Day 143.2: Liar
Oct. 6th, 2024 06:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunshowerdandelionThe book is called Liars but I think it's a very honest rendering of a heterosexual marriage. The style is blow by shattering blow. The language is immediately convincing: I think the tint of convincingness resembles maybe Jeanette Winterson's Written on the Body, and, of course, other literary journals about abuse like In The Dream House, though this one is I think even more pitiless. Also, it is absolutely a horror story, in the vein of Rosemary's Baby, only the villain is more overtly the patriarchy. The style is effortless, which is a sign of masterful effort.
The book is a pointillistic skewering of one heterosexual marriage. As I've said previously, it is a horror film since second one, and I think if it had a soundtrack it would be one of those threnodies, maybe the one about Hiroshima. Even the cover is horrific, and evokes blood trickling down. The scary thing is that the man, John, is average; I've met people like him, and I can see parts of him in myself as well, and I can see especially his need to be right. In my previous relationship, I was probably a shade of him. The way the marriage splinters is also terrifyingly usual: John is thoughtless, careless, casually malicious, as men are taught to be - the lashes are inflicted not with whips but with laundry piles not properly dried, appointments not kept, promises half-fulfilled, and a total disinterest in chores and the upkeep of the everyday, all things I have done and continue to do. As the book supplies the perspective of Jane, I think I'll hazard the perspective of John: He feels this is utterly normal and entitled to fawning treatment. The book made me scared of myself.
I was horrified at the cost of marriage, how it melts personalities. Lucky that Jane managed to keep her writing intact, but in her place, I would be utterly subsumed. In reading, in the beginning I thought to myself I'd never take this lying down, but actually, in my previous relationship, I did take it lying down, and I'm very familiar with the stories Jane tells to herself, especially the 'cloud of healing' she thinks will spontaneously burst out of her selfless efforts and envelop John.
I think the most nightmarish parts were the parts where Jane struggles to write, and when John strangles her ability to write. There's a bit in the book where Jane has jury duty, and she's thankful because it gives her time to read. The rest of her time is spent on family work, and family work is delivered as staccato 'I did laundry and fixed breakfast and cleaned the kitchen and-', absolutely endless lists, constantly treading water with nothing to show.
The book somehow still manages to be a thriller, to set up things which I picked up the first time but Jane doesn't, because she is in the very thick of it.
I don't think I'll marry, after reading this book. It sounds like a nightmare, and I have newfound respect for the women who do and go on to have children. It is a very risky contract. Also there will always be two liars.
The book is a pointillistic skewering of one heterosexual marriage. As I've said previously, it is a horror film since second one, and I think if it had a soundtrack it would be one of those threnodies, maybe the one about Hiroshima. Even the cover is horrific, and evokes blood trickling down. The scary thing is that the man, John, is average; I've met people like him, and I can see parts of him in myself as well, and I can see especially his need to be right. In my previous relationship, I was probably a shade of him. The way the marriage splinters is also terrifyingly usual: John is thoughtless, careless, casually malicious, as men are taught to be - the lashes are inflicted not with whips but with laundry piles not properly dried, appointments not kept, promises half-fulfilled, and a total disinterest in chores and the upkeep of the everyday, all things I have done and continue to do. As the book supplies the perspective of Jane, I think I'll hazard the perspective of John: He feels this is utterly normal and entitled to fawning treatment. The book made me scared of myself.
I was horrified at the cost of marriage, how it melts personalities. Lucky that Jane managed to keep her writing intact, but in her place, I would be utterly subsumed. In reading, in the beginning I thought to myself I'd never take this lying down, but actually, in my previous relationship, I did take it lying down, and I'm very familiar with the stories Jane tells to herself, especially the 'cloud of healing' she thinks will spontaneously burst out of her selfless efforts and envelop John.
I think the most nightmarish parts were the parts where Jane struggles to write, and when John strangles her ability to write. There's a bit in the book where Jane has jury duty, and she's thankful because it gives her time to read. The rest of her time is spent on family work, and family work is delivered as staccato 'I did laundry and fixed breakfast and cleaned the kitchen and-', absolutely endless lists, constantly treading water with nothing to show.
The book somehow still manages to be a thriller, to set up things which I picked up the first time but Jane doesn't, because she is in the very thick of it.
I don't think I'll marry, after reading this book. It sounds like a nightmare, and I have newfound respect for the women who do and go on to have children. It is a very risky contract. Also there will always be two liars.
