For generations, a staple of romantic fiction has been a genre called the marriage plot. An underprivileged female protagonist must find a rich, aristocratic husband, or her life will be ruined. Her choices for the future will be to enter a convent or resign herself to spinsterhood.

Second in a series of posts with my book reviews of literary fiction – the kind of stuff that, well, made me think.

My book review and reading suggestion for this installment is The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides. It’s a contemporary story about four friends, which begins when they meet in college at Brown. It updates the question embedded in the old theme.

It’s about whether we understand anything about what makes relationships work.

Here’s my book review of The Marriage Plot, a novel by Jeffrey Eugenides.

The Marriage Plot is masterful on many levels. At first I wasn’t drawn to any of the three characters in the love triangle – Madeleine, Leonard, and Mitchell. Each seemed deeply flawed, and they are. Except you read along and find that Eugenides thinks we all are, just as deeply in our unique ways, and are none the lesser for it. That’s the way people are, and the way life goes. We stumble through it, thinking we are somehow in control, and it’s what happens nevertheless while we are furiously busy making other plans, or simply fretting about making up our minds.

This is a literary novel, in the best sense, and I was surprised to read some critics cramming it into the diminutive genre “campus novel.” That would be like classifying Pride and Prejudice as a rom com, which is not as irrelevant as it sounds. The marriage plot, you see, is the genre form of which that work is representative. Eugenides wants to know whether the marriage plot is dead as a meaningful literary form, now that marriage seems hardly worthy as the ultimate goal of youthful aspirations.

But back to Eugenides. The characters meet in a semiotics class at Brown, and the author gives a lot of detail aboutthe subject and its impact on their personal thoughts. Semiotics claims, for example, that humans would not experience love as we have come to understand it unless we had read about it (or seen movies about it) first. There’s a similar concept in Stendhal’s The Red and the Black. The narrator comments that peasants in the French countryside cope with life less well than the sophisticated citizens of Paris, who have all read novels that give them models for how to act in society.

Ultimately, this is a novel about perception, what we make of reality as it is happening to us, and our inability to make meaning of events in time to control their outcome. Things happen or they don’t. Things work out or they don’t. They mostly don’t, and we move on.

Perhaps significantly, the character in this book who understands himself best is the one whose grasp on reality is most tenuous because he has to work at staying sane. In his acknowledgements, Eugenides credits several experts and sources for genetic research (another theme), but he thanks no one for his extensive detailing of bipolar disorder and its treatment. So naturally I wonder how he came by this information, and at what personal cost.   ~ ~ ~

In Clifford’s Spiral a stroke survivor tries to piece together the fragments of his memories. Was he the victim or the perpetrator? 2020 IPA Distinguished Favorite in Literary Fiction.

When I was in high school, my chemistry teacher approached me and asked with a sly grin, “You interested in mining?” I told him absolutely not. I was going to be a writer. Little did I suspect that he wanted to send me to a student conference on metallurgy where I could seek the fellowship of like-minded teens on a minimally supervised road-trip to the Big City. Undeterred by my abrupt negative response, he grumbled, “Well, you’re interested in mining your own business, aren’t you?” And he sent me anyway.

Now I realize I should’ve listened more carefully to everything he said.

I wrote about a particularly instructive episode in my studies with this crusty chemistry teacher – and my comely lab colleague – in my short story “Chemistry,” which is featured in my collection Boychik Lit. In that book, I include six short stories about coming of age, failing ever upward, and boy-girl chemistry. There’s also a glib essay on the fiction genre (only?) I call boychik lit.

It’s a Kindle book (also EPUB). It’s cheap (but not slutty) and a quick read on your smartphone while you’re waiting for her to finish in the bathroom.

Boychik Lit Kindle

Boychik Lit EPUB

Who were these people really?

The fictional version of the story is now backed up by peer journal documentation.

This special scholar’s courseware edition of Bonfire of the Vanderbiltsincludes the full text of the novel, along with the author’s research whitepaper “Deconstructing the Scandalous Narrative of The Baptism,” which appeared in the Fall 2016 issue of The Journal of Art Crime. Also included in the endmatter are:

• Extensive research bibliography
• Rare photographs from the private collection of the painter’s family
• Links to related audiovisual supplementary materials, including the recording of the author’s presentation on the The Baptism to the American Art Council of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art

In 1892 Paris, Julius Stewart painted The Baptism, a Vanderbilt family scene that contains an embarrassing secret. In the novel, art historian Grace Atwood becomes obsessed with the painting and its hidden clues for reasons that have more to do with her personal ghosts. Either her doting husband is trying to make her think she’s crazy, or she really is in the early stages of dementia.

Praise for Bonfire of the Vanderbilts

“I must say, I am impressed with your sleuthing, your imagination and your ability to weave a story. Your theory is fascinating, and I personally would be quite excited if any piece of it proved true.”  —  Carson Joyner Clark, biographer of painter Julius Stewart

“Alva Vanderbilt Belmont would be very grateful to you for researching a Vanderbilt family painting – as will all the family. And as I do. Historians keep us alive!”  —  Margaret Hayden Rector, Vanderbilt biographer, author of Alva,That Vanderbilt-Belmont Woman

“Of the many inquiries we get, this has been the most interesting in a long time.”  —  The Very Rev. Harry E. Krauss (retired)

“I think you’ve done an extraordinary job of researching and speculating on the painting. You’ve certainly convinced me that this was a Vanderbilt affair!”  —  Mary Sudman Donovan, Historian, Episcopal Church USA, Author of A Different Call: Women’s Ministries in the Episcopal Church, 1850-1920

The new Scholar’s Edition is available from booksellers worldwide in EPUB or Kindle formats:

Amazon Kindle     B&N Nook

Impressionist painter Claude Monet did not become commercially successful until relatively late in his life. By that time, he was prosperous enough to buy a farm estate at Giverny, located a train-ride trip from Paris. Here’s a picture of him in his eighties, seated on a bench near the pond on the estate where he painted his masterwork series of water-lily panoramas.

Claude Monet at Giverny

I first saw this photo in the gift shop at Giverny. It’s a wall-sized blowup. I see him all dressed up in his three-piece suit – very probably, his best – waiting for the photographer. He has a straw hat to shade his eyes. He usually wore one with his bib overalls and old long-sleeved shirt when he painted. Perhaps this is a new one. You can almost see the gold-rimmed spectacles staring out beneath the brim. And the long beard was a trademark, dating from back in the day when it wasn’t all white.

I could imagine his saying to me, “Well, let’s get on with it.” Or, “What are you waiting for?”

I have a framed copy of it on the wall in my bathroom.

He asks me those questions every morning.