Freshly Pressed

The Imperfectionists and a pineapple margarita... yum.

So the first chapter in the Drunk Literature Book Club Experiment is coming to an end.  Everyone who participated that has something to say about the book, remember to post by 11:59 PM, tomorrow.  (Oh, and send me links!)

I read The Imperfectionists during a whirlwind week when I was mad on top of my reading.  Books were like potato chips, and I was a huge Lay’s addict.  That has since calmed down, as work has pretty much gotten in the way of , oh, my entire life.  In a (mostly) good way, though.  I am completely passionate about my job.  The only thing I’m struggling with at the moment is the way in which it interferes with my friendship-upkeep.  I’m trying to learn to be a bit more balanced in that respect.

Anyway, back to The Imperfectionists:

To me, it’s a stunningly poignant first novel, one only a journalist can write.  The careful meditation on character study takes on the sort of profiling traditional of newspapers.  I loved the way no one was grossly interconnected (in that, there’s not that cheesy progression from one story to the next), and I LOVED how the “history” of the newspaper was inserted between stories.

The stories that stick out in my mind are the women.  Hardy, Abbey, Kathleen (even Ruby and Ornella to a degree).  And Arthur’s– for more tragic reasons.  But the women all seemed to have a similar vein in their parts: relationships.  Specifically, how women who have made work their life handle issues of intimacy and companionship.   At first, I took some offense to this.  These women, though strong professionally, seemed to be completely ruled by the men in their lives.  It’s all they ever thought about.  But then I looked at the book a bit more closely.  In essence, ALL of the stories dealt with relationships, NOT strictly those of the women.  Because that’s what happens when you’re overworked and underpaid.  You become a total freak and those things that give any semblance of a break from your harried life at your harried job become so monumental to your outward existence.  All you have left are the f*cked up strings we call relationships.  It’s not the happiest take on these character’s lives, but it’s not all unhappy either.  Hardy settles for that joke of a boyfriend due to lack of self-esteem, and the subconscious need to deal with something completely out of control gives her a break from the stress of her job.  Abbey’s encounter on the airplane exposes all the ways in which she– a typically logical and practical mind– deals with the fact that her job makes people expendable.  Kathleen is high-powered and at the top of her game, but ther’es always that nagging question of “what if.”  Specifically, what if she had given all her career motivations up for love.

Rachman’s novel is truly a remarkable expose on just how all our crazy idiosyncrasies evolve through time and experience.  It is a petri dish of a novel, cultivating a breed of human beings that are as fascinating as they are ordinary.  I honestly cannot wait to see exactly what he comes up with next.

Also, a note on the drinking while reading this book.  Since my most common choice has been, most notably, water; one evening (or was it afternoon) my wonderful roommate and I decided to spice things up a bit and come up with a concoction.  Hence, pineapple margaritas.  All parts fabulous and refreshing.  Probably nothing any self-respecting journalist would drink, but then again I”m plumb out of rye and bitters.

Excited to hear everyone else’s take on the novel!