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Rezensionen (5)
Publisher's Weekly-Rezension
On the fateful day she decides to be her "best self," Eleanor Flood-cult-famous cartoonist, mother, wife, cynic-spirals from one catastrophe to the next. Her day quickly turns hectic when her son, Timby, comes home sick from school. Hoping his father might help, Eleanor instead begins to suspect her surgeon husband is having an affair when his receptionist acts cagey. Eleanor's ego is bruised when she realizes an underling she fired years ago is now a famous artist, she dodges calls from her publisher about a long-passed deadline for her graphic memoir, and, finally, she suffers what may be a concussion after crashing headfirst into a sculpture. The latest from Semple (Where'd You Go, Bernadette?) is a sharp, funny read, and the author injects quirky elements-drawings, a comic book, photocopies of poems-to add another layer of enjoyment. Though Eleanor is snarky, her troubles and growing calamities are engaging. Some of her encounters are a bit too convenient, and the trope of a "day from hell" makes for shallow interactions between characters, but Semple augments these first-person antics with third-person sections that dig deep into Eleanor's past, finding particular resonance when telling the story of Ivy, the sister Eleanor feels she has lost to a wealthy husband in New Orleans. In the end, the novel wraps up too neatly, but the ride is consistently entertaining. Agent: Anna Stein, ICM Partners. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Guardian Review
A zesty, memorable novel about the trials of a dysfunctional Seattle yoga mom, by the author of Where'd You Go, Bernadette Maria Semple's second novel emerges from the same fictional universe as her first, the Baileys prize-shortlisted Where'd You Go, Bernadette. Seattle is still filled with passive-aggressive slowcoaches, and still way too close to Canada. Our heroine, just as before, is snarky and misanthropic, has one child at Galer Street school, a well-off surgeon husband and a dog. Eleanor Flood is almost as dysfunctional as Bernardette, but instead of heading to the other side of the world, she merely zigzags the city as she navigates "one normal day of white people problems". Or at least that's the plan. Eleanor vows that this is the day she will initiate sex with Joe, her husband, and play a board game with her son, Timby. She will radiate calm, buy local, be her best self. First she has a poetry class, then, after yoga, lunch with an annoying friend. What could possibly go wrong? Semple foregrounds women with all the broiling emotion of 20-year-olds, but with added menopause and fear of Alzheimer's Dropping Timby off at school, Eleanor gleefully congratulates herself: "Me peeling out of Galer Street with seven child-free hours on the horizon? Cue the banjo getaway music." An animator with a hit kids' series, Looper Wash, far behind her, she's trying to write a graphic memoir, commissioned by an editor whose frequent calls she keeps ignoring. Memorising poetry and dissecting it with her sweet, unworldly tutor Alonzo is intended to boost her flagging middle-aged brainpower. But they have barely started on "Skunk Hour" before the school calls with a sick Timby. "That kid. I'll show him fear in a handful of dust." Eleanor's day of self-improvement skids to a halt with an impromptu visit to her husband's clinic. But where is he? Eleanor's witchy ESP, developed from being the child of an alcoholic and hence highly attuned to body language and verbal tells, reads much into the receptionist's surprised "You're back!" Joe has told his staff he's on vacation with his family. "Had I lost him? Might there be someone else?" Timby in tow, Eleanor embarks on an increasingly wild odyssey across Seattle in search of answers. The joy, as before, is in the narrative voice. Semple foregrounds forty- and fiftysomething women who have all the zest, poor impulse control and boiling emotion of 20-year-olds, only with added menopause and fear of Alzheimer's. "Who feels sexy during the slog of motherhood, the middle-aged fat roll and flattening butt? Who wants anyone to see them naked, let alone fondle their breasts squishy like bags of cake batter, or touch their stomachs spongy like breadfruit?... Me, that's who, if I don't want to get switched out for a younger specimen." The day comprises a series of unwelcome shocks, including that dreaded call from the publisher, and a chance meeting with a former employee that brings Eleanor into contact with parts of her traumatic past she'd much rather not access. Joe may have started lying, but it turns out Eleanor has her own skeletons. Timby, trotting out his simplistic school coping axioms, is a perfect sidekick, both wily and innocent. When Eleanor confesses, "I just acted really weird and scary," her son replies: "Put it behind you. Good job." Brilliant set pieces include a scene of existential despair in CostCo, a flashback to a hideous society wedding in the deep south, and Dr Joe's epiphany during a Seattle Seahawks game while attaching a splint to one of their star players. And the running gag about a concussion app just keeps on giving. Semple reaffirms her gift for creating memorable, monstrous characters. The most striking here is Bucky, the insufferable New Orleans groom, who turns from a Prada-clad figure of fun into a malevolent threat to the family. Once more, the harshly witty one-liners mask a surprisingly soft heart: will the family survive? Will love prevail? Will they all have to go and live in Spokane? "Nothing's keeping me in Seattle," Eleanor observes. "I can draw and do damage anywhere." The narrative is more conventionally structured than Bernardette 's grab-bag of letters, emails and police reports, but Semple is skilled in holding back revelations and planting clues to later emotional payoffs. Somehow she makes her seethingly intolerant and dissatisfied heroines lovable for all their flaws (Eleanor makes a list of hers which begins: "Once I ate a bagel on the toilet"). The important thing is to persevere with the maddening business of being human. As Timby says, smell the soup (breathe in), cool the soup (breathe out). Because you never know, today might just be different. - Suzi Feay.
