“When she was old, she wanted to be like Oatsie: imperious, brusque, and given to non-sequitur.”
The non-sequitur in question: “You’d make a wonderful lawyer. You have beautiful hair.” And then: “That woman Janet Reno. Her hair was an abomination.”
I’m pretty sure my favorite parts of this book are the old ladies, Oatsie and Mopsy, written as entirely unafraid to be horrid or manipulative, but with just enough pathos. And it’s Shipstead’s effortless floating narration that allows this, and that’s the best thing about the book. It’s clear, and technically clean, and effective, and if it’s not an unconventional use of narration, it’s by far the best tool for the job she’s doing, and it’s used almost flawlessly. So she goes from this bit, looking over Livia’s shoulder as she meets the family her sister will marry into, over the course of just a couple of pages to Oatsie herself alone at the party, at the end of the evening:
“When had she become so morbid, so resigned? She didn’t know. The sun’s daily arc might have tricked her into believing she was following an infinite circle, but she knew she was marching a straight line. What a party guest she was. What terrible vodka the Van Meters had.”
August 22, 2012, 10:48am Comments
