young and entitled

The Emperor's Children by Claude Messud is one of those creations that 'literary' people love. I thought it was quite good, though depressing as all hell and tough to read. A book that weaves in and out of six lives, the majority of whom are young and entitled with plans to take over New York, it just hit a bit too close to home. Messud is an unflinching author with no qualms about creating characters with a variety of less than admirable qualities who enjoy using dialogue sharp enough to leave bloody messes wherever they step.

The stories are compelling even if the characters are primarily unsympathetic. My absolute least favorite is Marina Thwaite, the ravishing authoress-wannabe offspring of the successful journalist Murray Thwaite. Her best friend is Danielle Minkoff, by far the 'nicest' and most sensible character in the book with unusual but moderately attractive looks (you know she'll go FAR in life). Rounding out the cast is Julian Clarke, a gay and loserish Eurasian bum who cooks gourmet meals, Ludovic Seely, a libertarian Australian with dark, slightly gayish looks and plans to take over the world through a literary coup, and other colorful and distasteful characters.

For all of its pizazz, The Emperor's Children doesn't skimp on the substance, although I did wonder what the main message was supposed to be. Don't get your hopes up? Don't feel entitled? Don't be beautiful? Messud cleverly weaves all of the stories together but ends rather surprisingly, yet fittingly. Since it is an ensemble cast, the flow of the story is a bit uneven at times, though good on the whole.

The biggest surprise of The Emperor's Children is that I had to read it in front of my computer in order to expand my vocabulary. Who knew that Mayakovsky was a part of the Russian Futurism movement? And I certainly didn't know what pergola, probascis, and osculate meant before picking up this tome. Anyone other than Messud or a historian who uses the word paterfamilias would come off as conceited, but she manages gracefully, as well as inserting otherwise pretentious vocabulary including naif and uxorious. Messud is a chameleon and master when it comes to language, interspersing highbrow vocabulary with gorgeous phrases such as 'syrupy Thursday afternoons' and everyday ones including 'everything about him looked faggy'.

I apologize for getting carried away by Messud's amazing manipulation of language. Other than that, I do wish that she had softened some of the dialogue and tightened the overall structure a tiny bit. The Emperor's Children is a pretty good read, though Revolutionary Road is still vastly superior despite its mundane vocabulary and inferior wit.