Casebook A novel

Mona Simpson

Book - 2014

"From the acclaimed and award-winning author of Anywhere But Here and My Hollywood, a powerful new novel about a young boy's quest to uncover the mysteries of his unraveling family. What he discovers turns out to be what he least wants to know: the inner workings of his parents' lives. And even then he can't stop searching. Miles Adler-Hart starts eavesdropping to find out what his mother is planning for his life. When he learns instead that his parents are separating, his investigation deepens, and he enlists his best friend, Hector, to help. Both boys are in thrall to Miles's unsuspecting mother, Irene, who is "pretty for a mathematician." They rifle through her dresser drawers, bug her telephone lines,... and strip-mine her computer, only to find that all clues lead them to her bedroom, and put them on the trail of a mysterious stranger from Washington, D.C. Their amateur detective work starts innocently but quickly takes them to the far reaches of adult privacy as they acquire knowledge that will affect the family's well-being, prosperity, and sanity. Burdened with this powerful information, the boys struggle to deal with the existence of evil and concoct modes of revenge on their villains that are both hilarious and naive. Eventually, haltingly, they learn to offer animal comfort to those harmed and to create an imaginative path to their own salvation. Casebook brilliantly reveals an American family both both coming apart at the seams and, simultaneously, miraculously reconstituting itself to sustain its members through their ultimate trial. Mona Simpson, once again, demonstrates her stunning mastery, giving us a boy hero for our times whose story remains with us long after the novel is over.we've read the novel's final page"--

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Subjects
Published
New York : Alfred A. Knopf 2014.
Language
English
Main Author
Mona Simpson (-)
Item Description
"This is a Borzoi book"
Physical Description
317 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm
ISBN
9780385351416
Contents unavailable.
Review by New York Times Review

