A.M. Homes, "In a Country of Mothers" (1993).

There is a common theory that people who choose to become psychologists usually do so out of an unconscious wish to work out their own internal mental problems. Having been drawn to study psychology as an undergraduate, I believe there is probably some element of truth in that supposition. If I felt growing up that something was 'wrong' with me, surely the answers into that condition could be found at the feet of my professors and on the pages of the class texts. In truth I did find certain information resonant- descriptions of various maladies that can afflict those who bear them. Similarly I spent enough time considering my friends and family, trying to match them with various diagnoses. Often it was quite entertaining.

Such impulses must have somehow affected A.M Homes at one point or another in her life. Her works all deal in some way with various dysfunctions, some of which are more serious than others. Her short stories are filled with characters trying to work out their inner demons. But the level of psychosis gets amped up in her longer works. The first Homes novel I read was Music for Torching (1999). It concerned a suburban couple and the slow deterioration in their relationship. They are so obviously incapable of managing their lives, and their perceptions of success, that they neglect the basic fundamentals that would otherwise keep their young family together. It is a brutal book filled with the raw stuff of extreme emotionality.

Homes' most famous work is probably The End of Alice (1996). The 'protagonist' in that work is a child molester, who is imprisoned for having murdered a little girl. Critics and other readers were astonished that Homes could so effectively imagine the inner life of such a character. The idea that she could so empathize with this man made people uncomfortable. What in her life would provide the necessary insights? Most successful authors advise young writers to write about 'what they know'. For Homes' audience, this often has disturbing ramifications. What do the themes of her books say about her? It's not always obvious. However her second novel (In a Country of Mothers) seems like a natural extension of Homes' life.

In a Country of Mothers concerns a psychologist who gradually goes through a process of transference, so that she superimposes her own difficulties on one of her vulnerable clients. Claire Roth seems to have it all- a loving and wealthy husband, two sons, an apartment in the city, and a home on the Island. But in all of Homes' work, appearances can deceive. When Claire was a teenager, she had to give up a baby girl that she conceived with one of her professors. Twenty years later a young woman named Jody is referred to her by a colleague. She comes in to discuss her anxiety about graduate school, but soon reveals that she was adopted. Claire begins to suspect that Jody is her long lost child, and she begins to mother her in an increasingly unhealthy manner.

As a co-dependency between therapist and client develops, both of these women explore the emotional detritus of their fractured identities. Homes explores the essential maternal bonds that exist between all mothers daughters- even those who aren't related by blood. More impressive perhaps is the author's portrayal of a possible consequence of therapy- the unconscious redirection of feelings for one person to another. This can be quite harmful for the patient when the professional is not aware of it. But it can be doubly destructive if the therapist herself falls prey to its temptations. With Homes (and her readers), transference is always a possibility- that's what makes her effective and her work dangerous.

A.M. Homes, "The End of Alice" (1996).

Once in awhile a book is written that enters public consciousness as a work of almost complete transgression. What gives it that status is the prevailing climate of morality and the prevailing perspective of the society into which it is released. Certainly Marquis de Sade is a good example of a transgressive author. I'd actually suggest that Justine still stands as one of the most challenging creations ever written. Throughout the centuries, other titles have arisen to draw public ire, and have been held up as examples of filth and depravity. D.H. Lawrence, Nabokov, William Burroughs, and Georges Batailles are all noted for being especially controversial. Often the literary establishment simply censors these works, and draws more attention to them as a result.

Nowadays it is very unlikely that a book will become unavailable due to censorship. While public school libraries will remove it from the shelves, and universities will strike them from the curriculum, transgressive literature is invariably available from some source. This provides fodder to both sides in a nebulous 'culture war' which is said to be fought continuously in our nation. Personally I have almost always found myself defending the right of provocative authors to be heard. The sole exception in my life has been the aforementioned de Sade, whose 'masterpiece' I sought to burn in my apartment in college. I wasn't thinking 'straight' at the time, and felt that I'd better destroy it rather than risk it falling upon some impressionable mind. Since then I have adopted a fairly non-paternalistic approach.

