In Memorial, acclaimed author Bruce Wagner offers his most extraordinary and affecting book to date a profound story of family and faith, and a masterpiece of American fiction.
Joan Herlihy, a young architect desperate to win the commission for a highly coveted Tsunami memorial, has a secret with life-changing consequences. Her brother Chester is keeping secrets as he's become addicted to Internet-prescribed painkillers after being injured on a "reality" show. Their estranged father lives nearby happy for the first time in his life, Raymond's carefully laid plans for retirement and a second marriage are thrown into shocking disarray when the police break into his apartment in a botched raid. Through it all, Marjorie Herlihy, the lonely, indomitable matriarch, falls prey to a dizzying confidence scheme that will test her powers of survival. Wagner's searing portrait of an old woman trying to save her family and live out her dreams is among the most tender and savage in contemporary literature.
Deeply compassionate and violently irreverent, Memorial is a testament to forgiveness, and the majestic struggle toward transcendence a luminous tribute to spirituality in the twenty-first century.
Bruce Wagner is the author of The Chrysanthemum Palace (a PEN Faulkner fiction award finalist); Still Holding; I'll Let You Go (a PEN USA fiction award finalist); I'm Losing You; and Force Majeure. He lives in Los Angeles.
When the shock jock cynicism made me put down Dead Stars (probably forever), Memorial delivered the dose of BW prose that I had been missing. Memorial has a soupcon of Rushdie in its stream of conscious rant bits, and a Dickensian (yeah, I hate that word too) plot. Memorial is a masterpiece, where Dead Stars reads like a rehashed, wrung-out version, battering its characters until they are fully dehumanized.
I have no desire to meet the author, or visit any dimension of his Los Angeles, but have tremendous respect for the writing. May I suggest that he get some counseling, and pretty please write some decent female characters. I think he may hate us (females of all ages).
Still, 5 stars for real characters, cliff-hanging chapters, ground-breaking structure (toward the end), and entertainment value...and a bonus star for having a moral, without rubbing it in our faces.
This was a gargantuan beast of a novel, packing the plot twists of a 5-season Netflix series into its 500 dense pages. There are pages-long, multiclaused sentences that basically demand an unbroken binge-read, and Wagner's attention to detail (of his protagonists' jobs, backgrounds, and lives) is intimidating, yet fitting to the characters and the story; it's kind of like a hopped-up Franzen without the arrogance, or a less didactic Rushdie without the need to make every protagonist a variation of the author himself.
The book is so "Inside LA" that I felt I needed a SoCal Cliffs Notes to understand some of the references, and so eerily Nostradamian in its contemporary references that I had to check multiple times what the original publication date was. This is a small font, 500+ page book published in 2006, so it's safe to say Wagner started writing it at least a few years before, yet there are references to Trump and his pecadillos/political aspirations, the movie "Sicko" (which came out in 2007!), opioid addiction (name-checking fentanyl?), the therapeutic use of psychedelics - besides the absence of smartphones, it feels more like a book written in the mid-2010s than the mid-2000s.
Also, be warned that you may need a thesaurus handy to decipher certain passages - captious, famulus, verbigeration, hebephrenic, inenarrable - the hits keep coming. I don't know if this novel was ever translated into another language, but if it was, I pity the poor translator who endeavored to render it equally impactful in a different tongue.
At its heart, though, this is a novel about a (very broken) family and a (very warped, very Californian) conception of the American Dream - and who can't take an interest in that? This book should have been a lot more popular than it was/is, yet at the same time (there aren't even that many reviews of it on Goodreads), it's quite easy to see why it isn't/wasn't - it's a challenging, prolix, sesquipedalian text (to put it in Wagnerian terms), and not everyone is up for that.
Chatty digressions, referential gestures, and gab ridden confusions come together around a family. Coincidence and relations circle this tragic bunch. Maybe the most selfish characters ever written? Maybe the most empathetic depictions ever written, where the characters don’t even seem to understand themselves? I think Memorial lags a little in the middle, but once that confidence scheme clears the air and the pressure drops down, it becomes such a wonder of tragedy and transcendence.
