Customer Reviews

The Great Perhaps: A Novel

5 star:		(13)
4 star:		(19)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

When I first started reading the Great Perhaps, I loved the author's style of writing. Simple, to the point, and the characters are a little quirky: one rebellious teenager, one religious daughter, an unsatisfied mom and an oblivious father. Right off it reminded me of the book the Corrections, but I didn't like any of the characters in the Corrections. In the Great Perhaps, I at least started liking them.

But then, it became harder to like anyone. The rebellious teenager is at the extreme end of hating government, hating corporations, and pretty much hating everyone. Having grown up with a lot of teenagers that had similiar ideas to her, I could relate, however they would never have been as wild, childish and immature as she was. Pipe bombs and ranting editorials? I don't understand how this girl should have such a mature outlook on how the government really is and how media controls what society knows about, and then she blows it but having temper tantrums and hissy fits.

The mother and father have marital problems, and each of them try to deal with everything in their own seperate, strange ways. The religious daughter, who does have a "Are You There God, it's Me Margaret" quality about her is probably the least confusing, turning to a God that she is not sure that she believes in because she knows that her family is starting to travel the road of the emotional breakdown.

Like I said in the title of this review, I went into this book thinking I was going to love it, but only ended up liking it. I am interested in reading other books by this author as well, but am nervous of finding the patterns of overly obvious character development in each one.

"The Great Perhaps" is one of those books where you finish it and just think, "wow." The characters themselves are fairly unpleasant in the beginning, and do nothing readily remarkable. Although the characters belong to the same family, and four of them live in the same house, for much of the story, it reads like a collective monologue. Just four narcissists and a shell of a grandfather going through their insignificant lives.

Then author Joe Meno works his magic. I do not want to sound gushy and I definitely do not want to give away anything in the plot, anything about the characters. If you're thinking about buying and reading this book, do. The characters will not make a wonderful first impression on you, but the narrative voice, the style, will pull you through and make you want to keep reading, and you'll be rewarded. At least I feel like I was. Rewarded without being preached at, uplifted in a way, without the use of cheesy plot devices.

If you would like something to compare "The Great Perhaps" to, think of "White Noise" by Don DeLillo, which is a novel also peopled by characters who muddle through this modern world, maybe trying to make sense of it, maybe simply interested in gazing into a mirror, but it's impossible for the reader to make quick decisions about them, about the story. I cannot recommend "The Great Perhaps" enough, and the reason is best summed up by a line from the book itself: "It's beautiful because it's complicated."

The Great Perhaps is the novel that The Corrections should have been: witty, empathetic, and engaging. Jonathan is an academic scientist married to Madeline, another academic scientist. Although he loves his family, he is far too distracted by an internet girlfriend, a Jacques Cousteau-like paleontologist rival, and his pursuit of a giant squid to recognize that he has lost touch with the concerns of his wife and children. The pigeons upon which Madeline's research is based are raping and killing each other, his eldest daughter Amelia is constructing a pipe bomb and constantly wearing a beret, and his youngest Thisbe may be a lesbian though she feels guilty about it and prays a lot. Additionally, Jonathan's father is in a nursing home and seldom seems mentally present anymore, despite the fact that Jonathan still needs guidance. When Madeline temporarily becomes as self-serving as he is and demands a separation at the same time as his father's health falters, Jonathan becomes unraveled and consequently so does the rest of the family.

The chapters of The Great Perhaps for the most part focus on one of the five members of the Casper family. Joe Meno is at his best when describing the characters of Jonathan and particularly his children. Jonathan is the quirky stereotype of a man facing a mid-life crisis, while Amelia is the epitome of teenage angst. He missteps slightly in telling Henry's story, which involves German spies and Japanese internment camps. These chapters and a couple which don't pertain to the main story (labeled "historically significant") do not seem to fit with the dark but humorous tone of the rest of the novel, and could have been omitted.

