Customer Reviews

Little Children: A Novel

5 star:		(108)
4 star:		(68)
3 star:		(36)
2 star:		(31)
1 star:		(18)

 

 

In Tom Perrotta's latest novel, "Little Children," the author focuses his microscope on the marital problems of suburban mothers and fathers with young children. Thirty-year-old Todd is a former jock and a blonde hunk dubbed "The Prom King" by the playground mothers. He is a stay-at-home dad who takes care of three-year-old Aaron while his gorgeous wife, Karen, works as a documentary filmmaker. Todd has failed the bar exam twice, as his wife reminds him repeatedly, and his prospects of ever becoming the family breadwinner seem dim. Sarah is a college graduate who is stagnating mentally as a stay-at-home mom. Her marriage to her businessman husband, Richard, is in the doldrums.

The other playground mothers watch in horror as Sarah strides up to Todd one day and kisses him the first time that they meet. Sarah arranges to "bump into" Todd and the two forge a strong bond that threatens their fragile marriages.

The characters in this book are out of touch with their spouses, themselves, and, at times, with reality. Although Perrotta's writing is often humorous, this book is not merely a lighthearted satire of suburban mores and modern marriage. There is much ugliness here, mostly centered on the townspeople's horrified reaction when a convicted sex offender moves in with his mother after a stint in prison. One bitter retired ex-cop named Larry engages in a personal vendetta to harass the ex-con and his aged mother. Todd goes along for the ride, and although he verbally protests, he never makes much of an effort to stop Larry from committing his horrible deeds.

"Little Children" is a brilliant and merciless look at the sterility of suburbia and at the dark emotions that threaten the characters' placid and predictable lives. Most of the individuals in this novel are hypocritical, selfish, and immature. Nevertheless, Perrotta is such a gifted writer that he humanizes the characters and makes us care deeply about them. The author implies that even when we grow up and become parents ourselves, in some ways we all remain "little children" inside.

Tom Perrotta's Little Children is, in a lot of ways, much like those cheese goldfish on the cover of the novel--addictive and easy to swallow. Unlike the goldfish, however, Little Children also contemplates larger issues. Perrotta is a master. Little Children is funny (laugh-out-loud at certain points), engaging, compelling while also being thought-provoking. I finished this book over two weeks ago, yet the characters and their decisions in the novel still haunt me. The main characters, Sarah and Todd, are two thirty-something suburban parents who are, for varying reasons, unhappy with their lives. Todd and Sarah meet at a town playground and from there, the relationship develops and pretty much serves as the unifying thread throughout the novel. Perrotta manages to create well-rounded, flawed characters with a sympathetic eye. We can somehow forgive them for their flaws and mistakes because we can understand why they do what they do. Little Children is truly an enjoyable and satisfying read--a rare thing. The ending is terrific. I thought there were one of two things that could happen at the end, and I wasn't sure which I preferred. Perrotta had a different idea and took the characters in another direction (a believable one) entirely. I recommend this novel very highly.

I've enjoyed Perrotta's other books over the years, but nothing he has written in the past could have prepared me for "Little Children", a fine, fine novel.

In spare, wry prose he has given us a comedy of resentment, a book that should be put in a time capsule to explain our self-important, self-absorbed societybut only after it's read and passed on to at least a couple of friends.

Perrotta's keen eye, sensitivity to withering detail and, conversely, his generosity of spirit are all in evidence, as in all his other books. But in "Little Children", his 30ish mommies and daddies are haunted by the vague sense that accomodations made a long time ago have taken them off the happy not to mention fasttrack. They are victims of resume interruptusand that has them feeling unhinged.

I read the review in the Sunday Times and, while I shared the reviewer's high opinion of Perrotta's effort, I though the Cheever comparison wasn't quite right. The author I thought of us I read "Little Children" was Iris Murdoch, in that wonderful period in her career that saw books like "A Fairly Honourable Defeat", "The Black Prince" and "A Word Child". Novels that potray our folly unflinchingly, but also allow for moments of understanding, grace and renewal.

