I can't in good conscience give this fewer than three stars, because it held my attention, was at times strikingly funny and/or insightful, and was a definite show of talent - but so many times I wanted to throw it across the room and/or give it one star, so, I am settling for three with misgivings.
Let's start by saying that I am a realist. I like my fiction as unfictiony as possible. What I can't handle is fiction via fun house mirrors, ie, scenarios and people so outlandish they cannot be real or relatable yet the storyline and overall writing is acting as if it's real. Sort of like watching the Simpsons (which I love) but with real people, not cartoons. Suddenly, not so funny anymore.
MFT takes on the ever popular and painfully cliched topic of Les Suburbs, seemingly nice families and homes that are riddled with unrest, affairs, and quiet desperation. This is suburbs on crack, and everyone is beyond the realm of real, be they too unlikable or too perfect or too troubled. Overall you feel like the characters (if not the author herself) are on crack and therefore nothing actually seems upsetting, or it's all upsetting, because it all falls short of seeming actual.
The basic premise is a rather clever one - unhappy Elaine and Paul (who are always flirting with macabre in their unhappiness - we first meet them washing up in the kitchen, and Elaine holds a knife to Paul's neck and grazes it. Mm yup that is unhappy, certainly, and all the odder that it doesn't strike either of them as particularly worrisome, or change the tenor of their marriage) decide whilst barbecuing one early summer evening to tilt the grill (after pouring lighter fluid on the house) and have the whole thing burn down. I like this as a symbol - indeed, the houses we build are often traps and represent our own undoing - but the book split off in to too many odd parts after that, so that even if you could go along for the ride (and admittedly this is difficult for me, as Homes seems to want me to feel bad for people who seem to only feel bad for themselves, and anyway they all seem like morbid puppets so why should I care??) there are too many twists and turns to really stay with you as a story. So, anyway, they burn the house, but instead of feeling better they end up further messing up their marriage and children and whatever else.
I wonder about the following. First, is there a value to shock value, by which I mean, so many times I hear, "This was disturbing" or "This evoked a strong reaction so s/he gets credit for that" and I wonder if this is really true, like, is Homes a celebrated writer because she can really gross me out and perplex me with her unfeeling and mildly creepy characters? But shouldn't I like the people, or care, or root for them? I mean, what is talent? Is it making you feel, period, or is it making you feel something you like feeling?
The other thing is, this book made me reflect on the writers I love, specifically John Irving. What I love about John Irving, aside from his wit and literary prowess and beautiful language and you know everything else, is that he presents a fascinating world that is ALMOST entirely real except when it isn't. He gives us a slanted world that is quirky and strange yet oddly believable. Well, doesn't Homes do that, and yet Homes kind of disgusts me while John Irving makes me happy to be literate. So I guess it's not just the ability to "tell the truth but tell it slant" as much as it's... I don't know, still having something pulsing in your story that is human, rather than destroying everything that is? Or something?
This review (such as it is - thank you, Homes) would not be complete without saying what the bleep to the ending. Yeah. Really. What was that??? So if nothing else grabbed you, that ought to at least make you curious. I know I read through to the end in small part because of that.