THE WORD "SPYING" now brings to mind boundless digital nets trawling the ether for millions of emails at a time, but Miles Adler-Hart, the young protagonist of Mona Simpson's sixth novel, practices snooping the old-school way. He plants a walkie-talkie in his parents' bedroom. He eavesdrops on therapy sessions through a heating vent. He listens to phone conversations by carefully picking up a landline in the next room. Miles is 9 when "Casebook" starts, in 2001, and his furtive habits soon yield knowledge about the precarious state of his family. Hiding beneath his parents' bed, he hears his father telling his mother, Irene, "that he didn't think of her that way anymore either." "What way?" Miles wonders. "And why either? I could hardly breathe." After the marriage ends, Irene begins dating a friend named Eli, who visits California from Washington, D.C., where he lives and works for the National Science Foundation. Or so he claims. At first, Miles is glad for his mother's new companion. "I really was relieved. The nights we went to our dad's in the canyon, I thought, she had someone to talk to." But Miles's friend Hector suspects that Eli is hiding something, and he persuades his buddy that they should investigate. By the time they're teenagers, they're following clues around greater Los Angeles with the help of a private eye named Ben Orion. As the story progresses deeper into the 21st century, there are mentions of email, and Miles uses Google to search for a street address and to look up Xanax after he finds a bottle of it in the house. But the search for information about Eli remains oddly removed from the Internet. In the book's opening pages, Irene is roundly drawn. She describes herself as "pretty for a mathematician." She keeps an old blackboard in the kitchen, on which she scribbles high-end inspirational quotes, like this one she attributes to Einstein: "It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer." She "listened to gospel, but she didn't believe in God." She is (Efferent from other people but "probably would rather have been more like everybody else." So why does "Casebook," occupied with the same complex familial concerns that Simpson has vividly animated for so long, feel like a misstep? The book suffers most from its uncertain register, with Miles too often sounding as if he's narrating events in real time as a child, rather than as someone in his 20s looking back on formative experiences. Overhearing a conversation about possible Eving arrangements, he writes: "It took me a minute to understand: They were talking about custody. My parents must have been fighting over us!" He lapses in and out, mostly out, of his latter-day vantage point, like Kevin Costner navigating a British accent. In this way, especially, "Casebook" is not flattered by comparison with Simpson's reputation-making 1986 debut novel, "Anywhere but Here," in which a woman recalls her troubled mother with a tersely poetic blend of childlike befuddlement and adult perspective. Miles feels more like the guide through a novel for younger readers. As Eli and his mother get more serious, he wonders: "Were they getting married? What about his kid? Would it live with us? . . .I wanted things to stand still." There are darker glimpses of how Miles's surveillance of adults affects his development. He thinks of sex as a "lower, threatening world." Hearing his parents argue about their lack of passion "neutered me somehow." More mysteriously, coming across naked pictures of his mother "made me feel exposed. As if I would never be attractive." These are moments when Miles the adult might offer context or reveal something deeper about the person he has become, but they pass in flurries of young wonder: "People in my class at school, some of them, they were having sex already. We all knew exactly who. Simon told us. What was sex, even?" Simpson has also adorned the book with a needless conceit that seems to betray a lack of confidence in the material. It opens with a "Note to Customer" written by the owner of a comics store, who says the book we're about to read was written by one of two friends behind a classic comic called "Two Sleuths." It becomes clear that Miles wrote "Casebook," and that Hector later added his own thoughts, which appear as footnotes. There are just 21 annotations by Hector, many of them less than a dozen words long. The fruits of this device, announced so loudly at the book's start and so ripe with possibilities for complicating Miles's memories, are conspicuously flavorless. Typical is a moment in which Miles describes Hector's favorite Roald Dahl story. We're then drawn by an asterisk to the bottom of the page, where Hector notes: "Still my favorite." There is a sense throughout of an author operating just a degree or two removed from her comfort zone. This is not Tom Wolfe implausibly ventriloquizing the college set in "I Am Charlotte Simmons," but Simpson's decision to so fully inhabit the mind of a boy forces her into a simpler style and cordons her off from more nuanced insights, despite the fact that her themes remain humble but profound: compromises brought on by love; what we can know about other people; the unavoidable and unintended effects of parents on children. The constant use of unexplained nicknames (Miles's mother is "the Mims"; his younger twin sisters are "Boop One" and "Boop Two") stands out because they push an intimacy with the family and its dynamics that is never fully established through more rigorous methods. For much of the novel, the stage blocking is too visible. Eli's Efe is, in fact, not what he says it is - among other things, he lives in California. But the nature of his deception becomes obvious long before the final page. The second half of the book leans on descriptions of school-age high jinks, Eke Miles and Hector dropping unwanted pets into Eli's yard as revenge for his lies. Near the end, we're shown illustrations from the pair's "classic" comic, leaving us perplexed about why it's a classic. Like the Hardy Boys or Veronica Mars, Miles learns a few lessons about life by doggedly pursuing the truth. ("Everyone had secrets; I understood now that I did. With that one revelation, the world multiplied.") But for readers of Simpson's more skillful novels, who presumably learned these particular lessons long ago, it's not clear what "Casebook" has to teach. Simpson's young protagonist practices snooping the old-school way. JOHN WILLIAMS is a senior staff editor at The Times.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 1, 2014]
Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Simpson's latest ensnaring, witty, and perceptive novel of family life under pressure in Los Angeles mines the same terrain as her much-lauded last novel, the immigrant-nanny-focused My Hollywood (2010). Here she puts a clever spin on domestic surveillance as young Miles begins spying on his mother, Irene, a mathematician, just as fault lines begin to appear in her marriage to his father, a Hollywood lawyer. Wily Miles, the overweight older brother of twin sisters he professes to loathe yet watches over tenderly, sets up phone taps of increasing sophistication, opens e-mail, eavesdrops, and paws through drawers, aided and abetted by his friend Hector, who is highly suspicious, and rightfully so, of Eli, post-separation Irene's increasingly enigmatic and elusive lover. As they muddle through middle school and high school, Miles and Hector become an adolescent American variation on Holmes and Watson, with the help of a kind, handsome private eye, Ben Orion. They also embark on a crazy entrepreneurial scheme involving troublesome pets. Simpson's opening gambit is a Note to Customer from the publisher of Two Sleuths, the best-selling comic created by Miles and Hector, but she wisely uses this framing device lightly, allowing this exceptionally incisive, fine-tuned, and charming novel to unfold gracefully as she brings fresh understanding and keen humor to the complexities intrinsic to each stage of life and love. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Simpson is a great literary favorite, and this winning novel will be supported by a cross-country author tour and plenty of publicity.--Seaman, Donna Copyright 2014 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Simpson's (My Hollywood) sixth novel portrays a Santa Monica, Calif., family through the eyes of the only son, Miles Adler-Hart, a habitual eavesdropper who watches his mother, Irene, with great intensity. From an early age, Miles senses the vulnerability of his mother, a recently divorced mathematician, and throughout his childhood and adolescence feels the need to look out for her. When Irene falls in love with Eli Lee, Miles is highly suspicious. He enlists his best friend, Hector, to help him look deep into Eli's background, going so far as to work with a private investigator. Simpson elevates this world of tree houses and walkie-talkies not only through Miles's intelligence-"'Hope for happiness is happiness,'" he tells Hector-but through the startling revelations he uncovers. Simpson tastefully crafts her story in a world of privilege, with private school, show business jobs, and housekeepers all present, but never prevalent details. More remarkable is Simpson's knowledge of her characters, which is articulated through subtle detail: we are not surprised by the flea market blackboard in the kitchen, nor by the preachy quotation Irene chooses to write on it. Ultimately, this is a story about a son's love for his mother, and Simpson's portrayal of utter loyalty is infectious. Agent: Amanda Urban, ICM. (Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

