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juushikaTitle: The End of Alice
Author: A. M. Homes
Published: New York: Scribner, 1996
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 270
Total Page Count: 143,697
Text Number: 422
Read Because: reviewed by Blair, borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: A convicted murderer and pedophile receives letters from a young woman who is planning her first seduction of a child. The End of Alice is a self-aware successor to Nabokov's Lolita, but is in tone as grotesque as that book is seductive. This narrator is blatantly unreliable, but his conviction rarely wins the reader's sympathy—in large part because the narrative is a contrived trio of overlapping storylines which feels manufactured rather than immersive, especially in its overly neat conclusion; in short, for all of its excessive and dirty detail, the book never feels real. It's as compelling as a car crash and has the ingredients for success—the voice is strong, the themes thoughtful (though often problematic, especially while demonizing female sexual maturation), and it's carefully compiled. But there's more artistry than mastery here, and besides that it's joyless and horrible to read. I appreciate the attempt but find it unsuccessful, and don't recommend it.
Author: A. M. Homes
Published: New York: Scribner, 1996
Rating: 2 of 5
Page Count: 270
Total Page Count: 143,697
Text Number: 422
Read Because: reviewed by Blair, borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: A convicted murderer and pedophile receives letters from a young woman who is planning her first seduction of a child. The End of Alice is a self-aware successor to Nabokov's Lolita, but is in tone as grotesque as that book is seductive. This narrator is blatantly unreliable, but his conviction rarely wins the reader's sympathy—in large part because the narrative is a contrived trio of overlapping storylines which feels manufactured rather than immersive, especially in its overly neat conclusion; in short, for all of its excessive and dirty detail, the book never feels real. It's as compelling as a car crash and has the ingredients for success—the voice is strong, the themes thoughtful (though often problematic, especially while demonizing female sexual maturation), and it's carefully compiled. But there's more artistry than mastery here, and besides that it's joyless and horrible to read. I appreciate the attempt but find it unsuccessful, and don't recommend it.
