French Exit
Overview: Frances Price – tart widow, possessive mother, and Upper East Side force of nature – is in dire straits, beset by scandal and impending bankruptcy. Her adult son, Malcolm, is no help, mired in a permanent state of arrested development. And then there’s Prices aging cat, Small Frank, who Frances believes houses the spirit of her late husband, an infamously immoral litigator and world-class cad whose gruesome tabloid death rendered Frances and Malcolm social outcasts.
b Putting penury and pariahdom behind them, the family decides to cut their losses and head for the exit. Once ocean voyage later, the curious trio land in their beloved Paris, the City of Lights serving as a backdrop not for love or romance, but self-destruction and economic ruin – to riotous effect. A number of singular characters serve to round out the cast: a bashful private investigator, an aimless psychic proposing a seance, a doctor who makes house calls with his wine merchant in tow, and the inimitable Mme Reynard, aggressive houseguest and dementedly friendly American expat.
Pages: 256 Pages
Writer: Patrick Dewitt
Recommendations:
I must confess, this book was like a marathon of paper cuts – painful and never-ending. The tale revolves around Frances, a woman of immense pride, and her son Malcolm. After her husband’s passing, Frances finds herself in dire financial straits, leading her to seek refuge in a friend’s vacant Parisian apartment. However, the story takes a nosedive from there, leaving me struggling to trudge through each page.
What truly irked me was the lack of progress in the plot – you could skip every third page and still grasp the gist of the story. And let’s not forget the ambiguous time setting that left me scratching my head. Is it the past? Is it the present? Or are we in some bizarre sci-fi alternate universe?
As I soldiered on, hoping for a glimmer of redemption, I was met with disappointment at every turn. By the halfway mark, I was ready to toss the book in the bin and call it a day. Alas, the elusive silver lining never materialized.
In conclusion, this book was a rollercoaster ride of frustration and confusion, leaving me questioning my sanity. Perhaps the real joke is on me for expecting coherence in a world where time is but a mere suggestion.