Miles Adler prides himself on being a snoop, but after wiring a secret phone extension under the master bed, he overhears a conversation between his parents that turns his stomach. His perfect folks are soon to become a divorce statistic, and if Miles is to stay apprised of the situation, he has no choice but to continue spying. Monitoring his mom's emails is easy; keeping his -overactive imagination in check is not, especially with best friend Hector goading him on. When Eli Lee starts dating mom and promising the moon, she's like a new woman, but even after five years Eli is suspiciously unable to commit. Miles and Hector won't rest until they suss out the truth about Eli, and issues of trust and perception are raised as the boys compile damning evidence against him. Readers will fall in love with Miles as he grows into manhood: from a precocious nine-year-old to a tender big brother to twin sisters to a chubby, angst-filled teen. -VERDICT In this sensitively rendered bildungsroman, Simpson (My Hollywood) recalls authentic, detailed memories of childhood in writing this clever, insightful, and at times hilarious story about family, friendship, and love in all its complex iterations. A great choice for teens and adults to read together and discuss. [See Prepub Alert, 10/14/13.]-Sally Bissell, Lee Cty. Lib. Syst., Fort Myers, FL (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

A child of divorce turns private eye in the latest well-observed study of domestic dysfunction from Simpson (My Hollywood, 2010, etc.). In some ways, Simpson's sixth novel marks a return to her first, Anywhere But Here (1986), which also features a teenage narrator struggling to comprehend a parental split. But the new book is more high concept, framed as a detective story about discovering the deceptions that can swirl around relationships. The narrator, Miles, is a bright LA high schooler who's prone to precocious antics like a money-making scheme selling lunches out of his locker. He's also picked up a more questionable eavesdropping habit, listening in on his mathematician mother's phone conversations after her marriage collapses and she pursues a new relationship with Eli, whose intentions and background strike Miles as questionable. With his friend Hector, he processes his confusion both artistically (via a comic book they create together) and pragmatically, befriending a PI who helps them get to the bottom of Eli's background. The setup is ingenious on a couple of fronts. First, making the tale a mystery adds a dose of drama to what's otherwise a stock plot about upper-middle-class divorce. Second, Miles' snapping to the role of secret eavesdropper and researcher underscores how alienated he is from his mother's confusion and heartbreak. Simpson presents Miles' tale as slightly comic; this is a story of teenage misadventures, after all. But as the truth about Eli emerges and Miles gets wise to reality, she shifts into a more serious register. "Everyone had secrets, I understood, now that I did," Miles explains. "With that one revelation, the world multiplied." Simpson's attempts to add a metafictional touch via Hector's footnote comments feel half-finished, but overall her command of the story is rock-solid. A clever twist on a shopworn theme by a top-shelf novelist.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