The Great Perhaps reminded me very much of American Beauty, in that it does an excellent job of portraying the internal struggles that people who (on the surface) live a relatively carefree life face. One could argue that Meno's clouds are the literary equivalent to Sam Mendes' plastic bag.

Ultimately, this is a worthwhile read because although the Casper family seems so odd their struggles are common to everyone. You will laugh at their strange behavior yet see parts of yourself in each character. The Great Perhaps addresses the problems and insecurities created in many families, and should appeal to anyone who appreciates masterful characterization.

The Great Perhaps provides an almost elegiac look at how we deal with fear in modern American society. From the microcosm of a small family ensconced in an affluent liberal enclave that exists amidst some of the roughest neighborhoods in Chicago, to the global effects of the Bush Administration's Iraq War and the mindsets prevalent immediately before the 2004 election, fear - its nature and effects - permeates this book. In that respect, this book reminds me a bit of Walker Percy's *Love in the Ruins,* another great read that addresses both the prevalent fears of its time and the sinking feeling that human society is disintegrating.

However, while Percy's book limits itself to one thin blue-blooded protagonist's point of view, The Great Perhaps explores the nature of fear from stylistically unique viewpoints of every member of a Chicago family. The technique is effective, if somewhat jarring, in conveying the author's clear-eyed compassion for his characters, some of whom would be unlikeable otherwise. The father, Jonathan, seizes at the sight of clouds. Faced with such an uncontrollable physiological response to ephemerality, he obsessively seeks something approaching the eternal. Not God, not religion, not truth: a giant prehistoric squid whose dna would be virtually unchanged from prehistoric times thanks to its extreme solitude.

The mother, Madeline, whose research on pigeons has taken a disturbing turn, rides off in the opposite direction, chasing a cloud that looks like a man. Jonathan's father, who has always been afraid of the dark, is trying to disappear. The daughters, neglected by their self-absorbed parents, try in different ways to manage their fears by controlling their worlds. Amelia, the elder, wears a black beret and writes seditious editorials for the school newspaper. Thisbe, a freshman, prays incessantly, mostly to be struck dead where she sits or stands (in between thinking horrid little racist thoughts). Again, it is only Meno's deftness that presents these highly flawed characters in such a way that the reader can feel not only sympathy, but something close to familial affection, for them.

The family drama occurs at a specific point in time, the 2004 election, when the United States was presented with its own choice between a decisive candidate who made some people feel safer, and a more nebulous candidate who was more thoughtful and less sure of himself.

Meno gets all of this across with prose that is lighthearted and much less dense than that of the authors who have addressed similar themes. Overall, I really enjoyed reading the book. It gave me plenty to think about without overwhelming me or feeling like work.

This book offers a surprisingly honest, yet sad, glimpse into the life of today's modern family. The Casper family is, in many ways, like many modern families: both parents work at jobs that require long hours away from home, and more often than not, bring that work home with them. They are not religious - maybe going to church once a year. The children, who are mostly ignored (who also pretend they like it that way) are both rebelling, albeit in very different ways, and I don't think they are quite sure what they are rebelling against. Each member of the family is so caught up in their own drama that they have no idea what is going on with the rest of their family, let alone with the rest of the world. As such, the parents marriage starts to crumble with each parent scared to just have it out with the other - instead they hide from each other, and from their children as well. The backdrop for all of this is 2004, the time of the race for President between Bush and Kerry, while the wars in the Iraq and Afghanistan are raging. The backstory/core to all of this is the cowardice and dominance of mankind as a biological theory. The Caspers are descended from a line of cowards, all afraid to do anything. They are afraid to speak to each other out of fear of what the other might do or say. They are afraid to rely on each other, and even to admit to the rest of the world that yes, in fact, I am related to that crazy/pathetic person. While they are afraid of all these things, they all have their strong opinions on everything, but in the end are afraid to back those opinions up. Much of the story returns to the war aspect, with the family opposed to Bush, and the actions he took with the war. They don't understand why history is full of so many wars, why man is determined to be so dominant over other men. By the end of the book, clear opinions/hypotheses are made regarding a theory of dominance and cowardice in man, and basically why both are needed in the world. Overall, this was an interesting, if slightly strange book, with probably a lot more symbolism, etc. than I am capable of extracting. It's one that will make you think. Not your typical read, but recommended.

