About book The New Republic. By Lionel Shriver (2012)
Publicised as "a satire about terrorism", "The New Republic" didn't exactly sound like my cup of tea, because I didn't feel I knew enough about terrorism to relish a lampooning. But background reading turned out to be unimportant. The terrorism is addressed in an accessible and rather superficial manner; it poses the important question "Do you pander to terrorists to save lives, or refuse to budge, by way of condemnation?" but it's hardly the first text to open that "debate" and it isn't of much concern to the main characters. The comedy, meanwhile, lies in plot twists which are absurd, and yet make you wonder to what extent they reflect reality. There's also plenty of (trademark) fun with nomenclature. The terrorist organisation are "The SOBs", the political party they support are O Creme de Barbear ("the shaving cream" in Portuguese), and so on.So what IS the novel about? A few rays of insight are cast upon journalism, but moreover, as is typical of Shriver's work, it's about the characters and their archetypes and, as such, Human Nature. Specifically, in this case, hero worship, popularity, perception of others, inadequacy, morality and "what's it all for"?Some of Shriver's books go down a storm and some of them come up against widespread criticism. My half-baked theory is that this relates to how likeable the protagonists are. "We Need To Talk About Kevin" has a one with plenty of spunk and determination, whose trouble stems from a horrific adversary. The main characters in "The Post-Birthday World" are flawed in realistic irritating ways, but are fundamentally good. The hero of "So Much For That" is a little too giving and fatalistic, but definitely worthy of being called a hero, while the co-protagonist is eloquent and accomplished, just dogged by a niggling Achilles' heel (Achilles' . . . other part of the anatomy, in fact), But the leading lady of "Game Control" is a sap, while her man friend is a psychopath. "Double Fault"'s protagonist is whiny and jealous, while her husband's an unsympathetic paragon. And while the narrator of "Big Brother" is diligent and sacrificing, her joylessness doesn't appeal, and there's something sinister about her need to be needed. The trouble is that these characters either beggar the readers' beliefs too much, or remind them uncomfortably of less savoury sides of themselves. I recognise that my love of ALL these books stems from the fact that I used to be supremely egotistical, and now I'm perfect - er, I mean, I've seen ego for what it is, and can forgive everyone for being misguided from an early age. I loved "Game Control" because I'd been involved with someone eerily reminiscent of the "insane" love interest (and besides, it was interesting and hugely suspenseful). I loved "Double Fault", partly because I'm really into tennis, but I could imagine how it would feel to fail at the aspect of life you believe defines you. "Big Brother" I wasn't so enchanted with - I didn't think it handled the subject thoroughly or responsibly enough - but I could sympathise with the main character nonetheless.But "The New Republic", in a sense, is easier on the general reader. From the word go, we assured that we're not supposed to identify with Edgar The Protagonist, because he's a grotesque magnification of our flaws. Most of us knew someone at high school who we admired, mimicked and mocked ineffectually, as a pathetic attempt at ridding ourselves of our sense of inadequacy. But I'm guessing most of us haven't thought about that person for years. Quitting your job at 37, just to emulate your old hero? Sheesh!Edgar just gets less likeable from there on in and none of his cronies are much better. Well, they're journalists, of course they're a touch less hateful than politicians but more so than dentists. The female lead is blatantly, unapologetically, in love with a man other than her husband. Said husband is a multi-millionaire - and unhappy because he can't think what to do with his money. And the central character (NOT the protagonist) is inexcusable when absent, and yet we're readily assured everyone falls at his feet when he's around. How irritating!How does the reader react to these ghastly exaggerated creations? An aversion to reading about them? Judging by the harsh reviews, quite possibly. Aware of the sense-of-self's destructive power, I just felt sorry for them. They have missed the point: that life can easily be perceived as good and love is the answer to it all. But was their misguidedness fun and thought-provoking to read about? Absolutely!I do have two criticisms, mind. Firstly, the ending isn't very satisfactory. Our hero gains a "grass is always greener" perspective, but this, to my mind, falls far short of true redemption. Secondly, the occasional bouts of intellectualism get a touch over the top. I'm all in favour of books teaching me new words, but what's a sentence like "Edgar's Dexedrine omnipotence was subsiding to a phenobarbital wooze of self reproach" doing in an otherwise legible text? Admittedly, initially reading "subsiding" as "subsidising" didn't help, but "phenobarbital" is just showing off. Nonetheless. Recommended, if you don't mind scrutinising your own motives. Just started, am intrigued,but... my library loan is expiring soon, and - so frustrating - e-books cannot be renewed. So after it expires, I will try to get it again...Finished. Mixed emotions. The set up and wind-up were much more interesting than the actual story. And the epilogue (in fake news items) was cool. But overall - predictable, not truly gripping, saying very little new on the subject.
Do You like book The New Republic. By Lionel Shriver (2012)?
not my favorite Lionel Shriver book but still makes you think
—shawtymane96
gave it a solid try but just don't care enough to continue.
—therese
Couldn't finish this - just didn't care enough.
—taz