So, I took a writing workshop in which the author teaching it reminded us to be kind to our characters -- basically warning us away from beating on them for the sake of an intense read. Bruce Wagner was obviously not taught by this guy -- he absolutely brutalizes one of his characters, and it's left me uncomfortable because I can't tell if there's some larger symbolism that absolves his authorial choices, or if he just decided to be truly gratuituous. (There are four major narratives/characters in the book, and all of them have their ups and downs, so I don't believe this is too spoilery -- apologies if it is. By the point you figure out which character it is that I'm describing, you'll probably be squawking right along with me.) I love his frenetic playful language and his understanding of a person's constant negotiation with themselves about who they are, what their values are, and particularly how much they truly want money without the work that's usually attendant to that desire. His theme-work regarding India and an American's obsession with exoticism is also spot on and makes the book a more interesting read. But yeah, I'm starting People for the Ethical Treatment of Fictional Characters and Bruce Wagner is the first person we'll throw a bunch of red paint on!
A look into the world of four estranged family members, this book is a snapshot of the travails of upper-class life and partially a reflection on Hindu spirituality. It's not a book the ordinary citizen can necessarily relate to in its content. It is packed a little too densely with references I don't understand (regions of California, celebrities and those in high ranks), but as an architecture student, I got a kick out of many of the architecture terms and names dropped. Sardonic and fatalistic, Bruce Wagner certainly has a way with words. I found all of his wordplay interesting and intricate and well-used, though it sometimes seemed contrived within a dialogue. If you want to read and learn about the attitudes and personal lives of a wealthy architect and her family, this is the read for you. I am more a fan of 'moral-of-the-story' type reads that convey a larger social message.
This book centers on four characters, two which are unreadably annoying. Out of the remaining two, one starts entering a completely depressing path that makes me hate the world.
The book itself is frustrating as it jumps between moments of brilliance and blocks of poetic-for-the-sake-of-being-poetic paragraphs about nothing. There would sometimes be a chapter that would essentially buy a couple more chapters worth of attention for me (as in, "Wow, that was really neat, I guess I can put up with three chapters of being annoyed). Essentially, it's almost worth reading for the good parts. Almost.
Not my favorite of Wagner's novels (see I'll Let You Go), but it does offer plenty of the author's usual biting wit, incisive social commentary--Wagner, more than any other novelist, seems to be writing his books the day before you happen to read them--and melodramatic, excruciating plot turns. He also, as usual, explores subcultures one rarely sees in novels--in this case, status-grubbing contemporary architects and chronic pain-sufferers. Wagner's love of punning and wordplay wore on me at times in this novel--even the minor characters come off like Oscar flippin' Wilde--but it's compelling nonetheless.
While this book had what can be assumed as a "happy" (or at least a sensible ending), the majority of the rest of the book was pretty much Wagner's hypnotic rant at modern America and the way we trap ourselves with the combined vices of money and self-pity.
Ray and Ghulpa were my two favorite characters, while Chester and Laxmi were truly loathsome. Wagner's continual references to India, and Indian culture was surprising but seemed to fit in and find a place with the theme of the book toward the end.
I couldn't even finish this one. The characters were coarse and cheap, completely unsympathetic. The author writes as though he's trying to be a cool, modern writer using really hip language - but he's failed. Miserably. The style comes across as forced and fake. The whole book is so LA-centric, as if there is no other place or way of life outside that area. It's very irritating. A disappointment overall.
Better than his previous novel, mostly in attempting to reach the broad scope, the overlapping lives and narratives, of his earlier works. As other reviewers have commented, his verbal flourishes alternate between brilliant and poetic and just plain annoying... and the sadistic treatment one of his characters receives throughout the book seems... over the top to put it mildly. But ultimately fairly moving and engaging.
A 500 page opus of often irreverent (Read: Wonderful) wit and compassionatley rendered characters. Read it for the writing alone. A "karmically" convoluted tale of a fragmented, dysfunctional Los Angeles family, as told through the lives of its aging mother, long-lost father and 2 adult children that never gets boring or bogged down.
Not the best but not the worst. Would I recommend it? Probably not, it just depends on you. Some of the character development was a bit rough for me. Thee wee sections of the book that went well and others I just struggled with, overall it wasn't bad.
another unusual look at LA from an expert of the city. this book had more depth than his usual ones but his books are always brilliant in their own way.