Published by Henry Holt and Co. by October 8, 2024
Domestic comedies appeal to me more than domestic dramas, if only because I would rather smile than cringe. The Book of George is an appealing blend of comedy and drama, although the emphasis is clearly on comedy.
As the title implies, the book follows a man named George. The story starts when George is 12 and ends when he’s 38. In George, Kate Greathead created a harmless and hapless character, one who is sullen, inconsiderate, and self-indulgent, an ideal protagonist for a domestic comedy. He isn’t as outrageous as Ignatius J. Reilly, but he shares some of that iconic character’s laziness, indifference to appearance, and ill-timed farting.
Like Ignatius, George lives at home with his mother, although only for parts of the story. George’s mother Ellen kicked his father Denis out of their Manhattan home when George was fourteen (Denis was dipping into Ellen’s trust fund to feed his shopping addiction). George does not see him often because, like most things, paternal visits feed the anxiety and depression that will characterize George’s life.
George attends college in Connecticut. He writes poems in a half-hearted effort to find an identity, but (despite having one published in a campus literary journal) abandons writing after concluding that’s he’s aping the style of David Berman. At a party to celebrate his poem’s publication, he realizes that “his own cohort’s lack of a group identity suddenly seemed pathetic. What did George and his friends have in common beyond being lumped together in the same dorm when they were eighteen?”
Random chance can produce friendships as strong as any other, but it doesn’t occur to George that he would need to develop a passion for something and join with people who share that passion if he wants to share a group identity. George’s search for an identity, as an individual or part of a cohort, becomes the novel’s continuing theme.
When a mysterious mass moves over his head one night, George views it as a celestial sign and decides to major in philosophy. He’s drawn to Schopenhauer, whose mother regarded him as “irritating and unbearable” despite his good heart. George is much the same. Perhaps for that reason, he believes that Schopenhauer wasn’t the “deeply cynical pessimist” that history has judged him to be. George recognizes his own cynical pessimism and sometimes makes an effort to change, but he also feels a need to be true to himself, even if his self isn’t someone he likes.
Having a degree in philosophy qualifies George to get a job as a waiter. He isn’t competent but he meets a waitress named Jenny who plans to attend law school. While they are dating, George begins working for his uncle in the financial industry, a brief career that gives George further opportunity to sit in judgment of the rest of the human race. The other traders focus on getting rich during the week and partying on weekends. George concludes (perhaps wisely) that they are not his people, but what group of people would claim Geoge as one of their own?
George maintains and on-and-off relationship with Jenny for more than a decade after college. More than once they break up and reunite. George’s inability to commit remains a barrier to a lasting relationship. In Jenny’s view, George’s greatest character flaw is “his absentminded disregard for others, his resistance to doing anything that posed the slightest inconvenience to him.”
When she eviscerates George’s character, Jenny hopes he will defend himself, but he tells her she’s right and that she deserves better. That George won’t stand up for himself makes him even less appealing to women, a fact that will be apparent to the reader even if George remains indifferent to how others perceive him.
The turning point in their relationship occurs when George and Jenny go on a road trip. They spend some unplanned weeks with a fellow named Dizart who lived with George’s parents for a time during his childhood and may have been having an affair with his mother. Dizart encourages George to take up writing. When George heeds his advice, the reader wonders whether he has finally found a passion that will motivate him to get out of bed (as opposed to antidepressants that don’t change his mood but rob him of erections).
George believes Jenny takes his depression personally, but there are many other aspects of George’s personality that trouble Jenny. She scolds him for poking holes in people rather than building them up. “It makes you feel better about yourself,” she tells him. “George couldn’t dispute this. He did not want to be such a person.” Yet change doesn’t come easily. It isn’t clear whether George will be a better person by the novel’s end.
None of this seems funny, but Greathead finds humor in George’s droll reactions to the world he inhabits. He attends a pre-wedding celebration and considers “this idiotic aspect of American culture: the aggressively self-celebratory nature of marking ordinary milestones as if they were some kind of hard-won victory or unique life accomplishment.” He returns to live with his mother, where he is soon joined by a pregnant sister who can’t handle her husband’s presence in her home. Asked to watch over a woman’s baby for a short time, George finds after a trip to the hospital that he is ill-equipped for parenting.
George stumbles through life, finding and quitting jobs but never finding one he likes. His best moment comes when he is cast in a Superbowl commercial that takes advantage of his grumpy face. If failed relationships and family deaths are excluded, his worst moment comes when he is bombarded with judgmental emails from strangers who mistake him for his namesake uncle, an English professor who lost his job due to relatively minor incidents of sexual harassment. Judging and condemning strangers is a widespread hobby in the age of the internet.
The novel ends as postmodern domestic novels do, abandoning their characters mid-life without resolving their issues. The novel’s interest lies in its characterization of George of a man without direction who suffers from deficient introspection. Notwithstanding George’s degree in philosophy, he seems uninterested in examining his life and finding ways to change. He has a fairly easy life but can’t appreciate his good fortune. He doesn’t realize that women regard him as handsome, that he might be able to exploit the acting gig he lucked into, or that he has benefitted from at least modest privilege associated with white New Yorkers who get carried through life by friends and family members.
Making fun of people might be mean, but readers can take a guilty pleasure in laughing at George as he drifts from one circumstance to another. George might be right when he says that he doesn’t deserve Jenny, a woman who is light years more advanced in the art of social interaction. Yet George is far from evil. Like Schopenhauer, he has a kind heart even if his attitude is insufferable. When George commits an unexpected act of kindness near the novel’s end, it does not signal a change but a moment in which George reveals a part of himself that he usually conceals. George’s character traits make him an interesting and sympathetic person, one whose life is worth a visit by readers who are looking for a chuckle.
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Wednesday, October 30, 2024 at 8:34AM 