1 ​* ​Under the Bed I was a snoop, but a peculiar kind. I only discovered what I most didn't want to know. The first time it happened, I was nine. I'd snaked underneath my parents' bed when the room was empty to rig up a walkie-talkie. Then they strolled in and flopped down. So I was stuck. Under their bed. Until they got up. I'd wanted to eavesdrop on her, not them. She decided my life. Just then, the moms were debating weeknight television. I needed, I believed I absolutely needed to understand Survivor. You had to, to talk to people at school. The moms yakked about it for hours in serious voices. The only thing I liked that my mother approved of that year was chess. And every other kid, every single other kid in fourth grade, owned a Game Boy. I thought maybe Charlie's mom could talk sense to her. She listened to Charlie's mom. On top of the bed, my dad was saying that he didn't think of her that way anymore either. What way? And why either? I could hardly breathe. The box spring made a gauzy opening to gray dust towers, in globular, fantastic formations. The sound of dribbling somewhere came in through open windows. My dad stood and locked the door from inside, shoving a chair up under the knob. Before, when he did that, I'd always been on the other side. Where I belonged. And it hurt not to move. "Down," my mother said. "Left." Which meant he was rubbing her back. All my life, I'd been aware of him wanting something from her. And of her going sideways in his spotlight, a deer at the sight of a human. The three of us, the originals, were together locked in a room. My mom was nice enough looking, for a smart woman. "Pretty for a mathematician," I'd heard her once say about herself, with an air of apology. Small, with glasses, she was the kind of person you didn't notice. I'd seen pictures, though, of her holding me as a baby. Then, her hair fell over her cheek and she'd been pretty. My dad was always handsome. Simon's mom, a jealous type, said that my mother had the best husband, the best job, the best everything. I thought she had the best everything, too. We did. But Simon's mom never said my mother had the best son. The bed went quiet and it seemed then that both my parents were falling asleep. My dad napped weekends. NOOO, I begged telepathically, my left leg pinned and needled. Plus I really had to pee. But my mother, never one to let something go when she could pick it apart, asked if he was attracted to other people. He said he hadn't ever been, but lately, for the first time, he felt aware of opportunities. He used that word. "Like who?" I bit the inside of my cheek. I knew my dad: he was about to blab and I couldn't stop him. And sure enough, idiotically, he named a name. By second grade everyone I knew had understood never to name a name. "Holland Emerson," he said. What kind of name was that? Was she Dutch? "Oh," the Mims said. "You've always kind of liked her." "I guess so," he said, as if he hadn't thought of it until she told him. Then the mattress dipped, like a whale, to squash me, and I scooched over to the other side as the undulation rolled. "I didn't do anything, Reen!" She got up. Then I heard him follow her out of the room. "I'm not going to do anything! You know me!" But he'd started it. He'd said opportunities. He'd named a name. I bellied out, skidded to the bathroom, missing the toilet by a blurt. A framed picture of them taken after he'd proposed hung on the wall; her holding the four-inch diamond ring from the party-supply shop. On the silvery photograph, he'd written I promise to always make you unhappy. I'd grown up with his jokes. By the time I sluffed to the kitchen he sat eating a bowl of Special K. He lifted the box. "Want some?" "Don't fill up." She stood next to the wall phone. "We're having the Audreys for dinner." "Tonight?" he said. "Can we cancel? I think I'm coming down with something." "We canceled them twice already." The doorbell rang. It was the dork guy who came to run whenever she called him. He worked for the National Science Foundation and liked to run and talk about pattern formation. Excerpted from Casebook by Mona Simpson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.