changes.
[First impression]:
My God. This novel is like the implosion of privilege told through metafiction. It's spectacular, tragic, dramatic, and riveting.
[And this was absolutely true for 200 pages.]
I had to admire the way the author eviscerates family relationships. It left me feeling strangely vindicated.
Every page is so smartly written. This story zips along with its relentless strengths of narrative, characters, and controlled chaos.
The author also effectively folds in pathos to the narrative, with frequent juxtapositions of the plight of immigrants as compared to other Americans, even those who are dedicated to helping them.
Equally impressive, he presents casual racism exactly as it occurs, complete with abject shock, but no pushback. The author is shaming us, in a way, for not speaking up to the microaggresser, not in defense of anyone standing there (no White Savior Complex, please) but rather because it offends our own decency, dignity, our very humanity.
The book is also very very funny. Because it's metafiction, the novel itself gets perturbed by its own agitated and melodramatic characters, which is humorous in itself.
And for a Novel (as an actual character commenting on the progression of events) which professes to hate metaphors, it makes copious use of them. The whole symbolic set of meanings of *accidents* alone permeates the story.
The humor is the main thing that kept me hooked to this story, well that and the crazy smart, antagonistic, linguistically gifted characters. There were times when I howled with laughter reading the overdramatic speechifying of each of them. That description by Naomi of what she imagined the wedding to be like completely slayed.
The character of Bering seems to occupy two roles: the personification of ambivalence, and as a plot device for all the others to bounce their guilt and grief off of.
The political life of these characters (and in this book, life is intrinsically political) is more complex than that to which I am accustomed. It is consistent with this scholarly brood, but it does require more close reading than we usually expect in family dramedies.
The meaning of the title NEW EARTH is more of an unfolding concept of possibility than a definition. But, such that it is, we do get an idea of it to roll around in our heads, about a third of the way into the novel.
This is also precisely when there is a revelation I just did not see coming, and it hit me like an earthquake felling a wall of bricks.
The symbolic metaphor the author chooses for this shocking scene is maybe a little over the top. Perhaps he is challenging the reader to see if we believe in any moral boundaries in fiction, or if fiction by definition should be able to go anywhere it wants to go, even or especially to the most uncomfortable places.
In every way possible, the author wants the reader to know how royally and completely screwed-up this beyond-dysfunctional family is. Call me convinced.
I mean, families have their problems, but this one is toxic with their secrecy, broken taboos, and relentless raving narcissism.
I felt like the middle of the book dragged. Sandy's story was not as interesting, and would have perhaps had more snap if Naomi had told most of it, or even if the novel had an omniscient narrator to tell his story or literally anyone else. Sandy is by far the most tedious storyteller.
The strongest parts of the book are the first 200 pages and the last 100 pages. The middle could use some editing and more of the sharp dialogue which lifts the rest of the story.
Even in grief, the self-centeredness and cruelty of this family is apparent, accentuated, even. The author does do justice to the struggle over borders and citizenship in the Israeli/Palestinian situation. He brings up some excellent questions and observations. Family members who are more obsessed with themselves than they are with their specific family tragedy, might be an apt reflection of the struggle of Israelis and Palestinians. And yes, it's hardly a binary problem, but I am not sure how else to refer to it. The important thing is that the family's unhealthy and counterproductive actions are quite like the larger struggle, in microcosm.
As much as I believe the book would benefit from editing and excising quite a bit, I also think that the revealed family secret isn't explored enough. It occupies space as a fairly minor subplot, with more attention at the end of the book than at any other time. The *unrevealed* [no spoilers] family secret is examined to death.
So, I had some problems with the book as a whole, but parts of it were amazingly brilliant, and I cannot imagine anyone else who could have written those passages. It was a mixed bag for me. I welcome your thoughts.