A review by deeclancy
Fresh Complaint by Jeffrey Eugenides
5.0
During lockdown, I have somehow found novels hard to read but have gone back to some old favourite short story writers and discovered some new ones. After the dark understatement of The Virgin Suicides and the epic storytelling of Middlesex, it seemed unlikely to me that Eugenides was a natural short story writer, but the narratives in this book pulled me into the characters' lives and concerns with the same skill as displayed in the novels.
These are characters grappling with decidedly modern dilemmas, but also quite complicated ethical scenarios. Can a passion for history, academia, and the arts be taken too far, and how much should we sacrifice in order to pursue such passions? This seems to me to be the question for Rodney, whose family's financial security is threatened by his purchasing of an early-modern, now obscure instrument called a clavichord, the playing of which seems to provide his only comfort in life, with the obscurity of his interests guaranteeing that he is in a job unrelated to his original academic pursuits. This theme of characters who, on the one hand, feel perhaps slightly superior due to the purity of their artistic or academic pursuits, while simultaneously resenting the material success of those who have done well in business (as if the two must always be mutually exclusive when T.S. Eliot worked in a bank his entire life), is a recurring one in the book (the story Great Experiment also explores it), and it is a thoroughly real and modern condition. It is refreshing to see it explored with such searing honesty. Of course, it speaks to many socio-cultural trends; the ethical strengths and weaknesses of the characters are only a small part of the reason this is a modern dilemma. Who decides what constitutes cultural capital and what cultural activities deserve financial reward is a highly complicated question these days, and one that is too complicated to examine here.
Other themes dealt with in the book include the culture of political correctness in U.S. universities and the manner in which complaints of sexual harassment can make or break the careers of male academics, in the title story of the book. Like David Mamet (in his play, Oleanna), the idea that complaints of harassment are not always straightforward in nature and are sometimes influenced by the personal, cultural, and psychological dysfunctions of the complainants is probed to a degree here. It is somewhat brave to tackle this highly charged and sensitive subject, and the story is not an apologia for the accused (far from it), who plays a serious part in his own potential downfall. In a #MeToo world, and this world of black-and-white Twitter disputes, it is not particularly trendy to say that the issue is not always clear cut, but it is definitely not (often, of course, it is definitely clear cut, and the power dynamic would make it clear where the responsibility lies for laying proper boundaries of professionalism). Academic life has its own star system and the combination of adored charismatic professor and some young women willing to provide narcissistic supply can be murky in the extreme. Anybody who has been through university has seen it, and seen many people play along with the dance as if there is nothing wrong with it. I certainly have seen it - multiple times - and known first-hand in the past a couple of women who played along with semi-wanted attentions for career enhancement, and said so with bravado, as if it was a virtue.
Another story I love in this collection is Capricious Gardens. As an Irish woman, I am wondering how an American writer came up with such a perfect portrait of sociopathic misogyny, Irish-style? Sean is a decidedly high-functioning example of such, with a stellar education and achievements, but I have seen these types make a beeline for female American student friends of mine in Ireland when in my 20s (by less high-functioning examples). The story overall provides a portrait of what some of these characters I encountered in my 20s may be in middle age - more obviously jaded and cynical, but still motivated to be exploitative - and it's difficult to fathom that anything but a real-life encounter by Eugenides could have conjured Sean up, really. The story is quite brilliant in a way that reminds me of the sensation I had when I first read the plays of Pinter. The air hangs heavy with what is left unsaid, with the lack of empathy and understanding that exists in certain sectors of Irish society still.
I am glad I read this book during lockdown. It confirmed that one of my favourite living writers is definitely Eugenides. His subject matters speak to me and provoke serious thought and, unlike many modern writers, he knows the importance of providing a proper narrative, complex though that narrative may be.
These are characters grappling with decidedly modern dilemmas, but also quite complicated ethical scenarios. Can a passion for history, academia, and the arts be taken too far, and how much should we sacrifice in order to pursue such passions? This seems to me to be the question for Rodney, whose family's financial security is threatened by his purchasing of an early-modern, now obscure instrument called a clavichord, the playing of which seems to provide his only comfort in life, with the obscurity of his interests guaranteeing that he is in a job unrelated to his original academic pursuits. This theme of characters who, on the one hand, feel perhaps slightly superior due to the purity of their artistic or academic pursuits, while simultaneously resenting the material success of those who have done well in business (as if the two must always be mutually exclusive when T.S. Eliot worked in a bank his entire life), is a recurring one in the book (the story Great Experiment also explores it), and it is a thoroughly real and modern condition. It is refreshing to see it explored with such searing honesty. Of course, it speaks to many socio-cultural trends; the ethical strengths and weaknesses of the characters are only a small part of the reason this is a modern dilemma. Who decides what constitutes cultural capital and what cultural activities deserve financial reward is a highly complicated question these days, and one that is too complicated to examine here.
Other themes dealt with in the book include the culture of political correctness in U.S. universities and the manner in which complaints of sexual harassment can make or break the careers of male academics, in the title story of the book. Like David Mamet (in his play, Oleanna), the idea that complaints of harassment are not always straightforward in nature and are sometimes influenced by the personal, cultural, and psychological dysfunctions of the complainants is probed to a degree here. It is somewhat brave to tackle this highly charged and sensitive subject, and the story is not an apologia for the accused (far from it), who plays a serious part in his own potential downfall. In a #MeToo world, and this world of black-and-white Twitter disputes, it is not particularly trendy to say that the issue is not always clear cut, but it is definitely not (often, of course, it is definitely clear cut, and the power dynamic would make it clear where the responsibility lies for laying proper boundaries of professionalism). Academic life has its own star system and the combination of adored charismatic professor and some young women willing to provide narcissistic supply can be murky in the extreme. Anybody who has been through university has seen it, and seen many people play along with the dance as if there is nothing wrong with it. I certainly have seen it - multiple times - and known first-hand in the past a couple of women who played along with semi-wanted attentions for career enhancement, and said so with bravado, as if it was a virtue.
Another story I love in this collection is Capricious Gardens. As an Irish woman, I am wondering how an American writer came up with such a perfect portrait of sociopathic misogyny, Irish-style? Sean is a decidedly high-functioning example of such, with a stellar education and achievements, but I have seen these types make a beeline for female American student friends of mine in Ireland when in my 20s (by less high-functioning examples). The story overall provides a portrait of what some of these characters I encountered in my 20s may be in middle age - more obviously jaded and cynical, but still motivated to be exploitative - and it's difficult to fathom that anything but a real-life encounter by Eugenides could have conjured Sean up, really. The story is quite brilliant in a way that reminds me of the sensation I had when I first read the plays of Pinter. The air hangs heavy with what is left unsaid, with the lack of empathy and understanding that exists in certain sectors of Irish society still.
I am glad I read this book during lockdown. It confirmed that one of my favourite living writers is definitely Eugenides. His subject matters speak to me and provoke serious thought and, unlike many modern writers, he knows the importance of providing a proper narrative, complex though that narrative may be.