Booklist-Rezension
Semple returns to ground she covered in Where'd You Go, Bernadette? (2012), with an artistic antiheroine fumbling through her life of privilege as an NYC transplant to Seattle. Married to a celebrity hand doctor and 10 years separated from her career as a groundbreaking animator, Eleanor Flood spends her days studying poetry with an untenured professor and thinking acerbic thoughts about the other moms at her precocious son's private school. Having lunch with a former minion breaks something free in Eleanor's past, and her life falls apart over the course of an afternoon. Readers learn details of her backstory and will sympathize despite the seemingly trivial nature of her troubles (Sticking her foot in her mouth with her poetry teacher! Estrangement from her sister! Her husband's absence from his practice! Her son's enjoyment of makeup!). Hilarious and touching, this will satisfy Semple's numerous fans and gain her new ones. Give this to readers of women's fiction, Seattle denizens and aspiring residents, and people reviewing their lives and choices.--Moroni, Alene Copyright 2016 Booklist
New York Review of Books-Rezension
NEAR THE BEGINNING of "Today Will Be Different," Maria Semple's funny, smart, emotionally reverberant new novel, her narrator, Eleanor Flood, taking private poetry lessons, has marked up Robert Lowell's "Skunk Hour." At the end of the poem, a mother skunk roots around in the garbage: "She jabs her wedgehead in a cup/ of sour cream, drops her ostrich tail,/and will not scare." These lines seem appropriate here. Although it's a novelist's right, and often her strong suit, to forage, ingeniously using disparate elements to create a sense of life, Semple has a habit of foraging openly, broadly and effusively. Not many novelists would reproduce a whole well-known poem early on in their narrative, complete with a scribbled-in definition of the word "awl" and, floating at the top of the page, a cloud-shaped bubble that contains the reminder: "8:30 Thursday Lola, Oct. 8th." Semple's previous novel, "Where'd You Go, Bernadette," was famously and cleverly strewn with documents - emails, F.B.I. reports and so on - relevant to the mystery of its heroine's sudden disappearance. So when the Lowell poem shows up in its entirety, it's a reasonable guess that this new book is going to be another tour de force peppered with intrusions of all kinds. And though the presence of the poem reinforces Semple's calisthenic understanding of what a novel can and should contain - even what a novel is, along the way prodding readers to mark up her underline- and exclamation-point-worthy book - with one other significant exception (a 16-page, full-color graphic memoir created by Eleanor and, in real life, illustrated by the artist Eric Chase Anderson), this novel's forager heart comes less from its "extras" than it does from the host of references and associations involved in that shape-shifting thing we like to call "sensibility." Eleanor is a middle-aged woman, wife to Joe, a hand surgeon who's a team doctor for the Seattle Seahawks, and mother to young Tim by, a student at the Galer Street School, a devastatingly easy satirical target that readers will remember from Semple's last book. There are certain other immediately detected overlaps. Eleanor, like Bernadette, is an extremely ambivalent Seattle resident, wife and mother who had a big creative work life that's now in the past. By returning to this territory, Semple continues to carve out her own Seattle and her own world. In Eleanor's previous incarnation in New York, she was an animator on the hit TV show "Looper Wash." Now, in the midst of her chaotic, ridiculous, bewildering, stuck life, she wants - needs - to find a way out of her specific, deeply dug rut: "Today will be different," the book begins. "Today I will be present. Today, anyone I'm speaking to, I will look them in the eye and listen deeply. . . . Today I will radiate calm. Kindness and self-control will abound. Today I will buy local. Today I will be my best self, the person I'm capable of being. Today will be different." Eleanor's poetry lessons might help her be present and listen deeply, though the really memorable moment between Eleanor and her tutor, a mop-haired poet named Alonzo, takes place not during the analysis of a poem but in the middle of Costco: "I arrived at the gantlet of food-sample people. They stuck to their script without deviation and avoided eye contact, America's version of the Buckingham Palace guards. If the Buckingham Palace guards had terrible posture and filled you with existential dread." "'Jack cheese,' said a woman. 'In four zesty flavors. Stock up for the holidays.' "'Breaded steakfish,' a voice droned. 