Which is good, because in the end, someone's still got to pay the bills.

I've always been curious about what it must feel like for people who still consider themselves young to have children and settle into suburbia, into a life that just a few years earlier they would have thought bland and unexciting. Considering how widespread the experience of "settling down" is for people of a certain class, I've always been surprised that there haven't been more books written about this transition from youth to a more routine maturity. A review of Little Children in the New York Times made this seem like a book that was finally exploring this territory.

After gobbling this book up in two days, I'm afraid it doesn't really explore that strange transition; it really doesn't explore anything at all. It skims over the surface of too many characters and too many events, and uses that oldest of devices - an extramarital affair - to sustain interest, without arousing interest in much else. When reading Perrotta's excellent description of a football game, I think I understood why: Perrotta writes like a movie. His smooth, readable prose translates easily into images, the plots dovetail in a contrived and predictable way, and the entire plot of the book is split up into short scenes just like film narratives. This book would be incredibly easy to convert into a screenplay, and I'm sure someone's doing just that.

Like many writers whose first exposure to storytelling was through television and the movies, Perrotta seems to write more for the screen than the page. The problem with this is that he doesn't use the resources of the page, the most important of which is giving the characters a real interior life. Everyone in Little Children, from the people having the affair, to the spouses, to the child molester and his mother, is given a thumbnail personality, and a sketch of their personal history, but no one feels particularly alive; I didn't feel like I knew a single one of them. Which meant I didn't much care what happened to them.

Good actors, and a sharp screenplay, could make this material feel more vibrant than it is. Election, already made from one of Perrotta's books, had incredible vitality, partially because it was more clearly satirical than Little Children, which walks the line between satire and realism, and ends up doing neither effectively. The little humorous touches are what work best: for example, the line about JFK Jr. being the patron saint of people who have failed the bar exam, since the fact that he failed twice is sympathetically mentioned to Todd every time his inability to pass is brought up.

Other than these funny bits, the writing is good without ever being great. The big problem, I think, is that none of the characters have the power to surprise us. Todd and Sarah's affair proceeds in quite an ordinary way, the characters think thoughts that are always commonplace, and Perrotta ends with Todd's decidedly unrevelatory realization that his affair is exciting only because he is married. The thrill comes from the break in routine, not from the relationship with Sarah; the second Sarah replaces his wife as his primary relationship, he'll feel restless again. Well, obviously.

If an author wants to startle us, he either has to force us to identify with his characters, or at least understand how they think (for example, with the child molester), or depict the social forces that create these dreary people. Or, finally, make the book so funny or entertaining that we don't care about how predictable the characters are. Perrotta throws in some outlandish plot developments, like Sarah's husband being obsessed with an Internet pornography site, and then going off to see the woman who runs it, but someone the husband still felt like the same boring old guy; I wouldn't have cared if he'd ended up being the porn queen's long lost brother. Now, if Perrotta's point is that these people just aren't that special, then I don't see why I should bother reading a book about them.

The most interesting part of the book probably illustrates this. It comes in the book club that Sarah joins that is discussing Madame Bovary, the umbrella from under which all this infidelity-as-response-to-boredom literature emerged. Sarah says that Madame Bovary's problem wasn't that she was unfaithful, or excessively romantic, but that she committed adultery with losers, and never found anyone worthy of her heroic passion. Now, it isn't fair to compare every novel with old masterpieces, but Perrotta might have considered his own character's statement, and thought about whether anyone in his book either had, or was worthy of, that sort of passion. And, if not, why write about them?

