The Woman Upstairs (Vintage Contemporaries) Kindle Edition

I disagree that Nora "is in love with a family that feels itself rootless and homeless," or that "Nora, as a character, is a hoot." I do agree with another reviewer that it is nearly impossible to summarize this novel. Indeed, the Book Description provided by Amazon is so anemic and gives no indication of the gifts this book portends, that I passed it up several times.

I'm glad I didn't. An intense page-turner which catapults the reader to a conclusion that is unexpected, disturbing and authentic, it is a book that will remain long after it is completed.

This book is about love and longing and the extent to which we delude ourselves in our effort to rationalize relationships that are asymmetrical in prestige and social standing. Nora knows she is being used, but bathed in the light of the Shahid's attentions accepts without question what amounts to mere scraps--leftovers of their lives which for Nora are pathetically transformative. Their attentions are gifts that not only give her a sense of self-worth but afford a glimmer of the opportunities that might still available to this woman on the cusp of matronhood. Told with the benefit of hindsight, it is a devastating and poignant story about the extent to which we delude ourselves in the face of attention and desire.

Still, this book is not without its limitations. Stunningly absent was any discussion about the shame and self-mortification one would expect in the face of the Shahid's betrayal not to mention any discussion of Nora's corresponding betrayal to her family. Also, her post-hoc rage was strangely one-dimensional, inconsistent with the insight that had characterized the book up to it's remarkable denouement. Also absent was any discussion of Nora's own ambitions, on which the book was oddly quiescent--surely given Sirena's prominence as an artist one would expect Nora to be at least a little jealous if not yearn for Sirena's approval and encouragement. That the book was silent on this point implies that Nora's talent was pedestrian to non-existent (and that Nora knew it) which is inconsistent to the attraction and apparent community of interest between these two women. Notwithstanding her limitations, Sirena affections still needed to be earned and it is doubtful she would have cultivated Nora simply for her ordinariness.

Finally, I found the first pages which are nothing but a rant about Nora's anger, to be very off-putting as it came without context. I figured that if this was all the book was about, I wasn't interested and nearly abandoned it. I'm glad I didn't. A profound story of subservience, sublimation and longing, it's one of the finest books I've read in a while.

I read. I read a lot. I am constantly on the lookout for books, new authors, somebody with some kind of talent that rises above the perfectly adequate and sometimes good writing I mostly encounter. The review of "The Woman Upstairs" in The New York Times piqued my interest, and with everything else on my Kindle finished, I downloaded it and gave it a shot.

The sense of foreboding, of creepy girl- and then family-crush was just terrific from the start, and I loved that I had no idea where the story was going to go, but I knew it wasn't going to be good, not for poor, terrified Nora. The denouement took my breath away. I physically gasped. I have not had such a visceral reaction to a book in years and I LOVE THAT.

None of the characters are particularly likable, except maybe Didi and Esther, but I have a soft spot for Jamaica Plain lesbians. Nora really is a cipher--she speaks of feelings, and wants, and desires, but there isn't really any "there" there. Her internalization of her mother's fears and her own fear of risk have rendered her emotionally mute. The whole saga of falling in love was so pathetic, because not one of them was worth the passion Nora invested.

I find myself wondering what Nora is doing now with her rage. Does it liberate her? Does it unhinge her? I am longing for a sequel!

At first, I adored this book. Here is an excerpt from the first page; the main character, 40-year-old Nora, says, "It was supposed to say 'Great Artist' on my tombstone, but if I died right now it would say, 'such a good teacher/daughter/friend' instead; and what I really want to shout, and in big letters on that grave, too, is F--- YOU ALL."

I was hooked! I even wrote about the same thing into my own novel, Dakota Blues, wherein my protag laments that her headstone would say, "She was a good girl." Aren't we women afraid of this, and don't you suspect it's hugely disproportionate to men feeling the same way?

At the beginning, I was entranced by Claire Messud's writing ability, and as I settled in, I was sure I would be profoundly moved by the storytelling. Some of Nora's thoughts are recognizable in the gut, in a way that is almost impossible to describe. For example, I know EXACTLY what she means when she compares life to a Fun House, but not in a good way, ending with, "I've finally come to understand that life itself is the Fun House. All you want is that door marked EXIT, the escape to a place where Real Life will be; and you can never find it."

Unfortunately, the book didn't turn out to be as compelling as I'd hoped, because it is, unfortunately, somewhat tedious. But it was a worthwhile read nonetheless, and here's why: the entire story is about perception; how people interpret life experiences differently. Warning: spoilers ahead.

Profoundly affected by the perception that her embittered mother had been deprived of the chance to realize her dreams, Nora deludes herself that she is living an independent life, free and unfettered by family, love, or passion. However, we see she's deluded, when her father informs her that her mother (now dead) had been a virtual tyrant, doing exactly what she pleased and directing every aspect of his life. Nora refuses to believe this. When her father laments Nora's solitary lifestyle, Nora thinks he is "unable to see, as my mother would have, that I had almost fulfilled her dream of independence..."

In truth, Nora lives an impoverished life where in the pursuit of such "independence," she avoids attachments of any kind. When in middle-age she learns that her father saw her mother as a benevolent dictator/bully, Nora rejects that depiction as her dad's delusion. But is it? Who is right? And that is a recurring theme throughout this book. What is reality? Who is to say?

Because the unwitting Nora is so hungry, she is drawn into the lives of the aptly named Sirena and her family. Through them she can trick herself into thinking she has love, motherhood, and family. Sirena is an artist, and Nora gives herself over to helping Sirena create her magnum opus. However, she is being used under the guise of friendship. At the end of the story, Nora finally sees, with shattering clarity, that she is nothing but a useful servant, and the book ends with Nora boiling with rage, determined to finally live.

In this sense it's a satisfying character arc. However, the stream-of-consciousness writing and belaboring of specific points makes it a somewhat tedious read. For example, I believe the main purpose for the character of Skandar, Sirena's husband, (Nora's frustrated sexuality aside), is to make the point that reality can be distorted and perceptions unreliable. Fine. However, Skandar goes on at extreme length, lecturing Nora. Here's an example:

"So if you're me, how you deal with that is, I'll look at how we talk about (history). I'll study the history of history, the ways that we tell the stories, and don't tell other stories, and I'll try to understand what it says about us, to tell one story rather than another, to tell it one way rather than another. I'll ask the questions about what is ethical, about who decides what is ethical, I'll ask whether it is possible, really, to have an ethics in the matter of history."

This is only about one-fifth of the discussion. It's difficult to maintain one's attention throughout, especially when I wanted to yell at Nora, "freakin' DO something, Nora, you doormat!" But the story is about a woman living an oblivious life, her perceptions distorted by her mother's influence. Nora sleepwalks through her life, finally realizing in her early forties that she has been played, and her rage is so great I'd hold out little hope that the second half of her life could be healthy, satisfying or normal to any degree.

One side-issue: some disgruntled reviewers have commented on Nora's unlikeability. Could anything be less important? This is a character study. Nora is interesting in that she represents the shriveled husk of an unlived life. Liking her is beside the point.

In summary, I'm fascinated by the idea of women sleepwalking through their lives, and then realizing sometime in the second half the error they've made, and correcting it. This book appealed to me in that sense, but I think it was too long, too self-indulgent, thus Messud risked losing the attention and dedication of her reader.