Review by New York Times Review
WHEN DO THE WHEELS come off the wagon? In your 20s, after a short-lived stint in a rock band? In your 30s, after your kids have sucked the life out of you? In your 40s, after you acquire gray hair and a real estate license? How about when your almost-adult child starts having sex with your best friend's almost-adult child? Or maybe it's when you, nearing 50, find a guru? And the guru turns out to be a con artist? Sigh. It's all of the above in Emma Straub's witty third novel, "Modern Lovers." Elizabeth and Andrew are a married couple in their late 40s living in Brooklyn, a few doors down from their former college band mate, Zoe, and her wife, Jane. Along with their college friend Lydia, their band, Kitty's Mustache (a nod to Tolstoy's heroine), first sang what later became a monster hit called "Mistress of Myself," one of those anthemic, eternally meaningful songs whose lyrics people tattoo on their inner arms. Lydia died glamorously of a drug overdose at 27, leaving the remaining three band members to round the corner on hipster senescence without her. There's a saying about beautiful women and champion athletes dying two deaths. To that, I might add this: To be once young and briefly famous and painfully of-the-moment and then morph into regular-people middle age is rather more insulting, as if your whole life is the worst Instagram fail. And this is where we find the novel's 40-something friends, past millennial hipness and on into hot flashes. Zoe and Jane own a restaurant; their daughter, Ruby, is sullen, sexual and terribly chic. Their marriage has traveled into the chill zone of lesbian bed death. Meantime, Elizabeth, a rebellious rocker in college, has traded her guitar for a career selling real estate in Ditmas Park, in one of those enclaves where you brew your own kombucha or risk the neighbors' disdain. Her husband, Andrew, an aimless trustafarian, perceives himself as a brave escapee from the limestone canyons of Park Avenue. In reality, he's a dilettante who meanders from career to career, working vaguely at a lifestyle magazine for Brooklyn fathers and seeking fulfillment through cinematography classes and carpentry. At one point, his guru - Dave, distinctive mainly for his large, shiny teeth - remarks on the artful imperfection of the shelf Andrew is fabricating: "This is beautiful, man. Wabi-sabi, right?" It is, in fact, not an example of wabi-sabi, the Japanese term for artful imperfection and decay. It's just sloppy woodwork. The teenage children begin an affair. Zoe and Jane's restaurant burns down suspiciously. (But their marriage is simultaneously and magically rekindled, apparently, by a good Chinese meal.) Elizabeth, succumbing to the entreaties of a stealthy Hollywood producer, signs away her and Andrew's rights to a movie in the works about the mythic Lydia. (The producer describes it as "'Ray' meets 'Sid and Nancy' minus the Sid, meets 'Coal Miner's Daughter,' only the coal miner is an orthopedic surgeon from Scarsdale.'") Elizabeth learns that Andrew may have had sex with Lydia when they were all in college, a discovery that sends their marriage into some sort of cliff-of-divorce drama that I, as a married person in my 40s, married almost two decades, can't really fathom. Why the huge sense of betrayal? It wasn't last week, after all. Does anyone remember who anyone slept with in college? (And if we did, don't email me.) Perhaps these Brooklyn couples in their postmodern Peyton Place - one with nutritional yeast and cosmic trance nights and talk of ayahuasca retreats - are more sensitive than, say, most of the married couples in Tolstoy, Updike, Henry James, D. H. Lawrence or Jackie Collins. Or even, I would venture to say, Dr. Seuss. "Modern Lovers" hurries to tie up its loose ends, and the interwoven climaxes seem sludgy. The final chapter employs a lazy literary device, a series of announcements (a notice in the New York Times weddings section, trivia from one character's IMDB page, a précis of a thesis proposal, postings from foodie websites) that would seem more at home in the closing credits of "Animal House." (Bluto becomes a United States senator!) But up until then, "Modern Lovers" is a wise, sophisticated romp through the pampered middle-aged neuroses of urban softies. ALEX KUCZYNSKI is the author of "Beauty Junkies."