I'm a loving mom to two boys (8 yrs old, 16 months old), married, work full-time, and have little time to read -- but I MADE time to finish this one. I recommend it especially to other parents of young children trying to do the marriage/house/kids suburban thing and finding it's not always all it's hyped to be. (And I suspect we are many!) Found myself identifying with Sarah as she tried to measure up to the moms on the playground, identifying with Kathy as she realized what was happening to her marriage, truly wondering what in fact was going to happen with Sarah and Todd (and although a bit disappointed by their decisions, I know most of us would do the very same thing)...and who could resist wanting to know what ends up happening to the panty-sniffer, the molester, Mary Ann, and the football team? I advise those reviewers who were offended by this book to get a dictionary and review the definition of "satire"...or just stick with the Nicholas Sparks books if you want non-offensive. As for LITTLE CHILDREN, what a cast and what a slice of (exaggerated, but basically accurate) reality.

For the record, I would only give 6 or so books a year 5 stars. I'm not someone who hands them out like candy on Halloween.

That being said, Perotta's novel is a highly involving surburban satire that is difficult to put down. Some may say that he isn't making much of a point, and maybe that's true, but what a humorous and enjoyable read. A handful of characters living in the suburbs interact over a time period of a couple of months. There are affairs and vandalism and gossip, and much like Joe College was a vivid evocation of University life, this novel is an honest depiction of yuppie life. The characters aren't necessary likable, since they all have flaws, but they ARE fun to read about. His choice of title is very accurate and sums up the novel well. If you have ever lived in the suburbs, you will recognize some of these characters as your friends and neighbors. I also thought his depiciton of the child molester character was simultaneously sympathetic and accurate. A fast read.

I read this book over a weekend, I was utterly incapable of placing it down. I carried it throughout the weekend, to have it nearby for moments of silence that allowed me to indulge in this fantasy...

This book is so painful, yet amazing. I wanted to both scream at Sarah, and pat her on the back. She is such a lost woman, but at the same time, she is just finding the person she once was...

I love this book, and was so utterly heartbroken...

I strongly encourage a few nights on the porch, with a glass of your favorite mixed drink to fully indulge in this tasty treat.

I would be utterly ashamed if my husband read this book...he'd wonder why it is I loved it so much...he has nothing to fear...because our Sarah lived out the fantasy for us all...

Tom Perrotta, product of a state (New Jersey) that would more appropriately be called "The Suburbia State" than "The Garden State," has penned an engaging reflection of the suburbs that will have many readers from the 'burbs nodding and saying, "Yup, Yup." In fact, LITTLE CHILDREN is a perfect mirror for what we in America have become -- overgrown children who never want to grow up (or get old, or get wrinkled, or get sick, or get bored, or most especially get dead, etc.). In other words: Baby boomers, heal thyselves.

This engaging book shows Perrotta at the top of his game. Readers familiar with his earlier works have come of age with him, from the New Jersey kid in the lovely short story collection, BAD HAIRCUT, to the clueless undergrad at Yale in the humorous bildungsroman, JOE COLLEGE. Now Perrotta sets his sights on "adults," and he's wise enough to create a story line that appeals to both women and men alike.

Centered as it is on stay-at-home moms, LITTLE CHILDREN would seem to fall into that category known as "chick lit." But wait. We have a stay-at-home dad, the "Prom King" sort who is not only good-looking and athletic, but apparently incapable of passing his bar exam (channeling JFK Jr... JFK, Jr. to the playground, please). So now we have the men on board, and as soon as one of the moms dares to walk over to the "King" and plant a wet one on his lips, all sexual hell breaks loose (you guessed it -- the perfect antidote for the boredom we know as "suburbia" and "marriage once the initial thrill is gone").

Much as JOE COLLEGE was slightly hampered by a sub-plot involving the protagonist taking over his father's roach coach and dodging goons fighting for territory, LITTLE CHILDREN is distracted by a sub-plot involving a newly-released sex offender turned loose in a neighborhood of more-acceptable sex offenders (uh, that'd be the Prom King cheating on his wife and his mistress cheating on her husband). Perfectly-tuned satire, in its way, but the real fun is watching the affair gain steam and then begin to wobble under the weight of its own passion. If you're from upper middle class America, you will either recognize yourself or recognize what you sometimes fantasize yourself to be. The mirror may be a little more honest than you'd hope, but I promise you'll enjoy the ride.