These last few decades have seen a general shift in the limits that confine writers. Bret Easton Ellis, Kathy Acker and others have tried their very best to outrage modern sensibilities, but that's tough to do in an ever-expanding media environment. Most parents aren't scared that their children will read an inappropriate book. Their fears have generally been transferred to the internet. While that's liberating for readers, it may actually have the effect of repressing the publication of extreme writing. If it's not likely to generate any publicity, then there is little incentive to put it out. The overall audience has narrowed and grown more refined. Those who may have picked up a salacious trade paperback in the past are now looking to be shocked elsewhere.

Having said that, stuff slips by now and again. A. M. Homes crossed several invisible lines with The End of Alice (1996). The narrator is an unnamed pedophile, who has found himself serving a long term in prison for the murder of a pre-adolescent girl. The reader is asked to entertain this man's explanations for, and descriptions of, his behavior. Homes details the perp's crimes in such salacious detail that it is at once profoundly disturbing and horribly provocative. She doesn't go out of her way to pronounce judgment on the criminal actor. In fact, we find ourselves in the position of having to determine on our own the likely truth of the situations explained. The narrator is distinctly unreliable, and made more so by his particular predilections. After all, who wants to empathize with, or put any trust in, the accounts of a man who sexually exploits children?

Homes has indeed demonstrated her remarkable ability to get under our skin. There is no such class of human less sympathetic than a molester. Yet somehow his humanity seeps through on to the pages like the vile secretions he visits on his targets. We are not burdened with detailed rationalizations and justifications. True to form, the narrator was abused by his mother as a child. But his behavior is not blamed outright on these past incidents. We understand the progression that has brought him to his current situation- locked in a cell and communing by letter with a young female adult with her own aspirations of exploitation. Still Homes avoids bludgeoning us with easy answers or pat conclusions. We are given a window into a world few of us would seek to enter, and we finish with a bit more awareness of the mindset of a child abuser.

A.M. Homes, "This Book Will Save Your Life" (2006)

After reading Music for Torching, I was resolved to seek out more work by A.M. Homes. I knew that she had a few novels and short story collections, and I was anxious to read what were said to be her most important books. Frankly I was expecting to find some rather dark material, as I had seen an interview with her that highlighted the edgy quality of her writing. It wasn't difficult to track down a few of her titles- Half Priced Books was well-stocked, and a fellow bibliophile encouraged me to borrow her copy of This Book Will Save Your Life (2006). She seemed to think that I would particularly enjoy Homes' newest book. I began reading TBWSYL with the confidence that I was launching on another great literary adventure.

The protagonist of this novel is Richard- a middle-aged divorcee who spends most of his time staring at his computer at home, and trying to stay healthy. Although his surroundings are extremely ordered, his emotional life is so repressed that he has no awareness of the disorder lurking beneath. All he can experience of inner life is an intense and spreading pain of indeterminate origin. Because of his physical habits, he decides that if he waits it out, it will probably just disappear in time. But instead it intensifies throughout the day until he feels compelled to call 911 for assistance.

This is the start of TBWSYL. Homes is obviously in no hurry to waste time on a lot of direct exposition. There is plenty of room for the reader to get lost in the building scenario. The way to confront the material is just to jump right in with the expectation that all will eventually be explained. And for the most part it is. Richard reveals himself slowly as he is examined by the medical professionals in the hospital, and later by a new physician at his regular doctor's office. This unfamiliar doctor is actually an interesting concept- he's a strange mix of psychologist and M.D. and provides Richard with the opportunity to begin his journey of self-exploration. Perhaps his malaise originates with some existential crisis. Our hero is definitely willing to explore the possibilities.

Along the way, we meet a variety of cleverly idiosyncratic characters and see Richard through a series of surreal experiences. His multi-million dollar house in the canyon begins to sink into a hole in the ground. He enlists the assistance of a neighboring movie star to rescue a horse from its center. Later he attends a week long retreat of silence hosted by a loopy new age prophet. He even gets to rescue an abductee from the trunk of her captor's car. Throughout all the chaos he continues to search for meaning through his attempts to reconnect with humanity. He meets a housewife crying in the produce section of a grocery store, and decides to adopt her. He befriends the immigrant owner of a donut shop. He rents a beach house next door to a slovenly enigma who claims to be merely a hack screenwriter.