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 5, 2016]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Back at Oberlin, ages ago, Elizabeth, Andrew, Zoe, and Lydia were bandmates enjoying their heady, collegiate microfame as Kitty's Mustache, until they graduated and moved on. Among them, Lydia rocketed out highest and fastest, getting famous and dying at age 27. Now a Hollywood producer wants to buy the group's life-rights for a forthcoming Lydia biopic, and Elizabeth and Andrew, wife and husband, are on opposite sides of the issue. Further down the Brooklyn block, marital woes have Zoe and her wife, Jane, out to sea, too, as they wonder if they should stay together, and what will happen to their restaurant and beloved old Victorian home if they don't. Added to the pile of worries is the budding relationship between Elizabeth and Andrew's son, Harry, and Zoe and Jane's recent high-school graduate, Ruby, teens who practically grew up together. As their puzzles come together, become more complicated, and begin to resolve, we see Straub's fortysomethings fascinated by their alien children (irresistible characters), by the speed at which their own youth is leaving them, and by the absurdities of their various decades-long partnerships. As in her smash-hit The Vacationers (2013), Straub's handful of characters, followed with alternating close third-person narratives, are honestly and devilishly observed with clarity and kindness.--Bostrom, Annie Copyright 2016 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Back in the 1980s at Oberlin College, in Ohio, Elizabeth, Andrew, Zoe, and Lydia had a band called Kitty's Mustache. Elizabeth wrote a song called "Mistress of Myself"; Lydia sang it and made it famous, but she died of a heroin overdose at age 27. Two decades later, Elizabeth and Andrew are married and have a son, Harry. Living nearby in Brooklyn's Ditmas Park neighborhood are Zoe and her wife, Jane, with their daughter, Ruby. They own a neighborhood restaurant called Hyacinth. Midlife crises are roiling both marriages: Zoe and Jane are considering divorce; Andrew, the scion of wealthy parents, has never held a meaningful job and is now bemoaning his failure to find fulfillment, and Elizabeth sells real estate in Ditmas and feels responsible for everyone. To further complicate matters, teenagers Harry and Ruby suddenly discover sex. Into this volatile mix comes a Hollywood producer who's making a movie about Lydia and urgently needs the former band members to sign over their rights to the iconic song. Straub (The Vacationers) spins her lighthearted but psychologically perceptive narrative with a sure touch as she captures the vibes of midlife, middle-class angst and the raging hormones of youth. Straub excels in establishing a sense of place: the narrative could serve as a map to gentrified Brooklyn; it's that detailed and visually clear. Events move at a brisk pace, and surprises involving resurgent passion enliven the denouement. Readers will devour this witty and warmly satisfying novel. Agent: Claudia Ballard, WME Entertainment. (May) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
An engaging story of shifting relationships, Straub's third novel (The Vacationers; Laura Lamont's Life in Pictures) focuses on Elizabeth, Andrew, and Zoe, who have been friends since their college days. They now live close to one another in a gentrified Brooklyn neighborhood. But it's been years since college, and they are all facing midlife reassessments. Elizabeth throws herself into her work, Andrew finds his way to a local commune, and Zoe considers divorce. Meanwhile, their children start sleeping together. All the secrets from those long-ago college days begin to surface when a movie company shows up asking about the fourth member of their briefly successful college band-Lydia, who went on to fame without them, and died young. Sprinkled with humor and insight, this is a Brooklyn novel with heart. Straub's characters are well rounded and realistic; even the teenagers are sympathetic. Zoe's wife, Jane, is a chef, and her love of food adds to the sensory appeal of the book. VERDICT Recommended for readers who enjoy domestic dramas built around the small moments of life. [See Prepub Alert, 12/7/15.]-Melanie Kindrachuk, Stratford P.L., Ont. © Copyright 2016. 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
Middle-aged parents and hormone-addled teenagers all have some growing up to doentertaininglyin the course of one hot Brooklyn summer. Straub's last novel, The Vacationers (2014), took place on Mallorca and was a perfect vacation between two covers. Her new book is set in a grittier locale, but in Straub's fond gaze, it too feels like an enchanted land out of a Shakespearan comedy: "Ditmas Park was great in the summertime. The sycamores and oaks were full and wide, leaving big pools of shade along the sidewalks. Families were on their porchesNeighbors waved." She takes us inside two of the area's rambling yet run-down Victorian houses and introduces their owners: Elizabeth, a real estate agent, and Andrew, whose family trust has allowed him to get to his late 40s without much of a career, and their sweet son, Harry; and Zoe and Jane, who own a busy restaurant and live with their daughter, Ruby, who describes herself as having a "bad attitude." Years ago, Elizabeth, Andrew, and Zoe were in a band together at Oberlin, which would have been completely forgotten except that their fourth band mate, Lydia, had a smash hit as a solo artist with one of Elizabeth's songs, "Mistress of Myself," before dying of an overdose. Now Hollywood has come calling, wanting to make a movie about Lydia, but for some reason Andrew doesn't want to sell their rights to the song. Meanwhile, Zoe thinks she wants a divorce, Harry and Ruby start sleeping together when they're supposed to be studying for the SAT, Andrew is hanging out at a creepy yoga studio, and Elizabeth frets that their idyllic life might be changing and tries to hold them all together. In chapters whose points of view rotate among the players, Straub pays close and loving attention to what foods her characters eat, what they have hanging on their walls, where their money comes from and goes, and the subtle fluctuations of their varying relationships. She's a precise and observant writer whose supple prose carries the story along without a snag. Straub's characters are a quirky and interesting bunch, well aware of their own good fortune, and it's a pleasure spending time with them in leafy Ditmas Park. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