One final note: few are the authors who can nail an ending just right. For whatever reason, it is the single most difficult task there is, often humbling even the most talented of writers. Although I obviously cannot reveal the denouement, I can say this. Perrotta nails the ending. It was one of the most honest, poignant, and dead-on finishes I'd read by a contemporary writer in a long, long time.

As the saying goes, "different strokes for different folks," and that's fine by me. I can understand that there will be readers who don't get writers like Tom Perrotta, or another one of my favorites, T.C. Boyle. The humor is lost on them, as is the intended exaggeration, and they may be offended by language or sexual content. But some of us click with these writers as if we'd been waiting our whole lives for them.

Frankly, I wouldn't recommend this novel to my mother, or to anyone under the age of twenty-one--the former due to the sex, the latter mostly because they'd miss a lot of the finer points. But to all my buddies who read and who shared growing up in the American suburbs, heck, yeah!

In my opinion, the ideal demographic for Perrotta is someone between the age of thirty and fifty-five, who had some college, watches Comedy Central, enjoys the occasional football game, is up on pop culture and current events, listens to rock or jazz, has at some point smoked or drank (pick your poison), been in a few relationships--some better than others--is not terribly religious, is not completely unfamiliar with porn, and who enjoys satire and black humor. Contrarily, if you are someone who is offended or puzzled by a show like "South Park," then "Little Children" is probably not your cup of tea.

One reason I mentioned T.C. Boyle is because I see similarities in world view, though Boyle tends to be darker and stretches reality more. If you are familiar with "The Tortilla Curtain" and enjoyed it, then you're going to love this. There's the same kind of tragicomic vibe, except instead of it being about suburbia versus illegal aliens, it's suburbia versus internet porn, child molesters, and adulterers. (I know, sounds hilarious.) It is also very well-written and fast-paced, and peppered with dead-on characterizations of human behavior and American society.

For example, this description of a group of boys:

"The skateboarders were out in front of the library, and Todd stopped in his usual spot to see what they were up to. There were four of them tonight, boys between the ages of ten and thirteen, dressed in knee-length shorts, baggy T-shirts, and fashionably retro sneakers. They wore helmets, but left the chin straps unbuckled or loosely dangling, rendering them more or less useless as protective gear. A few days earlier, Todd had pointed this out to the king of the skateboarders, a scrawny, loose-limbed daredevil known to the others as G., but the kid had responded with one of those blank looks they specialized in; he hadn't even bothered to shrug."

Now, if that ain't perfect, I don't know what is.

If you are a fan of Boyle, or Nick Hornby, or even Tom Wolfe, you'll be happy to join the Tom Perrotta fan club. (Just think, that gives you four other great books to look forward to, though keep in mind, this is his edgiest.)

This is billed as a satire of suburban life. It is more than that. Mr. Perrotta strips all romance from such talismans as child-rearing.

The impetus for the plot-lines in the book are children - little children. There are a few threads that run through - the parents who meet on the playground and have an affair, the child molester who moves into the neighborhood to be haunted by an ex-cop child-killer; the super-mom who loses all passion in her life and the wife of the stay-at-home dad who is envious of his life style.

Throughout are characters unhappy with their "plights" but who lead lives that appear to be ideal, such as the mother who craves adult stimulation, the working mother who wants to stay at home and the super-mom who looks to be losing everything by the end. The character closest to happiness is the stay-at-home dad who is hounded to go to work to support his family. He is the man in the affair, but will he run off?

Like all good satires, the aspect of each personality brought most to focus is the one that the author wishes to brandish so the reader can lampoon it or defend it on his own. What makes this an exceptionally good work is that the characters are very believable. Only the ex-cop is a bit over the top in his vigilanteism.

The emotions that Mr. Perrota brings to the surface are all ones that every parent of young children has felt at one time or the other. Thus the book rings so true. He just infuses these thoughts and feelings in a rather pure state in each of his characters.

A very well-written book that keeps moving. An entertaining and thought-provoking look at lives of parents in our modern day of working and non-working parents. Strongly recommended.