Basically a "slice of life" kind of book where all of the main characters complain for pages and pages about how life sucks. Told in present-tense prose, the book goes on for almost three hundred pages of downward spiral until the author slaps a happy ending on the last thirty pages or so that feels really out of place, like it comes from out of the blue.

The main character Jonathan obsesses about the giant squid he hopes to find, the narration getting bogged down in biological science. He has a bit of a nervous breakdown holing up in a tent made out of sheets in the family's den, and that's where he basically stews throughout the middle of the book.

His wife Madeline is also an animal researcher whose research revolves around the social order of a pigeon colony. At first it seems there's a bit of a mystery there -- some of the pigeons are murdered and raped by other pigeons. I'm not sure if it's possible for pigeons to rape each other, but that was a minor point, especially when Madeline's story swerves away from the pigeon thing so that she can follow a man-shaped cloud as it walks around the sky above the city of Chicago. Say what? I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be aliens or some kind of dream, but I kept reading to find out what the heck it was. When what the heck it was was finally explained, I was even more confused.

Jonathan and Madeline have two daughters, also with their own problems. Amelia is seventeen (and yet there is no discussion in the novel of things a real seventeen-year-old might be thinking about like the future and college). Instead, Amelia stews about the pervasiveness of corporate America, these angry rants that in the end go nowhere. Along the way she has an oral sexual relationship with a professor whose class she sneaks into, and she also spends some time fashioning a pipe bomb, but both of those ideas fizzle out and go nowhere in particular.

The younger sister Thisbe is also an annoying whiner who puts her faith in God. Her faith is tested, however, when she meets and becomes attracted to another girl.

There's also a grandfather character who is so sad he's trying to just disappear. Clouds and moths both figure prominently as metaphors, and there is also some delving into Jonathan's ancestors (oddly though these trips are also told in present tense) to point to Jonathan's fear of clouds as well as his apparently genetic inability to move forward.

For the most part, I didn't enjoy the book too much, but perhaps that's just me.

This was probably my least favorite novel of all those I've read in the Amazon Vine program. The characters are universally dislikeable, though I felt some sympathy for the young daughter who had to live with her self-involved parents. The giant squid angle seemed almost totally disconnected from the rest of the story. For a much more informative and entertaining look at oceanography, try Jim Lynch's The Highest Tide [HIGHEST TIDE]

Meno appears to be going for a John Irving-like tale of a dysfunctional family, but ends up with an unconvincing half-story - maybe that's the point given the nebulous title, "The Great Perhaps". Two-and-a-half stars for the story, but I'll round up to three overall for imaginative elements and structure.

This book is divided into chapters devoted to each of the quirky members of a very intelligent but highly dysfunctional family. Three generations of quirkiness and turmoil, a family divided and on the verge of falling apart. The book reads like a series of short stories, with limited interaction among family members. The grandfather's story goes back to the World War II era, in a particularly absorbing interlude, but mainly the book is set in the current day. Rounding out the cast of characters, you have the absentminded professor father, the frustrated mother, the rebellious older teenage daughter, and the younger teen daughter trying to find meaning in religion despite being brought up without it.

There is a particularly strange plot line involving the mother that brought me abruptly out of the world of the story, though up until then I'd been suspending disbelief. Now, granted this is a story of eccentrics, but the character of the mother is the most grounded, least eccentric of the family, and to me this part of the story was jarring and out of place. I also lack patience with self-absorbed teenagers in real life, and have little desire to read about annoying fictional teens (the older rebellious sister in particular--the younger one was much more tolerable). This bias did affect my enjoyment of the book as well.

