Somehow I missed that Curtis “I’m A Girl!” Sittenfeld’s new novel was reviewed by Elissa Schappell in this weekend’s NYTBR. All told, Schappell’s review is guardedly favorable. But I was intrigued by how the following paragraph sequence paralleled Daniel Asa Rose’s Observer review — although Schappell’s less blunt and apparently didn’t look closely at her press kit:
It is the sex between Lee and her crush, Cross, a boy far more popular than she is, that lifts the book, overlong at more than 400 pages, out of its sophomore slump, and restores its narrative momentum. Sittenfeld captures the teenage hook-up experience in a way that isn’t too cringingly young-adult or clinically distant. Lee enjoys the sex and the attention, though she is not naive enough to believe a boy like Cross would ever openly date a girl like her. Yet she is girl enough to hope she is wrong. In the end, however, Lee’s passivity, her refusal to pursue anything past the point where it might get embarrassing, limits her as a character. This isn’t to say the story doesn’t feel true to life. Sittenfeld’s dialogue is so convincing that one wonders if she didn’t wear a wire under her hockey kilt.
Which leads to another question. Most novels are autobiographical in some way, first novels in particular. But even allowing for that, ”Prep,” both in structure and in narrative, feels like a memoir. Without an author photo of a teenage Sittenfeld posed on the quad of an elite East Coast boarding school, we can’t know. And it doesn’t really matter. What is of interest, and why ”Prep” deserves pride of place on any summer recommended reading list, is the incisive and evenhanded way in which Sittenfeld explores issues of class.
Here we see the Prep reviewing formula in action: (1.) Cite interest in the blow-job scene, then (2.) wonder rhetorically (and in a not-very-difficult-to-follow logical leap) if the novel might be autobiographical.
Also, does Schappell’s line — “Most novels are autobiographical in some way, first novels in particular.” — strike anyone else as off base? Not untrue, of course, just off base.
I am now on page 55 of Prep. Still too soon to report much. Except that when I zoned out reading last night I caught myself petting the cover. So tactile!!
This will sound bizarre but now I have that production number from EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY in my head, but instead of them singing “‘Cuz I’m a Blonde” it’s now “‘Cuz I’m a Girl!”
Of course, that would require Curtis Sittenfeld to know how to do the song-and-dance thing and that might be a bit much to expect.
Comment by Sarah — 1/18/2005 @ 10:25 pm
You know, authors have to do so much these days to get noticed. Why not a song-and-dance routine?
I’m picturing a Victor/Victoria type of costume change as she snaps into the first chorus.
Comment by CAAF — 1/18/2005 @ 10:58 pm
When the NYTBR types say most first novels are autobiographical, they’re talking about a specific kind of novel. Not, say, the first Harry Potter book or Snow Crash. They’re using “novel” to mean “long piece of prose, typically written in first person, with much to say about the protag’s state of mind”. They mean books where nothing blows up, except metaphorically.
But even within that framework, you’re not alone Miss Carrie–that assessment strikes me as very dodgy indeed.
Comment by Justine Larbalestier — 1/19/2005 @ 12:05 am
BTW, if you saw Sittenfeld’s piece in the NY Observer today, she bitches about a particular blog post. It’s this one, which is actually kind of amusing:
http://www.ivorytoweradventures.com/archives/001532.html
Best line: “Reading a Curtis Sittenfeld article is like playing Madden 2005 without even the consolation of stats.”
Comment by Sarah — 1/19/2005 @ 10:34 am
I agree with Justine. First novels are assumed to be if semi-autobiographical because the content seems to line up (female first person adolescent narrator) with the author’s photo. If it doesn’t, no one even notices. I wonder what the statistics are? I do know that my first (unpublished) book had a . . . female first person adolescent narrator. In the next one, the one that made it into print, the protag was a Cajun ex-con. Which generated a different sort of double-take — not “You did that?” but “Where did that come from?”
Comment by Karen — 1/19/2005 @ 10:58 am