I give up at page 112. I just don't like this and I'm tired of trying to follow along with the non-plot. Goodbye terrible book!

Pretentious. Poorly written. About 400 pages too long.

I'd been meaning to read this forever, and when a nice paperback made itself visible on my coworker's desk I decided to finally do so. Mostly, I think it's a pretty dead-on portrayal of the intangible confusion and fear of not doing something great among a certain kind of late 20-something/30-something Ivy League graduate in New York (being one myself I can especially relate). Messud's prose can verge on feeling a bit too mannered, as can the dialogue he provides her three main characters, who sometimes sound as if they imagine their lives to be a modern Jane Austen novel. But I'm impressed with how natural the weaving-in of September 11th feels, and the book ended for me on a moving if ambiguous note. I'm not sure I'd run to read another of Messud's novels---the charms of this one seem very specific to the story---but I'd recommend it to readers in the age range of the main characters for sure.

Ick.

Sometimes with books, timing is everything, and I think I read The Emperor's Children at the wrong time, or at least not at the best time. If I had read it a few years ago, maybe when I still lived in New York, or shortly after moving or around the time I finished school, maybe I would have enjoyed it more. This isn’t to say I didn’t like it, just that I might have liked it more at a different time. This time it was good but also a little tedious.

At the center of the story are three people who have been friends since college: Danielle, Marina, and Julius. Now they are 30 or nearing thirty and are finding life harder than they expected to be. Danielle works in television and wants to make insightful programs but is confronted with the economic realities of her profession. Julius has turned a talent for wit into a career as a critic, but still has to work temp jobs to make ends meet. Mostly known for being pretty and for being the daughter of well-known journalist Murray Thwaite, Marina is working on a book about children’s clothes. I use the term “working” loosely because for a large part of the story Marina hardly writes a word. At one point she whines to her father about how she wants to do something important and wonders if maybe she should get a job. Not a boring or meaningless job, of course. It must be something important.
In the end she decides not to because she really needs to time to finish the book. Not surprisingly, Marina is wealthy enough (or rather her parents are) to think this way. Perhaps I would have had more empathy for Marina a few years ago. Then again, maybe not. While I understand wanting to do something important, as someone who has worked almost steadily since high school out of necessity, I found Marina's sense of entitlement oppressively annoying.

Frederick “Bootie” Tubbs, Murray’s nephew and Marina’s cousin, inadvertently upsets the apple cart, albeit ever so slightly. Bootie is a college dropout who seeks intellectual integrity. Fleeing from his overbearing mother, he heads to New York. Determined to pursue his education on his own terms, Bootie earnestly reads difficult books and tries to write about them. He hopes that in New York his Uncle Murray will take him under his wing and teach him all that he knows. Unfortunately Murray disappoints. Murray turns out to be human, more human than Bootie anticipated. Then September 11 happens and it changes everything and nothing.

Danielle is devastated not so much because of the carnage of September 11 itself, but because her boyfriend realizes he really needs to be with his wife. Marina and Julius are more worried about their personal lives, admittedly they have messy personal lives, especially Julius. What's amazing is that no event, little or large, inspires any of the three friends or Murray to change anything about their circumstances. No one evolves in any meaningful way.

Bootie is the exception to the blanket of passivity and entitlement that seems to envelop Marina, Danielle, and Julius. Overweight and socially awkward, Bootie is in many ways the polar opposite of his cousin Marina and her friends. He's idealistic and judgmental, and is genuinely upset when he finds his uncle recycling some of his work. Bootie is serious about reading, writing and life, perhaps a little too serious at times. Maybe because he hasn't much to lose, Bootie is the one most willing to take charge of his life. Unhappy with his circumstances, he sees a chance to escape and change his life and he takes it, twice.

The cover of my copy has a quote calling the The Emperor's Children a "masterly comedy of manners." On the back cover there are more quotes likening the novel to the writing of Edith Wharton and Tom Wolfe. I wouldn't quite describe it in the same way. Although there are some great passages, overall it wasn't particularly insightful or funny. Or maybe too much time has passed. I can imagine that when the novel was first published it presented an interesting take on September 11th and a certain slice of American life but now, not so much.

This is between a 2 and 3 for me, but since I cannot award a 1/2 point I'll round up to 3.

This was slow and felt like work to finish. She is a good writer but this just dragged and never justified the struggle for me.

This book rates poorly on GR but so far I am loving it.

Only problem is a lot grumpy reviewers have spoilers in the first five sentences. Don't see a way to flag as reviews are pretty old.

I understand a lot of readers not enjoying Messud's prose but I loved it. She writes a lot like how I think to myself, with thoughts interjecting over other thoughts. I love getting into the minutiae of these characters over a year of their lives. Not a fast read, but a good one.

DNF after 150 pages.

Ugh. (And what did you think of it, James Wood?)

"...Marina saw transparently her father's bravado, his artificiality, had always seen it, and didn't care. Perhaps everyone saw it and didn't care, even though his principal virtue was supposed to be his vaunted authenticity." (Pp176)

That's it. That's the book.

The Emperor's Children is one of those books where you have to go into it knowing that it's pretentious. The same way that you shouldn't just pick up Donna Tartt expecting a sweet summer ride, you shouldn't pick up this book if you aren't in the mood for that kind of - what even is the word - dark, purple vibe? This isn't dark academia, considering all these characters have graduated from their institutions, but it still is within that circle of writing, learning, and trying to come up in the world, that I associate with that genre. More than that, The Emperor's Children pokes fun at the way high academic society (or high society in general) tries to puff itself up, which I found pretty fun.

These characters are all people I have met. They aren't exactly likeable, but they are real in their flaws and idiosyncrasies. Not a single one of them is reliable and they all foil each other, they even foil themselves in a way that is sometimes hilarious. Murray Thwaite is the most ridiculous. The man is walking around like a chicken with his head cut off he is so blind to his own ironies. Maybe you'll want to kick these characters in the butt. Personally, I wanted to dunk a bucket of ice water over Bootie's head and tell him to stop being such a pretentious ninny, but I think that was the point ( he's every annoying dude in class I've ever met, who thinks he's smarter than the rest of the room because he once picked up Tolstoy - but then again, I have sympathy for him, as he is so earnest and clearly feels insecure and desperately wants to fit in. By the end I was actually rooting for him.)

Don't read this thinking it'll be about friendship, art, and the city in the way that A Little Life, or even The Goldfinch are. I initially picked up this book because it had been on a list claiming "if you liked A Little Life try this!", or something. Besides the setting being New York and the multiple points of view, this is nothing like A Little Life . These characters are all friends, or at least connected to each other, but not to the same (heartwarming?) extent. The Emperor's Children is moreso driven by social commentary than anything else, and I think it would be right to call it a satire.

A delicious book.
Lyrical long sentences, fun times analysing the characters and their development. I really liked how pessimistic it made me feel.

myeh.