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A review by thoughtcouture
The Lesser Bohemians by Eimear McBride
challenging
dark
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Rating: 3.5/5 stars. This was a tough one to rate.
I read The Lesser Bohemians on a whim based entirely on the cover, knowing nothing of its subject or writer. Lucky for me, I love experimental literature, and so was pleased to discover McBride's stream-of-consciousness writing style. Her prose is initially intimidating, no doubt, with its excess white space, seemingly random capital letters, and total lack of quotation marks. It's like learning a new language: at first incoherent, yet over time and with enough exposure, you're fluent.
It's the mid-90s in London, and an 18-year-old Irish drama student has just landed in the city. Her days are filled with confidence-breaking classes; her nights are a blur of booze (and every other substance you can think of). McBride's style is a perfect fit for the protagonist's circumstance: it's dizzying, hallucinatory; you never quite feel grounded or secure. Rather, we're hit with fleeting flashes of half-formed thoughts and brief images that never fully materialize.
Just a few days into her first term, the girl (whose name doesn't appear until page 215) meets a successful actor twenty years her senior; and thus the story truly begins. I don't think I've ever come across an explicit sex scene so early in a novel, nor I have encountered so many explicit sex scenes in a single novel. Call me a prude if you like (I proudly reclaim the word), but one could make the argument that The Lesser Bohemians exists on the border between literary fiction and erotica. As I'll explain, I think the novel could have benefitted from a few fewer sex scenes and a lot more character development, specifically for its protagonist.
The central characters, the student and the actor (who isn't named until 275) experienced extreme trauma in childhood, which, in the actor's case, caused more trauma in adulthood. Yet it is only the actor who is granted a 70-page backstory, closure, and a chance at healing. This isn't an issue in and of itself, but I finished the novel feeling like the actor was the real main character, with our protagonist merely supporting--he was the center of everything she did, and she was hardly given the time or attention to become more than the actor's saving grace. In fact, the effects of her childhood trauma only worsen as the novel progresses; yet, she appears magically healed by the (ostensibly) happy ending.
Given how highly stylized the novel is, I'm inclined to say this imbalance was conscious and intentional on McBride's part--but why? I can't come up with an answer, which I find unsatisfying. Perhaps I'm mistaken in giving the author the benefit of the doubt.
I realize I'm sounding awfully negative, but I didn't hate this book. Though the first half or so was tough to penetrate, I did come to be invested in the characters' relationship and found myself rooting for them. More importantly, I was struck by the recurring theme and question of punishment--how we punish and hurt the people we love for what we perceive as their wrongdoings, and how those punishments only perpetuate a cycle of perceived wrongdoings. This is an issue I'll continue to mull over.
Do I recommend reading The Lesser Bohemians? Honestly, I don't know. If you enjoy trippy stream-of-consciousness, then yes, totally. But otherwise...I'm stumped.
I read The Lesser Bohemians on a whim based entirely on the cover, knowing nothing of its subject or writer. Lucky for me, I love experimental literature, and so was pleased to discover McBride's stream-of-consciousness writing style. Her prose is initially intimidating, no doubt, with its excess white space, seemingly random capital letters, and total lack of quotation marks. It's like learning a new language: at first incoherent, yet over time and with enough exposure, you're fluent.
It's the mid-90s in London, and an 18-year-old Irish drama student has just landed in the city. Her days are filled with confidence-breaking classes; her nights are a blur of booze (and every other substance you can think of). McBride's style is a perfect fit for the protagonist's circumstance: it's dizzying, hallucinatory; you never quite feel grounded or secure. Rather, we're hit with fleeting flashes of half-formed thoughts and brief images that never fully materialize.
Just a few days into her first term, the girl (whose name doesn't appear until page 215) meets a successful actor twenty years her senior; and thus the story truly begins. I don't think I've ever come across an explicit sex scene so early in a novel, nor I have encountered so many explicit sex scenes in a single novel. Call me a prude if you like (I proudly reclaim the word), but one could make the argument that The Lesser Bohemians exists on the border between literary fiction and erotica. As I'll explain, I think the novel could have benefitted from a few fewer sex scenes and a lot more character development, specifically for its protagonist.
The central characters, the student and the actor (who isn't named until 275) experienced extreme trauma in childhood, which, in the actor's case, caused more trauma in adulthood. Yet it is only the actor who is granted a 70-page backstory, closure, and a chance at healing. This isn't an issue in and of itself, but I finished the novel feeling like the actor was the real main character, with our protagonist merely supporting--he was the center of everything she did, and she was hardly given the time or attention to become more than the actor's saving grace. In fact, the effects of her childhood trauma only worsen as the novel progresses; yet, she appears magically healed by the (ostensibly) happy ending.
Given how highly stylized the novel is, I'm inclined to say this imbalance was conscious and intentional on McBride's part--but why? I can't come up with an answer, which I find unsatisfying. Perhaps I'm mistaken in giving the author the benefit of the doubt.
I realize I'm sounding awfully negative, but I didn't hate this book. Though the first half or so was tough to penetrate, I did come to be invested in the characters' relationship and found myself rooting for them. More importantly, I was struck by the recurring theme and question of punishment--how we punish and hurt the people we love for what we perceive as their wrongdoings, and how those punishments only perpetuate a cycle of perceived wrongdoings. This is an issue I'll continue to mull over.
Do I recommend reading The Lesser Bohemians? Honestly, I don't know. If you enjoy trippy stream-of-consciousness, then yes, totally. But otherwise...I'm stumped.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Alcoholism, Child abuse, Drug abuse, Self harm, and Sexual violence