From Publishers Weekly
The soul of the Haven family decays inside a massive faux Tudor dubbed On Ne Peut Pas Vivre Seul—"One Cannot Live Alone." Barraged with the spiraling lies and self-deceptions chronicled here, however, readers may wonder whether living alone is such a bad idea. This first book by Miller,
Esquire's award-winning fiction editor, entertains, even fascinates, but ultimately strands the reader with the family's unresolved conflicts and filthy laundry at a homestead literally in flames. The story centers on Merit Haven Ash, grown daughter of two artists, Jenny Meatyard Haven and Lowell Haven, and Fergus Goldwyn, Lowell's lover and Merit's surrogate parent. Miller's talent for caricature is evident early on, as Merit observes her husband Wyatt's obsessive-compulsive behavior, and Fergus, as fabulously bitchy as he is lonely, describes Lowell's evil self-obsession. The author tempers her humor admirably, too, tucking in heartbreaking moments of self-reflection. The trouble is that the scenes don't hang together. Lowell and Jenny are fascinating raptors, and the reader is ready for confrontation as Miller tells the characters' secrets and escalates the drama toward a costume party that is the family's finis. But along the way, Merit and Fergus morph so extremely that their behavior stops making sense. Perhaps their leaps in personality are Miller's take on what happens to children—and adults childlike in their desire for love—when they are betrayed. At the (abrupt and confusing) end, however, it's not the fault of readers if they feel as lost and confused as troubled Merit and her adoptive parent, Fergus.
Agent, Christy Fletcher. Author tour.(May) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From The New Yorker
In this bewildering first novel, Lowell Haven is a charismatic self-portraitist who lives with his wealthy lover, Fergus, in a multi-turreted folly in Akron. But have Lowell's paintings—of himself as Richard III, as the Wife of Bath, etc.—really been painted by his embittered ex-wife Jenny? Lowell and Jenny's neglected daughter, Merit, dreads dealing with all three of them, and soon so do we: Jenny is an alcoholic, Fergus sneezes with violent frequency, and Lowell seduces anything that moves. Their greatest offense, though, is their two-dimensionality; they're like campy walk-ons in a Republican fever dream. The good news is that Miller can write, and everything about Merit's fairly banal life—her vexing marriage, her erratic driving, her job selling ad space for Ohio Is—is described with hilarity and complexity. Unfortunately, these qualities are absent from the rest of the novel, which eventually chokes to death on its own whimsy.
Copyright © 2005
The New Yorker
See all Editorial Reviews