i need to talk about...

Kevin.

Actually, I need to talk about Lionel Shriver, the author, and Eva Khatchadourian, the narrator, of this novel. Which is which? Although Shriver, in one interview, brings up the possibility of the 'unreliable narrator', it felt very much as though the first part of the novel, in which the narrator Eva discusses the philosophical process she went through before deciding to get pregnant, is Shriver. That felt like the cleverest and most accurate part of the book, no doubt a reflection of thoughts Shriver herself (and many women, including me) went through when weighing up the prospect of becoming a mother. (Shriver decided against - she doesn't have any children.)

To describe a novel as 'accurate' is, of course, beside the point. Someone can always point out that it's a novel, a work of imagination. There's no one way of being a mother or experiencing motherhood, just as there's no one type of baby or child.

Still, the really aggravating thing about this book - and I was highly aggravated, at the same time as I was gripped - was the way in which it represented the mother-child relationship. It didn't represent it as a relationship. Shriver was very good at depicting the process of thinking about the future and wanting to "turn the page". But her imagination failed her after the page had turned. It made me think about other life-changing events - moving to another country (or even city); beginning an affair with someone who you unexpectedly end up having a long relationship with. At the point of turning that page, you could never envisage what the experience will really be like or all the knock-on changes it will make in your life - in you. The same goes for having a baby. You enter not only a new landscape, a new role, you enter a wholly new relationship with someone who becomes of momentous importance to you. Yet in We Need to talk About Kevin, Eva herself doesn't change, through the 16 years of motherhood she narrates. Not only does she have an alienated relationship with her son - and subsequently with her husband - she apparently makes no new friends and maintains no old friendships along the way. There's at the one time a very serious - and clever, it's such a clever book - attempt to be realistic and at the same time, there are so many big gaps in this story.

There were parts where I wanted to take Eva by the shoulders and shake her, really hard (especially the part where she tries to teach Kevin to read, in a parody of the ambitious, competitive mother-housewife.) I thought the baby Kevin was unbelievable, a cunning monster from the start. But my bias is that no babies are born "evil". Eva tells us she was diagnosed with postnatal depression  - yet apparently no treatment was suggested.

Later, the book comes close to horror-schlock. I got angry at Shriver - I think the description of the killings is gratuitously sensationalistic and strangely unfeeling. I had the very odd experience of almost being repulsed by the book, not wanting to go near it yet feeling compelled to finish it.  When I was reading through the teenage years, I had the "out of body" experience of feeling alienated from my own son - the novel and the mother-son relationship at that point seemed to be all about manipulation and control. I was seized with the fear that that's all there was to being a mother - which was a horrible feeling to have, for an hour or so.

I suppose I have to hand it to Shriver, to have created such a powerful story.

Comments

[Mikhela]

I leave you alone for a MINUTE and there is so much to comment on!
I thought it was an interesting book -I read it some time ago now so am a little rusty. I also was annoyed by the mother and thought the character missed making some obvious choices - like getting help or leaving - but I thought the central question - are some people just born evil? - a valid one. I wouldn't call it 'evil' and I wouldn't depict the Kevin character in quite the same way. Rather, I wonder whether some people are just born with an inability to distinguish that other people/animals have feelings - that people outside of oneself might be concerned about having their wings pulled off/being beaten up etc. So I enjoyed the tension of trying to figure out who to believe - was Kevin the monster the mother described? Or was the mother a Bad Mother? (it'd take too long to add a discussion of Bad Mother so I won't)

I saw Shriver at the Brisbane Film Festival. A prickly character. I think there is a lot of Shriver in Kevin as well - she sees herself as a misanthrope, a person who plays by different rules, and has a sense of superiority. Her second book 'Match Point', is not as powerful (maybe unless you like tennis) but reprises this - a story told from the point of view of an essentially unlikeable character.

[Mikhela]

P.S. Hooray for Lottie the wonderdog!

[susoz]

I didn't realise Shriver wrote the book of Match Point - I've seen the film (which I presume is the film of her book). Interesting - I can see the similarities.
Perhaps in concentrating on my aggravation with the narrator, I've not said that I did enjoy and appreciate the book - well, the first half of it especially, though I thought it went astray in the final section.
Undoubtedly there are people who have no empathy and I thought it was clever of Shriver to create Kevin as a character who had no joy in life. But I do think those sorts of attributes come about as a result of complex interactions in infancy. Which sounds like mother-blaming, but isn't - it's to say that mother-baby interactions are of vital importance (and need to be supported on many personal and institutional levels.)

[Mikhela]

Erm - I might have the book title wrong (my books are in storage)- I saw the film and enjoyed it but it's not the book - Shriver's book is about a professional tennis player who marries an amateur - the amateur subsequently outranks her and the book follows the narrator's response to this. It was an interesting look at jealousy and competition within intimate relationships - although it would have been stronger if the character had been more likeable (i.e. if I could identify with her more).

I agree that mother-baby interactions are of vital importance - however I don't think they're rocket science - 'good-enough' parenting produces perfectly well functioning individuals. What interests me is why some people respond to the trials and tribulations of a less than perfect childhood with absolute despair/hatred/insanity and others are simply 'normally' neurotic (or writers). (Resilience I believe is the current word for it). e.g. girls who are sexually abused who go on to become sexual abuse counsellors vs those who spend their days carving patterns into their wrists. Boys are more likely to externalise their anger/self-hatred - but what is it about them that makes that the response they choose, rather than a life of impotent alcoholism, say?
I suppose what I'm saying is I don't think it's ALL nurture - but then that's the $50,000 question.