'Fresh from Alaska and a perfect option for a healthy nutritious dinner. Try it tonight. Breaded steakfish. . . .'" Alonzo, unbeknown to Eleanor, apparently has another job, as a food-sample person. (What? Poetry doesn't provide good benefits?) "I was jolted by the mash-up of high and low," Eleanor tells us, "the red plastic tray, damp and smelling of industrial dishwasher - his encyclopedic knowledge of the lives of the poets - the toaster oven door stained brown with grease." Yet that same mash-up of high and low isn't jolting to the reader. In fact, it's a Semple specialty. On the level of language, even the choice of the slightly disturbing-sounding "steakfish" creates a sense of uneasiness and absurdity. Pop culture, which makes many welcome appearances, is a big part of Eleanor's inner life: "Did I fail to mention that the pope was coming to town? Oh, yeah. For something called World Youth Day. (Does that not sound like a bogus event the Joker would dream up to ensnare Robin?)" Later, Eleanor says to Alonzo, "See you next week? Same Bat Time." Both are references to the TV version of "Batman," which was created by the author's father, Lorenzo Semple Jr. In a nod to high(er) culture, Eleanor is a direct descendant of President John Tyler; apparently Semple is too. The churn of eclectic material is given order partly through Semple's decision to set the novel over the course of a single day, a gambit that works well, though naturally with a different effect from, say, "Mrs. Dalloway." This format serves as a set of brackets into which a variety of things - poetry, steakfish, private-school parents, New Orleans society, the revelation of a husband's secret life and meditations on marriage, death and being the child of an alcoholic can comfortably fit. But what's true about novels that take place over a single day is that, of course, they often really take place over a lifetime. The characters have memories, fantasies, desires, all of which serve as a toggle switch, allowing the narrative to move easily among past, present and future. ALTHOUGH SEMPLE TAKES a leisurely amount of time to go where she likes, once in a while a fragment of Eleanor's history yanks the book sharply into urgency. At the Galer Street School, among the volunteering moms and lone dad ("Put these parents in a room with clerical work and zero supervision, and they start acting like the deranged winners in an Indian casino ad"), Eleanor notices a set of keys on the table, attached to a lanyard with baby blocks that read: D-E-L-P-H-I-N-E. In short order, she steals the keys. The moment, arriving in a tide of amusing references and ferocious wit, is weirdly unsettling, bringing to mind a scene in the Hitchcock movie "Spellbound," in which the tines of a fork, dragged along a tablecloth, create lines that serve as a memory trigger. Hitchcock's ode to Freud had a dream sequence designed by Salvador Dali; "Today Will Be Different" is entirely designed by Maria Semple, and at moments like this it's not unlike a dream. Semple's heroine free-associates in many directions, and the narrative lingers in a plaintive, emotional story about Eleanor and her sister, Ivy - "The Flood Girls" of the 16-page color insert. Who, though, is Delphine? It's a long time before we find out, but it all goes by quickly. One reason may have to do with what a former therapist of Eleanor's referred to as "The Trick." "Anytime I get into a one-on-one social situation," Eleanor explains, "especially if there's something at stake, my anxiety spikes. I talk fast. I jump topics unexpectedly. I say shocking things. Right before I push it too far, I double back and expose a vulnerability." Late in the novel, Eleanor realizes that for the first time "The Trick had failed." That may be true for her. For everyone else, it's a different story. The success of this poetic, seriously funny and brainy dream of a novel - "Mrs. Dalloway Takes Laughing Gas," perhaps - has to do with Maria Semple's range of riffs and preoccupations. All kinds of details, painful and perverse and deeply droll, cling to her heroine and are appraised and examined and skewered and simply wondered at. If that's considered a trick, readers of Semple's novel will be overjoyed to fall for it. The author has a calisthenic understanding of what a novel can contain, even what it is. MEG WOLITZER'S most recent novel is "The Interestings."
Library Journal-Rezension
Like her previous best seller, Where'd You Go Bernadette, Semple's latest bitingly satirical novel features a modern woman on the verge of a breakdown. Middle-aged Eleanor Flood, former New Yorker and animator of a hit cartoon series, feels at loose ends in Seattle with her husband, Joe, the -Seattle Seahawks team physician, and their pre-cocious young son, Timby. As the book begins, Eleanor starts out the day with a mantra: "Today will be different.. Today I will be my best self, the person I'm capable of being," but within hours she and her son, who has again faked illness to leave school, are on a madcap mission to track down her possibly adulterous husband, who is also playing hooky from work. While many listeners will appreciate this raw, often laugh-out-loud glimpse at the struggles of a woman today, others may not be able to relate to the character of Eleanor, seeing her as a wealthy, unfulfilled person searching for meaning in an overprivileged life. Kathleen Wilhoite delivers an outstanding, energetic performance, giving the audiobook the feel of a one-woman show. VERDICT Recommended for fans of caustic novels. ["An introspective look, both comedic and tragic, at attempting to be the best one can be: wife, mother, or sibling. While not as...funny as Where'd You Go, this book will satisfy fans of Semple and satire": LJ 8/16 review of the Little, Brown hc.]-Beth Farrell, Cleveland State Univ. Law Lib. © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
