Book review: The Privileges
Jan. 8th, 2011 01:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
next_to_normalHaha, still working on books I read last year, even though I need to start reading for class (OMG already? These breaks are simply not long enough).
The Privileges, by Jonathan Dee
This is the story of Adam and Cynthia Morey, who married young and got rich quick, through Adam's success at a hedge fund and insider trading on the side. We see from the very first chapter, which describes their wedding, just how entitled they are. Cynthia eschews Adam's suggestion of a simpler ceremony because "that wouldn't have seemed unusual enough to Cynthia, too little distinct from a typical Saturday night out drinking and dancing with their friends, just with fancier clothes and a worse band. She wasn't completely sure why the idea should appeal to her at all - the big schmaltzy wedding, the sort of wedding for which everyone would have to make travel plans - but she didn't make a habit of questioning her wants." That pretty much sums up the Moreys - they want everything to be extraordinary, and they believe that wanting something is reason enough to justify having it.
They - and their two children, April and Jonah - live a bizarrely detached, unsentimental, and unexamined life. They live only in the present, with no regrets and no nostalgia. They form practically no meaningful relationships outside their nuclear family, and seem somewhat bored with their incredible wealth. They live lives entirely devoid of consequences - Adam never gets caught for his illegal schemes, the children are easily extricated from trouble with the correct application of money, and the marriage never deteriorates under the stress of Adam's exhausting work schedule or temptation to cheat. In fact, their love for each other only grows stronger with every billion Adam makes.
I'm still not sure how I feel about this book. It wasn't what I expected it to be - the back cover quoted a review calling it "an indictment of an entire social class and historical moment," but I'm not really sure indictment is the right word, given that the author portrays his characters with a surprising lack of judgment. We are asked neither to sympathize with or condemn them. The problem, though, is that it's difficult to become invested in characters who are so narcissistic and shallow. I don't hate them, but I can't love them, and their extravagant, solipsistic existence is so unrelatable that I ended up reading it with the same dispassionate observation as if I were watching animals at the zoo.
One message comes through loud and clear, though. As fabulous as that life is, money cannot buy happiness. Adam and Cynthia are obsessed with their success, and no matter how much they achieve, it will never be satisfying. Having grown up in blue-collar families, they've made it their life's goal to ensure that their children have the best of everything - and they succeed, but April is still lured into the partying and drugs scene, desperate to take risks after a life in which everything comes easy. Jonah rebels against his family's wealth, searching for an elusive sense of authenticity through self-induced poverty, punk rock, and outsider art. Even Cynthia, who has found fulfillment in her charity foundation, because it allows her to throw money at all of society's problems, finally runs up against a problem that money cannot solve. Her father is dying, and her first instinct is to buy the hospice in which he is spending his last days, but there's no amount of money she can spend that will repair their relationship.
The writing style complements the story perfectly - the narrative drifts from one scene to another in an almost dreamlike way that evokes how detached from reality these people are. The fluid prose alone kept me engaged during the sections where I found the plot bland and the characters lacking depth.
The Privileges, by Jonathan Dee
This is the story of Adam and Cynthia Morey, who married young and got rich quick, through Adam's success at a hedge fund and insider trading on the side. We see from the very first chapter, which describes their wedding, just how entitled they are. Cynthia eschews Adam's suggestion of a simpler ceremony because "that wouldn't have seemed unusual enough to Cynthia, too little distinct from a typical Saturday night out drinking and dancing with their friends, just with fancier clothes and a worse band. She wasn't completely sure why the idea should appeal to her at all - the big schmaltzy wedding, the sort of wedding for which everyone would have to make travel plans - but she didn't make a habit of questioning her wants." That pretty much sums up the Moreys - they want everything to be extraordinary, and they believe that wanting something is reason enough to justify having it.
They - and their two children, April and Jonah - live a bizarrely detached, unsentimental, and unexamined life. They live only in the present, with no regrets and no nostalgia. They form practically no meaningful relationships outside their nuclear family, and seem somewhat bored with their incredible wealth. They live lives entirely devoid of consequences - Adam never gets caught for his illegal schemes, the children are easily extricated from trouble with the correct application of money, and the marriage never deteriorates under the stress of Adam's exhausting work schedule or temptation to cheat. In fact, their love for each other only grows stronger with every billion Adam makes.
I'm still not sure how I feel about this book. It wasn't what I expected it to be - the back cover quoted a review calling it "an indictment of an entire social class and historical moment," but I'm not really sure indictment is the right word, given that the author portrays his characters with a surprising lack of judgment. We are asked neither to sympathize with or condemn them. The problem, though, is that it's difficult to become invested in characters who are so narcissistic and shallow. I don't hate them, but I can't love them, and their extravagant, solipsistic existence is so unrelatable that I ended up reading it with the same dispassionate observation as if I were watching animals at the zoo.
One message comes through loud and clear, though. As fabulous as that life is, money cannot buy happiness. Adam and Cynthia are obsessed with their success, and no matter how much they achieve, it will never be satisfying. Having grown up in blue-collar families, they've made it their life's goal to ensure that their children have the best of everything - and they succeed, but April is still lured into the partying and drugs scene, desperate to take risks after a life in which everything comes easy. Jonah rebels against his family's wealth, searching for an elusive sense of authenticity through self-induced poverty, punk rock, and outsider art. Even Cynthia, who has found fulfillment in her charity foundation, because it allows her to throw money at all of society's problems, finally runs up against a problem that money cannot solve. Her father is dying, and her first instinct is to buy the hospice in which he is spending his last days, but there's no amount of money she can spend that will repair their relationship.
The writing style complements the story perfectly - the narrative drifts from one scene to another in an almost dreamlike way that evokes how detached from reality these people are. The fluid prose alone kept me engaged during the sections where I found the plot bland and the characters lacking depth.
