Customer Reviews

Misadventures

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

First of all, let's be clear: this is a memoir, not a novel (as some readers seem to think). Basically, a 50-year-old working class London woman has written down around a hundred or so vignettes or episodes from her life. Smith is a totally ordinary woman, living a totally ordinary life as a secretary and temp, and has no great story to tell. What she does have is mostly mundane memories and stories about friends, acquaintances, and people she passes on the street-all told in a flat, unadorned prose. These are presented chronologically, and are mostly around a page in length each.

There are basically two reactions readers might have to this. The first is to be appalled at the simplistic style, stunned at the lack of any compelling story, and bored to tears with the banality of whole effort. One might wonder what the point is of a memoir in which there is no narrative thread to follow and the author's deepest thoughts and emotions are never present. Some will definitely find this a frustrating and annoying read, as it subverts the prevailing trend of edgy memoirs. The second reaction one might have is to appreciate the entire enterprise as a tribute to the everywoman that goes unnoticed and unheralded. One could find a certain profundity in the series of banal episodes, and view it as a valuable document of women's social history. Is there a larger meaning to be found in Smith's portrait of her half-century? Well, it's kind of one of those situations where if you think there is, then there is. I myself found it oddly compelling reading, although rather affected. Ultimately, the book's a mirror, and how one reacts to it may be more interesting than the life it describes.

Sylvia Smith, just an everyday woman, writes little occurences and encounters she's had throughout her life, from childhood to her current age, ranging from 3 year romantic relationships, to a shop keeper who asked to take her out for coffee and she declined. So simple you'll wish you had thought of this idea and published it yourself! I literally couldn't put it down.

This book is the equivalent of an indie movie. It may appear dull and unglamourous on the surface, but looked at as a whole, it is a profound portrait of a woman's life. It's simplicity is what makes it so compelling

Smith's vignettes are so everyday and mundane that you are forced to look for a larger meaning. Her stories are all of our stories. And any life is interesting when examined this closely.

The ennui of day-to-day living is opened up and rendered poignant and amusing. Smith seems to write in a clipped, declarative way, but it is secretly loaded with style and observational prowess.

I mistakenly chose this book for my book club to read and it was unanimously panned. I hated this woman - she was mean, petty, and insipid. I finished it because I kept thinking there would be more to it. There wasn't.

These stories are so slim and inconsequential that motivation to read on wanes fast. And the flatness of the prose style - which I suppose is deliberately naive - doesn't help. It's a dull book. The only coherence - and again, I presume this is deliberate - is in the relationship of the nonentities described to the author. This alone is not enough to carry a novel - it's a one trick pony. I struggled to care about the author (I assume it's autobiographical - no-one could create a life this boring) or the characters she meets. Sure, real life can be tedious and inconsequential, but there should be more to fiction.