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A review by diannastarr
You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine by Alexandra Kleeman
dark
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.75
I will not lie, I have a terrible habit of peeking at whatever book someone is reading nearby. It's not out of judgment; it's more of a morbid curiosity, a quick skim at the page in the hands of the person in front of me. That being said: I feel absolutely horrible for anyone who did the same thing to me as I read You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine.
I've sat on this review for a while as I genuinely wasn't sure how to rate it. On one hand, I love weird books. I love satire and societal dissections, books written by authors who strive not only to break the rules, but to take the rules and turn them up on their head. Kleeman's gutsy move in naming her main cast "A," "B," and "C" was perfection in of itself, and putting that parasitic dynamic in a petri dish like-setting had me reveling in the first half.
However, the story didn't quite hold up in the way that I hoped.
Kleeman's decision to make her cast as passive as possible was vital in pulling off her narrative critique of contemporary culture, but this decision consequently impacted the pacing of the piece and how it "hooked" its readers. The beginning of the novel was promising in it's isolated ambiance, the emotional cannibalism of the codependent relationship(s), the almost pervasive longing to be beautiful, to be presentable, to consume and to be consumed, to go with the crowd and simultaneously stand out from them all. It ridiculed reality television, the beauty industry, our relationship with our bodies and how mind numbing consumerism affects the psyche and one's ability to relate to others - which was stellar.
But the second half felt as if the author was trying too hard to do too many things at once.
The Krazy-Kakes side plot almost felt like a total disservice to the potential at hand, the cult serving as a strange scapegoat of sorts, a lackluster attempt to drive up the stakes while circumventing the consequences of the culture that the author was evidently trying to waggle her finger at. It would've been more impactful to take out the tangible cult and to show how the characters indoctrinate themselves to society's will with no external forces at hand, how they succumb to its pressures and their own neuroses in their search for connection in a hyper individualistic and self-alienating culture. I had heard good things about this piece, but in the end it tried to do so many things at once that it didn't do much at all. Even it's "weirdness" had been cleaned up and polished over, the piece being workshopped in a way where it felt almost precocious, like Kleeman was holding up a mirror and trying to point it at her audience when the mirror should've been pointed at the societal constraints at hand.
All in all, I wanted to like this. I relished in the first half and wanted to see A spiral out completely into her paranoia - but the inclusion of the Krazy-Kakes cult felt like an utter disservice to everything that this piece could've been. It was an entertaining, haphazardly assembled mess of a novel - but it was entertaining nonetheless.
I've sat on this review for a while as I genuinely wasn't sure how to rate it. On one hand, I love weird books. I love satire and societal dissections, books written by authors who strive not only to break the rules, but to take the rules and turn them up on their head. Kleeman's gutsy move in naming her main cast "A," "B," and "C" was perfection in of itself, and putting that parasitic dynamic in a petri dish like-setting had me reveling in the first half.
However, the story didn't quite hold up in the way that I hoped.
Kleeman's decision to make her cast as passive as possible was vital in pulling off her narrative critique of contemporary culture, but this decision consequently impacted the pacing of the piece and how it "hooked" its readers. The beginning of the novel was promising in it's isolated ambiance, the emotional cannibalism of the codependent relationship(s), the almost pervasive longing to be beautiful, to be presentable, to consume and to be consumed, to go with the crowd and simultaneously stand out from them all. It ridiculed reality television, the beauty industry, our relationship with our bodies and how mind numbing consumerism affects the psyche and one's ability to relate to others - which was stellar.
But the second half felt as if the author was trying too hard to do too many things at once.
The Krazy-Kakes side plot almost felt like a total disservice to the potential at hand, the cult serving as a strange scapegoat of sorts, a lackluster attempt to drive up the stakes while circumventing the consequences of the culture that the author was evidently trying to waggle her finger at. It would've been more impactful to take out the tangible cult and to show how the characters indoctrinate themselves to society's will with no external forces at hand, how they succumb to its pressures and their own neuroses in their search for connection in a hyper individualistic and self-alienating culture. I had heard good things about this piece, but in the end it tried to do so many things at once that it didn't do much at all. Even it's "weirdness" had been cleaned up and polished over, the piece being workshopped in a way where it felt almost precocious, like Kleeman was holding up a mirror and trying to point it at her audience when the mirror should've been pointed at the societal constraints at hand.
All in all, I wanted to like this. I relished in the first half and wanted to see A spiral out completely into her paranoia - but the inclusion of the Krazy-Kakes cult felt like an utter disservice to everything that this piece could've been. It was an entertaining, haphazardly assembled mess of a novel - but it was entertaining nonetheless.