Out of reverence for a successful author, I am reluctant to share how disappointed I feel as I put down a novel and ask, "Is this it? Is that all?" I would not have written this review if I didn't take a page from the author herself, Francine Prose, whose sharp critical pen had once smashed Maya Angelou's metaphors to pieces in a 1999 article in Harper's Magazine.
Lula, an Albanian refugee, is living with Mister Stanley and his high-school senior son whose wife and mother respectively had left them abruptly last Christmas. Lula's role is just to keep the lonely, friendless Zeke company after school until his father comes home and the two of them can engage in their painfully awkward relationship, dancing around the void left by the woman of the house. With a lot of time on her hands, Lula, who conveniently speaks perfect English with a vocabulary that only the top 1% of American master, is content to mark time while Mister Stanley's friend, Don, arranges for her work visa. In time, hopefully, there would be the Green Card that would allow her to make USA her home. She is comfortable in the house and other than some vague worry about her friend who might have disappeared into a trafficking ring but shows up as living the rich life only twenty miles away, there is no worry. Neither does Lula, at twenty-seven, possess a vision of a future and shows no ambition for a career or love.
There is little that is not American about Lula other than she doesn't know how to drive, a fact made poignant because her parents were killed in Albania as a result of her father's reckless driving--and not in an act of war as her listeners prefer to hear when she regales the small circle with her stories, told both orally and in writing. She produces stories as distraction, to prove to Mister Stanley and Don that she is using her ample free time wisely.
If staying in America is her motivation, and if Lula is as intelligent and educated as Prose makes her to be, it is doubly surprising that when some strange Albanian thugs appear at her door, she not only immediately invites them in, but agrees to keep their gun. There is much at stake for her, yet the reader sees no hesitation on her part nor any motivation to risk it all, including the trust of Mister Stanley and Zeke. Her infatuation with one of the thugs comes as an afterthought, as is her sense of camaraderie with these fellow ex-pats, and none is particularly strong to suggest that it can make up for what she stands to lose.
Who more than Francine Prose, who also teaches creative writing, knows Chekhov's suggestion if you show a gun in the first act, it better be fired later. Yet, like the rest of this undramatic story, when the gun reappears, it has no real affect on the events. It doesn't drive the action of that scene--just as there is no dramatic action anywhere in the novel. (e.g., Zeke driver's permit and his father allow him to drive to the nearest supermarket every afternoon with Lula in the passenger seat. The reader is often in the car during these boring excursions. Yet one day when they find the supermarket closed for renovations and Lula agrees to continue to a more distant supermarket, there are no consequences. The author simply dropped the ball on one more event that could have become interesting. Otherwise, why bother telling us about the closed supermarket?)
In another tool that Prose would have frowned upon had it appeared in her students' work or in a book she reviewed, Prose uses coincidence to divert the story into another path. The meeting of Don's former girlfriend when Lula visits Zeke's college gives Lula a new career path as an Albanian-English court interpreter, but that too, is not milked for all its worth because she only visits the court to learn that the subject of her infatuation is a criminal, a fact that both the reader and she had known from the moment he showed up at Mister Stanley's door. She doesn't even become his court interpreter, which might have revived this otherwise lethargic story.
Lula keeps throwing "Little known facts about Albania," and adds that all facts about Albania are little known. That humor is one of the brighter sayings of Lula as Prose introduces the reader to some of the realities of life in Albania, not much different from any other former communist regime.
As the novel droned on, holding my attention only because of Prose's prose and reputation, I was certain that there would be a payoff at the end with some huge revelation or some twist that would make this long, boring story worth the time. That did not happen, as the ending, like the rest of the book is not believable and left me cold.