I do believe I'm suffering from "dysfunctional family drama" fatigue at this point; if I'd read this one before the many others I've already read, I suspect my review would have been more favorable. I get the impression that the authors writing in this genre are striving to outdo each other in the wackiness and eccentricities of their fictional characters, sometimes to the point of unbelievability. I became impatient with the characters, wanting them to just show some common sense, and found them less likable as a result. I enjoyed parts of the book, but kept running into the less compelling characters with each new chapter, making for a sometimes frustrating reading experience.

*The Great Perhaps* seems another attempt at creating the Great American Novel, one that reveals essential truths related to family, work, and society. Joe Meno has written a mostly entertaining and sometimes insightful story about four generations of the Casper family, located in Chicago. The main focus is on paleontologist Jonathan Casper, his behavioral researcher wife Madeline, and their distinctly troubled daughters and Amelia and Thisbe. Each character searches for meaning and purpose in a unique way. The family is disjointed and unstable, and yet all crave stability and belonging.

The style has an understated, deadpan ring reminiscent of Kurt Vonnegut. Also Vonnegut-esque is the introduction of fantastic elements that add a touch of the bizarre to the narration (Madeline, for example, is compelled to chase a "cloud figure" and Jonathan's father Henry limits himself to one fewer spoken word each day until he "disappears.") There are simple drawings of objects presented as "figures" (this seems pretentious to me) and passages presented for no particular reason as a series of individual points demarcated by letters. This quirkiness seems both a strength and a weakness. There are effective and amusing (sometimes "cute") passages written in this stylized manner, but because of this understated *faux* surrealism the plot and characters end up lacking real complexity.

Meno makes heavy use of symbols in this novel. In addition to cloud figures there is a reclusive giant prehistoric squid and there are folded paper birds. After enduring endlessly excruciating high school English discussions in which symbols and metaphors were revered as the *sine qua non* of literature, I studiously learned to ignore these, but I at least recognize them when they reveal themselves.

The book has a meandering, disjointed, time-traveling form of organization that apparently is all the rage among novelists these days (Wally Lamb, for example, has done something similar in *The Hour I First Believed*). To some extent, this works to break up and add complexity to a simple plot line, but here there are sections relating to the older generations of Caspers that seem mere distractions. While reading these I kept thinking, what happened to the story, anyway?

Ultimately, the themes and resolution relating to the Big Questions are nothing groundbreaking, but then, at this point perhaps readers should not expect them to be. Overall, this is an interesting, quick, insightful read from a talented writer from whom I suspect we will continue to hear in upcoming years.

I've never read anything by Joe Meno prior to this and had no idea what to expect from it. However, from the first page, I was pleasantly surprised by the writing style. It's fluid, which makes it an easy read.

Each chapter is written from the perspective of a different character (in third person), which can be jarring if you're not used to that sort of thing, but it doesn't take long to adjust.

Each character has his/her own idiosyncrasies and quirks. Jonathan is obsessed with a giant squid and has a seizure whenever he sees (or *think* he sees) a cloud. Madeline has been engrossed by her study of birds, or rather, why the male pigeons keep slaughtering the female pigeons. Johnathan's father, Henry, is attempting to disappear altogether by speaking less and less--this is due to an unfortunate event during WWII and his involvement with said event. Johnathan and Madeline's eldest daughter, Amelia, comes off as a political nut and their youngest, Thisbe, is on a quest to find God.

It's quite easy to look at each of these characters and think they're all broken--horridly so--but the way Meno spins their story, they--and their flaws--become quite human.

In some ways, while I was reading, I kept thinking about the movie Smart People. Not that the characters parallel each other or anything like that, but the two have the same *feel*. Of course, I will say that Meno's characters are slightly more out there than the characters in the movie.

Overall, I very much enjoyed the book, but I believe it's for a specific audience. If you're into books that feel almost voyeuristic--spying in on a family's life and just watching how they go about their various tasks--then there's a good chance you'll enjoy this.