But if there is an emotional center to TBWSYL, it is to be found in Richard's efforts to address his estranged relationship with his seventeen-year old son. It is through this plot thread that our protagonist finally gets clear of his sense of alienation. These are the scenes in the book that resonate most effectively with me. There is one father-son conflict in particular that blindsides the reader with such force that he/she is knocked back into the messy murk and essential fallibility of familial bonds. It's too bad that so much of TBWSYL is only pleasantly diverting. Ultimately I felt that the meandering nature of the writing would have better lent itself to a short story collection. There are many interesting ideas and situations- they just needed to be fleshed out more and not forced together in what seems like an arbitrary manner. Don't get me wrong- this was entertaining... it just wasn't cohesive.

A.M. Homes, "Music for Torching" (1999).

Knowing me to be an avid reader, a friend recently asked me if I had discovered anything worth mentioning. Although I have been spending a lot of time with books this Fall, I didn't have any particular recommendations. As I've mentioned on this blog on several occasions, I have developed a penchant for the True Crime genre. That's the kind of material that has occupied my mind for months. So between entries of that type, I've tried to make it a point to seek out some worthwhile fiction now and again. Several years ago I had a phase where I encountered several writers who have since become favorites. But it's been awhile since I've identified a new author worth exploring in depth. That's why my experience with A.M. Homes' Music for Torching is notable. She's a contemporary author with a distinctive voice that I expect to be revisiting soon.

Homes, who was born in 1961, has written six novels and worked in television. She is based out of NYC, and teaches at Columbia University. She seems to be fairly private about her personal life. In her own words- "I've dated men and I've dated women and there's no more or less to it than that". Her background includes being adopted, and The New Yorker has published an essay she wrote about meeting her biological parents. It was entitled "The Mistress's Daughter". Her most famous book so far is probably "The End of Alice", which documents the inner life of a maximum security prisoner who attempts to reconstruct the memories and urges of his own pedophilia. A story from her collection The Safety of Objects describes the twisted relationship between a teenage boy and his sister's Barbie doll. Homes is obviously not intimidated by the darker aspects in life.

The influences of Homes' favorite authors Don Delillo and Roald Dahl find comfortable inhabitation in her work. It's interesting to note that Homes set out to write a "lighter" novel when she began working on Music for Torching. But what started out as a short story examination of the private follies of a suburbanite couple soon revealed itself to be a full-length comic tragedy. From the first page to the conclusion, there is nothing but trial and tribulation for the main players. Yet it is not a case of Homes arbitrarily visiting intense suffering on insufferably innocent characters. Instead the reader can see the troubles developing, even when the characters themselves cannot. Their flaws are exposed without excessive commentary, and that makes the exigencies of fate seem most natural. They so often get exactly what they asked for, even if it's not in the package they expected.

Music for Torching kicks off when Paul and Elaine impulsively decide to burn their own house down. Their marriage is rapidly deteriorating, and the blaze seems like a better alternative than sitting down to another stifling family dinner. The narrative is mostly split between the interior lives of each half of the dysfunctional couple. They are both up to no good, and rashly strike out toward unknown consequences that seem to hold more promise than their seemingly untenable situation(s). Sadly, they have two young boys that must negotiate their own paths through the increasingly chaotic mess of their lives.

Despite memorable moments of humor and humanity in Music for Torching, reading it can often be quite depressing. The frightening thing about this aspect of Homes' writing is that the reader can imagine his/her own life spiraling toward such desperate circumstances. While the overall picture is dramatic and even a bit surreal, it's not hard to recognize the components of minor tragedies and disappointments that we experience in our own daily lives. Perhaps it's appropriate to wonder what benefits I get out of reading such despairing drama. I think that it's not unlike any other urge to vicariously experience others' misfortune- it serves as a reminder that acting irresponsibly and/or throwing our necessary caution to the wind can lead to genuinely horrific results. There but for the grace of good sense go I.